[hider=Sol’ Kureth]Identity: Sol’ Kureth, The Insatiable, The Dark Maw, The Faceless, Lord of Lies, Mage of Darkness, Demon's Wail Type: Scion Myth: The notes of Sir Gallof the Old, Gathered from (A long list of sources) and accounts from (a short list of clergy scribes by first and last name) over the past twenty years. Sol’ Kureth was once a proud and noble dragon lord that worked to oppose the dark lord. What caused his Betrayal is lost to history, but the creatures and horrors raised by his new found dark powers earned him many titles. The most credible rumor states that he was captured by the Dark lord’s forces and corrupted by the magics that they possessed. His actions are accounted for as being one capable of changing to a very repulsive form that resembles a creature well beyond death. His role in the great war was most easily explained as what would be considered a dark cleric. The magics he possessed were often gifted to his followers. The storys tell of their use bringing about ghastly transformations to those that practiced the magics he gifted, corrupting their very souls. The Dark Maw was earned as a title in a great battle sometime late within the great war. The corrupting magic that his followers would practice would corrupt them, but even worse was how the corruption was used. The great abomination would consume his own followers for powerful bouts of magic that could then be leaked to the surrounding lands. This power, much like the rumored corruption from the blood of the dark god, would infect the land and bring about famine and death. The corpses of men who died in these cursed lands would arise, perverted versions of the men and women they once were, to fight at the whim of this insatiable creature. The goals of this being were never clear, as it seemed that he desired to spread deceit and doubt before acting strongly with force and magic. The only records that surfaced on this matter were a Clergy that held titles speaking of his loyalty to the dark god that he served. There are records of his personal and failed assaults on the clergy of men, and how he attempted to use their dreams to convince noble men to turn on their brothers for nothing more than dark power. As obvious as a trick this would seem, many fell to such temptations, but the lord of light was there to reverse the horrible incantations. In the few accounts of his physical appearances within the realms of early men, this being took on the visage of a human in the shape of a very disturbing dragonskull donned humanoid. See reference for details, the description will be in chapter seven with several other theoretical forms The Faceless may have used. [hider=Humanoid Visage][img]https://i.imgur.com/DJd44h4.jpg[/img][/hider] [hider=The Dark Maw][img]https://i.imgur.com/TlLdg6t.png[/img][/hider] [hider=Corrupted wyvern known to speak on his behalf][img]https://i.imgur.com/dJA9zZW.jpg[/img][/hider] Among the most vile of his corrupted magics were what he would do to those he captured. He would break their wills, their bodies and their very souls and bend them to serve the dark god as creatures that they once feared or hunted. Undead abominations that very few records can describe without the danger of madness leaking onto the very pages themselves. It is a dangerous task to record the deeds of one deemed dark, but without their record how could we ever hope to turn away a second coming? This being was slain near what is now called Skull Island, and its field of bones in the north are where trolls roam. I fear that if an expedition to the field of bones does not occur the Trolls may discover the fallen magics, and should a shaman arise, the Faceless being’s power could be used. I say without a doubt that it would be impossible for this being to be resurrected. Narrative view… The wizard had made his way to the darkened bone fields of skull island after many restless nights. He had found several ancient tomes on the power that rested in the bone fields, and with any luck he would leave here with that power. The legends spoke of a great being, a dark god who was destroyed long ago. The dark god’s followers, however, met ends far estranged and left behind powers just as the legends said the forgotten one had left curses upon the world. The Abomination’s power had been all but forgotten, the clergy had seen to it. When the darkness came to an end and the world found ‘peace’ as it was, many scions were hunted down and destroyed. Or so the churches and knights would proclaim. This wizard only hoped that the power this ancient being had could, through ritual, be harvested from the beast’s bones. A forbidden tome from a lost ruin near Gold port had sensible information in regards to lifting the holy magics that contained the power within the field of bones. He had purchased another from the darker markets that had led him to the location of this cursed ground, where even the bravest of trolls did not follow him. The book did not do the place justice. Hundreds