Legion02

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

@Dealdric So if I get it right, Dirka opened a portal in the sky and flew out on top of her black dragon, right? Just checking so Ragnagedon's response checks out.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Finally a post I can be somewhat happy with. Needless to say things are heating up folks!

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

“Please. Please I beg of you.” The poor man crawled away through the mud. His legs were broken. A trail of blood followed him wherever he crawled. Following it was the Ember Huntress. Esif. In the past months, she had grown in zeal and power. From a distance the ever wizened Fir witnessed the spectacle. The raid had been carried out swift but with the proper amount of blood. Soon the sacrificial pyres would be stacked and the dead and living would be burned.

For the last few weeks he had kept his eye on Esif. She was no longer the girl he had found and handed a knife. Under his own care, she had grown into a vicious weapon. A hound he just had to point at anything and she’d chase it with a mad need for its death. Except she was nothing like a hound. She was the grace of flames. The swiftness of spreading fire. When the times were calm she carefully drew lines on her body, though kept the space just below her neck free and unmarked. When asked why she drew the lines, she just said she wanted to leave behind a pretty corpse for the flames. When at war, she let someone make small cuts on her back. Each scar became a memory of the kill and Esif was very good at remembering her kills. The girl had grown into a warrior and cared for herself in that way too. Her hair on the side of her head was shaven clean. Giving no opponent grip of it. The hair on top of it she kept in a tight braid.

“You want trinkets! I can give you many! Beautiful baubles! I know a place! I can show you!” The man kept begging. Esif didn’t flinch. Like a cat she carefully approached her prey. Ready to pounce. “Or people! I can give you people! I know of a village. Far north!” This stopped Esif for a moment. She looked up towards Fir. Who had heard the man as well. They’ve been marching north for a while now. Searching for a village with a rather odd name. Those who shared a close connection to a certain Goddess they called Iva’Krorh. But Fir shook his head. The man had seen it too. “No please! I can tell you about magic! I can-“ But it was too late.

Esif jumped into the air. The torches on her back moved the fire with her. Before the man fully understood what happened a spear pierced his belly. As quickly as she struck, Esif pulled her weapon out of him again. Know fully well she hit him perfectly. Blood poured out of the wound. Muddying the ground beneath him.

“A ruthless kill. Very good.” Fir noted as he walked up beside Esif. He crouched next to the man. Then looked into Esif’s eyes. Despite the moon hanging high in the heavens he saw only the reflection of burning fire. “You’re ready.”

---

Esif sat kneeling before a large pyre. Another village was burning around them but this time the raiders had made sure to take as many captives as possible. Sobbing mothers and wailing children encircled the ever more twitching raiders. Only the hands stood in cold discipline. Esif kneeled before the great fire in the center and absorbed the cries, wails and the occasional brave insult. She heard how much she was hated. How much she was despised. The bravest of the men were rounded up. With no punishment following these desperate fools kept hurling their insults. Then Fir appeared behind him. The hands forced the men away again to let the priest pass. Fir threw a stone knife at Esif’s feet. “Embrace your fate.”

She picked up the blade and rose from her knees. For a minute she observed it. Thinking, for just a second, that it was the same blade she had used for her first kill. No, that was ridiculous. She had thrown away that knife. It meant nothing to her. Nothing could ever really matter to her. With cold hate in her eyes she marched up to those hurling their abuse. “You’re right. I am a monster.” She said with a chilling calm voice as she slit the first man’s throat. “I want you to despise me. Hate me.” She slit a second throat. “It just means that I’m right.” A third throat began to bleed. “Right in wanting power.” A fourth. “And knowing that you want it.” A fifth. “Tell me. What would you do if you had seen me alone. In the forest? Near a stream?” She asked the biggest, strongest man of them all. The chieftain no doubt. He just spat in her face. Esif smiled a devious, vicious smile. “I’ll take this one.” She uttered right before she jumped the man.

