Fiction:Tales of Champions/Old Age

Asemath: The Fall of Growlthal
"You will tremble and bow to the true king of the desert. Me."

Date: 647 BNA

The Zograthmer, known across the immensity of the Sea of Sand by names such as Growlthal Orcs and Dune Orcs, are a recent and vitriolic race. Unlike most orcs, who have been stereotyped as races of brutish, animalistic barbarians, the Dune Orcs are known for being the complete opposite. A race of bards and entertainers whose core culture revolve around mutual enjoyment and friendship, with little focus on destruction. They hail from the dunes of the region known as Growlthal, which has been named after them and for the fact their kingdom existed in the area. The Kingdom of Zograthmer was composed of a single but immense city named Growlthal, which these orcs called home and where their leader, the Chieftain-King, ruled over them all. The region is also home to man-sized scorpions, which these orcs have since managed to tame and use as their own equivalent of horses.

Caravans from the Merovar Dynasty often passed by Growlthal, and the orcs always had a good relation with the lizardfolk of the east, often doing commerce by exchanging their goods for the ore and tamed scorpions of the region. Dune Orc adventurers and travellers also became something of a common sight as the years passed, and there was the odd member of the race who decided life was not all rainbows and flowers and decided to follow a life of battle, leading to fighters, mercenaries and thieves to appear. Despite only being three centuries old, the Dune Orcs eventually became a notable race in the Sea of Sand.

However, the Dune Orcs would come to encounter one of the reasons the Sea of Sand is feared across the world. Not the heat, not the lack of water, but the dragons who live in it. The fearsome s, a race of fiendish, hostile and greedy wyverns who have terrorized the deserts for hundreds of thousands of years ever since their matriarch's death. Some across the world know of the existence of less hostile Drakes under the rule of the ancient, wise dragon named, but what these people often forget is that Vixaatus and his Drakes are exceptions to the rule and compose merely a fraction of their total population. The true Sand Drakes are destructive, boastful, chaotic beings who would rather rule the desert than share it with lesser races, and there is only one individual these Drakes occasionally follow:, the firstborn of Vixaatus.

It happened at 185 BNA, at dusk. Scouts over the walls which protected Growlthal watched as the skies were filled with dragons, clearly hostile and going at their direction, and Asemath stood at the front, glaring down at the massive city-kingdom. He wanted these territories and the precious metals in it for himself, and no mere orc would stand before him. Crossbows and ballistae were fired, some hitting dragons across their chests or wings and causing them to either recoil back or crash down from the sky, but it was not enough to stop the steamrolling tide of sand launched at Growlthal's gates. The Sand Drakes' sand and force breaths caused the walls of the city to be blasted aside and all soldiers guarding them found themselves either tore apart or launched across the horizon to die a painful death on impact with the ground. A Sand Drake's sand breath feels like thousands of small and extremely hot knives cutting through a man, and their unique force breath is strong enough to knock even stone buildings down.

As the walls were blasted apart, the soldiers began to order civilians to evacuate through other gates as the city found itself swarmed by dragons. Sand Drakes landed on top of buildings and even at the streets, and immediately began rampaging, using their sharp teeth and talons as well as their massive tails to destroy homes and kill any orcs in their vicinity. The bravest warriors of the kingdom stood little match against them on their own, neither were they used to fighting such powerful beasts, but they fought on for the sake of saving their people regardless. Steel met talon as the orcs attacked the dragons with all of their ability, using weapons such as falchions and battleaxes to cut through the scales of Drakes who they managed to get close to. Mounted on top of their giant scorpions, riders also attacked the beasts with pikes, and the stingers of these massive arachnids were thick and strong enough to dig through the necks of even dragons.

While chaos ensued through the streets of the city, Asemath stomped down on top of the great hall of the Chieftain-King, roaring out loudly and attracting the attention of soldiers in the vicinity. Bolts were fired at the draconic leader, only to bounce off his hide harmlessly. As the Chieftain-King himself was evacuated from the great hall by using the back doors, escorted by multiple captains, he looked back at the great dragon, dreading it with good reason.


 * Chieftain-King - How is the people? Are they safe?
 * Captain - Somewhat, chief. The dragons killed off nearly all of the west and south neighborhoods, but east and north are confirmed to have left the walls. We are currently going to Merovar Dynasty territory as you ordered.
 * Chieftain-King - Half of our race killed off in one swift strike... what could possess these monsters to launch this attack?
 * Asemath - Your insignificance is that insulting, pig dog.

Asemath had his head turned to the fleeing Chieftain-King, apparently having heard his entire conversation with his captains, and the great wyvern proceeded to beat his wings in order to throw himself backwards. He would come to land in front of the Chieftain-King, who all shouted out in a combination of fear and surprise as they attempted to gather the courage to face him.


 * Chieftain-King - It... It can talk?!
 * Asemath - You think of me as an animal, pig dog? You think of a deity like me as a mere beast?
 * Chieftain-King - Why... why are you doing this, dragon? Why are you murdering my people? What have we even done to you?
 * Asemath - You mere beings are not deserving of living in this region. You are not worthy of living in my desert.
 * Chieftain-King - Your desert?... The desert belongs to the Great Cobra King, not you!
 * Captain - Chief, I would advise toning your voice down and standing back!
 * Chieftain-King - I'm not afraid of dying! I've vowed since an young age I would give my life for my people and I will do so no matter what stands before me, be it a dragon or not!

Asemath's eyes narrowed as he eyed the Orc leader down, a growl coming out of him as his immense fangs were made visible. This lesser had the guts to talk to him in that tone, something quite uncommon considering not many have the guts to even attempt to talk to a Sand Drake, let along their (second) most powerful. This was enough to somewhat amuse Asemath as he eventually settled down, looking down at the orcs before him as destruction ensued through the soon-to-be ruins of Growlthal.


 * Asemath - Not many have your courage, pig dog. For that, I will allow you to leave this place with your life. But know this: you are a gnat and I will treat you for all eternity as one. I have been here before your people's ancestors, and this land's rightful ruler is none other than me. Asemath. One and true master of all Sand Drakes.
 * Chieftain-King - ...What about my people?
 * Asemath - Flee and escape my wrath. Stay and become one with the sand you thread through.
 * Chieftain-King - ...So be it. But we will never bow to you.
 * Asemath - I care not. I do not seek the worship of the weak. May we not meet again, pig dog.

Beating his wings, Asemath let out a powerful roar as he began flying once again, letting out a breath of force at the great hall of Growlthal which caused the large building to be tore apart by his sheer power. The surviving Chieftain-King, his soldiers and his people fled Growlthal and would come to seek refuge at the lands of the Merovar, while the ruins of the Kingdom of Zograthmer would become the scorpion-infested nest of the vile Asemath. To this day, the Growlthal Orcs resent the Sand Drakes for this event, but there is very little they can do to remedy it.

They are mere pigs attempting to confront a deity.

Kimorgos: Demonstration of Power
"Learn that you are all insects. Insects to be crushed beneath my soles."

Date: 372 BNA

Men, women and children cried for help as they arrived. At night's time, a shambling army of pure malevolence advanced through the city, burning it down and murdering those who opposed it. Undead, the violation of one's final rest, were everywhere and coming in waves, demanding more numbers to be added to their own hordes. Whenever a man fell in battle, another rose in favour of the undying. Their mere visages were enough to send dread in the hearts of even the most valiant warriors, but there was no zombie, no skeleton, no undead monstrosity more dreading to set your eyes upon than the one leading the assault. Their king.

Taking slow steps into the battlefield, each of them left a burned mark into the soul. Glaring at the inhabitants of the city through his helm with his burning eyeballs, the king marched forward. Extending a hand, the kings' sorcery caused the deceased to be converted into more undead for his army, who all immediately reached for the weapons they were carrying before their deaths and went off to make their new leader proud. Steam and hellfire blasted out of the joints of his armor periodically, incinerating anything foolish enough to stay too close to the king, even his own troops, and a long, regal cape flowed with the wind as he marched. This was king, military leader of the and king of the Outworlders. A literal living suit of armor, fueled by nothing but fire, greed and his hatred for all living.

