Hall of Writings

Hall of Images

Hall of Science

Amphitheater

Exit to Lakelands

By Aldar Caine ~SKR~

I am Aldar Caine, the Warrior-Poet.
I have seen things you would not believe…

Now you might say, “We see you there, Aldar Caine, and we hear your voice. We know your name and what you are, and now also you tell us
what you might have seen. But what does all that mean? This is an age of wonders, we too have seen amazing things.”

Perhaps so, my fiends, perhaps so. I could well believe that. Amongst all those I see here in the hall with me, are some of the greatest heroes
ever to have walked our lands, in all of its ancient history. And much of its history I have seen… much indeed.
For I have been granted a long span of years and a full measure of life. Whether that is a blessing, or an affliction… that is something over which
I ponder many times.
Does this sound melancholy? Or ungrateful perhaps?

Well, hear me, friends. I will tell you some of my tale, and you can judge for yourself. I say some of my tale, for the full telling… that is not for
everyone. Some parts of my tale are for me only. Of those parts of the tale that I will share, you will not be hearing all of those this night… or
even two nights – long are the telling…

My name is Aldar, as I have already said, and I have the blood of the family-clan Cain in my veins. I have the Cain traits – light coloured hair,
green eyes… Extraordinary resilience and strength of body has been born into my blood… a heritage from my grandsire and great grandsires
through the ages. Whether the heritage is light or dark…

Some of you may have wondered over the years, why my name is written Caine and not the same as that of my uncle – Deckard Cain. You
might think that the letter written at the end of my name is an affectation. It is not. My father made that change in special significance of
something. In the old rune script, that letter ‘e’ translates into a sigil that means many things… cutting, severance, ending, a parting of ways… I
came to understand my father’s decision to make this change only after many years. I honour my father… I will keep the ‘e’… 

Cain… so many years surround that name that it positively reeks with the dust of generations.

The full import and weight of clan Cain’s heritage had not become clear to me until many years of my early life had passed. Since then, the
legacy and responsibility of the Cain blood has felt like a crushing burden at times, but it is one that I cannot cast off…
Blood and duty binds as surely as tempered steel.

My uncle would have known and understood what I meant, had be still been alive. But he has gone to a well-deserved rest, soon after the town
of my birth was freed. More of that place we will speak later.

As some of you might know, my uncle was the very last in the ancient brotherhood of the Horadrim – a fact that he had kept a very close
secret. When Deckard Cain passed away, so also did the Horadrim, finally. Perhaps that would have been different… had not my father and
mother taken me away from Tristram when I was but a lad – for my regard of the old man was, and still is, very high. My uncle had always been
a good teacher…

My father had taken great pains to shelter and hide me from his brother, Deckard’s, dealings. It might also explain why he was so delighted
when I showed an interest in the martial arts, instead on the more mysterious ones.
Little did he know, however, that Fate’s cruel eye had already fallen on me, and cast the die, for my aptitude with a sword rather than a staff,
made little difference in the destiny that awaited me.
The rune of ending and parting of ways added to my name… shielded me from nothing.

But I digress, for we were discussing the blood of clan Cain, and what it means to be of that blood. I am the last descendant of Jerek Cain – a
high lord of the Horadrim, who had hunted the three Prime Evils of legend. Jerek, it was, who defeated the Evils and shackled them within the
Soulstones. He then hid the jewels in deep, secret places, so they would not be disturbed.
And so it was then that the Horadrim, and indeed all the generations of clan Cain, thereafter became the custodians, keepers and watchmen of
the Soulstones. For although the Evils were bound, it is clear now that the Horadrim were not convinced of the permanency of their labours.

Alas! The Fates decreed that it was in my time, that the greatest of the Evils finally slipped its fetters… A time when the Horadrim and all their
lore were gone, and only one young soldier with a diluted measure of their blood remained – a soldier ignorant of his past… and the legacy…
Was this what my father had feared? If so, his fears proved to be well founded. The blood of Cain was once more yoked as it was before –
combating the Evil…

But this time the battle was to be fought by a different brotherhood – one spanning nations and countries. The sharp-eyed Seekers of Truth and
Honour, the holy Paladins of Light and the mighty Defenders of Camelot stood to fill the void left by the Horadrim. A greater assembly of power
there was never to be seen since… not in all the armies that I have fought in or commanded, after decades of strife and battle.
And yet… yet the battle against the Evil claimed the lives of so many… The blood of a host of heroes paints the halls and crypts that Diablo’s
rage had defiled.

And through all those events, I was there… I saw it all… I lived them.