Around her fury broke loose. Hands descended on the captives. Who weren’t even bound. Panic gripped the villagers. They tried to rush away but the raiders, frenzied, were close upon their heels. Esif had seen many raids. But now, on top of this big brute of a man and dominating him whole through her power, she knew this was very different. There had been an unusual viciousness building within the raiders. A twitch that nobody could quite satisfy. Yet here and know she felt that vicious hunger and she fed it. Again and again. Her brothers and sisters did so too. Those greedy for baubles and trinkets were raiding and looting. Those filled with lust dragged the most voluptuous women by their hair. Wrath, hate, and envy all descended into a bacchanal of murder. It was chaos in the truest sense of the word. For the raiders it felt like a moment in a twisted version of their own heaven. For the villagers and victims, this was their personal hell. As the night carried on the flames fanned high and the very based desires were given in to.

At dawn the raiders were asleep amid broken people still breathing and those fortunate enough to die during the night. When they slowly rose from their slumber, all felt the same thing: the twitch was gone. For now. Fed to excess. Esif rose with a new mark, just below her neck. A hand and no memory of how she got it. She felt nothing but pride for it though. It was a slow dawn for the raiders. Some had to gather their clothes which were spread quite literally everywhere. By the afternoon they were gone. Leaving nothing but the dead and the broken behind. In a strange way there had never been so many survivors of a raid.

---

Ragnagedon was pacing restlessly back and forth in his own hall. The corpses of three Verzakian Dragons adorned it. The God of Fire was disgusted with his own creations weakness but even more disgusted by his supposed siblings. First Anu’Varr has the gal to torture one of his slaves with his own gift. Then Dirka turned it into an abomination altogether. Even Rai, the foolish hoarder, thought a slave was better off with a voice. All this stopped the dragons in question of fulfilling its purpose: to hunt down and destroy all life. Still, as he had watched the world through the slit eyes of his slaves he saw it was not enough. No, he needed more than mere villages to burn. His visions needed entire forests to burn. The entire world! Sadly none of his siblings would allow it apparently. Even those who’d let him raze in peace seemed to have a need to meddle. Well, Ragnagedon had a long memory and his human servants were doing quite well. It wouldn’t be long now before they were ready. He could feel the fate of the supposed prophet near its end.

But the God of Fire had little patience left. He stepped out of his cave. Blue fire engulfed his body and from it the blue dragon crawled. Screaming with hatred for all existence he took flight. His wings quickly carried out of Verzak. A thick trail of smoke followed him. Verzakian Dragons within Verzak remained there. Chained to the defenses. Those roaming the desert felt a strong, irritable urge to go north towards the pass. They began to converge towards the black trail formed in the clear, desert sky. Ragnagedon was calling his slaves. Ruin flew once more into the world.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

I'm unsure on what Ragnagedon would do. Fear sorts of fits him but at the same time he might try and destroy the power...

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

I'll try to write another post by Friday. Won't be anything special, just setting things up for future events. I'm kinda waiting for Lowly Wretch to set up his event and see if I'm committing my fire raiders to it or if I push them down my own "questline".

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

@A Lowly Wretch I'm not going to commit Ragnagedon to the domain event already. Though I do have a few questions.

What would the domain event entail? Some sort of divine war? The appearance of an unformed divine chord?
Would the new chord already have a domain or allow a god to take another domain?
Generally, some more details about the event would be greatly appreciated. Unless of course, that's all for a big reveal in the future! In which case I am quite curious.

Also, and this is just a bit of a pointer. While Gods are quite effective and quite capable at killing Verzakian Dragons (I reckon even Hayim could take one down if he was so inclined), these Dragons are more of a "pest" that live in the temperate and desert areas of the world (though they can't fly to the further off islands). Which means that after a particularly gruesome culling, man and animal kind would grow again and thus lead to a resurgence of Verzakian Dragon population. I'd suggest a more "passive" approach. As in teaching humans (or dwarves, or Naga, or whatever sentient creatures you want to make) how to hunt them. Maybe create and then offer the tools for it. Another option could be the creation of a dedicated predator. Again, these are all suggestions.

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

@Lord Zee I do have a question about the curse. Will it just randomly trigger in humans? Or is there something that sets them off?

