Hell's Bells

History

"Save her!" "Kill those!" "Hell's, the city is in trouble!" "HELP US, HURRY!!"



He saved who he could, every time he was prompted. He threw himself in front of blade after blade, spell after spell, between weapons of mass destruction and sleepy little towns. He never asked questions. He never needed to. He had a heart of gold and wore it openly on his sleeve. You need help, of any kind, Bellamy Adams was your guy.

He was paid for some of the quests he'd taken on, given food or small weapons of appreciation from others. Then there were some instances where he gained nothing, but did it for the smiles flashed at him when they were all safe.

Years passed.

Bells had started to get tired. He had been fighting what felt like the same battle, same WAR, for years now with no end in sight. Would it ever be over? Would there ever be peace? Would he ever get to just sit and relax for once, maybe by the beach with a bottle of rum in hand, with no threat to rush off on a whim to save a city? Unlikely. For that reason, he had started to consider giving it all up and just walking away. They could find a new hero right? They could manage... right? There were plenty of other allies he'd met in his journey, fighting the same battles and killing the same monsters right alongside him. Surely, the world wouldn't end if he just... quit?

But the unknowing was what kept him going. What if he was the thread keeping the world from destruction? What if his selflessness was the one thing keeping hope alive? What if the others couldn't do what he did every single waking moment? What if...?



He couldn't recall when he stopped caring so much. It was a slow burn, triggered the first night that he met Sycamore Belgrave. She'd enchanted the man with some form of spell or voodoo, he wasn't sure the details, but it made him immortal. Things that should have killed him.. didn't. She said he could still die, but he wasn't sure how, exactly. He also didn't want to test it... At least, not yet.

It was sometime after that, the call of the sea started to beckon louder to him. He'd always longed to sail, maybe give up the hero life and just become a pirate or something. He'd always longed to taste that salt water on the night air, watch that cool breeze blow through a ship's sails. He longed to escape the routine of killing monsters, but his heart continued to ache with the thought of 'what if...' What if his presence meant something? What if this was his destiny? But.. what happens when they die of old age? What if he's stuck being a hero for the rest of his immortal life with no end in sight? What if the monsters NEVER truly die? He couldn't do this forever... He just.. couldn't.

Blacksmithing was a nice escape from the turmoil of his thoughts. He used materials he gathered from those beasts he killed to make stronger weapons, enchanting some of them with the elements.. The hammering, the roar of the forge, the lull of the crickets and cicadas... It almost felt as endearing as the call of the sea.



Fast forward, he eventually did give up the hero role, placing it in the hands of someone he assumed was just as qualified. He himself had to walk away, battle worn and tired.. So very tired... He answered the hum of the ocean first, sailing and exploring, singing and drinking, aboard a soot black vessel he'd fondly named 'Merle' (meaning 'blackbird', via French origin).

He set sail not only to escape the demand of heroics, but also to escape the voodoo lady. Miss Belgrave was always pushing those boundaries, trying to set his morals aflame. Had he not ran away when he did, he probably would have lost more of himself than just his sanity. Not being able to die had both perks and consequences, his suffering mind being one of the latter.



Nowadays, Bellamy Adams focuses more on blacksmithing, but still has salt water in his veins. He always smells heavily of the ocean due to the call to beaches and his time spent there, but he's temporarily hung up that aspect of his life for something more grounded. He now seeks distractions from his infinite lifespan, aiming to help those he can, while at the same time still juggling his own mental stability.

He has yet to snap at anyone, and has yet to openly show anything is wrong at all. To others, he seems like a perfectly normal male, probably even a sweet and kind soul due to that proper grammar and warm smiles he flashes even at strangers. He is no danger to others unless they provoke him or show malicious intent towards weaker beings in his presence. (For further clarity: Due to who he once was, and the slow burn of this character, he is still far more likely to save someone than hurt them.)

(To be continued...)