It all happened in a place called Tristram, the place where I was born, grew, played and was happy… the place where I later fought and bled…
and watched friends and brothers be slain.
Tristram…
I believe that in the far future, when all these events are consigned to distant legends, even then… the name of my town will be remembered. But
the word will have gained a different meaning – Tristram, the Place of Slaughter…

So it is that the blood of clan Cain and the blood of many heroes have shaped me, and beaten me into what I am today – Aldar Caine, the
Warrior-Poet.

Before, I had been many things… soldier and swordsman… a mercenary at times. I was set to also perish as nothing more than a simple
soldier. But just then, the archmage Trurl found me marching in the ranks of some army… off to fight some war I do not remember.
What made him notice me? I do not know. You will have to ask him yourself…I see him in the hall here. But (Light be thanked!), he did notice
me and because of it, I am a Seeker… a knight. A more complete person I became within the Order of the Seekers… but not yet whole.
Wholeness is still an elusive goal…

As a knight of the Seekers, I had striven against the darkness that dwelt in Tristram for long and long. For so long did the battle continue that it
became all I knew and saw… the boundaries of that demon- cursed town became my entire world… My soul and sanity would have been
shredded to bloody tatters there, was it not for another man who again noticed me, by Divine Grace.

Patriarch Onaeus, Lord Druid of Soliath, recognized my distress and that of many others besides. Gentle and quiet his words were, soothing our
hearts and calming our spirits… a balm on the wounds of my mind.
Rest, he bade me, be at peace… lest the nightmare that was Tristram devour you… and make you part of it. But yet, against the rest and peace
that was offered, I also fought – some shadows had already been infesting my heart and ran in my blood. It would not be dispelled so easily.
“Rest!?” I raged, “How could anyone contemplate rest!? Had not five brave knights perished just the previous day? Friends, they were!
Brothers! Ha! Rest is for cowards and curs! I will not rest whilst my brothers bleed!”
But it was also my brothers that restrained me, and made some faint ray of reason pierce the fog clouding my mind. Sternly, but
compassionately, Lady Lightstorm, the head of my Order, commanded me on my oath as a Seeker, to heed the Patriarch’s words.

And so I left Tristram, the Place of Slaughter, and set off to the duchy of Nova Q’lynnesti, somewhere on the west coast of the Draconian
Empire. There, Lord Onaeus had told me, I would find Soliath and the Temple of Kala, where dwells the druids of the Sun Maiden, the Lady of
Light and Reason.
There it was, that I would find rest… and peace… and healing. These things I required, Lord Onaeus said, in order to continue the battle.

And find those things I did… and much more besides.

Parts of the way to the Temple were difficult and treacherous - mountains, glaciers, deep canyons and valleys, wide rivers and virtually
impenetrable forests… all of those had to be traversed. The first few days seemed easy, for the rage that still simmered in me flared up in bursts
of energy that carried me onward. Twice in that time, highwaymen who prowled the road for traders or merchants thought me easy pickings… I
left their bodies on the road where they fell, letting not one escape. No simple motivation such as greed could match the savagery cultivated in
my soul.

But before long, simple fatigue and weariness began to cool the anger. My thoughts stopped swirling with the dark images of the catacombs and
halls filled with demons and the blood of friends.

Sullen resentment for being ordered away set in, and stayed with me for weeks after that. But no pounding on the stone face of a mountain in
frustration, or the frenzied hacking at tangled forest underbrush offered much sympathy.

Eventually, as one’s mind empties and is employed in no other tasks but simple breathing, and the body begins to perform the labour of moving
forward seemingly of its own accord… then even resentment fails… and is washed away.

And then one night, in some mountain cave, with only a small, sputtering fire to keep the cold at bay… you discover that without the rage or the
resentment… there is nothing.
Only you remain… alone.
Memories of blood and death are cold things, and offer no company.

What makes a man move forward after such a discovery? Such emptiness? Who can say…? I cannot. For to this day, I recall only fleeting
images of the weeks that followed… sheer rock cliffs, dizzying drops, dark fissures and narrow, winding passes… until the elevation began to
gave way into gently rolling foothills blanketed by grass, waving in a soft breeze.
That is when I remember that coherent thought returned to me… as I was standing in a field, my scarred hands held out – brushing the tops of
the tall grass.

But now… the shadows had lifted from my heart and my blood ran pure again in my veins… without the taint of darkness. The wounds in my
mind were cauterised and bled no more.

My way from there seemed simple and almost dreamlike. I walked in forests with emerald green canopies, through which dappled sunlight
shone… and over grassy moors…even when gentle rains fell from the skies of those fair lands.
I felt no fear of anything there… not man or beast, or any dark creature that might have lurked in the shadows. None hindered me. Was some
angel watching over me, even as I slept beneath the stars without thought or concern? Perhaps…

I stopped at hamlets or villages only infrequently, generally only to ask for the way to Soliath. I walked on the road only when other ways were
impassable and I lived off the land, which was not hard, as game was plentiful and streams of clean water where easily to be found.

