Author Topic: My Decent into Darkness - by Ithkanon  (Read 4965 times)

Offline mac173

  • Savage Lord
  • ******
  • Posts: 377
My Decent into Darkness - by Ithkanon
« on: January 02, 2004, 02:51:34 AM »
***This is a fictional account/RP of how my goody-goody beastlord fell in with an evil RP guild, Hate's Culling, on the Brell Serillis server. I am an (aspiring) author and hope you enjoy***

Part I - Baptized in Ash

My story entails the life and death of my people, my clan, my kind. I was born to Chieftain Hündenfaus and his wife Shieravina, elders to the Tundra Wolf Clan of Everfrost. Peaceful and nomadic, my people roamed the frigid north following the herd beast migrations that lead from the icy plains to the heights of Everfrost Peaks. Fear and distrust had caused my brothers and sisters to avoid cities, caravans, outposts and anything that might threaten our way of life. People didn’t trust us, feared us, feared the “wolf talkers”.

Not all of my people were able to call to the beasts. In fact, many were exiles from other clans, excommunicated from their Gods and families and yet for no other crime than the ability to talk to the beasts of the land, sense and command them. Some of our more experienced kind could command an animal in such a way as to bolster it’s natural strengths and abilities, giving it powers that would boggle the mind. Such skills were trained and passed down generation to generation, our lore told over campfires with beast and man in kindred. That is, until we found the book.

A dark and foreboding, unseasonably fierce storm had come down from the Everfrost Peaks and with it, the fury of Marr himself. The storm’s assault built into an avalanche that filled Marr Cleft and left it impassable, altering the normal migration of our elk herds and caused them to pass closer to the city of Halas. My people had never ventured this close to such a place and so stayed clear of the guards and passersby that sought entrance and exodus from the city. It was here that we discovered the tome.

No ordinary book, the snow that fell upon it disappeared. It neither melted, nor blew askance of it, but rather just vanished without a trace. Curious, several of the clan elders inspected the tome until Elder Krauss touched the book. He seemed to freeze in place for a moment as if time had lost all meaning and then much like the snowflakes, he vanished without a trace.

Moments passed as the other elders shied away from the book, anxious for Krauss’ return. Heated debate began among the council of elders as to the next course of action. Some stated to say, others to go, some feared remaining near the book, others feared leaving and abandoning Krauss in case he should return. In the end it was decided the clan would camp near the book and clan warriors would rotate watch over the families and of the book to see if Krauss returned.

Late into the night I was awakened by the shouts of men, the scent of burning meat and the wake of Death’s beholder. Our men and women who claimed the calling hurled their beasts at our attackers. Only later in life was I told the great green monstrosities were known as trolls, horrid deformations of human-like visage. I still remember their armor, black-hued metal as thick as a man’s arm, and the name they chanted, ‘Innoruuk’.

We pressed the attack, yet the swarm of creatures simply slew our warriors and tossed their torn bodies upon the campfire. Occasionally a troll would take hold of a burned limb and eat the meat from the bone only to then use that bone like a club against us.

The battle raged on through the night as the blood of barbarian and wolf mixed to form a sanguine bed of icy snow. The dead mounded around our attackers and it became apparent to my mother that we would not survive. As she watched my father fall, the hope fled from her eyes and she took me in her arms. We ran. Years later my mother told me she could still see more of the trolls pouring forth on our camp and they seemed to be coming out of the book.

Few of us survived that battle, having little choice but to take up solace in that which we loathed—the man-city of Halas. There I spent my youth learning of traveling and of books, literature and knowledge of the book and of the planes to which it led. The time has come as I have learned the calling, a son of the frost, a wolf talker. I will enter the book, I will find the troll followers of Innoruuk and I will avenge the murder of my people. To the trolls I warn, “from the frigid peaks of Halas, vengeance comes to thee..”

Part II - A Gathering of Adversaries

My search for Krauss and for my hated foes had lead me to the abysmal swamps of Guk. To my surprise I was greated by not trolls, but odd frog-like men and women who had expelled the trolls from their borders. Alas, I feared another dead end in the search for the legions of Innoruuk when I happened upon a peculiar battle that changed the course of my search forever. Within the shrouded darkness and sweltering heat of the swamp I heard a sound I could only recall from memories of nightmares come to pass: the guttural drawl of Troll-speak and the din of heated combat. It was cinched by the tell-tale word of my hatred: Innoruuk.

“I shall teach you the true meaning of Hate,” spat a short, blue-skinned man that resembled what I had come to know as an elf. His red robes and studded coif were an odd counterpoint to his stark white chin scruff and turquoise complexion. Hands moving with deadly accuracy, bolts of force tore at a loathsome troll who salivated with battle rage.

“Innoruuk take you, small one,” returned the troll as he brandished a massive axe lined with runes along the haft.