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

@Stern Algorithm Yes, they will try to avoid any divine realm (or area where a gateway is towards a realm).

@Lmpkio Good! The humies need help!

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

Great flames were lighting up the forest around the tiny shack in the middle of quite literally nowhere. The leader of the raiders, Fir, had it on good authority that a shaman lived here. His source, Esif, stood next to him. “Come out!” Fir yelled towards the shack, as his men holding torches surrounded the shack. Soon the darkness had to flee into the trees their long shadows. But the Shaman did not come out.

“He could be…preparing a spell.” Esif noted, a little afraid. She may have become one of the raiders, but she hadn’t felt like one of them yet. Still, despite her inexperience, Fir took note of her comment and gave a nod to one of the Hands. Who moved quickly towards the door with an axe in hand. He tried to kick the door open, but the latch held.

From within the old shaman warned: “Begone foul demons! I have peered in your hearts! The god of fire slumbers! He is powerless to help you! Begone! Begone and I may forgive you. If you do not, a cursed existence awaits you all!”

Fir just scoffed at the remarks. As if the shaman had no idea what he was talking about. Fir raised his hand for all his raiders to see. Then clenched it. With bundles of wood and twigs, they stormed the walls. Soon the shack looked more like a massive bonfire was being prepared. Though the door was left exposed. The tinder caught flame from the torches, which in turn ignited the wood. Great flames began to lick against the walls as smoke crawled through them. The flames grew higher and Esif saw how the smoke rose from the roof. Soon a coughing old man fell out of his house with only a staff in one hand. None of the Hands wasted a minute before throwing hooks at him and pulling him closer to them. In the act he lost his elegantly carved staff. Though a Hand was quick to pick it up.

“You fools! Do you not know who I am! A thousand curses upon you! May your spawn never see the light of day.” The old shaman tried to spat towards the raider’s leader. It barely reached his feet. He was less than impressed. He just moved his brazier-staff to his other hand. Revealing the woman standing next to him. “Esif!” the old shaman exclaimed. “Little girl.. what are you doing with these…” but then he noticed the torch in her hand. “No… you wouldn’t.”

The Hands let the man fall down to his knees. Fir opened his mouth, ready to speak. But it was Esif who spoke: “Yes. I have.” She took a step forward and passed Fir. She now stood before the old shaman. She could see the confusion and that one burning question: why? What could she possibly offer as an answer? She tried to be strong. But now that she was confronted with the question, she could barely answer it. Fir put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to answer to him.” He said as he stepped forward once more. He then turned to the shaman. “You do. Magic. I know you possess it. I know you revere the goddess. Hand over everything you know and your death will be swift.”

The shaman just laughed like a maniac. Which just made the raid leader let out a weary sigh. He reached out with an opened hand and caught the thrown shaman staff in it. With it, he lifted the chin of the Shaman. “You will regret not telling me.” Then the man was dragged back to his house. The wood was burning fiercely against the walls. It wouldn’t take much more until the whole thing was set ablaze. When the shaman realized what was going to happen, he tried to plant his legs into the dirt. Another Hand walked up to him and broke his leg with one fell sweep of his hammer. Fir gave the stolen staff to Esif and turned around to see how the shaman was locked inside his own house. “Oh Ragnagedon! God of Fire! Accept this sacrifice! A worshipper of your false sister! See that not even magic stands against your followers!” he preached, then turned to his followers. “We move north!”

“What’s up north?” asked Esif.

Fir just smiled at her: “Gods.”

---

Ystra, the strange word kept echoing through her mind. It was the only word she could form. Everything else, every thought she had, was just images and primal needs. She felt a need to eat, to hunt, to kill. Constantly. Ystra was the most developed though she ever had and now she took it as what she was. Ystra. The Verzakian Dragon had fled her homeland. Some chose to stay. Perfectly happy to be nourished by the fire god’s essence in his own realm. While constantly running the risk of being discovered and killed by their creator. Most siblings chose to flee. But as soon as they had passed the desert, the very sight of the others enraged her. They seemed to feel the same way. A fight broke out in the skies of the pass leading into the forest. Most Verzakians’ left it behind them. Others met their untimely demise there. But as they reached a strange jungle, they felt a strong, warding power. Something akin to their own lord yet very, very different. None of the dragons dared to enter the jungle. Instead, they spread west and east. Some tried to go further north. Not Ystra, she had made her lair in the mountains east.

