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Constantine

Monster Kill Posts: 266 Joined: 27 Jul 2006 686 gold

The Origin of Dota Allstars

Posted: Fri Sep 01, 2006 5:06 pm

ok here it comes *drum roll* its another story (I'll tell ya' it finger lickin' good since its somkeing bocause i have to type this long ouch!) anyway here it goes hope you like it

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ORIGINS 1

The Awakening

He sat, always brooding, resting in his high chair, watching the walls. The walls…always waiting, always watching. Every moment, they taunted him, glowing boisterously with the faded rays of the sun that crept faintly across the room minute by minute. The sprouts that shot through the breaking cobble of the floor reached up to their font of life, reached up to what was left to grasp at. Soon the floor would be overtaken by their madness, the chair in which he sat ever brooding would become the vines, and then he would be all that was left.

Years had passed since he had drawn his blade, risen up from his idle seat where he had all of the power to shape the world, to create and destroy beliefs, philosophies, religions, gods, men, beasts, forests, rivers and even the world herself had he wished it! Brooding, ever brooding. What once was faded from his mind as he calmed himself.

The blades of grass stared at him with mocking faces, laughing at his plight, laughing at the once mighty king, the once mighty kingdom. Leoric stared back at them, looking at each of their derisive faces, contemplating what could be done to stop them. His eyes shifted across the floor of the room as the sun passed over his head twice, the moon looking down in its absence, sharing Leoric’s cold disregard for the blades.

Soon though, the blades would come for him. Soon they would make their way up the long broken path of once mighty steps that reached up to the throne. Soon, they would try to take the last remnants of his kingdom. As the days passed, Leoric quickly realized that he had to do something to save his kingdom. As the dawn light shifted to starlight, he reached down to the armrests of his chair, and began to lift himself to his feet.

After 10 years of sitting in his chair, quietly contemplating his own death at the hands of the undead hordes, of watching the high walls of his throne room crumble, watching the weeds break through the base of his kingdom, marveling at the span of time it took for a man to die, Leoric rose. Over the course of several days, he quickly made his way to the bottom of the steps of his throne to encounter his first enemy. Beginning to remember his own strength, Leoric reached down to strangle the fledgling blade of grass that threatened him.

In the day that it took him to reach down and destroy the menacing creation, he learned many things. As he looked down lovingly upon his strong hands, he saw that he had no flesh. As he began to shake away the madness that becoming undead had created within him, he realized that the sun and moon moved at a speed that was unbecoming of the world in which he lived. As he clasped the blade of grass in his hand, and the sweet vigor of life in the plant surged through his hand, he learned that he had been given new life. He made his way across the room, seeping the energy off of each helpless weed as he did, crushing the stones of the floor under his massive feet. Slowly he began to remember what it was to be alive, what it meant not to be cold, motionless, what it meant to do more than ponder.

As he made his way through what was left of his castle, working around the skeletal remains of his former kinsmen, he came upon a lone Necromancer, standing idly by the armory. Reaching out to the necromancer with the energy of his un-life, he said, “what are you doing in my land?”

The necromancer rose and said, “Ah, my king, we have been waiting for you.”

With the words of the necromancer, Leoric felt a dark energy begin to surge through him. The bodies of his kinsman, the energies held within, what was left of them begged to be let out, to rise up. The King peered again at the necromancer, “Raise them,” he motioned, as he boomed through the door into the armory to find what was left of the weapons that once laid within. Finding his great sword, and a suit of armor that fit over what was left of the remains of his body, he gathered himself together and emerged from the armory

The necromancer was raising another body, bonding it together with dark energies. Leoric looked closely at what was happening, began to ponder what he could do with the remains of his dead countrymen. “Build me a castle,” he said, mentally putting the pieces of his new kingdom together.

“Things have already been prepared. Those who sent me sent me for you. You are to go meet them.”

A Ghoul's Life

They say the life of a Ghoul is to exist, and nothing more. Such was the life of all Ghouls who followed Leoric back to buff his forces to begin scouring the land for any resistant to the Scourge. The orders of the ghouls were simple: Follow the commands of Leoric.

When the company had reached their destination, the massive newly built watch tower from which Leoric was to command, many things were already afoot. Leoric’s forces included hundreds of skeleton warriors. Among these warriors were a few mages of considerable power, only remnants of the powers that had faded with their lives. It was these mages only that the ghouls feared, and for good reason.

Rampant Thoughts of Power

By the time Leoric had returned from meeting with the leaders of the Scourge, he had come to know his power. He was very important in this war against the sentinel. His armies could one day be the deciding factor in the war. He had also come to learn that his power was derived from the life of those things he killed. He needed to feed on the life of things around him all the time. He was driven by this goal more than anything else as he walked through the world, now foreign to him. Yet, he was never satisfied even with the power he could leech from the mighty beasts he killed.