“You trollssss lack the honor to Hate true!” declared a tall, bipedal lizardman draped from head to toe in a purple fabric I could not place. His hands had a soft glow that pulsated menacingly and his tail whipped about haphazardly as he jumped, landing a kick that the troll merely shook off. He laughed at the effort.

Words began to fall from elven lips that were of an arcane language I could neither translate nor follow. A mass of heat congealed before him, sprouting diaphanous horns and hovering atop a pillar of flame. It formed muscular arms and eyes that scowled. Its lip curled slightly.

“Light of Marr…” I said, never having seen such a display as this.

“Get him my pet,” the elf ordered, conjuring a sword for each of the flame beast’s hands. It set itself upon the troll who groaned loudly, raising his axe above his head. The flame creature dodged an arcing lunge and struck his swords against the troll’s back in riposte. A burst of sparks and a dejected grunt escaped the troll’s snarling maw. He raised up to find a reptilian grin filling his vision.

The lizardman’s fists were lightning made flesh, pummeling armored plates up and down his attacker’s torso and sides. The conjuration played a staccato counterpoint of metallic percussion as his swords danced over the troll’s surface. On and on the battle raged, at times the troll seeming victorious and others the small party had the clear advantage. Each of the combatants began to sway, weary of battle when a shift of triumph fell once again to the troll as, oddly and without apparent physical contact, the lizardman fell dead to the ground. Seeing his moment of conquest at hand, the troll beset the flame beast with a mighty warcry and bashed the conjuration with his shoulder.

“No!” I bellowed as my feet pumped, my twin maces held before me in a charge of rage. The troll groaned in surprise at my presence as I swiped at him in righteous fury, my warder sinking his teeth into a muscular green leg. To my surprise the lizardman had returned to life, coming to my aid with a simplistic and almost condescending grin. The flame beast looked as though it had taken the bash personal and veritably seethed with loathing as his swords slashed and pierced. The world exploded in a shower of red sparks, the din of a thunderclap ringing inside my helm was followed by the sound of a wet thud against the ground. The troll had fallen.

The elf bent over the corpse, removing a shimmering amulet from beneath the beast’s breastplate. I knelt to the sodden grass, praying to Marr for my good fortune at slaying one of my hated foes. My body was wracked from the battle, my kilt soiled in sweat and viscera. I stood and spat upon the corpse, turning to find myself being eyed by those that I had just come to aid. For some reason the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I knew my fate was being weighed.

“What bringsss you to our aid, Sssavage?” whispered the lizardman, his face a dubious countenance.

“I seek a race of killers,” I answered his query.

“And you have found them,” said the blue-skinned elf. By his stance and inflection, I was unsure if he was referring to the troll’s or his own.

“Any that fight against the trolls of Innoruuk are friends to my people,” I stated matter-of-factly. Their answer to the statement left me confused and perplexed. They laughed, wholeheartedly. So hard in fact that the lizardman began to sound more like an air bladder with a minute leak and the elf doubled over in tears.

“What is your name, Barbarian?” asked the elf.

“Ithkanon Thunderfrost, son of Chieftain Hundenfaus of Halas and heir apparent to the Tundra Wolf Clan,” I said and puffed myself with pride. The elf quirked an eyebrow at me while the lizardman was suddenly wracked by a fit of yawning.

“Do you know what a dark elf is, Ithkanon?” queried the elf.

“I would assume you by your dark coloring,” I said befuddled.

“Aye, but do you know what it means to be a dark elf?” he asked next.

“I have never been to this place nor many places in this world. I seek the trolls that killed my kin when I was but a child. This creature was one of their ilk and I will continue to hunt them, but I’m only familiar with my barbarian brethren, trolls and some of the high elves and humans I’ve met in Halas. I’ve never seen a ‘dark elf’ in Halas,” I replied.

“Nor would you,” the elf whispered. “I am Espion Digne of Neriak and I bid you greetings, Savage.”

“And what are you? I’ve never seen your like in Halas either,” I asked of the lizardman.

“A member of the true ruling raccce of thisss planet, Ape-child. I am an Iksssar and to you that word meansss God. You may call me Vresk,” stated the reptile. Espion cleared his throat and gave the lizard a meaningful look.

“Let us help you in your quest for vengeance. Aye, we will cultivate your need into a harvest of violence that will shape the will of Norrath and expunge the planes of our enemies. Come, we have much to discuss,” said the dark elf as he smiled and pointed for me to join them.

I felt a wave of exultation and promise. I had finally found allies in my war. My first true companions.

Part III - The Swaying of the Will

“And so it has come to this, friend, that I ask you to join us,” Espion stated with his usual toothy smile. I had emptied my… twelfth?.. seventeenth?.. pint of barbarian frostmead and belched as the flagon swam in my vision. Only here, in the Portal of Knowledge Inn, would we meet when not adventuring. I had found through our many months of traveling that these Tier’Dal and Iksar are not welcome in the lands of Halas. My friends not welcome in my homeland caused me much toil when I found out and yet their companionship has been most appreciated. My barbarian brethren hating my only true friends was something I still could not understand.