of monstrous creatures long slain littered the grounds, the ominous skull of a once large dragon was the jewel the wizard had quested for. He began his search, setting up a camp with his spell craft in the silent field of bones. The first day was like any other, a grey and cloud filled sky pushed cold air across skull island to steal away the warmth of the land and leave it bitter and cold. The book had several warnings within speaking of something called ‘the great enchantment’ and to be cautious when restoring it. The wizard had no intention of restoring any enchantments, his interest was the power within the ancient bones. He began his work searching the sunken plain of decay. It was after a week of toiling in the great fields that he finally discovered the coveted jewel. The massive skull of an ancient black dragon lay on the ground. The skeleton of the once great dragon was intact, though badly damaged ribs and a large hole in the skull removed any doubts as to how the beast died. Hide still clung to the ribs and the skull in many places, though the smell of rot was absent thanks to the cold. Many other piles of bones lay about the clearing, but the wizard was set on his prize. He would move his camp closer, setting up shelter in the ribs of a mammoth across the clearing. He would begin studying the bones of the dragon to make sure there were no foul curses or tricks to be placed upon the unwary. His toils began anew, and the process of finding the source of magic in this cursed place had begun in earnest. The Wizard would sleep peacefully knowing he was so close to completing his task. How unwise it was for a mortal man to wander where even trolls fear to tread, to sleep without company among the ancient dead monsters of a bygone era. His meddling would wake one of the chief servants to the once great darkness that resided here. A great undead wyvern would rear from the mound of bones, forming to completion as its senses could detect a living creature within the bounds of its master's resting place. The creature would take flight, melding with its master’s whim as it looked down upon the landscape with eyeless holes in its head. Spotting the mage, it would observe from the cloudy sky. The wizard was obsessed with the skeleton, taking notes and samples in an attempt to discover the whereabouts of this ancient power. He failed to notice the darkness above as it blended well with the clouds. He lamented as the days moved one, frustrated that he had come so far to be lost at the very end. The wyrm watched, and so too did its master. The great abomination heard his pleas, and so used the last of his energy to answer. The small wyrm would land, taking the mage by surprise as a great voice in ancient dialect boomed across the clearing. Bones and dirt alike were scattered as the creature came to a halt. “Old twin legs, why do you dwell within... a field of bones where so many of your kind... have met their end?” The voice was hollow, raspy and close to a shrill. The Wizard’s arcane eye could see that the power he sought was within the creature, and so he thought to rejoice. However, he was now faced with a new problem. The undead wyvern before him was stained in old blood, weapons protruded from its hide as though they had always been there. Rusted with the futility of long dead knights, or perhaps nothing more than melted snow. “I come seeking the power of the great Abomination!” The wizard needed to buy time to prepare his spells. “You have traveled... far, and risked your… short… life to merely see the power…” The beast would lower its head, taunt skin popping off its skull to hang freely as the constant stress had finally worked it off. “You… will have a taste… come… touch my skull.” The raspy voice would become gradually slower. The mage was hesitant, preparing a spell should the need arise to evade the creatures jaws he would hesitantly approach. The creature moved sluggishly, and so the mage would begin to lower his guard as he extended a ring covered hand to touch the bare bone of this wyvern’s skull. Upon contact, the mage would be covered in dark energies. They would swirl around him, flowing into his eyes as he looked around in wonder and awe. “I can see them!... the incantations!” he would proclaim, only moments before the voice spoke clearly in his mind. “Destroy them, and the power will be yours to wield as my herald.” The mage shook, the voice clearly startling him as the tone was not slow or raspy. He looked around assuming he had been ambushed, but there was only he and the bones he touched. He quickly let go of the wyvern and began working, the voices in his mind instructing him in magics long lost. He would take notes, filling in tomes for his own curiosity. The voices in his head cared little, for there was all the time in the world. Casting the final ritual, the weapon that bound the great dragon skeleton would be revealed, and the wyrm would destroy it with a blast of its fell breath. The Wizard