It was for this reason that he had requested the ghouls to be brought back with him. The skeletons of his army did not have the same hunger he did, they were not driven by it, but the ghouls by their nature sought to consume the life force of other beings. Leoric requested them so that he could discover more about his own hunger, increase its power, make himself stronger and faster than he was now. The life he consumed was addicting. He needed more of it. With every move he made he sought after it with a zeal that dominated his every action.

As soon as Leoric reached the foot of his mighty new Kingdom, he ordered the ghouls to be brought into the dungeons below the towers. It was there that the ghouls learned fear. It was there that the skeletal mages prodded and tormented the ghouls, starved them and enraged them to a point where the natural urge to feed on the flesh of anything that came within grasp was engendered.

When the Ghouls had been driven to this point, Leoric and his skeletal mages studied the hunger, studied the madness that they had created to understand how to harvest its power. The method the ghouls used to synthesize flesh into new life energy was very similar to Leoric’s.

After several weeks of keeping the ghouls in this prolonged torment, the mages found a way to enhance their powers. Twisting the beasts with dark energies, the skeletal mages enhanced the power of the life stealing ability. Leoric became very pleased with the results. There was a flaw though. The beasts were driven mad by the enhancements given to them. They could not control the urge to feed, and began to consume their own flesh because of its grasp. The mages decided to change their methods for enhancement. They only had two ghouls remaining to experiment on, so they practiced and perfected their method.

The remaining beasts were nearly dead by the end of the process that gave them an ability to leech nearly all of the strength out of any other living thing, but were still driven mad by the hunger. The mages worked endlessly to stabilize the creatures, to make the process safe enough to be used on Leoric.

In the end, the amount of work necessary to keep the ghouls stable would be too much. The process would be devastating to the Skeleton King. But Leoric had formulated another theory. Through the process of turning the ghouls, Leoric found that the life stealing ability brought with it not only the energy of the creatures destroyed, but that the powers of the creature remained within. Leoric decided that if he consumed the ghouls, their power to leech life would be his. He would become twice as powerful.

A Ghoul's Life; Part Two

The purpose of a ghoul is but to exist. After endless twisting with nether magics, after weeks of torment, after being consumed internally by an destructive hunger, the ghouls became more than ghouls. They became more than just mindless machines. Their feral instincts began to dominate their will rather than the dark voices that held power in their minds for as long as they had existed. They wished to feed, they wished for death, they wished. Through the infusion of so many dark magics, the ghouls became incredibly sentient. They became aware of their surroundings, they began to plot schemes to escape.

One of the ghouls was extremely crafty indeed. He had named himself N’aix. He and the food that resembled him did nothing but plot ways to eat each other.

Staring through the cold steel bars that separated the two of them, N’aix dreamed again of what the flesh of the beast staring back would taste like. What the energy of the beast would feel like, coursing through N’aix’s body. This thought dominated his mind as the tormentors returned.

Fear filled N’aix. He could tell that this visit was different. The large one was with the usual tormentors. They had come for something else, but N’aix couldn’t see past his hunger far enough to think of what it might be.

N’aix’s image was taken from its cage, and bound down. N’aix was filled with joy, maybe they would place its lifeless body close to his cage when they were done torturing it. He looked forward to the end of this process. It had been the same process of feeding, magically binding, tormenting and destroying ghouls since the start. N’aix today might get a chance to feed though.

But to his surprise, the magical bindings of the mages soon shifted to him, and he was drawn out of his cage, strapped down, held by mages who observed him with their cold staring eyes.

Looking over at the large one was standing over his image with great hunger in his eyes, a hunger that N’aix’s image shared. One that N’aix imagined he had himself. The large one looked hungrily at N’aix as well. It was with a steely, hunger stricken look that the large one warned N’aix of what was to come.

Realizing that the large one wanted to eat him filled N’aix with an intense rage and loathing. N’aix was hungry. When would N’aix get to feed. Give N’aix food now!

The large one didn’t care though, he was hungry too. He reached down onto the chest of N’aix’s mirror. Screams of agony filled the air as the energy flowed from the mirror through the hands of the large one. N’aix wanted to make those screams. N’aix wanted to feed on the other one. N’aix wanted to. N’aix wanted to!

N’aix’s rage welled up with incredible power. It surged through him, giving him strength. As the strength welled up within him, he could feel the power of the mages holding him down waver, his rage had filled him with an energy that made him rise up. The large one looked over for a moment, but unworried, continued tearing the energy from the other one.

That belongs to me! That is N’aix’s. N’aix had one final surge of anger surge through him, and with its power, he brushed off the shackles of the mages around him. Leaping up from where they held him, he immediately lashed out in anger, feeding on them, tearing their energy away from them. Within a matter of moments, N’aix had consumed the energy from the four Mages that held him down, he leapt across the room onto the back of the large one and started to attack him. With each blow, he tore the energy from the large one into himself, he grew stronger and stronger, he was feeding his hunger, and lavishing in the moment.

Ordering the Hunt

It was in this moment that Leoric roared out in agony. He removed his hands from the corrupted ghoul and turned on N’aix. The little ghoul had taken a great deal of energy from Leoric, and this angered him more than anything could have. He struck at the ghoul, but missed. The ghoul tore about with incredible speed, dodging his attacks. It then dashed at the ghoul Leoric was feeding on and in a matter of seconds consumed all of its energies. The ghoul had a life stealing power that was far beyond anything Leoric had ever seen.

