Author Topic: What be thy will?  (Read 1198 times)

LawfulJoe

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What be thy will?
« on: July 15, 2008, 06:04:40 PM »


Incense burned, scenting the air with potent spice. Cedarwood for protection, Lilac to open the mind, Cherrywood for divination, and Gingerbread for power. The odd medly of smokes curled above the altar, the sleeping child unaware of what was soon to come.

"Lord Orcus, master of Death, give upon us your blessing, accept this sacrifice of innocence as a symbol of our gratitude." spoke the dark haired woman of pristine beauty, she looked over to her accolyte, a young handsome man with deep blue eyes, like a stormy sky.
"Xavier, light the candles"
He bowed reverntly, the 30 or so members of the cult began to chant in the infernal tongue as each of the black candles flared to life by command of the young warlock. Each of the sconces marked the corners of the pentagram chisled into the floor of the raised dias, the candles yellow flame sputtered and changed to blue cold fire. From the altar the high priestess picked up an ornate dagger, decorated with rubies and skulls, bless in the blood of 100 virgins. This sacred dagger have sent many souls to the demon lord, Xavier just looked upon it with awe and envy.
"Lord Orcus, accept this acolyte into your service, give onto him your power so he may further it upon this plane. May the blood of innocence seal the pact between you and Xavier Stormcrow!"
The cruel dagger raised high and gleemed eerily in the blue candle light. To all who watched, as it had happened many times before, the childs life was soon to end... but that all changed when the arrow peirced the priestess's arm.

The sanctity and unholy peace was shattered as armored soldiers rushed into the ruined temple. 4 more arrows thudded home into the raven tressed priestess, killing her and spilling her blood in a spray across the sleeping child who awoke screaming, her enchantment broken. Cultists rushed the the soldiers with savage Kuhkri blades. The Knights of Torm made short work of the much less skilled zealots, their swords cutting them down like wheat before a farmers scythe.

The blonde hair acolyte turned to run, his master and mistress dead. He had loved her but more so her power and knowledge. there was but a moment of sorrow in his heart at her loss before the more pressing emotion of survival took over.

"HALT and be JUDGED!" shouted one of the Tormites, who stood to bar Xaviers passage. The young warlock bowed as if in submission, but his hand dropped to a pouch and drew forth a pinch of sand.
"Stay your sword and rest ye in to peace of sleep" he uttered as he sprinkled the sand in a sparkling shower of dust. The Knight took a step forward and then staggered, dropping to on knee, overcome by the sleep enchantment. Without hesitation, Xaviers dagger flashed and sliced opened the knights throat in a gush of crimson.

He ran, out of the ruins of the ancient and forgotten temple of Orcus. He ran into the thick fog that had risen, hoping to use it to hide his passing.

Next thing he knew her heard music ahead...
"Gypsies? here?"
« Last Edit: July 15, 2008, 06:09:32 PM by LawfulJoe »

LawfulJoe

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Re: What be thy will?
« Reply #1 on: June 22, 2009, 02:07:26 PM »
 O_o bump, to be saved from the purge. More to come soon in th elife of Xavier Stormcrow

LawfulJoe

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Re: What be thy will?
« Reply #2 on: June 22, 2009, 05:42:18 PM »
“What a strange land, most interesting, yet sinister” The young mage spoke softly to himself. He touched a tree and closed his eyes, “Most assuredly real, yet there is a darkness within all elements, has Lord Orcus chosen me to take this journey? And if so, what be thy will my master?”
The question was more rhetorical than anything, as the wind in the leaves was the only answer he expected.
Xavier wandered, taking refuge in The Lady’s Rest Inn. It was a simple place, but far better than his childhood bed.

His mother sold herself on the streets, pleasuring sailors and any one with 40 crowns in their hand. She was drunk most of the time, and paid her son little attention, except to feed the “Lil’ Bastard” as she used to commonly call him. As he grew, his attentions turned toward escape through books, learning to read from the bouncer at the Silver Griffon, the local pit his mother worked at. Pauli was an odd man. His skill in combat could have gotten him into some of the best Mercenary groups, but for some reason the large scar faced man worked at the Griffon, and never complained nor wished to change his situation. Perhaps it was trouble with the law, but it mattered little. Pauli showed Xavier an ounce of kindness, and that made him as much a father he would ever know.

Soon her drinking turned to drugs, and drugs turned to debt. She was addicted to a rare powder that had magical qualities to it. The effects were extremely euphoric, leaving the user feeling lost once the drug wore off. There came a time when Xavier’s Mother could not pay her debt, but instead traded her son in payment. The drug lord took him and forgave her debts giving her a special fix before bidding her farewell. She never awoke from that high, forever, lost in a dream.