would rejoice, amazed at the power he was witnessing first hand. The books had not been worthless, his trip had not been a waste, his years of studying the arcane would finally lead him to be the greatest Wizard that had ever been!... The Black dragon’s skull would slowly lift from the ground, dirt and bones alike falling from it as green orbs lit within the eyes of the skull. Flesh would crawl out of the ground, swirling over the bones with a gnarled sound as it began to twist together. Muscle and hide alike would form mangled and corrupted as the magics binding this ancient scion faded, and his own dark powers returned to him. Soon the mage's wonder would fade, replaced by doubt, before finally fear would set in. The being in front of him was not something he could dominate, it’s magics were older than the ones used to bind him… his spells would be worthless, his knowledge nothing… he would likely be this creature's first meal. “You have freed me.” The voice would echo in the man’s mind. “You will herald my power into this world as it once was… your ignorance shall be removed, your pathetic life given to me in service… so that you will be worthy of my power.” The great scion would take the Wizard's body as his own, dominating him completely so that he could begin to rebuild his own strength. The wizard would get what he wished for, but he would not be in control. The powerful being would scour the mortal’s mind, but it was too fragile. It shattered quickly, and soon there was little left aside from magical potential. “A shame… It was too much… Why must humans always remain so… fragile?” The clouds above the field of bone would darken, the holy magics surrounding the island that had long been kept strong were weakened, and with the power flowing back into Sol’ Kureth, he would cast his ancient curses to rend the holy magics from the island. His head would turn, his body aching is it begged him for new flesh. Fresh on the memories of this man were the trolls of this island. Their regenerative powers would be perfect to help his recovery. They would surely revel at the return of their dark god’s mage. [/hider] Updated version, keeping the old one posted. New one; [hider=Sol’ Kureth] Defiler, Dreadmaw, Flesh Demon, Betrayer, Type: Scion Myth: Throc made his way deeper into the dreadfields of Skull island. He had found the ancient stones of power the elder had kept to himself. There were three stones, each filled with a dim purple glow that would occasionally fade to a dark green. The troll accompanying him hummed a tune, grunting as he tried his best to shake the feeling of dread that this place brought. “Throc, why we go here? There no food, no U’mies to eat eifer!” “Shut…” Throc looked to Ra. “Ra, we go to find the old one. Elder say land is cursed, but Throc have sleep-vision.” Ra, the smaller of the two trolls, was apprehensive. He was a young blood of the tribe, and it was his duty to follow Throc as Throc had followed the Elder shaman. “Me think you drink too much grog-grog.” Ra said under his breath. “You come with so that if I is wrong, you tell tribe what happen.” Throc was resigned to his fate, the fear that every troll had of this land was beside him. He walked with purpose and certainty through the pines to the infamous field of bones. Here, the trees would stop growing in a perfect line. The field of bones was infamous for its guardian, a large bone creature that killed and ate anything that disturbed it. Trolls were no exception to this rule. Throc walked beyond the treeline without hesitation. Ra, however, was not so eager to throw away his life. Stopping at the treeline, he would whisper loudly to Throc. “You serious! Do not go in there, the bone demon eat you!” “Bone demon? Bone servant. Bone servant bring me to old one. Me use stones to wake old one, win old one’s favor.” “You die! Bone demon no care about rocks!” “Gemstones! Do not-” Ra interrupted, no longer whispering. “Me no follow! Me watch from there!” He pointed at a nearby rise that formed into a cliff. Several sickly trees clung to the top of the rocky face. It was where the tribe leader and the tribe would watch the bone demon kill trolls who had overstepped their place. “Ra, do not run unless you see me die.” Throc turned, walking away as Ra continued to try and convince him to stay. Ra made his way to the vantagepoint as Throc walked deeper into the cursed lands. Here the ground was as hard as iron, bones littered about loosely would crack and pop beneath the large troll’s feet. Following his vision, Throc removed a shimmering stone from his pouch and placed it in the notch on his club. Making the stones visible was paramount if he was to be successful in reaching the heart of the bone fields. He would also need to follow the stone's light. Several hours of walking unleashed the true nature of the bone fields. An unnatural wind cut through the land. Throc cursed as he felt the wind cut into his hide like daggers of purest cold. Ice began forming on