“Quickly,” he commanded his mages, “shackle him down! I must have his energy!” The mages diverted their attention from the corpse that the ghoul had been feeding on and attempted to shackle him. The attempts only further enraged the beast, and he wildly flung about the room from mage to mage, destroying them completely with ease. Leoric used the ghoul’s distraction with the mages to land a massive blow to the creature, sending it sprawling across the room. It looked back at Leoric with contempt in its eyes, undead mages scattered about the floor around the dead corrupt ghoul, and with recognition of Leoric’s power, the creature fled.

It ran out of the dungeons, rapidly consuming the energies of every creature it found along the way. Its speed was terrifying, and Leoric could not keep up with it. The corrupted ghoul tore through the dungeon and right out of the tower before Leoric could spot it again.

Upon reaching the entrance of the dungeon, Leoric found the mightiest warrior in his army looking about at the damage. “Find the creature and bring it to me now!” Leoric roared at the one known to those around as the Bone Fletcher.

ORIGINS 2

Blighted Wake

The path of the twisted ghoul was a blackened stream of mangled and destroyed plants and animals. It was a sprawling blight upon the land that followed every motion of the beast. The beast was a scourge of its own. Clinkz did not know what the old fool had been doing to the ghouls in his dungeon, but what he had created was incredible. All Clinkz could do was marvel in the wake of destruction the beast left. In all his years scouring the Hilgan forests around Leoric’s keep, Rigmar, he had never seen anything so despicable.

In the days when Clinkz was alive, he would have been disgusted by the creature, would have done all in his power to stop it. He would not have admired the beauty of the destruction as he did now. Rising from death changes everything. Every motive, every thought, every emotion is changed, twisted from its former self to a new creation. Rising from death destroys the old, and creates a new beast. Rising from death made Clinkz appreciate the destruction of the wild ghoul.

Tracking the ghoul through the Hilgan forests, what now was a mass of dead trees, half missing from the fires of Leoric’s keep, was quite easy for the fletcher. While alive, he had hunted in the forest every day. He knew the paths and routes through the forest inside and out. Any creature that attempted to hide there could surely be found and rooted out.

The problem with the ghoul was that he was not attempting to hide. Instead he was blazing down a straightforward path with incredible speed that made Clinkz wonder even more about what Leoric had done to it. No ghoul he had ever seen moved with that speed and ferocity, no ghoul he’d seen destroyed the remaining moss and grass of the forest floor as it moved. No ghoul he had seen could destroy two giant wolves and leave their bodies already decaying without seeming to slow at all.

The wolves seemed to be the only life left in these woods, feeding on anything that passed through, and with the sentinel scouts that attempted to breach Leoric’s keep, they provided a good defense. As Clinkz examined the bodies of the wolves the ghoul had killed, he found that between the two of them, neither had torn any flesh with their teeth or claws. The hadn’t landed a single blow against the ghoul. Clinkz moved on, yet more impressed by the creature he was going to kill.

Leoric of course wanted the creature returned, but Clinkz had not had his chance to kill that fool yet with the troops who stood behind him, and he needed a challenge. He would kill Leoric eventually. He would become the Skeleton King. The fool could not save his kingdom from the scourge the first time, he let Clinkz die, he was not fit to be a leader. Yes, Clinkz would kill him he decided.

The sun was folding over the horizon, leaving the world to fade into darkness. The bright light being out of Clinkz’ eyes let him follow the path of the ghoul even better. With the soothing cold air that the night brought, Clinkz began to run faster down the path of blight the ghoul left. It would not be long now, he knew, the ghoul was likely running out of energy, and would soon have to find a place to rest. As dependant on others as the ghouls were, they knew to do this at least. It would be then that Clinkz would destroy his prey.

The First Sally of N’aix

Walking over the little plants on the ground gave N’aix pure delight. He fed off of them, and though he didn’t understand how, he knew he enjoyed it. Everything he touched that was not black with death already gave him pure joy. He especially liked the creatures that he found. The life they carried was most fun to feed on.

Through the course of the day that N’aix had been running, he had been regaining the energy denied to him by the dead mages. He had shown them what they deserved, and was very proud of the fact. Stupid dead mages are good, he thought to himself as he squashed a small mouse and ate it hungrily.

It didn’t matter how much N’aix fed on, he always had a frenzied hunger that made him want more. There was no end to it, every step he took made him hungry again, every beast he killed gave him only enough energy to move on to the next beast and kill it. The ecstasy he felt in consuming the life of another being was extremely addictive, he needed more all the time. He could not control it, it dominated his will.

At one point N’aix saw wolves. He had seen wolves before, they were trained by the very large master to be vicious. The wolves N’aix saw weren’t like that, they did not have the red lust in their eyes, they didn’t have the sharpened claws and the drooling mouths, they were like the wolves before they got to the very large master.