The king watched as soldiers wearing heavier, more decorated armor marched through his army of undead, cutting and smashing them down with relative ease. Elite soldiers, surely, and the most well armored of them soon confronted the king himself, standing at his direction but a safe distance away, causing Kimorgos' infernal eye spheres to narrow.


 * Captain - Turn back, monstrosity! Your march of terror ends here!
 * Kimorgos - To order the king to stop his march is a crime punishable by death.
 * Captain - You are not my king. If you refuse to comply then you will face the same fate as your lackeys! Archers, fire!

From behind the knight captain, multiple archers began firing a volley of arrows at Kimorgos' direction, and the king was soon showered in them. The undead soldiers who remained close to the giant armored wraith were turned into pincushions in a matter of moments, but Kimorgos himself kept marching as the arrows broke in contact with his armor. Mere arrows would not stop the king, especially small arrows like these. The knight captain smirked under his helm as he had expected this to happen, and with a signal, another object was carried into view: a ballista, which fired at Kimorgos' direction, surprising the giant king for not having expected it.

The knight captain watched as Kimorgos was hit across his chest, causing the king to stagger back. His eyes then widened as the king stomped down and resumed his march, tearing the ballista bolt out of his chest and incinerating it on his hand. The king's march had grown faster.


 * Kimorgos - Now you are making me annoyed.
 * Captain - Damnation. Ranged weapons are useless. Take the beast on in melee!

Seeing no other choice as their ranged weapons dealt no damage to the Outworlder, the knights charged, carrying with them swords, maces and spears. This was met with a surge of speed from Kimorgos, who charged at the knights himself and eventually collided with them, causing many of them to be knocked away or be sent flat into the ground. Reaching his free hand and grabbing his massive blade with his two hands, Kimorgos positioned himself before swinging it upwards at the direction of two of the knights he had toppled. Their captain watched as the two men were cut in half horizontally, their halves being thrown up from the sheer strength of the attack.

Kimorgos' gaze turned as he felt blows colliding against his legs, the knights aiming for the tall humanoid's knees in order to knock him down or at least stagger him. However, no matter how many blows were delivered, how many bludgeons from their maces or thrusts from their blades, Kimorgos remained unmoving as he swung his sword once again, resulting in more men being cut in half by his now blood-stained weapon. The halves of the knights who lost their lives to Kimorgos were barely roasted from the sheer heat of his blade, which the undead king thrust forward, launching a stream of flames at the direction of the knights' captain.

The armored man avoided the attack by running to his right, helped by Kimorgos' sluggish movements, but he could watch as the stream of fire hit and engulfed a building in flames, and all he could hope was that it had already been evacuated. Another knitting attempted to attack the giant from behind with his blade, only to receive a blast of fire coming from his shoulder, hitting him across the face and causing the man to agonize from the heat. His pained cries would attract the attention of the king, who nonchalantly swung his sword at his direction, severing his head and an arm from his body, which fell limp into the floor.

Three more ballistae arrived to the battlefield, and together with the first one, they all fired at the king, the impact of the shots against his armor causing loud thuds. A grunt was actually heard from the Outworlder as one of the shots penetrated his helm's eye sockets, while the others hit him in the knee, torso and abdomen. Some hope was visible in the knight captain's eyes as he watched Kimorgos stagger and take a step back from the shots, but dread hit him once again as he watched the flames in Kimorgos' armor burn much more intensely, and the bolt in his eye was destroyed as two streams of hellfire, one coming from each of his eyes, was blasted into the ballistae' direction, setting them ablaze and causing powerful explosions which set whatever buildings and individuals still in the area on fire. Kimorgos' angered streams soon moved on as he began circling around himself, setting all around him on fire. The city would be reduced to ashes for provoking the ire of the Outworlder king.


 * Captain - T-this is... i-impossible... r-retreat! All forces, retreat!
 * Kimorgos - I forgive no cowardice.

What remained of the valiant knights were forced to retreat to save their lives, but the Outworld king would not allow the man who provoked him to escape. The knight captain turned back to run away from the hellish demon who killed his men, but a scream of pain came out of his mouth as the king's massive sword thrust through his stomach. Kimorgos lift the blade over his head, causing the knight to be further impaled by it until a roar came out of the animated suit of armor, setting the blade in an immense flame akin to that of a volcano. The knight captain in it was reduced to a crisp, his skeletal remains thrown aside as Kimorgos swung the blade again.

As the king walked away from the destruction him and his forces had caused, he made his way to the remains of the captain and lift his foot, proceeding to stomp down and destroy his skull under it.


 * Kimorgos - You are unworthy of being in my honour guard.

Yurthez: The Last Bertonius
"You will have to take me to hell kicking and screaming."

Date: 330 BNA

The Bertonius were an odd family. They were composed entirely of Derevar Elves, the Drow of the north, famed through the world as an evil race, stereotyped as being pirates, thieves, rogues and other forms of nasty scoundrels. Indeed, there were reasons this stereotype existed, but not all Derevar are like this. Some of them found a home at the where they lived in relative peace with other elves, though always engulfed in an air of distrust and racism because of their origins. The Bertonius Clan is said to have originated at the Dryadali Derevar capital, before moving itself to closer to the north, where they kept an eye for their greatest enemies: the. The oldest known member of the clan was the Derevar patriarch named Urdazzen Bertonius, who obtained the legendary god-slaying weapon known as the Coronaira Whip, a mystical whip made entirely of Sun Magic, an art lost for several millenia, ever since the Orichalcum Elves went extinct. The Coronaira Whip was the weapon of choice of a legendary beastman who is said to have created the Whip to destroy the great demon 20,000 years before the current age, but he failed his task when he was killed by the denizens of the Void alongside his companions. How Urdazzen Bertonius obtained the Whip is a mystery not even his descendants know the answer for, but the point was that once he got his hands on it, he and his family declared war on all vampires, wishing to use the Whip to vanquish Count from the face of the world forever. While the Derevar and the Nightshade vampires were always arch-enemies, the Bertonius Clan actually had the means necessary to destroy them permanently.

It was 330 BNA and the youngest member of the Clan,, had just returned home alongside his father and mother, Dezzarim and Niyazha, from a raid at a vampire base near the Sovereignty's borders. Dezzarim was the current wielder of the Coronaira Whip, and he would pass it to Yurthez in the moment of his death. Of course, Dezzarim wished he did not have to give his son this burden of a mission, but it was in their blood, it was something that they had to do, otherwise no one would be able to. Luckily for Dezzarim though, Yurthez appeared eager to prove himself as a competent vampire hunter, he was already a skilled whip user and was very proficient with knives. In this last vampire raid, the young Derevar threw a dagger at a vampire elf and pierced through his heart while he was in midair, before throwing a bottle filled with blessed holy water at their Succubus leader, causing her face to melt and her body to burn. As they got home, Dezzarim sat down in a chair and put the Coronaira Whip on a desk.


 * Niyazha - I'll get you some healing herbs, dear. You got a deep cut on your arm.
 * Dezzarim - Don't worry about it. It's not hurting.
 * Yurthez - Heh. Dad's just saying that because the herbs hurt a lot when you put them on the wound.
 * Dezzarim - Shush, Yurthez!
 * Niyazha - Is that it? The might wielder of the Whip is afraid of some medicine?

Dezzarim let out a laugh and scratched the back of his head. The Bertonius Clan was always seen as an emotionless family by outsiders, but their members knew well that they were just as capable of emoting as anyone else. Yurthez walked over to the family's pet dog and and knelt down to pet its head as he kept an eye to the Coronaira Whip. Admittedly, he could not wait to get his own hands on it.


 * Yurthez - Dad, when will you train me in using the Whip again?
 * Dezzarim - Hm? Perhaps tomorrow, lad. Your father is quite tired at the moment.
 * Yurthez - Ngh.
 * Niyazha - Let your father rest now, Yurthez. We all had a long day today.
 * Yurthez - Alright, alright.

