Dan Peterson

The Wrathful Son


The middle in age and height, Dan is 5’11" with the most solid build at 220 lbs. His hair is beginning to show signs of age, but he still has much youth in him.


The harvest was good this year, thought Dan. They had plenty of surplus crop, which him and Dad had begun selling off at market. They were on their way back from a successful day of delivering produce to various buyers around town, both of them not talking. It was Dad who finally broke the silence. “You didn’t have to break his arm.” “He was trying to steal from us” Dan wryly replied. “We had plenty extra. A few apples to feed his family wouldn’t have set us back anything” Dad chided. "We worked hard to grow those apples. I won’t tolerate somebody trying to break the law and take shortcuts just because its easy or “won’t hurt somebody”" Dan barked back. Dad opened his mouth to reply, but was ripped from his horse before he got a chance.

Dan quickly dismounted from his own steed and ran over to see what was wrong. Dad was laying on the ground, blood pooling out of his leg, a bloody longsword in his hand, and a man reeking of death laying face down next to him. “Undead!” screamed Dad, and threw his sword to Dan. Without a second thought, Dan deftly snatched the blade out of the air and whirled around, catching a fetid looking woman in the neck. Her head quickly left her body and she fell down in a ragged heap. There was another one shambling towards him, who was brought to an abrupt halt by a blade wedged between his eyes. A gurgling sound came from behind Dan. Dad had managed to draw his other sword and was flailing it at the man ripping into his neck. Dan made quick work of the foul zombie, but not before the gurgling had ceased completely. Dan wanted a moment to grieve for his father, to apologize for fighting with him in what he didn’t know were his dad’s last moments, but he could see more figures in the distance lumbering towards the farm. He picked up the other sword, closed his father’s eyes, and leapt back onto his horse. He hoped he could make it back in time before anything happened to Paul, Andy, or Mom.

“How many did you wind up killing that day?” asked the Inquisitor. “Three dozen, give or take” replied Dan, his arms folded over his chest. “Quite impressive, given your lack of formal training.” “Dad used to be an adventurer, so he taught us all a little bit about how to defend ourselves.” “I see. I’m pleased that you are looking to further your techniques as a Paladin. We can always use more strong sword arms like yours. Before we let you in, we have one final question: Why do you choose to fight?” Dan had maintained a rather bored look on his face until now. He was now outright scowling as he said, “Because there is much evil in the world that needs to be hunted down so that good men don’t have to die.” The Inquisitor briefly shuddered before replying, “Sounds like an Oath of Vengeance if ever I’ve heard one. Captain Smith will help you turn that indignation into a righteous weapon. You’ll be going to Squad 7 when he’s done with you. May your light shine in the dark places that you may travel.”

Dan Peterson

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