Xavier made himself useful, mainly as a slave to Corjoun, his new master. He gathered herbs, stirred pots, kept the fires hot and ground the final mix into the powder that Corjoun like to call, Hope. False hope was more accurate, but the coin flowed, and it kept Xavier in food and much better conditions than he knew in the flea ridden hovel that he used to call home. Once the young slave reached 8 years, Corjoun took notice of his reading and paid a proper tutor to come during the week in the afternoons. Once his duties were complete in the morning, Master Shaelin would come and teach him the ways of history, language and the basics of magic. Life was good.

Soon 8 became 12, and Xavier was no longer considered a slave, but now an apprentice. He learned the herbal arts and practiced magic. Along side Corjoun. He learned that the streets were cruel, and if you did not take power it would be taken from you.

By 14, Xavier knew the streets, and had the local bullies under his thumb. Money bought respect, but nothing commanded it like pain. One such street thug tried to bully his dominance of the young wizard. Before the muscle bound teen could take three steps toward giving Xavier the thrashing of his life, he fell flat on the cobble stone, unconscious. The sand still slowly sifted through Xavier’s fingers, the soft words of the sleeping spell still lingered in his mind. Without a second thought, the dagger at the young mages belt cleared its sheath and was pressed against the throat of the fallen brute.
No blood was spilt, but instead, an understanding was struck and the door of opportunity was opened. A magi was strong at a distance, but once that distance was closed, there was not much a wizard could do. Jacko was the answer. The two did not hit it off, Jacko not taking being enchanted too well. But as they slowly brought each upstart thug and brawler into the same understanding, some willingly, other through force, the streets became Xavier’s playground, and the information flow pleased Corjoun. Jacko and Xavier' partnership became a friendship, and Jacko became the number two guy.This had been a good teen age life. But the fancies of youth pass on to more adult goals.

Eventually Corjoun handful of tricks became limiting, and Xavier wanted to learn more. Power was the key, and there would no doubt be someone out there trickier than the drug lord, and  Xavier would be on his own, with out the edge. Sleep spells were fine against mindless brutes, but there was real power out there. He had read of it, and he wanted it all. He passed his little gang off to Jacko, and the two friends parted. Even at 17 years of age, Corjoun did not want to let Xavier free, citing his mother’s debt. Xavier argued that the debt had been paid 10 fold, but Corjoun forbid his leaving.
“I own you boy!” was the now late middle aged wizard’s response at the young man’s request to leave to find his own way. “That whore paid me you, and you are mine, end of conversation!”

And it was for about 2 months. Xavier went through the motions of a good apprentice, till Corjoun chose to take his payment from one of the street walkers in flesh. He did this often enough that Xavier knew it was only a matter of time. While in the throws of passion, and breathing hard, the apprentice threw a packet of Corjoun’s special fix, which exploded against the backboard of the bed. The lavender powder was inhaled in mass by both the whore and the old wizard. Corjoun tried to protest, tried to call upon his magic, but the potent drug worked fast, locking his mind into the forever dream. He and the woman slept comfortably, a smile of bliss on both of their lips. Their bodies were consumed in the fire that Xavier lit upon the ramshackle shack of a house. The makeshift pyre burned in the background, and the young wizard walked away a free man, Corjoun’s heavy coin purse at his side.

He gathered knowledge anywhere he could, and in his travels he met Constance. She was older than him by 6 years, but her grasp of the magical arts was most impressive. They started out as student and teacher, turning into friends and eventually lovers. He learned of her arts and her dark secret. She was a priestess of Orcus, Demon Lord of Undeath. It was a surprise, but it was not a deterrent. The more he learned from her the more he was addicted to the power. His education turned from the common schools of magic, to the forbidden necromancy. The power of death itself was all Xavier ever wanted.

It came time when he chose to serve her lord, and become his acolyte. He knew that Orcus could grant him an edge over any wizard. It was the night of his baptism into the demon cult that the Tormites came, and killed all but he.

So again, he contemplated why. Why had he come to this land, so odd and superstitious? Where could he find covens or cults to further his power? Could Orcus be found in this land, or were there other powers, even greater, waiting to be served and grant their servants gifts of raw might?

He could not help but smile as he stared into his reflection in the mug of dark ale while sitting at the Lady’s Rest.
« Last Edit: June 22, 2009, 05:51:16 PM by LawfulJoe »