The dog raised its head and sniffed the air, before barking repeatedly. Yurthez looked at the animal with a raised eyebrow, this kind of behaviour not being common. Dezzarim mumbled on his chair from the noise while Niyazha applied the herbs to his wound, and Yurthez looked over at the direction the dog was barking at. It was barking at the front door, as if it was feeling something approaching. Yurthez raised from the floor, and as he did, a loud bash was heard. All of the family was caught by surprise and the young Yurthez fell down on his back, and before any of them could do anything else, a second bash was heard. The front door of the house was sent flying inside by an explosive force, nearly hitting Niyazha who managed to jump out of the way. Dezzarim reached his hand for the Coronaira Whip as he saw a monstrous beast at the entrance of his home: a Vurdalak.


 * Yurthez - Vampires? Attacking our home?!
 * Dezzarim - Begone, you foul fiend!

The Vurdalak lunged forward at Dezzarim's direction, but the Derevar sent the Coronaira Whip at the beast's direction, delivering a direct hit to its chest. The vampiric monster was instantly burned to a crisp by sheer sunlight, and only its skeletal remains survived, being thrown about the ground as they fell. However, as this Vurdalak fell, more of them appeared and began tearing the walls down, forcing themselves inside. The Bertonius family saw themselves surrounded by male Pureblood Vampires, the most powerful force of the Nightshade Clan. It was odd, for vampires had never found the Bertonius' residence before. As all three of them fought to keep the bat-like behemoths at bay, a Succubus stepped forward among them, wearing a striking red dress. That would be, the oldest Succubus of all time.


 * Anian - Finally, we have found you.
 * Niyazha - One of the Count's witch brides!
 * Anian - You dare call me a witch, you filthy Drow? Your Clan's petty interference ends today.
 * Yurthez - Get away from my mother!

Yurthez took out several knives and threw them at Anian's direction, piercing through the Succubus' fragile skin. The demonic woman let out a pained growl before one of the Vurdalaks rushed at Yurthez and delivered a smack at him, flinging him across the house. Niyazha yelled for her son before a blast of ice hit her in the back, throwing her forward. Behind her, the youngest living of the Alpha Succubi,, let out a chuckle and launched a freezing ray from her hands at the Derevar woman, who shouted in pain as she found herself frozen in place. Hamoins slowly froze her from feet to head, and once she was enveloped in ice, the Succubus mounted on top of her gave her head a long, deep lick. Dezzarim's face contorted into an scowl as he yelled out in anger at Hamoins, slaughtering all Vurdalaks around him through swift whip strikes, and Yurthez tried to get himself back on his feet before he noticed vines growing around him and trapping him against the floor. A third Succubus,, stepped on top of his back, keeping him in place.


 * Alles - I'm afraid I can't let you move.
 * Yurthez - Get off of me, demon!
 * Hamoins - Derevar are awful bed partners, just touching them makes me all itchy.
 * Dezzarim - I'll tear you apart!

Dezzarim glared at Hamoins and prepared to strike at her with the Coronaira Whip, a single strike would be enough to reduce her to a burning skeleton. However, before he could, Anian Dalverat sent her claws at him from his side and slashed his face, stabbing one of his eyes. The vampire hunter let out a pained yell as the Succubus then dug her claws on his chest, before unleashing a fire blast. An explosion of blood and guts was visible as the fire made a hole through the Derevar man's chest, reducing his entrails to ash in seconds. All he did was gasp as he slowly fell into the ground, the Coronaira Whip falling from his hand as he succumbed. Yurthez's eyes were filled with tears as he watched both is mother and father die before his eyes, while the surviving Vurdalaks all laughed in unison. At this moment, a tall, bat-like humanoid with a long robe and cape entered the damaged home, looking at the damage. It was Coutn von Dalverat himself, followed by his right-hand man, the Grim Reaper himself.


 * Varelos - My dears. You have already done everyzhing, have you not?
 * Anian - Indeed, my love. The Bertonius is dead.
 * Hamoins - They all are. I had fun killing them.
 * Mortium - ...Not all are dead. One of them lives.
 * Alles - You mean this kid?

Yurthez, in a fit of fury, used all of his strength to rip Alles' vines open, launching the Succubus back in the result. He grabbed one of his knives and charged at Varelos, his move being too unexpected for any of the vampires to react in time. The young Derevar stabbed the Count in his chest, where his heart should be...and there he stood. Count von Dalverat flinched at the attack, but remained standing, seemingly unharmed. He looked down at Yurthez, who was far smaller than him, and raised an eyebrow.


 * Varelos - Vhat are you doing, boy?
 * Yurthez - No...

Varelos delivered a smack to Yurthez's face, easily flooring the Derevar. The vampire lord pointed at the Coronaira Whip and Mortium floated over to grab it, as no vampire could make skin contact with it themselves. He beckoned all of his Succubi and Vurdalaks to follow him outside, while Yurthez was left unconscious on the floor, bleeding from his mouth. As they all left, a beautiful, one eyed Succubus danced alongside various similarly dressed others, passing the time while Varelos was still inside. That would be, the Count's oldest daughter. Anian Dalverat walked over to her daughter with a smile as she watched her dance.


 * Hamoins - Those belly movements are turning me on a lot.
 * Aurora - Captivated, auntie?
 * Hamoins - You know it.
 * Anian - My princess, it's time to do your part.
 * Hamoins - What about the kid, though? Shouldn't we eat him?
 * Varelos - Zere is no need, for ze fire will do zat.
 * Aurora - Zis is my turn to shine zen!

Aurora stopped dancing and seemingly blew a kiss to the Bertonius Clan's residence. However, it was no mere kiss, for a stream of fire came out of her mouth. Within instants, the entire house was engulfed in flames, and it would burn to the ground given time, easily killing Yurthez as he was still inside. Meanwhile, Varelos turned to Mortium who was still carrying the Coronaira Whip on his skeletal grasp, awaiting for orders.


 * Varelos - Mortium, I vant you to hide zis vhip.
 * Mortium - Of course, Varelos. I'll inform you of the location as soon as-
 * Varelos - No. I vant you to hide somevhere and not tell me. I don't vant anyone knowing vhere it is, not even myself.
 * Mortium - ...Why, though?
 * Varelos - Vhat if anozher foolish family appears and reads my thougzhs? No one must know! No one!
 * Alles - Aww, you're so cute when you're paranoid, dear.
 * Varelos - Zis is for ze best, I say. Do zis for me, Mortium.
 * Mortium - Of course, Count. I'll meet you all at Castle Nightshade once I'm done.

The vampires all disappeared, teleporting away, leaving the burning home of the Bertonius behind. What Varelos would not guess, though, was that Yurthez had woken up after he left, and escaped the house from its back door when it began burning. Deprived of his family and the Coronaira Whip, Yurthez's hatred for all vampires would only grow more and more through the years. Dalverat had to pay.

Vermin King: Loyal Servant
"Your efforts have not gone unnoticed."

Date: 152 BNA

There she stood, in front of me. The two legged. The filthy. The unclean. The Deiwos. Her eyes closed, with a knee on the floor and her hand over her heart. An elf, I believe, hailing from the land of Aitheran-Loren. Western Elves, I believe they call themselves as. To me, every one of them looks the same, it is all a matter of skin colour and magical properties. We rats are equal between ourselves, we do not have races or ethnicities separating us, no matter if some are different from others. Even the Under Dwarves, Deiwos themselves, are rats in our eyes. We are all vermin, and we all live together as one great kingdom where we may live alone, away from the greedy, judging eyes of the surface. They all see us as monsters, why should we treat them any different? We are people, just like all of them, and we deserve the right to exist, no matter how we choose to do so. This is our say, and our say alone. This individual. A female, easily told so by her clean white skin and her body curves. A bow was visible on her back, and a longsword on her sheath. It was drenched in a blackened blood, one I am familiar with. The life essence of rats, the blood of my people, who defended our kingdom when this invader appeared. By her clothing, she is clearly poor, she wears little more than rags and her physical conditions appear slimmer than those found on normal elves. She was obviously starving. I was informed of her invasion three days ago, and she does not appear to be carrying supplies other than arrows. She may have slain my kin and eaten from their flesh to sustain herself. Like a scavenger. Like a rat.