“Join you? I’m already with you. We’ve fought together for months,” I replied as another frothing stein was slapped down before me. The bawdy half-elf inn wench in a tightly-laced bodice afforded a smoldering glance after setting it down and took her rightful place in my lap.

“No, you misunderstand. You’ve become powerful enough to gain the notice of your peers and the fear of your enemies,” stated Espion.

“Yes, you have done well to use your hate, focus it, use it and release it. It is time to join your brothers formally into our own society of hate breeders,” stated Sithmar as his own dark-elf maid nuzzled against his neck, whispering something into his ear to bring a grin to his blue lips.

“Aye, then I shall,” I stated and smacked the base of my tankard against the plank table, spilling froth over the rim.

“Then you must renounce your God,” Espion stated, deadly serious.

“What?” I exclaimed and nearly dumped the lass from my lap.

“You must renounce your affiliation with Mithaniel Marr,” he stated again just as flatly.

“But why?” I asked, befuddled.

“Because Marr does not welcome our kind,” he said and waved his hand, indicating himself and Sithmar. “Your own kind don’t like us. Many of them don’t like you for associating yourself with us. And yet we are your true friends, are we not?” he pressed.

“Well yes but I don’t see…” I began to say before I was cut off.

“He let your people die!” Espion yelled. All I could do is gape, mouth moving in pseudomotion, wanting to speak but unable to. “What has he done for you? He allowed your people, his loyal followers, to be lead to their doom without saving any of you.”

“No, it was Innoruuk who brought death to my people,” I returned, my voice heating with rage.

“Bah, it was Innoruuk who spared you. He saw your potential, fed you the seed of hate and look how you’ve bloomed. The hate you’ve been blessed with has earned you wealth, strength and the legacy of conquest beneath you. It has made you into the man that you are and you harvest the boon of what the Father has given you.”

“Innoruuk is a God of evil and malice. I can’t ascribe to that!” I declared as my voice cracked in frustration.

“Look within yourself and you’ll see that I’m right. What has Marr ever done for you but left you to die with your kin in the butchering snow. Those trolls would have found you, would have killed you had Innoruuk not seen you as one of his own, shielded you and your mother to get to safety so that you could grow to do his work. And that work you already do!” the dark elf pressed.

“He is right, Savage. How many times have we cleaved the flesh from our enemies, those that follow the light and the dark, for our own gains and to bolster our own hate. I’ve seen you kill. It is the only time you are happy. You go from one thing to the next, slaughtering everything in your path. Those kills, those deaths are all that bring you happiness. That is Innoruuk’s blessing to you. You know it. Deep in your heart, you know it to be true,” Sithmar said in backing of his dark elf brethren’s cause.

“But I have worshipped the Light of Marr for so long…” I pleaded

“What was the last time you prayed to him? That you showed your allegiance or respect for his ways? When was the last time you did something bespeaking of utter kindness as he would supposedly want? You claim to be a disciple of Marr but in truth your actions are those of a true follower of Innoruuk. You’ve fed your hate and malice since you were old enough to comprehend that slaughter that took place for you as a child. Since then you’ve followed the Father’s path and through it you’ve become powerful and treacherous. Your enemies fear you, your people fear you, the followers of the Light fear and hate you but only we do not. We understand you and accept you for what you are. We see you as our equals and that is what true friendship is. Your whole life has come down to this moment, my friend. You must renounce your God and accept your true place among us,” Espion stated in a sincere voice.

“I…” My mind swam from the frostmead and from the realizations that had all come to pass. I could only see the overbearing truth of his words. What he spoke, what he and Sithmar revealed to me was something I could not deny. In my heart, I knew they were right. I saw the hatred that I used and I basked in it’s infernal heat. Only when I killed and destroyed did I feel as though I was where I belonged. Only in their company did I feel as though I’d found a home. Halas, Erudin, Felwithe… all these places felt strange to me now and yet they were homes to the followers of Marr. I looked down to my belt, to the grinning skull atop my favorite mace and it all fell into place. A follower of Marr, the Lord of Light and Life, would never use a mace that so bespoke of death and destruction.

“I… agree, friend Espion. Your words are wise if painful for me to accept. I will renounce my God,” I said solemnly. “Where you go, I follow.”

Espion smiled in victory, clasped my shoulder with an open hand and ordered another round for all at the table.
_________________
Ithkanon Thunderfrost
Savage Lord of Brell Serillis
Son of Halas, Hate's Culling Guild

Offline Hornet

  • Mr.
  • Brute
  • *
  • Posts: 3
Re: My Decent into Darkness - by Ithkanon
« Reply #1 on: July 20, 2005, 01:12:24 PM »
Great story!