Oh, the sights I saw as I crossed the wide lands of the Empire… The Lake of Visions… as wide as an ocean, with deep dark waters lapping on
its shingled beach, whilst the sun went down over the mountain peaks far to the west. No visions I saw at the lake. Perhaps because I searched
for none – my mind was quiet, my thoughts only gently rippling…like the waters I looked on.
Later, crossing the mountain range, I stood on the banks of the Golden River, and watched as it thundered in a graceful waterfall over a cliff.
From where I stood, I could see the river flowing down the valley far below, on its way to the ocean.

After the mountains, I walked in the plains that lie centrally within the vast Empire.
There was a prairie of grassland about me as far as the eye could see. In those lands, one walks on the road, listen to the wind and watch the
clouds… Sometimes, one might hear a distant rumble, and see wild horses galloping… and your blood surges and runs hotly in your veins.
In the nights, you sit silently and watch the unmatched brilliance of the stars overhead, while hearing the howling of wolves, far-off.
Those lands, although foreign to me, spoke to my blood in subtle, indefinable ways. Never before, or since then, had I felt such peace as when I
traveled those lands. Even now, I return there when my duties allow me such respite.

All too soon, the plains gave way to hills again, and shortly thereafter, I crossed the Scarlet River via the road and the bridge spanning the water.
Some way off to the north, I could see a dark line of trees. The people at a village on the banks of the Scarlet River had told me that I would
find the forest of Nova Q’lynnesti here, and that I had but to follow the road to reach Soliath.

I followed the villagers’ advice, as I sensed that my journey was drawing to a close. The urge to reach my destination made me lengthen my
stride.

The vast forest lay like a massive green blanket on my right, as the road skirted its edge. The trees exuded a strange presence. It beckoned me,
but also did so with a veiled warning. Yet is did not instill apprehension or fear in me… the forest seemed to… offer something… unique to
each person.
I made no attempts to enter the forest. For some reason, it felt to me that if I did, I would be intruding into someone’s home.

Within the next few days, I detected a change in the air, an aroma… it was the ocean. I hurried on…the leagues passed underfoot swiftly.

No more than one day later, I stood on a hill… below me, about one hundred yards distant, there was a beach of fine golden sand… and the
sea. The water was deep blue and the sunlight sparkled off the surface in a million bright diamonds. I must have sat there for hours, watching, for
the sun had begun to set when I again roused myself.

The way to Soliath was short now, and I saw the town nestled against the forest before the last light of the day failed. Faintly, I could see lights
wink on in the windows of homes. Sudden weariness seized me, as I realized that the long road had been traveled… the journey was done. My
footsteps slowed.

As I approached, I saw a cloaked and hooded figure standing on the road, facing towards me. Closer I went, but the figure did not stir.
“Why so suspicious, warrior? There is nothing to fear.” The person, spoke – a man’s voice. “Come closer, I have been waiting for you.”
This man had been waiting for me? How? Who knew that I would be coming, excepting those I left behind in Tristram, thousands of leagues
distant?
I remained silent, but continued to walk towards the man, until I could faintly make out a thin face… and a smile stretching the man’s lips.
“Who?” I said. Or rather croaked – I had not spoken much in a long time.
“I? I am a druid, my name…well…. I am known here as the Hand of the Sun. My name is not important now.” The smile widened. “But I know
who you are…Aldar Caine. Warrior and Knight of the Seekers…”
I was surprised, and did not respond.
“A Seeker, yes…. But I am wondering, what are you seeking here, so far from your lands?”
I felt uncertain for some moments. What indeed was I seeking? I had been commanded to come, but… The words of Onaeus lay far back in
my mind and I tried to recall it…
“Rest.” I finally said. “Peace… and healing.” I hesitated for a moment. “I cannot go on fighting without it. Lord Onaeus told me…” I faltered.
“Yes,” The cloaked man said softly, “I know what the Lord Patriarch told you. He instructed me to meet you here. Rest and peace you will
have, Aldar Caine. And you shall heal here. But more than these things you will need, if you are to continue your battle in the future. Perhaps
you will also find the fortitude you require at the Temple. All that is needed from you…is an open mind and a willing heart.”
My journey had done much of that already, and I told the druid so.
The Hand of the Sun nodded and said, “Be welcome then, brother… may the Light guide your way.”

So it has.
Thoughts of blood did not return to haunt me for long and long.