''Leave this place, elf. We have no time for your kind. Deiwos bring nothing but filth.'' Those were my words as she approached me. However, she ignored me and merely bowed to my presence. ''Get yourself gone. I will tolerate you stench no longer.'' I said, ordering her to remove herself from my throne, but before I could speak again, she spoke herself. ''I am here to serve you, King of Vermin. I heard you accept those considered trash. I heard that you give them a home and family. I am trash, family-less, direction-less, home-less.'' My ears twitched as she spoke, I could notice by her tone that she meant what she spoke. Truly, I am a merciful king, and I accept those who come to me as long as they prove themselves worthy of living among vermin. This sparked my interest, for the fact she stood before me meant that she was one of great skill indeed. Our kingdom is an underground fortress, littered with traps at every corner to destroy every intruder who dares set foot on our sacred home. If she stood before me, alive, breathing, it meant that she had overcome us.

''My burrow you have conquered? Tell me about yourself, Deiwos.'' And so she spoke. This pale skinned woman was apparently a beggar living in a sovereignty up to the north, one I am aware of, for they have committed crimes against rats in the past. An inhabitant of a small village attacked by raiders and bandits, left without a home. How old are you?, I asked, which she replied, 26 years old. Elves are much longer lived beings than that. This infant stood before me, having overcome every trap in my realm. I did not know if I should feel impressed by her skill, or ashamed that such a whelp managed to get to me. She kept speaking, claiming that she was not accepted at any home she tried living at for being considered a burden, being a compulsive thief. She was self-taught to fight to survive, having to rely on hunting down wildlife to eat and hide from the sovereignty's armed forces when they looked for her to take her to their prisons. And then I heard about the Vermin Kingdom, where rats live secluded from the world, a place where the unworthy become worthy in the eyes of people who are willing to accept outcasts. Truly, I have hundreds of men and women who have come seeking shelter from the surface world, to the point families of them are not uncommon.

''You entered my domain, Deiwos. You overcome my obstacles. And most importantly, you request shelter from me.'' And she spoke. The Under Dwarves attacked her but she fought back, her sword against their mighty axes. She claimed, master of the Dwarves, went after her and nearly chopped her legs off before she slipped past him, getting deeper into my domain. She explained how she carefully passed through our traps, deviously crafted to kill intruders, claiming that her sense of surroundings was good enough for her to do. She claimed that my General, my mighty vanguard, sent an army of rats after her, and they only ceased to seek her after she hid beneath a pile of rubbish and waste for what she estimated to be ten hours. She exclaimed that she grabbed the nearest rat and nourished herself from its poisonous, disease-ridden flesh to keep going, until she arrived at the deepest reaches of my domain. She talked of how the mongrels, vicious and dog-like rats, chased her to devour her whole until she pierced arrows through their skulls. And then she told me that my Sentinel, mightiest of rats, challenged her to battle, and she escaped him by shooting arrows at his eyes until he was too stunned to move on. Her body was scarred, from scratches, bites, slams and stabs. I could see that she spoke the truth, and truly, I knew it all already, for the Rat Curse in the body of every rat allows me to see everything that transpires in my kingdom. I am a king who sees all, and watches over all.

''You done this all in my name. Is this what you truly wishes for?'' I asked, and she did nothing but nod at me, her head kept down, staring at the ground below me, as if she saw herself as unworthy of being at my presence. And truly, she was, the two-legged freak. However, I understood her potential. And as I have already mentioned, I am a merciful man. ''Rejoice, for the right to serve me is now yours. Permit me ask. Will you surrender your Deiwos soul, and pledge yourself to me?'' And finally, she turned her head up and looked at me in my black, light-less eyes. ''Yes. I have no life of my own. I wish to live among people who can accept me. I wish to be vermin like you.'' Her words hit my ears, and I knew that she was worthy. She was a rat at heart, and desired to be one in flesh. ''You have the eyes of one who perceives true beauty. Stand still.'' And with that, I left my throne and dug my teeth on her leg, the dark power of the Rat Curse flowing through my body to hers, penetrating her very essence, her very soul. She yelled out in excruciating agony as her bones broke down, changed places and then fixed themselves, making her body unlike that of a rat. A fur not unlike one found in my kind grew around her, replacing her formerly pale surface, and her eyes became as dark as shadow. A rat's tail formed on her posterior, which swung side to side, spazzing uncontrolled for her lack of control over this new body. She looked at her own hands, the pain still present, and truly she would feel this pain for several more days. This was the cleansing of her Deiwos soul and the birth of the rat essence inside her.

''I will grant unto you all you should so desire. You shall serve with a true rat's honour.'' And with this, many more of my kin came out of their burrows and approached the former elf, sniffing her. She looked at them in confusion before approaching her and putting themselves against her legs until she fell down, with the rats going on top of her and closing their eyes. She was receiving an embrace of my people, and as soon as she realized it, she too closed her eyes. I watched as water appeared on them, the warmth of the vermin making her one of our own. She was no longer the beggar of a Deiwos sovereignty, she was now a part of our family. As she left with the rest of the vermin to be presented to her new home, I had only one last thing to say, one thing I state to every person who comes to me and gains my favour. ''My servant. Do not disappoint me.''

Golem: Father Loves Me
"Golem is best son!"

Date: 48 BNA

I Golem. Golem son of Nosfer. Golem loves father, and father loves Golem too. Golem born many year ago in lab. Father took body pieces and build Golem with them. Many parts of many things. Goblin head. Elf ears. Bear arms. Bug legs. Monkey feet. Bat wings. Crocodile tail. Golem has bat wings and teeth. Pointy teeth. It mean Golem vampire. Golem like drinking blood, but teeth too tiny to suck. Just eat people instead. Golem born in lab. Father took body pieces and let thunder hit big machine. Machine give Golem live. Father give Golem a soul in a tiny gem, then put it inside Golem's chest. It Golem's heart now. Pretty warm, make Golem feel fuzzy. Golem remember first time father took Golem to show him to Uncle Dalverat. Lot of snow outside, but that common. Father put chain around Golem's neck, he thought Golem would run off on his own. He took Golem through Castle Nightshade, took opportunity to wave at vampire friends. They scream and run off. Is Golem smelling bad? Was just born, didn't take bath yet. As father walked, Golem saw scary man in cloak floating around. Put hands in eyes, didn't want to look at him. Too scary, felt like death. Golem also saw three pretty ladies walking by and felt soul gem race. But they look at Golem and made disgusting faces. That make Golem sad. Once father got to Uncle Dalverat, he showed Golem to him. Golem remembers the conversation.


 * Nosfer - My Count, allow me to show you my newest creation: a flesh golem.
 * Golem - Golem is golem!

Uncle Dalverat turned to Golem when father spoke. He also made disgusted face.


 * Varelos - Vhat is zis preposterous zhing?!
 * Nosfer - Heh...heh...heh...I built him from spare parts of my workshop.
 * Varelos - By ze Blood Fazher, Nosfer. Zis is downright revolting to look at.
 * Nosfer - Should be a good guard for the front door, then...
 * Varelos - No, I don't want zis monstrosity scaring all ze guests avay.
 * Nosfer - Gah. But I worked hard on this thing.
 * Varelos - If you vant to keep it, zen you may. But I have no reason to keep him among ze rest of my servants. Now take it avay, it makes me feel sick!
 * Nosfer - Hmpf...very well, my Count. I will keep to my other creations in this case.

Father look at Golem with angry face. What did Golem do wrong? Uncle Dalverat mean, not like Golem, and that made father mad. Golem thinks Golem was created to please Uncle Dalverat and that didn't work. Golem isn't that ugly, is he? Father took Golem back to lab, and that where whipping began. Father grabbed barbed whip and hit Golem on back. It hurt a lot, Golem let out a yell. One thing Golem noticed was werewolf man in nearby cage. Father keeps werewolf man trapped for reason Golem doesn't know. When father grabbed whip, werewolf man cowered.


 * Nosfer - Useless! Waste of my time! Failed project!

Golem cried. Father was mad with Golem and punished Golem for being naughty. Whip made Golem bleed. Took several whippings for several minutes until father stopped because he got too tired to keep swinging.