Further north there was a lake and a forest, her favorite hunting ground. She was roaming it now. Killing boars and deer. For now she knew a measure of peace, at least the most amount of peace any Verzakian Dragon could feel, as she slowly ate the bloody flesh. But her meal was soon to be disturbed by a stick flying out of one of the bushes. The wooden javelin just cracked upon her scaled skin. But it didn’t go unnoticed. Ystra turned towards the bush and spewed a jet of flame into it. From the flaming foliage, a man ran entirely engulfed in fire. His screams of pain sounded like the most beautiful song Ystra had ever heard. Other humans jumped out of their hiding spots. Some tried to attack her, others ran. Ystra was surprised. What were these things doing? Some tried to hit her with stone weapons. She felt that, but it only enraged her. One she ate whole. His flesh tasted sweeter than the youngest fawn the dragon had ever eaten. These things were so appetizing! And they were throwing themselves so readily at her. With a swipe she send one of the hairless apes flying through the air. Until he hit a tree with an audible snap. Others ran or tried to throw more sticks at her. One nearly hit her in the eye. That enraged her. More fire was blown around, more backs were rend open. Blood poured and trees burned around her. But the fire didn’t bother her. She was born from molten rock. Soon the human hunters ran for their lives. With Ystra close behind them. Uprooting trees and crushing all manner of bushes under her. And behind her the ravenous flames of Ragnagedon raged.

A terrible hunger drove her through the forest. Leaving a trail of destruction behind her. The essence inside her, that was normally so painful, was now making her feel strong. The hunters left the woods and ran into a meadow. A bit further she saw the source of her food. A camp, two rows of tents around a single fire. Inside it were numerous people. The whole sight excited her. She unfurled her wings and took the air. The hunters she passed below her didn’t matter anymore.

The people around the tent didn’t know what they saw. A black dot in the sky was approaching, while their hunters came running for the village. What was chasing them? Then, a loud roar traveled over the meadow. It answered everyone’s question. People began to scream and cry as Ystra approached. Women took their children, men their spears. Groups tried to run but the dragon was upon them. With her breathe she burned the grass and ground before them. Walls of fire blocked their escape. Pillars of smoke began to rise up as javelins were thrown up into the air. Chaos and fearful screams reigned. The meadow became thick with smoke. From within it, one could barely see anything. Other than large blasts of fire through the thick smog.

For the humans below her, the world was set ablaze. The black air killed some. But Ystra, burning and swooping down killed more. She drove her prey closer and closer together. The warriors foolishly believed they could stand a chance that way. It did not matter, Ystra flew down through the thick smoke. Once close to the ground she flew through the fire as if it was nothing, finally landing in the middle of it and right before the last group of people. The warriors stood firm. But the mothers and children within were crying. Out of all the commotion, Ystra could hear one word pounding in her skull. “Hayim.” They kept repeating. Ystra couldn’t understand human speech but Hayim she did understand. It hurt her skull and fed her painful flame. It had to stop. Ystra finally charged for the group, fully intend to finish the painful clamoring.

When the dragon was done a large column of smoke rose up towards the sky. Ystra took towards the skies once again. In the distance, she saw another pillar, and then another. It looked like her siblings had found their feasts as well.

Summary

The Old Shaman of Esif’s older tribe was captured and killed in a big bonfire. Then Fir, the leader, led them up north. Ystra, a Verzakian Dragon, slaughtered a whole tribe. Once in the air she noticed her pillar of smoke was not the only one.

Short version: Humanity is going to need divine help soon...

Tabrasa\- Born of Chaos.

@Stern Algorithm I keep wondering, what would Gammaton even attempt with Ragnagedon.