When he saw the wolves, he moved close to them to look at them. Examining them was made him feel very strange. He hadn’t ever thought like that before. Looking at something and judging it compared to other things was new to him. Before he did nothing but follow, for that is the way of a ghoul. That was what he was, and he had nothing if he had no one to command him.

After he had examined the wolves for a moment, he had a new thought, what do these wolves taste like? He hadn’t ever thought of eating a wolf before, but now it seemed incredibly tempting. He sprung from his vantage point and tore at the first wolf he encountered. They had been waiting for him since they smelled his presence, but they could do nothing. He was Mighty N’aix. He tore through the bodies of the wolves, and with every blow he inhaled the pure energy that came with it, the furious warmth that shot through his claws and down through his body quenched his lust for a moment. But after that moment, he had to have more. After every blow, he needed to land another one immediately.

N’aix leapt between the two wolves, dodging their arcing claws and lashing teeth, finishing each one with longing for the energy they possessed. Satisfied with the feeding, N’aix continued along his path. He hadn’t felt the need thus far to change the direction he was going, as long as he was away from all the little boney ones and the large one, he was happy.

Hunters in the Night

When the night came, N’aix did not feel the urge to do as he remembered being ordered to so many times. He didn’t feel that he should stop and rest for a while. He felt more rejuvenated wherever he went, resting would not give him rest, but would wear him out. So he moved on.

During the night he found more creatures that ventured out to prey on weaker animals for food. He found more wolves to feed on, for he was not a weaker animal. He rolled around in the grass, blackening it, stealing all of its energy. He enjoyed playing with everything in the woods. Everything seemed different now. He didn’t feel the same hate for the trees he used to. He was told that the trees were evil and would seek to kill him. He didn’t feel that now, he felt only a joy in the trees, the joy he felt when he tore the energy from them. He loved trees, so full of life, so happy and waiting to feed N’aix.

He was clawing into a tree, stealing away its life when he heard a cacophony in the distance. It sounded like a large group skeletons moving about all at once. He wondered if the large one had sent them for him, but he knew that the sound was ahead of his path, and that the skeletons couldn’t be there, it had to be something else. Amazed by his own self awareness, N’aix went to see what exactly was creating the sounds.

Hovering quickly along the forest floor, making sure not to make noise, N’aix approached the place where the sounds were coming from. The closer he got, the more he recognized the sounds as not bone men moving around, but branches breaking. The same snapping and creaking sounds that came from the old dry bones of the skeletons was made when the creatures fighting on the dead branches in front of N’aix fell.

Many creatures were fighting in this section of the forest where the trees had been cut down and all that was left were the dead branches on the ground which drew N’aix’s attention. Now that he was here however, he was even more intrigued by the creatures fighting there. There were very large wolves, larger than N’aix had ever seen, and they were being attacked by little men with large blades.

The wolves were dying quickly to the men. It seemed as if the men had frightened the wolves, who were nearly surrounded. One of the wolves bent very low to the ground as one of the men approached it. The man prepared to unleash a savage blow when the wolf leapt from its crouch and struck him across the face with its huge claw. The rest of the wolves joined in and mobbed on top of the man, all savagely mauling him. The man was dead before the rest of them could react to the movement of the pack. As soon as the mauled man died though, the largest of the wolves who was apparently the leader of the pack, let out a screeching howl and began to flee swiftly away from the men.

The wolves tore off into the woods with the men following closely behind. N’aix found the whole situation entertaining and was wondering who would be left of the men and the wolves. He was going to follow them, but decided instead to look at the strange man. He wandered over to the man as he listened to the raging of the fight through the woods.

The man looked very strange to N’aix. He had a very large head. N’aix found him comical looking, a feeling N’aix found very intriguing. He wondered as he stared at the man, what one of them would taste like. This one was spoiled, but there were plenty others running through the woods that he could hear. He perked his head up to listen to where the men had gone to now, and caught the sound of a branch breaking from where he came from. He jerked his head that way to see what was there, but seeing nothing, he moved on from the dead man into the woods to find the other men.

Along the path through the woods, N’aix found several dead wolves. With the number dead, the number of the remaining wolves could not be very high, he realized. So the fight would be coming to an end soon. Following the sounds of the breaking branches and terrified howls, N’aix soon came upon a nearly dead man. Eagerly lusting for the taste of the man, N’aix tore into the remains of his life force. The man, he found, tasted better than anything else he had tried to consume. He lavished in the taste of the man, and became extremely excited to find the others that were running through the woods.

Finishing the Hunt

A good tracker knows when his prey must stop to rest. The tracker knows where to ambush its prey. The tracker knows the best way to put his target down. Clinkz did not know any of these things of his target. He was getting frustrated chasing through the woods after a phantom ghoul. The trail never got warmer, never rested, never even slowed its pace so that the Fletcher could catch up to it.