 * Nosfer - Be lucky that I could use a troglodyte like you here for manual labour, otherwise I would unmake you from toes to ears!
 * Golem - Golem sorry, father!
 * Nosfer - Go to your den and don't show your face again until I request so!

Golem went to bed then. Pain made Golem take long time to sleep. Years passed. Golem now acts as father's lab assistant. When something too heavy to lift, Golem does it easily. One day, large two-legged flying lizard attacked Castle Nightshade, breathed fire on roof and destroyed gargoyles. Golem went there, grabbed lizard by neck and squeezed until it went crunch. Crunch. Golem likes crunch. Father rides Golem like horse too, is fun. But father still gives Golem whippings every week. He says he does it because he hates Golem, but that not true. Father loves Golem, Golem knows it well.

And Golem will love father too, for all eternity.

Pelagrios: How Do I Write Stories Again?
"Trust me, if you wake up with a sore head and a bad memory in the morning, you either had a good night or you got mugged." Date: 28 BNA

Nearing the midsummer of 28 BNA, Pelagrios and his crew had set sail to the western coasts of the main continent, nearing the Everwinter Highlands. A coastal port there that was known for its rich trade centre for many treasures from the forests and whatever unassuming traders could pick from the Orocathi Domain, which was more than often a once in a blue moon occurrence. Pelagrios had just recently escaped the volcanic wastes of Abyssus for the second time round, having claimed a shard of the World Devourer. Such things halted his ageing and the scars he bore from his torture in Abyssus had faded, but such things as partial immortality did not occur to him. Instead, Pelagrios was usually too inebriated to even begin to tell what had happened to him. Though the scenic coast line of the west offered much to those with coin, Pelagrios had little coin to his name and nor did his crew. It was often that Pelagrios' notorious kleptomania came into great use for the time being, though his most recent instance was commandeering the ship he sailed into. Guards were notified of this, but Pelagrios was known for his honeyed words and made them turn a blind eye.

Though he had only a few pieces of gold left, Pelagrios' supplies, namely his alcoholic supplies were running low. Usually, a scheme to rob a delivery of all of its supplies would come into place very quickly in Pelagrios' mind, though there did not seem to be any delivery. It was nearing midday as he entered the town, the salty smell of the sea, and more importantly the smell of a tavern was close by. His crew were often quiet and kept to themselves on land, usually observing the patterns of guard patrols or any other noticeably valuable piece of information. Instead, Pelagrios was drawn to the smell of the tavern. Indeed, it was a powerful smell of food, and, most importantly to him, alcohol. His looks, half-elven yet not particularly well groomed at this time, attracted the attention of courtesans in the area - often something Pelagrios would venture upon but the lack of money would have proven difficult for him to escape.

Walking into the tavern, the dimness of the darkly decorated room with a warm fireplace, candles and numerous patrons caused him to remove his hat. It was a hot day as it was, though he himself never tended to feel the heat. Waving a gesture to the barmaid, and putting two gold pieces on the counter, he waited there for her to pour him an ale. Rum was scarce in this area, something Pelagrios resented. However, despite his apparent vacancy, he was indeed crafting a scheme in his mind. Perhaps it was a little more crude than he was used to these days, but his skill in pickpocketing the unaware was unparalleled far and wide. It was an area of a little-to-do nature; Pelagrios was not well known here, and therefore such exploits would have proven easy. As a tankard of ale was put in front of him, he sipped it slowly, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the tavern. There did not seem to be anything of much interest, until his eyes were drawn upon a single individual in the corner of the tavern. He was not human - definitely elven, yet unlike anything no one had seen before. The elf had holed himself up in an area where little attention would have been drawn to him; that, or the patrons of the tavern cared not for foreigners in the room. What Pelagrios noticed first was his complexion - dark, deep sea blue marked with black stripes that would have possibly better suited a noble's clothing. The individual was smoking a long pipe, seemingly made of bone, whilst reading a tattered book of what appeared to be written in one of the elven tongues of the Sovereign. His face was severe of nature, an aquiline nose and gaunt cheeks. His eyes were a midnight black, discernible with deep blue rings for irises. His lips were hard and thin, and his teeth fanged. Many things ran through Pelagrios' head, but the possibility of the individual being aware of him watching was not one.

It was only until he finished his twenty-second ale did the figure eventually move up to the counter to order a drink. Pelagrios was swinging like a pendulum, his concentration on his target yet his eyes meeting the table, sticky from the many times ale had been splashed on it in the past. It was in the middle of the afternoon and his crew were beginning to wonder where he was. The elf nodded at the doubled-over pirate, asking for an ale at the counter whilst placing two coins of gold at the counter as well. Whilst he then turned, Pelagrios noticed the pouch of coins that dangled from his waist. Reaching for it without hesitation, he only grabbed the strings of which held the pouch together; the elf noticing it.


 * Pelagrios - ...I can explain.

The elf had little care for an explanation. Though he seemed to be of a similar height to Pelagrios, his strength seemed to be of at least four men. The elf's wiry hand grabbed Pelagrios with such force that it shook him off his feet, and then, accompanied by a girlish scream on Pelagrios' part, hurled the pirate through the smoky glass window and out on to the street. The crew noticed him flung through the window, with a groan, walked over to the pirate on the floor. Gadha, one of his crew, spoke to him as he lay flat on the floor.


 * Gadha - Been drinking again, captain?
 * Pelagrios - Elf. Blue. Strong.
 * Gadha - Been drinking too much I --

Gadha's eyes were drawn to the blue elf standing in the door frame, then drawing his cutlass to engage the threat. Most of Pelagrios' crew were former criminals on the run from the law much like he was, and, whilst street smart, only had limited knowledge in combat. Gadha was only met with being flung away similarly to his captain as the elf's fist met his chest. The other two members of the crew, Phaspan and Sungcheim, then drew their weapons.


 * Pelagrios - Guys...don't do this.

Pelagrios made it to his feet, taking him more than a minute to do so as he tried to draw his sword, but could not find his hand nor his hilt.


 * Elf - Who are you and why did you try to steal my money?
 * Pelagrios - If you told me who I was then I'd send the guards to get you...wait...that came out wrong. If I told you who I was then you'd send the guards to get me.
 * Elf - I think the guards are already coming.

The guards made their way to the scene, their rapiers in hand. They were more startled by the appearance of the elf than the pirates there, and made a poor assumption on that remark.


 * Guard - You! Elf! You causing problems?
 * Elf - ...What?
 * Guard - Vandalising property and then on assault, you're looking to do some time in jail here.
 * Elf - I think you're mistaken.

Pelagrios took the opportunity.


 * Pelagrios - Yeah, he threw me through the window and hurt my friend! He's a maniac!
 * Elf - Bastard!

He then ran at the best of his ability, though only making it fifteen feet and tripping over his own foot and falling over again.


 * Pelagrios - My face!
 * Guard - I think we've seen enough here. Seize the elf!

Pelagrios again made it back to his feet, much quicker than last time. He ran through the docks, pushing aside many civilians as his crew followed him. The elf pursued him further, who was in turn pursued by the guards.


 * Elf - Get back here, human!
 * Pelagrios - Uh, I'm half human for your information!

Running further and further down the docks, Pelagrios noticed a larger ship than his own which was of some interest. The sails were impressive, and it seemed that numerous supplies were being loaded on to it. Quick observations of the area caused him to change his path, this time, running towards the elf. As the blue figure swung his fist at the pirate, Pelagrios ducked under, running the other way and pushing further civilians out of the way. The guards took little notice of him, instead chasing the elf. The elf himself had little recourse, and, in one bound, leapt on to the shale roofing of the buildings straight after the elf.


 * Elf - Where the hell are you going?!
 * Pelagrios - If I could tell you I wouldn't.

Meeting with his crew, Pelagrios ran straight back to his ship and cut the anchor from the dock, causing some confusion amid the crew themselves. Pelagrios himself noticed the elf running towards the ship, though he could do little now to get the ship moving. The elf found himself on the same ship, though it was him against Pelagrios and his entire crew. The crew then all drew their weapons again, whilst Pelagrios, panting at the ship's wheel as he used it as cover.


 * Elf - Face me, you coward.
 * Pelagrios - No, I'd rather not.

