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[Tay Thormear]

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It had only taken Gerosh a couple weeks to learn everything about Beowulf Thormear. Each night he read his journals, books he wrote and other things explaining him. It had taken him about a week to finally settle into the body and figure out what was going on. He knew he was apart of someone else, but he didn’t know how. He had even taken it upon himself to speak to people that happened to know Beowulf.

Each night, either than read, Gerosh would go out and hunt. He had reluctantly accepted the fact that he was stuck in this state for a while, so he’d make the best of it. He remembered how to weald a war axe but it was feeble in this body. He taught the body to use the mace as a weapon, as a guider. He studied the ways of chivalry, bettering the body and his mind with its powers.

He would soon be back in the state he was, before he died. In this body however it was harder to use the spells of chivalry. The body was to evil, somehow he had to work around it, and use his soul, the soul of a paladin.


* * *


Over the last couple of weeks Beowulf had slept peacefully. Poet had given special candles to Tatiana to place around the bedroom to keep the “evil spirits” out of his dreams. His blood was one of the ingredients; he had a strong feeling that the candles weren’t the reason. How would the blood of evil, keep evil spirits away? He questioned this in his mind very often, but it wasn’t the most important thing to worry about. All that mattered is that he could sleep.

When the nightmares began to fade away however, he found himself waking up in odd places, in odd situations. He would quite frequently wake up in different clothes, in the middle of forests, or being chased by monsters. He was growing sick and tired of this, one day he’s going to wake up under the claw of a dragon.

Everyday Beowulf felt something different about himself, for some reason he was keeping a weapon collection around now. He was able to handle maces and weapons just like them better than he could ever before. The urges to use his necromancy were decreasing, but he still pushed to do it. He wasn’t about to let this power fade from him just yet, not at this time.


* * *

It had been a while since Beowulf had set foot out of Dark Cove. He wasn’t doing much of anything these days but stroll around the area. The Dark Order had raised its policy on taxing outside people, and so he did.

He was reluctant to attend the weekly meeting of the Order just the other night. As a military leader though, he felt it was his duty. It was a different meeting, one that explained many new rules. The Order would be a lot stricter on their land, and would be going at things in a slightly different manner.

After the meeting he continued to just, stroll around. Beowulf felt he didn’t hold a great purpose in Dark Cove as much as he use to. Being a division leader usually demands constant attention, but at the moment it didn’t. He wasn’t attending to his duties as strongly as he always felt he had to. Lately he has been letting people deal with their own problems. There were only a few important things on his mind, and they were his wife and her womb. Just the other night Tatiana announced to him that they were going to have a child.

Beowulf sat inside his office, staring deep into the flames of his candles.

“I have spent much time here in Dark Cove. Perhaps this night I will go out.”

He pushed himself up from his chair and pulled on his cloak. He grabbed a few gold coins for bartender at Poets Garden, and was off. It had been a while since he was last at Poets, and wondered if there had been any changes.

He arrived at Poets in time for Tatiana to tell him she had to go to Ms. Stars for a few minutes. He sat himself at one of the many tables on the roof and listened to the surrounding commotion. Beowulf was pretty sure Poet was drunk tonight, or off his rocker. He shook his head at the room and pulled the cork out of an ale bottle that he had brought with him. He raised it to his lips and stopped suddenly, looking over to his left.

A large person stood before someone who looked to be a little sailor man. The large person was made entirely out of metal, and had a tendency to click every so often. It followed the man –Steel- around ordering him to disarm. Beowulf had over heard Lilyth explaining that it was left over from the technomancers.

He was starting to grow impatient.

“She said she wouldn’t be long.” He muttered quietly. Beowulf gathered himself up and went downstairs to the stables. Knight was gone, and Tatiana still wasn’t back. He opened his mouth and yawned out the words to recall him to Ms. Stars.

Beowulf arrived at the house; he followed his way up the steps and onto the magical tile outside the doors. He strolled around the house, each floor from top to bottom. Finally he reached to bottom floor and saw Tatiana standing before a woman, an all to familiar woman.

Tatiana greeted him with a smile; the other person however did not.

“I recognize you.” He spook bitterly to the woman. “The one who hates necromancers”?

“Ah that’s right, you.” She replied.
Beowulf slowly walked forwards, as she rounded around to stand behind Tatiana. A few quick words were exchanged and she quickly spook.

“I told you I would bring you pain.” She dropped the torch on Tatiana’s skirt and ran out of the house to disappear. Beowulf turned to follow, than quickly spun around to pat out the flames on Tati’s skirt.

“I’m fine” Tatiana spoke quietly. “I work around forges each day, remember?”

Snarling viciously Beowulf told her to stay put. He snapped his fingers and appeared out front of Poets. He stormed through the stables and onto the roof, glaring across the room at Aya.

He shifted his eyes around the room, noticing the surprising amount of orcs attending the bar this night. He approached the table in which Aya sat. Sitting in front of her he slammed the table against her.

“You burned her skirt.” He growled.

“She should be more careful around flames.” She chuckled.

“You don’ know who I am, you don’ know wha’ will happen if you cross me.”

She chuckled slightly and spoke a few words to him. It hadn’t taken him long to slam the table harder into Aya and stormed away. He strode right past the orcs running around the roof, and slammed his feet on the magical tile. Stepping outside he saw Tatiana waiting for him.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“Of course.” Beowulf replied a tad angrily. They exchanged a few words before they decided to head home. As they were about to leave a red gate appeared out of thin air just ahead of them.

Stepping out of the gate came Beldon and Killian, following up the rear, the she-devil, Imryrr. Killian and Beldon nodded and said hello as they passed. Imryrr and Beowulf shared a quick glance at each other.

“Brother.” She spoke up first.

“Child.” Beowulf replied. She smirked and continued walking on past him.

“Your looking older and older each day.” He said, surprisingly rudely. Imryrr nodded and followed the other two to the roof.
Later that night Tatiana slept quietly on the bed. Beowulf sat up against the headboard, his pillow behind his back, and his fingers locked together behind his head. He thought to himself of this new person, Aya.

“Will she be a threat to me? I highly doubt it.” He chuckled quietly, trying not to wake Tatiana. “Will she be a threat to my wife?” he questioned. He shifted his head to glance down at his wife. Her chest pressing up and down with every breath she took, the innocent look on her face.

“She will not be harmed.” He spoke sternly and quietly.