the loose bits of his clothes and his nose. He pressed on, his obsession with the visions he had been plagued with proving true. Ra watched as Throcc became smaller and smaller over the hours. He had made it far deeper than any troll had ever gone. The bone demon was nowhere to be seen. Ra cursed Throc’s stupidity, wondering how such a dumb troll could have been chosen to follow the elder. The stone on Throc’s club glowed as it passed the first mammoth skeleton. Throc’s vision had told him to follow the stone to find the old one, and so he did. The dim green glow signaled the stop of the bone chilling wind that followed him. He traveled into the great bone mounds, where the bone demon was known to slumber. Here, Throc would find a great dragon skeleton. Ra lost sight of Throc when he moved into the large field of bones. The great skeletons there were of creatures larger than trolls. The bones of creatures here were piled in massive mounds that seemed to be frozen together. Ra waited, sure that the sound of Throc’s death scream would happen at any moment. The great dragon’s skeleton was separate from the many that surrounded it. It was free of ice and scratches, something many of the bones here were riddled with. A single rib was missing from it’s right flank. Pausing for a moment in awe as the size of this great skeleton, Throc shook his head. He had to follow his vision, if he did not he would not get what he desired. Throc walked to the gap in the skeleton’s ribs and removed a glowing stone from his pouch. He placed it on the ground, uttering a word of power that he knew nothing about. The stone glowed brightly with a green sheen as it had in Throc’s vision. The troll moved to the great skull of the dragon and placed his club on the ground near the jaw. Throc climbed the skull, pulling the last stone from his side pouch to place it atop the snout. He uttered another word of power, and the stone glowed the same as the other. Throc used the lower jaw as a foothold to climb down. The troll picked up his club, dislodging the final stone as he moved to face the dragon’s skull from the front. Speaking another word of power, the last stone ignited in a green glow. Throc nodded to himself, lifting the stone to his mouth. He ate the stone, looking to the skeleton of the dragon. “You… You have returned my power… You will share in… its bounty.” A deep and ancient voice boomed in his head. It was exactly as he had foreseen, the old one was not dead. Throc fell to his knees, bowing to the bones before him. The stones placed among the bones began to emit black tendrils. The ground around the skeleton cracked open. Putrid flesh crept from these small crevices as though the ground itself was some festered wound. The black tendrils formed by the stones began to cling to the bones of the great skeleton, causing this flesh to begin crawling over the long dead beast. The cracks crossed the clearing, traveling from bone mound to bone mound. The ice creaked and moaned as the bones turned into dark tendrils that flowed to the skeleton of the dragon. Flesh twisted and crawled over the skeleton. Muscles formed as flesh flowed between the gaps of the bones. Scales and plates formed as the dark tendrils receded beneath the flesh of the dragon. Great wings lifted to the sky as it stood for the first time in centuries. Ra watched in awe as the bones vanished to show a dragon had appeared. He would have ran, but he could see that Throc was still alive! The bones that had hidden him were gone. Ra could not believe his own eyes! “Throc was not stupid?” He said to himself. “Taste what once was yours, Throc.” The mighty dragon lifted his talons, black tendrils flowing from the tips of his claws poured into Throc’s eyes as the troll looked up. Throc cried out in pain, struggling to keep himself from falling over. He saw the memories of the great beast… he saw himself standing in front of an army of Trolls running down fields of men. He saw the rituals his elders had once practiced. Bones jutted from Throc’s hide as the energies within him transformed his body and mind. He grew, his body strengthened and his own knowledge of fell magic had been re-ignited. The knowledge the elders had lost over the ages was his to command. “You will serve me.” The great voice boomed. “You will lead my creations to claim the land and steal its power.” Sol’ Kureth looked into throc’s mind. The trolls had fallen, the war had been lost. Chernobog was defeated? How could such a thing be? The lands he had claimed were no longer his own, and their power had faded. They had been reclaimed by the light. Anger filled Sol’ Kureth, his servants had long crumbled and only two remained; this new found troll and the corrupted wyvern. He looked around the wastes, seeing bone and ice were flesh and creatures once gathered. The ground sealed, green light ceasing as his form returned. “I need flesh to craft.” The scion turned his head to the distant cliff, spotting the young troll Ra. [/hider]