The guards marched on to the ship, noticing the identity of the crew as pirates, and then the elf. Their decisions were changed, having possibly more rewards if they were to apprehend the pirate crew. Pelagrios resigned himself to walking drunkenly to the deck, pulling out his elven blade whilst the elf pulled out an obsidian knife. Pelagrios' eyes widened at the knife, almost whining.


 * Pelagrios - What in the twelve hells is that thing?

The crew roared as they chose to engage the guards, whilst the elf blasted towards Pelagrios furiously. What the elf had not taken into account was the swordsmanship Pelagrios had mastered with his training under Kinmorunddraver - Pelagrios had already far outmatched him though it was not of Pelagrios' willing. Slash after slash, Pelagrios lazily dodged the attacks whilst kicking and kneeing at his enemy. Whilst the elf was far stronger and potentially faster than him, Pelagrios indeed was running circles around him.


 * Elf - How are you doing this?!
 * Pelagrios - This is your fault, you know!
 * Elf - My fault?! What do you mean my fault?!
 * Pelagrios - You're being irrational! Besides I can get us out of this mess!
 * Elf - Oh yeah, how?!

Pelagrios kicked the elf between the legs, him letting out a sharp, raspy roar as he fell to the ground in agony. Running along the edge of the ship, Pelagrios made way for the capstan that his ship was tied to, though the volley of arrows from the guards caused him to lose balance and fall into the water, with a vulgar remark as he fell. Hitting the water, Pelagrios made the rest of the way by swimming, climbing back on to the dock using the wooden joists of the dock. Whether it was out of sheer energy or his elven physical strength, Pelagrios single-handedly pushed the capstan away, causing the ship to pull out of the dock. Whilst the plan worked, what he did not think through was on how to get back to his ship, causing another vulgar remark as he ran as fast as he could towards the ship again. Phaspan noticed Pelagrios running across the docks, and fed him a rope from the ship which Pelagrios jumped for - and missed.


 * Phaspan - You call yourself a captain?!
 * Pelagrios - Language!

Pelagrios slammed into the ship's hull, bouncing back on to the dock as he started running again. The second time round, he grabbed the rope in his hand and was pulled back into the ship by Phaspan and the rest of his crew. The guards were disposed of as they were hauled off the ship back on to the harbour, and held the elf at the point of their swords. Pelagrios took back to the wheel, turning the ship drastically starboard. It was directly on course for the other ship he noticed earlier; it was all a part of his manic scheme.


 * Sungcheim - Captain...what are you doing?
 * Pelagrios - Getting us a bigger ship.

As the wind caught the sails, the ship was taken to the direction of his target - it was only a minute or so before the ship halted motion. Pelagrios ordered his crew to board the ship they were coming towards, with ropes and hooks as they sailed down to the other ship. Pelagrios was on his way, until he noticed the elf was free to move. Out of drastic fear, Pelagrios then sailed down to the ship as well, though with a less graceful landing than the rest of his crew. The crew of the other ship were then alerted to engage Pelagrios' own crew; in the midst of the guards of the coast firing arrows at the pirates. Whilst they were fighting, Pelagrios sneaked his way out of the fight, going down the capstan of the next ship to pull it away. This time round however, Pelagrios returned to the ship with little hassle as one of the ropes slipped free of the deck, climbing back up it. Returning to the fight, Pelagrios and the crew hauled the other crew overboard, eventually claiming it of their own. They cut free the reigns of his old ship, whilst Pelagrios then took the ship's wheel for himself as the prevailing wind took them out of the harbour, still being fired at by the guards.

Pelagrios breathed a sigh of relief as the crew cheered themselves on, though as he turned to view the sea, he was only met by the knife of the elf at his neck. He yelped similarly to when he was thrown through the window, though he was prepared to talk his way out of it.


 * Pelagrios - Lemme explain.
 * Elf - You've done enough talking. Now tell me why you wanted to steal from me.

Pelagrios tapped the knife away from his neck as he stood up to face the elf at full height.


 * Pelagrios - I don't need to explain now. I just got this ship that probably has thousands of gold pieces on it.
 * Elf - ...You commandeered the ship while you were running from me?
 * Pelagrios - Aren't I just brilliant? You can put your knife away now since we're even.

As the elf lowered his knife, the other fist came swinging around as it struck Pelagrios in the face, snapping the pirate's nose with a crack. Pelagrios held on to his face as his eyes watered.


 * Pelagrios - Ow!
 * Elf - That's for getting me stuck on this damn ship.
 * Pelagrios - Listen, I'm sorry you're on this ship and I'm sorry I stole from you. But we're even now.
 * Elf - Guess I was acting...a little irrationally.
 * Pelagrios - Definitely even for breaking my nose. ...So...what's your name anyway?
 * Elf - Riadmanath. For short. Yours?
 * Pelagrios - Pelagrios. For short. Well, at least we're on a name basis now.
 * Riad - So, when am I going to get off this ship?
 * Pelagrios - What, you don't want to go on a little adventure? Elves from...wherever you're from must like adventure right?
 * Riad - The Polar Lands. And no. I don't want to go on a little adventure.
 * Pelagrios - There's a lot of gold involved.
 * Riad - I'm not a criminal like you, pirate.
 * Pelagrios - You'll like me soon enough.

N'hali: Attack on the Merchants
"There is but one thing that gives me joy in me unlife other than huntin' that cursed squid shark, and that is increasin' the size of me hoard!"

Date: 22 BNA

It was a normal, sunny day at the Tropical Lands as the merchant ships of the sailed west to reach their next destination. These ships originated from the ports of Prince Khensu's province, sailing south to reach Sprak Island and exchange goods with the and then depart to the far west to reach the Kame Isles, where they would deliver goods to Princess Khamarli's province and the local. There were a total of three ships, each commandeered by a captain but all three of them led by an Arkora commander who was responsible for the entire fleet, taking residence at the frontmost ship. It would take about a month to reach the Kame Isles at their current location and speed, but they were not in a particular rush and easily had enough supplies to maintain their crew for the time being. In case of particularly bad starving, the ships were also prepared to fish in the oceans if needed.

At least, they thought they were prepared for anything, until the crew reported something rising from the seas. An old, battered, algae-infested ship suddenly raised from the ocean, its design appearing deformed to a normal man. It was decorated with corals which grew across its surface, its sails looked almost like tattered fins, its colouration was a sickly green, and at the front was the sculpture of what looked like a fang-filled piranha-like skull which greatly resembled a. Upon the sails of the ship were also harpoons with the rotten corpses of dead s, seemingly left there as a warning. As the Merovar ships took notice of the ship, the crew immediately became restless and reported to their captains and commander, many of them being experienced sailors and being familiar with the legends of the south. Especially the legend of Captain Brineheart and his undead crew.

As the Arkora looked at the mysterious ship through his spyglass, a cold shiver was sent down his spine as he spotted another person doing the same thing, looking through a spyglass, right at his direction. And it was no mere person, but a walking skeleton whose eyeballs were a pair of bright, blue fireballs. The last thing he saw was the skeleton's teeth barring, as if it was grinning.


 * Arkora - Man up the cannons and take battle positions! Pirates are approaching... undead pirates.
 * N'hali - Me eyes locked upon me prey... The lizardmen have great loot. It be ours now!

The undead howled across the ghost ship of Captain Brineheart, The Eye of the Maelstrom, as it approached the Merovar ships with frightening speed. The Merovar had little time to prepare themselves before the first ship was assaulted by skeletal pirates armed with cutlasses, who invaded the ship by swinging around in ropes. The cannons of the Merovar fired upon the ghost ship, making large holes through its surface but doing little to stop it, and the crew was soon overwhelmed as their initial defense failed. The crew fought off the undead as the Merovar usually do, dual-wielding longswords and scimitars, but the endurance of the skeletons allowed them to shrug off their attacks even if their equipment was inferior.

The second ship would be attacked not too long after, and soon the Arkora commander's own ship found itself under assault. The ghost ship at this point had more holes on it than a normal ship would support, yet it appeared unfazed as it sailed right next to the merchant ships. N'hali Brineheart himself boarded the commanding ship, what looked like a bone parrot resting on his shoulder, his own cutlass in hand as he prepared to face the merchants and loot the ship.