Clinkz began to wonder whether it was worth chasing after the target, or whether he should just return to the fool of a king. He did not particularly want to do anything for Leoric, the old fool. In Clinkz’ mind, letting a kingdom fall to the scourge was the mark of weakness. In life, Clinkz used his voice as Commander of the Hilgan Guard to try to sway the King to bring the fight beyond the woods which were the last defense of Rigmar. Weak, they called him. A fool, they called him. Fools, all of them.

The Hilgan was indefensible from a force the size of the scourge. It did not matter that the Hilgan Guard were the best archers in the kingdom of men. It did not matter that the walls of Rigmar stood high. It did not matter because against the undead, there is no breaking of will, a fact which Clinkz knew now more than ever as he hunted through the forest for his phantom ghoul. Even if he did not want to do it for the fool of a king, he had to finish it for his own pride.

Lost in a train of thought, Clinkz came upon what once must have been a small glade where the trees formed a canopy over the fledgling meadow where the small animals would frolic. It was now a blighted land where the blackened trees frowned angrily upon those who would trespass upon their graves. As he mindlessly moseyed into the glade, he stepped on a faulty branch, and with its breaking he heard something which had been resting in the field shift to meet him. Quickly melding into the woods around him, he looked through the trees to see his phantom ghoul waiting in the clearing over the body of a dead man.

Finally, thought the Fletcher, I have caught him. Finding his prey in such a vulnerable position thrilled the Fletcher, and he excitedly analyzed his surroundings to see where he could get a good vantage point to lay in on the ghoul without a threat. Moving silently, swiftly up a tree with his bow strung across his back, chameleon-like in his fluidity with the wood he climbed upon, the Fletcher looked down upon his prey and found himself slightly shocked at what he saw. He had figured the ghoul would rest where he was laying, but instead he had fled while the Fletcher was caught up in finding a vantage point. Even more to his surprise was the man who lay on the ground, a Cridian Bounty Hunter.

The Cridian’s were an incredible group of people, and they had always been in fierce competition with the Hilgan Guard over control of the forest. How they had survived the onslaught of the scourge, Clinkz would never know. But not even death could break his hatred for these people. He jumped down from the tree, careful not to do any harm to his bow, and moved down the path against the wild ghoul.

As he went, he began to see what was going on, the wild racket he had heard here was not just typical wolves hunting their prey, but the Cridians hunting the wolves. The pack they hunted was a strong one too. He recognized the wolves strewn along the path as those from a pack that had been particularly difficult to hunt or destroy in his days defending the Hilgan.

Following the path of the Cridians, which his ghoul seemed to be following, he began to become worried about this particular group of Cridians. The Cridians would do absolutely anything, for a price. He wondered what they were doing here. Howls of terror flew through the night as the combat came to a fevered pitch up ahead. Clinkz slung his way up to the top of the trees again, jumping lightly from branch to branch, even more lightly now than before he had died. Making his way to a vantage point where he could see down on the field of battle, he was again stricken with wonder.

The phantom ghoul was attacking the Cridians. After witnessing the damage that this group had done to the wolves, he thought he had lost his kill for sure. But as he watched the battle unfold, he saw an amazing thing occur. The ghoul was being beaten down, and would surely lose to the bounty hunters, but the wolves which they had originally been chasing turned back to help the frenzied ghoul. Having completely destroying two of the Cridians, the ghoul had sustained injuries that would have allowed for him to be killed by the bounty hunters. As the wolves rejoined the combat, the tide turned. The Cridians turned to meet the oncoming enemies, and the ghoul slowly, as he attacked the hunters, became stronger and stronger.

Clinkz had witnessed this process on the skeleton king before, but nothing to this extent. The ghoul was incredibly fast in his regeneration. Clinkz worried about this fact, if the ghoul could overcome several Cridians without too much of a problem, how would Clinkz kill him alone? He would have to pick the right time, and that time would have to be now, he could take out the wolves, the Cridians and the ghoul from his vantage point while all were weak. He unstrapped his bow and opened his sheath to let down a tear of arrows upon all of these enemies.

He swiftly put down one of the wolves and killed one of the Cridians before they knew that arrows were flying. The only combatants left were the ghoul, two Cridians and two wolves. The Cridians, as soon as they saw their companions fall to the arrows turned to flee. The ghoul raced after them with a terrible frenzy and brought one of them down. The other continued his flight, melding into the woods around him to perfect his escape.

The Cridian that had been caught was not so lucky. Between the ghoul and the wolf that had followed him, the bounty hunter was dead in moments. The other remaining wolf, the largest one among them, apparently the leader of the pack, came to the foot of the tree upon which Clinkz rested. Dodging the rain of arrows as each one fell, he began to use his massive paws to grasp the tree and climb.

In climbing, he had a serious disadvantage in mobility, and was fodder for Clinkz’ arrows. Several arrows dug into the thick fur of the beast, some pierced his head and neck creating serious wounds. Blood gushed from the creature as it continued to climb in a furious attempt to destroy the archer.

