Dezmon Deseuls

House DeSeuls

Part 1
Dezmon’s birth was hailed by the lightning and proclaimed by the thunder, birthed to His mother Siria and his father Haven DeSeuls on a night that was wreathed in a great storm. He was the eldest of three, followed three years by his sister Yasmine and finally two years after that by his brother Goda. Haven, a cleric of Heironeous, inspired his children to great things, but his eldest son Dezmon had other ideas with his life. While Dezmon was a great brother and son, and encouraged his siblings to follow the path to the clergy, which Yasmine did by becoming a cleric, and Goda became a wizard under the church working as an alchemist.
Dezmon didn’t take to the church’s martial section, where he could have easily prevailed as one of their greatest paladins. Instead, he fell into a crowd of mercenaries, known as the Other’s Justice. The group was composed of a male human rogue named Ilkon Yosh, a female half-elf monk named Ulisk Dreamsong, and a male cleric of Pelor named simply Lond. The band went through several missions given to them by the church of Heironeous, even though they were not exactly affiliated with the church. At a young age he was taught the ways of swordsmanship, and upon his 14th birthday, he was gifted by his mother an alchemically treated silvered great sword. It was hard for him to wield it at first, despite his unusual height of six feet and seven inches.
He was introduced to his extended family in Mythril Falls at the age of eight, taking a liking to his cousins, especially Caleb, as he had found a companion to train with. The pairs closeness brought Dezmon to care for Caleb’s younger siblings as if they were Yasmine and Goda. He was trained by the paladins of the church his father watched over as a judge,
as he had been getting on in years and was to be retired from the battlefield to watch over the upcoming young paladins and clerics. By the time he was 16, he mastered the enormous blade and had begun his adventuring in the local area. Though he hasn’t been back to the city for several years, he has done his best to keep up with communication with his cousin. By the time he was 25 though, his letters had all but stopped, only coming on Heironious holy days such as Newmass, the day that Heironeans celebrated the new year.
Sometime around his 17th birthday, he lost his mother to a terrible disease that could not be cured, that is where I will pick up Dezmon’s tale….