 * Crewmember - It's... it's the undead captain!
 * N'hali - Face me mettle, ye damnable salamanders! Scurvy breath!

The undead captain's eyes shined brightly as a sickly green mist was blasted out of his mouth like a breath weapon, launched at the crewmembers' direction. As they breathed it, the crew found themselves coughing heavily, and within moments, some were even coughing blood. Brineheart cackled as he charged into the fray, taking the opportunity to cut down several soldiers while they were too pained to attack back, while skeletal pirates crawled through the ship's interior by entering through the cannon openings, ambushing the crew inside it as well. The Arkora commander was surrounded by whatever soldiers were still alive at this point, who acted as a shield to him while N'hali slowly walked at their direction, a grin forming on his visage.


 * N'hali - This be a lot easier than expected. I expected yer giant birds and many-eyed bugs ta put up a better fight.
 * Arkora - Please... Have mercy. We're mere merchants! We've done nothing to you!
 * N'hali - I know that, and I also know merchants have the best goods! And mercy? Hah! Surely ya jest with me, beaky. I show no mercy to the living... No mercy to the free.
 * Arkora - How about we give you the goods, and you let us leave with our lives. No more fighting. Deal?
 * N'hali - No deal, beaky. This here ship's going to the ocean floor!
 * Arkora - ...So you want to just destroy the ship without looting it?
 * N'hali - Hahahahah! Ye don't understand it, do ye? I'll loot it straight outta the ocean! But why am I even talkin' to ye when there's a ship to sink? Die!

N'hali's cutlass found itself wreathed in malevolent, ethereal blue flames as he swung it at the survivors' direction, causing them to be hit by a devastating blast of cold which froze them in instants, turning all of them into a single block of ice. The skeletal pirate laughed as he walked over to it and kicked it, sending the now-frozen crew to the ocean. The undead crew howled again in victory as they successfully took over the entire ship, and Captain Brineheart grinned again as he looked over at the dead parrot on his shoulder, flicking a finger at its head and causing it to wobble and squawk in response.


 * N'hali - Time to take a bath, Crackers! The loot is ours! And if we're lucky, the cursed squid shark will take my ice-flavoured bait!
 * Crackers - Bwaah! This is bait!

Ndrhthryr: Automaton
"Everyday, I still wonder what robed man had in store for me. I still believe not knowing however is the better situation."

Date: 7 BNA

He woke from a single stone slab in the middle of this room. Or it. Whatever this being was, he (or it) was no longer truly there.

He could only barely peer through this cage of a mask that he was wearing - and it was only seconds until overpowering discomfort caused him to groan and roar, writhing on the slab in pain as what he was now wearing poked and scratched into his body. It felt as if he was trapped in his own skin - trapped by something that caused him great anger, at least. His voice was no longer the same either; it was replaced with a verbal garble of sorts; many cries were taken until his voice sounded vaguely human. He could feel every single part of this machine he was wearing as it whirred with every breath that was so irregularly taken. The worst part? Such screams were without reason. The man inside this machinery could not remember where he was. Nor his name. Nor why he was here. The screams he uttered out were difficult - he felt as if much of his face inside was either missing or now a part of this mask he wore. He felt himself almost suffocating from many mechanisms in his mouth blocking much of his speech.

Much of the machinery now attached to his body was dead weight. He could not feel his hands, nor his feet. It took him all of his groggy strength to gaze upon these false arms and legs now replacing flesh, as if it was something out of a nightmare that he could not wake up from. But to him, it did not matter that much. He was far too confused to wonder what happened to him - the primal instinct to rise from this table was all that he could think of. But no motion came to these arms and legs, and he was weighed down to such a great degree. As his eyes adjusted, he came to understand his surroundings. He was not alone.

The light above him, what appeared to be a colossal chandelier, dimly lit this massive room. It looked like he was within a fortress centuries since abandoned, but it was not. Figures draped in dark red robes, who seemed human, slowly approached him. It seemed a little too surreal for the man - were these the figures who did this to him? As they approached closer and closer, the more desperate the man seemed. The roars became louder, words began to form, sounding like get away. As they stopped, their hands began to gesture. Was it magic, the man thought. Indeed it was. Their fingers arched forward, cupping their hands together as streams of lighting struck the machinery the man was wearing. The pain was excruciating - more so than just wearing the suit. He felt the innards of his body become animate as a certain kind of unwelcome energy permeated his blood. He felt a strong thump in his chest - as if his heart was beating again. Soon, his hands were moving by his will. Great strength entered his body as the pain of the magic dwindled.

The man breathed heavier and heavier as such strength entered his body - unsure what to do with it. But he sat up. Almost with great enough strength to send him flying forward, though these metallic hands stopped him from doing so. Those hands dug into the slab as if the slab itself was made of fabric. He swivelled around, taking himself off the slab. The man only slightly remembered his original stature - whilst he was tall, did not expect himself to be this tall - easily three feet taller than what he remembered. Although his composure was there, balancing on these legs were not. He fell to the ground, using these arms to stop him as everything below his knees felt faint.

One of the robed entities stepped forward. By the difference in his attire, namely a crown that he wore over his hood, that he was their leader. His skin was grey - much like a statue as his eyes glistened in the darkness of his face like emeralds within stone. His voice was equally dark - well spoken, but malevolent and cracked. As to who he was, the man had no idea. The face of the robed man resembled that of a human, though his teeth were sharpened.


 * Robed Man - Arise, my new weapon.

A weapon? The man could only groan in response. He did not want to be a weapon, nor a servant. Though his legs were far too frail to stand up on - but such strength was entering his body to.


 * Robed Man - You will do well in serving me, automaton...hm. Perhaps I should give you a name.

The Robed Man paced around the 'automaton', contemplating a name.


 * Robed Man - Athuush...named for the devil of protection...Ukadan for the devil of wrath...Zhatsus, the name of the devil of servants...Dzaughaz; the name of the devil of hatred, and Akhaubh, the name of the great devil himself. You are almost unworthy to bear these names yet...so what could I call you for now? Ndrhthryr. Yes...'automaton'. That is your name. Your first command. Say it. Your name.

The 'automaton' only found the strength to growl. And then, the strength to stand. Towering over the Robed Man, his master smiled in dominance at the machine, though it was not for long.


 * Ndrhthryr - What...am I?
 * Robed Man - You were once a man. Now you are something far better. A weapon. A servant of the gods. A servant of mine. And I told you to say your name.
 * Ndrhthryr - What...what did you do to me?
 * Robed Man - I will ask the questions. Now say it. Say your name.
 * Ndrhthryr - No.
 * Robed Man - Say it!

Ndrhthryr only responded with the simple swing of the great metallurgy that was his left arm, flinging aside the Robed Man with a crack and a thump against the floor. The other robed figures stood back in shock as they all drew daggers. Little did they know that the attention paid to the sheer force of this creation was perhaps too much for them to bear - an arrogant mistake. Their knives shattered on the armour of this being as, in great anger, shattered their bodies with his fists. No amount of magic did anything to his body, not even a minor hindrance. Blood spattered the halls and across his bronze and copper body. Their leader remained alive; albeit broken, as he only turned to face Ndrhthryr with the last of his strength. His face was torn at the sides of the impact against the stone floor, looking at his creation as if he had made something truly monstrous.


 * Robed Man - You...
 * Ndrhthryr - You turned me into this. Why?!
 * Robed Man - You do not remember? Who you were? Hahahaha. That is my parting gift to you, 'Ndrhthryr Athuush Ukadan Zhatsus Dzaughaz Akhaubh'. The rest of your life as a mere question.

Ndrhthryr, defeated in his words, roared out in anger and burst the skull of the robed man under his great metallic foot, reducing it to a bloody pulp that oozed blood off his boot. He left the room, knowing now that this place was a fortress only inhabited by them. The lack of his coordination caused him to step ever so carefully until he found great stone doors that led to the exit. Blistering sunlight stung his eyes through his helm, as if his eyes had never seen such light before. But he was free now. He did not know who he was or where was, but the name Ndrhthryr stuck in his mind. He would grow to like his name, though he dreaded the robed man - but named after many Dalmiric devils was something he took pride in.