With a few more arrows, the Fletcher placed an arrow in each of the eyes of the massive wolf, and one that was a direct shot to the neck of the beast. Releasing a few more arrows for good measure, also in relief, Clinkz finished the beast. After slaying the beast, Clinkz reached up to his quiver to check the arrows he had remaining. Only three, definitely not enough to put down both of the remaining creatures down. Clinkz quickly seized the opportunity to leap down from the tree and grab up arrows that had only lightly grazed into the skin of the Fletcher’s prey.

Underestimating the speed of the ghoul, Clinkz left himself open to the ghoul leaping at an incredible speed to bowl him over. Angry at himself for letting the ghoul get in on him, the Fletcher quickly attempted to meld into the nearby woods and climb back up into a tree to regain a vantage over the two. As he made his way up into the tree, the ghoul followed him faster than he had predicted, as well as the wolf that had finished the Cridian off.

The Fletcher leapt onto another tree, the ghoul leapt after him, but missed the branches falling to the ground where a Demon? caught him. The Fletcher panicked. No demon should be in these parts. It looked up at him and howled in anger as it tossed the ghoul up the tree at him and began to climb up at Clinkz. Panicked by the demon, the Fletcher let the ghoul get in on him yet again. With a fell strike, the ghoul dislodged Clinkz from the tree all the way to the ground. The demon leapt down from the tree onto the Fletcher where he proceeded to attack him in a maul like fashion.

The ghoul sped down the tree to help in the attack, and when he reached the ground he bowled over the Demon and turned greedily to attack the Fletcher, but when the ghoul turned, the Fletcher had fled.

Lucky that he had no blood for them to track, Clinkz fled through the woods and hid in under a small thistle of dead bushes. As he fell down in exhaustion and the angry pain of undeath, he heard wings flapping. What could possibly be following him from the air? Looking painfully through the dead thistle, he saw the claws just as they tore through the thistle and lifted him from his intended point of recuperation.

ORIGINS 3

The Forerunner

Leoric mulled in his throne looking out at his mages who stared back at him with their cold eyes, waiting for his next command. In the days of old, Leoric’s throne room was filled with merry men rambling on with their hunting stories, boasting with their war stories and singing their drinking songs. The hall was filled with bright light that gleamed in through the great glass windows and burned brightly from the fiery braziers. Now, a dim blue haze filled the ever silent hall, the bleak eyes of the dead were the only light that intruded.

The lifeless eyes of those in the throne room did not wait expectantly as they would have in the living days. They did not expect an answer within a frame of time. They did not lose their patience. They did not argue. They just were. The coldness of them often made Leoric lust for the living, for the old happiness that had permeated the hall for so long. But at the same time, he was glad that he did not have their eyes judging his every move, waiting for a rapid response to what had just occurred.

“Your army is expendable,” it had said, that odd creature that had brought the news to Leoric. It was there, but it was gone. The very presence of it made even the undead shift nervously about to attempt to analyze it. The creature’s message made Leoric shift uneasily, as he attempted to analyze it.

If his army was expendable, then why was it created? For purposes like this? Would it ever make its way to the front? Would it ever have an impact? Would Leoric be obsolete in this war? The overlords had told him he would be critical, but he was now feeling differently about the situation.

Leoric pushed the matter aside. If the Fletcher recovered the escaped ghoul, Leoric would show them what true power was!

Master of the Pack

Dual feral ferocity raged between the would be combatants as they glared angrily at one another, each filled with both the urge to tear the other apart and the wish to discover more about their respective counterparts. The wild ghoul and the demon wolf slowly moved in a circular dance of inquiry and anticipation.

N’aix feared his opponent as he stared him down. His opponent looked exactly like the great masters who commanded the Ghoul legions. He reminded N’aix of his place as a ghoul was to follow, his very countenance made N’aix wish to serve him. But at the same time, he felt differently about this one. He looked like the great masters, but he didn’t feel like the masters. Being in their presence filled the mind with fire, with a killing lust that drove everything around them to fight.

This one did not create the fire, this one did not create the bloodlust that the others did. N’aix had the lust at every waking moment now, though. Was this a great master? Should he serve him? Could N’aix kill him? Could he find out what the blood of the masters tasted like? N’aix could not decide what to do with this one. In fear of the power he had seen the great masters weild, he broke his gaze with this one, and looked into the trees which surrounded him for the little boney one.

As soon as he broke his gaze, the demon wolf spoke to him in a deep growling voice.

“Who are you?” it sneered. N’aix had never been asked this question before, and it made him even more interested in the demon wolf. Having named himself, he had an answer to this question where before he would have had none. In a deeply guttural moan that was more of a growl than a word, he responded, “N’aix.”

“N’aix? I never knew a ghoul that had a name. Follow me ghoul,” the demon wolf said.

Making their way back to the body of the giant wolf that the little boney one had slain, they exchanged mistrusting eyes at one another. Each was filled with fear, anger, spite and, most of all, intrigue. N’aix hadn’t spoken with anyone, ever. He had listened, he had followed, he had understood their words, but actually speaking with another creature was exhilarating for N’aix.