Dezmon sat up in the light of the rising sun, and glanced towards the cleric, praying and singing the sun’s rise. The huge noble stood and stretched, wearing nothing but his leather britches and the belt cape that kept his lower extremities warm. He enjoyed his friend’s songs; they were like a stiff drink in the morning; warm, smooth and an acquired taste. Dezmon’s green eyes surveyed the camp and the other two that remained sleeping.
He chuckled when he heard Ilkon grumbling in his sleep, something about the gold being his. His eyes then fell upon the smooth skin and shapely body of the half-elf, and a smile came to his face, a woman who was a tiger on the battlefield was calm as the morning dew when she slept. Dezmon’s duty in the morning was the same; prepare the fire, meal and that exotic coffee that his friends loved so much. He checked the bubbling pot every now and again, letting the smell of the coffee fill their thicket. As it always did, the smell roused Ulisk and Ilkon from their slumber, and they made their way over to the fire. Ulisk took a seat next to the huge DeSeuls, picking up a piece of bread and munched on it as she said, “Good morning, my lord. I hope you slept well?”
Dezmon chuckled, “Enough with the formalities Ulisk, we’ve been traveling for three years together have we not?"
She nodded, "Yes, that is true. Though it is best you remember your station as a noble, I'm sure that one day you will be a leader as well. Don't you think you should get used to be called that?"
Ilkon snorted, "Please, he'll never live up to what his folks want. I mean seriously, he's traveling as a mercenary, not going through all that training to become a paladin. I'm sure that put a branch in his parents' spokes for his future. What do your brother and sister think of their older sibling think of you being a mercenary, anyways?"
Lond had finished the morning's greetings and joined his friends, as usual, the attentive priest chuckled when he made his remark, "They think their brother is a hero, even if he hasn't chosen to fly thier god's banner into a fray. Am I not correct?"
The rogue grunted, "You know, you can seriously be annoying sometimes. Spouting nonsense everytime the topic of family comes up. Much less never telling us anything about your family for that matter."
Ulisk sighed as the morning ritual began anew, the cleric and rogue were good friends, but they loved to pick at one another. Dezmon chuckled as he began to pour the coffee into some tin mugs, knowing full well that the warm drink would cool the arguement as it always had. After two years since the forming of thier band, Dezmon had grown quite fond of his friends. He knew them almost inside and out, and he wanted to continue thier adventures, because after all, that was the only gift he could really give his family when ever he returned home. As this was the groups current destination, it had been nearly four months since he had even heard word from his family, much less visited them.
As he leaned back against his pack, there came the rumble of thunder off in the distance. Ilkon frowned, "Strange, the sky was clear but a moment ago. Think we'll get hit before we reach the manse, and your sister, Dezmon?" The rogue gave the huge man a mischevious grin.
Ulisk quirked a brow at the comment, "You think it will be any different than last time? Either Yasmine or Dezmon will beat you up again, Ilkon."
The cleric laugh aloud, "Oh yes, that's right! I had forgotten that you had been bested by that woman."
Dezmon laughed, remembering Yasmine's well placed kick to Ilkon's family jewels. Ilkon's gaze was nothing but daggers at Lond, who merely sat there sipping his coffee with the most pleased grin on his face. Dezmon blinked when he noticed that Ulisk's gaze was upon the approaching dark clouds, "Something wrong?"
She continued to watch the storm, "Something bad has happened."
Lond frowned and Ilkon sipped his coffee, but Dezmon was the one to speak again, "What do you mean? Should we get moving?"
The monk nodded, "Yes, it would be best not to be caught in that." The half-elf drained what was left of her coffee and began to gather her things. The others followed suite, knowing that the woman's promenitions were rarely wrong. Dezmon was the one to kick out the fire, as he was the first one up and packed. He knew it was best to travel light, and he made good on that. Finally, the last of the embers were covered and the party moved on, taking the road that led to the DeSeuls
estate in the village to the north.
The storm had caught them, and was driving them hard. The cloaks that they had wrapped themselves in were drenched, and the lightning and thunder deafened and blinded them. They walked for an hour in the downpour and high winds before they finally made it to the gates of the Manor. Dezmon was greeted by the guard captain, Sgt. Ilios, "Good evening Sgt! Would you let us it?"
The captain yelled back to be heard over the wind, "Of course master DeSeuls! I'm sorry for your lose!"
Dezmon gave the guard capatain a quizical look that wasn't seen as Ilios pushed open the door enough for the group to move into the courtyard. There was an oppressive atmosphere about the manor, as if Ulisk's prediction had indeed come true. Dezmon openned the door to the manor and ushered his friends in, he turned around in his dripping cloak and armor, to see servants moving about the manor as if preparing for something. Ilkon frowned, "Well, that's new, you're not met at the front door like usual, Dezmon, did something happen?"
Dezmon shook his head, he was just as confused as his friends were. Until he saw Yasmine enter the main hall, her eyes were bright red and her lovely face was stained with tears. Dezmon's call made her jump, along with several servants that were working. Yasmine rushed over to him and threw her arms around her brother, the tears flowing anew. "Oh Dezmon, you've returned at such a horrid time. Why weren't you here days before when mother wished to see you?"
Dezmon hugged his sister to comfort her, but his face was a mask of confusion, "Sister, what has happened? What is wrong with mother?"
Yasmine's piercing blue eyes stared into her brother's green eyes, her choking told Dezmon that nothing good had happened. He lifted her hands off of him and motioned for Lond to take hold of and support her. When the cleric had taken over comforting his sister, Dezmon took off at a run up the stairs to his mother's bedroom. Dodging servants throughout the hall, he finally burst into the room, startling his father, Haven DeSeuls, and his younger brother, Goda. Both men stood and looked at Dezmon, still dripping from the storm that raged outside. Goda had been crying, and his face was wrapped in anguish. His father's eyes only showed the sorrow that bubbled out of his heart. Dezmon moved to the bed where his mother lay, a single white towel covering her face. Dezmon felt his heart sink underneath his chain shirt, his eyes went wide as he gripped at his chest. His teeth gritted together to keep the cries that wished to come forth. His green eyes wished he could close and open to find this some terrible joke, but deep down, he knew what had happened.

His mother had just died, and he was too late to see her go.

The tears began to flow when his friends had arrived to the room, all of them fell silent immediately, knowing how serious this was to the family. Yasmine entered again, and stood next to her father; who reached out to her and held her close, whispering words of comfort in her ear. Dezmon was in complete shock, unable to speak or move. Lond walked into the room and approached the bed, his face solemn. He silently said a prayer to Pelor for Dezmon's mother, Siria's soul to be at
Ilkon watched in silence, until finally he asked, looking towards Yasmine and Master DeSeuls, "How did she pass?"
Goda was the one to answer, "She died from a disease, on I couldn't find the cure for. I'm sorry brother that I couldn't at least keep her healthy enough to see you once more." Goda made to walk out the door, his words were choked with grief.
Dezmon rested a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, "Its alright Goda. Thank you for doing what you could," there was a slight smile on his face, even though the tears still fell down his face. His arm went around his brother's neck and he pulled him close, as much to comfort Goda as himself. The younger man wrapped his arms around his brother, and wept into his armpit.
The room would have been silent if not for the wind and rain in the night beyond the windows.

Three days later…
Dezmon took the dark mourning cloths off of him in a manner that suggested he didn't care if they were going to need cleaning again. Throwing the tunic onto the floor, while the jacket hung from the bed post. He unbuckled his pants and sat down on the bed, staring at the floor for a time before dropping his face into his hands. His shoulders bobbed with each sob. Dezmon could barely have heard the door open, and as Ulisk stepped in, she whispered his name, "Dez? Can we talk?"
Dezmon quickly regained his composure, wiping away the tears that rested on his face away before she saw, "Yes? What is it Ulisk?"
The half-elf stepped in and quietly shut the door behind her. She had cast aside her usually plain, loose cloths for a black dress. It accented her figure well, but her discomfort was obvious. She remained at the door until he motioned for her to join him. Her steps were graceful and sweeping as they carried her to him; resting her hand on his shoulder, she pulled him close into a hug. The tall man lost it, and cried there in her shoulder the rest of the evening.

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