Norrigan: Terrorizing Wyvern
"Face me, you beak-faced menace! For Isiris!"

Date: 6 BNA

The city of Alentran was a small populous center located west of the Tropical Lands mostly populated by humans, though Merovar caravans were somewhat common, arriving to trade goods twice every month or so. The city was small compared to most others in the region, but it nonetheless prospered as a region where adventures could rest before they moved on. One of these adventures would be a strange knight in literally shining armor, which emitted a faint golden aura around him, almost like a miniature sun. The guards at the city's entrance looked at the knight with raised eyebrows, unsure of what they were looking at, for the outsider's walking cycles were, frankly, rather goofy. This knight hailed from the destroyed capital of the Sublime Chivalry of Aynach, and Norrigan was his name. Once he got in front of the two guards who guarded the city walls, he stood in front of them and threw his arms up, in a position which, to the guards, looked like he was trying to look like a tree. That was, though, the gesture used by all Knights of the All-Seeing, Norrigan's former order, which at this point had been forgotten by all those not native of Visonia.


 * Norrigan - Good morning, friends! Have you praised Isiris today yet?
 * Guard - ...Are you drunk?
 * Norrigan - Drunk? Hoh, no, my friend! Though I certainly don't mind a good drink! Hahahaha!
 * Guard - Listen, pal...don't cause any trouble, okay?
 * Norrigan - Cause trouble? As if! Friend, I am Norrigan of Aynach! I eat troubles for breakfast! In fact, that is the reason I'm here, to look for a trouble to be solved.
 * Guard - Well, we don't need strangers coming at us wanting to help us, we're perfectly capable of handling ourselves.

At this moment, a scream was heard. IT'S COMING! was shouted at the top of the lungs of a sentry who stood in an elevated position. The guards turned their attention to the skies, where a reddened devil could be seen, flying at their direction. An immense Red Wyvern swooped down, launching a fire breath through the city entrance which knocked Norrigan and the guards off their feet. Red Wyverns are beasts of heritage who have lost a pair of legs in exchange of agility in the air. While juvenile members of the species are about two meters in height, this Wyvern was clearly an adult, towering nine meters at the very least. It flew down at the population and grasped at several men and women with its talons, before taking flight again. Arrows and crossbows were fired at its direction, but the monster flew away from the shoots, unleashing a fire blast the city before becoming too distant to be attacked. Red Wyverns are well known for their aggressive and predatory behaviour, and from this, it could be deduced that it stole these people to feed from them. As Norrigan got back on his feet, he held on his head before widening his eyes, pointing at the direction of the sky where the Wyvern had disappeared to.


 * Norrigan - I've found my trouble to solve!
 * Guard - You want to fight the Wyvern? You're bloody suicidal. No one who's ventured into its nest has returned.
 * Norrigan - Hahaha. Suicidal. Friend, I do not die. Believe me. Point me at where this nest is located, and your city will never have to worry about that dragon ever again.

The guard looked at Norrigan in disbelief. None of the city's guards would even dare suggesting going after the Red Wyvern, after so many of them had already died trying to fight it. However, it was obvious that Norrigan would not change his mind no matter what the guard told him. He let out a sigh and pointed at the same direction as Norrigan, showing him a distant peak in the horizon.


 * Guard - If you want to kill yourself, then go there. That's the Wyvern's nest.
 * Norrigan - Will do! This Wyvern will pay for attacking my fellow followers of Isiris!
 * Guard - What even is an Isir-

Norrigan had already ran off by then, leaving the guard behind. He reached his hand at the eccentric warrior for a moment before backing off, letting out an annoyed grunt. If he died fighting the Wyvern, at least he would not have to deal with him again. And so Norrigan ran at the peak's direction, no horse, no other means of locomotion but his own legs. One thing not yet noted was that he truly could not die, for he had already died when Visonia was destroyed. Norrigan was a spirit with a corporeal shell, trapped in the world of the living by the acts of when he destroyed his kingdom, and being a spirit, Norrigan had much more stamina than one would think. And even if he was not technically an undead, Norrigan's vigor and willpower was enough for him to run to the top of that peak thrice over if he needed to. Ascending the peak, climbing his way through perilous terrain, it would take him several hours to get to the top, when the sun was beginning to set. As he arrived, he found the Red Wyvern he sought to kill laying on the ground, asleep, the scorched bodies of its victims visible in a large nest, being placed around several eggs. By the looks of it, the Wyvern was gathering food for its future offspring.


 * Norrigan - Aww, it's a mommy! But...imagine all of these kiddies attacking the city! Oh no! I must kill them all now, I think!

Norrigan's loud speaking caused one of the Red Wyvern's eyes to open, and the dragon slowly got on its feet, glaring down at the knight. It let out a roar and extended its lifespan, making itself look like a giant before Norrigan, before inhaling and then releasing a powerful fire breath at the knight's direction. Norrigan let out a yelp and put his shield in front of him, which allowed him to protect himself against at least some of the fire, though he was still hit by several flames on his legs and face. The knight leaped to his side to get out of the fire, before charging at the Wyvern's direction, his longsword in hand, prepared to strike at it. The dragon lifted its foot and sent it at Norrigan to crush him under it, but the knight jumped out the way and then stabbed the beast's leg with his sword, causing it to growl in pain. Sending its jaws down, the Wyvern bit Norrigan, crunching him on its teeth before throwing him away. Norrigan gasped in pain as he saw holes on his armor, created by the dragon's sharp teeth. Fighting the creature head-on was obviously not a good idea, so the knight instead kept his ground, him and the Wyvern circling each other and staring at each other's eyes. The dragon would then swing its body and send its long, serpentine tail at Norrigan, aiming to either slam him or sting him with its large stinger, though the knight managed to jump out of the way of the attack, and as he saw an opening, he lifted one of his hands and pointed at the dragon. A spear of sheer lightning magic formed on Norrigan's hand, and he threw it at the Wyvern's chest, causing it to scream in pain. That was a Lightning Spear, a magical spell used by the Knights of the All-Seeing, who saw it as being the sun's righteous thunderbolts to be used to destroy Isiris' enemies. The lightning pierced the Wyvern's thick scales and caused it to back away, before it lifted into the air and began breathing fireballs at Norrigan from up there, making the knight run for his metaphorical life to not be hit.


 * Norrigan - You...shall feel...Isiris' wrath!

Norrigan jumped out of the way of a fireball before turning at the dragon, aiming another Lightning Spear. He threw it at the same time as the monster breathed fire, causing him to throw the lightning blast directly at the creature's throat. The dragon let out a screech and coughed out large quantities of blood before falling down, crashing into the ground, agonizing in pain and being paralyzed in place. Norrigan let out a battlecry and stabbed the Wyvern's throat repeatedly and at various places, causing it to agonize further and shake itself aggressively in an attempt to get back on its feet, but it was in vain. Norrigan's powers prevailed over the dragon, who succumbed to its wounds. The knight put one of his feet over the fallen beast's head and made his praising pose while letting out a hearty laugher, before walking over to the dragon's tail. Through several sword strikes, Norrigan severed the tail of the Wyvern before grabbing it and putting it over his shoulder. He would take the tail as proof that the dragon was dead, and despite being a mere human in proportions, Norrigan's physical shell was surprisingly strong and could easily drag this tail all the way back to the city if he so wanted. As he made his way out, though, he noticed the Wyvern's eggs again, and stared at them in silence for several moments before finally speaking his mind.


 * Norrigan - I've deprived these unborn creatures of their mother...was it really the right choice? Did I really help anyone with this...or was this merely the slaughter of a wild animal? Should I...spare them?

Norrigan remained silent for several more moments. He put his head down, his eyes closed, before finally raising it again. He knew what he had to do. He took the Wyvern's tail he was carrying...and swung it at the eggs, easily pulverizing them. The juices from the eggs' insides were splatted all over the ground, the tail and even Norrigan's armor, and he looked at the scene with a grin.


 * Norrigan - Of course not! Die, you Isiris-hating, fire-breathing pests! Hah!