Looking over the body of the giant wolf, the demon wolf’s eyes welled up with anger. “Do you see this body, N’aix? This was my brother. Do you understand the meaning of that, brother?” N’aix nodded his head. “Do you know what it means to lose a brother, N’aix?” Shaking his head, N’aix looked into the eyes of the demon, wondering at what weakness this was. N’aix had seen countless other ghouls die, but he had never wondered about them, had never cared that they were gone, he just continued doing what he was supposed to do. This demon wolf did not though, the anger in his eyes at the death of his brother was perplexing.

“I will kill the little archer!” roared the demon wolf. In front of N’aix’s eyes, the demon made his transformation yet again. The arms and legs twisted violently as the demon wolf screamed in pain and anger, the head mutated its shape, the ribs in the torso creaked as they bent into their new form, and the screams of the beast became the howls of a wolf. As soon as the transformation was complete, the wolf sniffed the air expectantly, and with a growl, charged off into the night. N’aix, not having any other thing to do, and being fascinated by this creature, followed him into the night.

The Voice

Clinkz fought the claws of his captors as they tossed him between one another mid flight. They had stripped him of his bow and quiver during the process, and in what seemed very odd to him, they held on to them rather than dropping them to the earth below. Being weak from the rending claws of the wild ghoul, he had very little energy to fight these creatures back with. If he had been at full strength, he would have easily destroyed them. But at the moment, he could do nothing but wonder where they would take him.

Why these carrion beasts would pick up a skeleton was the first question on Clinkz’s mind. If there were an ounce of flesh on him, he would not doubt that the beasts would strip it from him and move on, but there wasn’t, and they took him and moved on instead. With very little to do during his flight, the Fletcher looked down at the land and followed the course on which the creatures were taking him. They were flying over the Hilgan, an angle which Clinkz had not seen before, and had there been a canopy to block his view, he would not be able to locate himself.

But in its current state, the Hilgan left itself wide open for Clinkz to follow the grounds of the forest which he knew so well. The were moving over the forest towards one of the main roads to Rigmar. As he counted off the time against the familiar landmarks, he figured that they were moving at twice the speed at which he could navigate the forest, and should thusly attain the Javin Way, the great road of the time which linked every city within three hundred miles.

The Javin Way had betrayed Rigmar to the scourge, allowing them to move so quickly across the land without having to blaze through the forest in the normal method of the scourge. If they didn’t have the Javin, perhaps Clinkz would have had the time to convince the fool of a king that they would surely all die within the walls of Rigmar. Clinkz allowed the memory of dying course through him and feed his angry will as they approached the Javin.

A prolonged, tearing screech pierced the night and broke Clinkz’s train of thought as the gargoyles that carried him were descending to unload their burden. Plans of escape were broken with the screech. In fact, every thought in his head was stopped dead in its tracks, shredded by the splitting veracity of the shriek. The shriek was the resonating embodiment of terror itself. The resonating of the sound created a tremor through Clinkz’s spine that could be described only as a shudder.

This feeling was enhanced by the sudden pull of energy from his body. A soothing cool filled him as his energies leaked slowly from him. As the gargoyles dropped him onto the floor of a deceased meadow under the shadow of the Hilgan’s edge, shy of the Javin by only a moment’s walk, a vast presence made its way out of the woods. As it approached, the dual soothing feeling and relentless drain intensified upon Clinkz.

“Ah, the scouts have brought one of Leoric’s kin,” rang out a voice that was terrifying, powerful, indifferent and enchanting all at once. The gargoyles swooped in dropping off the bow and quiver of the drained archer, and then crept back into the air where they circled above the Fletcher and the Lich.

Clinkz recognized this being. It was the mighty commander of the undead legions. He had led the charge against Rigmar, he had drained the very souls of all the men there. He was the one who cursed the souls of those in the city to be reclaimed by the scourge when there was need. Kel’Thuzad. The very name filled Clinkz with anger and fear concurrently.

“I see you recognize me little archer. I see the anger welling up in your eyes. I also see that you are nearly defeated. I can feel it, your second life is almost up. Little Archer, who are you?” the Lich orated. Every word that came out of the Lich’s mouth was soothing and terrible. Every word made Clinkz long to hear more. Every word was laced with an enchanting rhythm that made Clinkz want to listen. It made him enjoy the drain on his bodily energy that the Lich engendered.

“I am…Clinkz,” was all that the fletcher could reply. His awe was mixed with the fact that he had very little life left. He would soon pass again from this life. The phenomenal ghoul had pulled most of the magical bonds of energy that held him together away. He was slipping slowly, ever slowly, into the voice of the Lich and out of the world.

“I know of you little archer. Your skills with that bow of yours are matched by none that I have seen, the fluid grace of your arms as you draw your arrows is astonishing. The second life of such a astoundingly good shot should not be wasted. I believe, little archer, that I should renew your life, yet again.”

“Why would…you do…that,” Clinkz murmured, slipping further and further from his bonds of unlife. “I am of no use to you. Let me leave…this world. Let me…die.”

A grand and enchantingly beautiful laugh fell from the Lich’s lips. “Let you die, little one? I have much use for you. No. You shall not die. You must live.” The magic entwining of Kel’Thuzad’s voice crested over the word must. It was more of a musical not, more of a call to the very being of Clinkz. Over that word, Clinkz wanted nothing more than to live, he wanted to beg Kel’Thuzad to restore him. He was filled with angst over the fact that he did not see a way for him to live. He did not see a way through the end.

“Let me live Lich! Let me live!” he cried out in agony, “ I wish nothing more than that of you!”

“Very well, little archer. You shall live. But it will not be I who restores you, you shall restore yourself, with help, of course.” The peak of the word help drew the wrenching shriek from the air again. The sound tore through the façade of the Lich’s voice. It brought Clinkz to the reality of the situation yet again.

His terrified gaze searched the sky frantically for the source of the terrible screech. Whatever was coming for him, this…help, was petrifying. Clinkz could do nothing but watch as the clouds seemed to shift into the shape of a great flying beast the swooped down by his side. Thinking himself hallucinating, Clinkz tore his gaze away from the creature, looking to his other side whereupon a gargoyle kept silent watch. Looking back from the gargoyle, the presence which was not there, the apparition of a being made of nothing but the shadows of clouds, reached down onto his head. Shrieks filled the air as the specter began some archaic chant.

Clinkz’s body contorted at the sound of the shrieks. He convulsed in fear. This being that filled his presence roused a torment that was worse than death. The chants that filled the air dominated the will of the Fletcher, the pure fear that resounded through the voice of the creature began to take complete hold over Clinkz. His arms stiffened and straightened in front of him. They began moving in small circles, drawing magical runes in the air.

The Fletcher began to chant, not in control of his own voice, the words just appearing before him. The runes he drew in the air began to create a dark blue light, they began to keep their shape in the air upon which he drew them. When the rune had finished itself, his chant redoubled its pace and his arm flew violently over to the head of the gargoyle.

A blue rune formed itself upon the gargoyles forehead and frozen light made its way along the body of the creature. The light coursed through the creature and when it had taken all it could, the creature crumbled under the weight of the light, its energies shifted into the rune in front of the Fletcher, which started to glow with an powerful, blinding light. Clinkz’s chants came to a peak, he did not know if he could continue at the pace at which the words flew out.

Then, the words stopped. The bright blue light of the rune stopped shifting maliciously around it’s surface, and burst into the Fletcher. The life energy of the gargoyle forcibly merged with that of the Fletcher, and in a staggering surge, he was made nearly whole again.

The Master and the Servant

“That creature has been hunting my pack,” growled the demon wolf, talking at N’aix of the screeching terror from the sky. “He is searching for something. I don’t know what it is, but he has been flying over for the past several nights. I hope we don’t meet up with it, though it sounds like we are going to get to.”

The demon wolf had been following the scents in the air and gliding over the land in a rapid pace which N’aix was struggling to keep up with. N’aix studied the movement of the wolf as it ran. The further they ran, the further he learned to mimic the grace of the creature. Soon, he learned how to move with such a grace that he could outpace the wolf even. N’aix was surprised how quickly he learned to follow the elegant flowing motion of the demon wolf.

With the pace the two creatures took, they swiftly came upon the edge of the forest, where they saw in the field adjacent the Bone Archer accompanied by a confusing conglomeration of the concrete and intangible. The being that loomed over the archer was chanting in a earsplitting shriek that deafened and enticed both the demon wolf and N’aix.

Watching the process of the Death Pact unfold, the transfer of knowledge from the nameless, faceless empty creature to the bone archer, was entrancing. The unnatural, jerking movement of the boney archer’s arm, and the arcing blue energy that molded into a rune made for an eerie spectacle.

After the spell had been completed, the two watching from the thicket came back to their senses. They were there to kill that beast, however strange what had just happened seemed. The little archer seemed more powerful now than ever, and that very fact compelled N’aix to want to feed on the energy of the boney archer even more. The illusory being raised from its looming perch above the archer, and took back to flight.

“Are you coming with me to destroy that…murderer?” the demon wolf asked N’aix. Nodding his head, N’aix looked out into the clearing with anticipation. Masking their steps, the two feral creatures emerged slowly from their point of observation and edged slowly towards the now unaccompanied archer.

As the two got closer and closer to their prey, they felt the air grow cold and the energy drain from their bodies. N’aix recognized the feeling. It was the same feeling he got in the presence of the Lich. He stopped in his tracks, looking quickly around for the being. It was not a creature to be toyed with, in fact, N’aix had a dreadful fear of the beast. He remembered the enslaving voice it had, and didn’t want to fall under its grasp again.

The demon wolf turned to look at N’aix when he heard him stop. Motioning with his paw for N’aix to continue, the wolf gazed at him questioningly.

“Hello Banehallow,” a voice eased roughly into them. The demon wolf stopped dead in its tracks. “I have been looking for you. I hope the Cridians treated you well.”

“It was you who sent those murderers after me!?” snarled the demon wolf.

“Ha ha ha,” laughed the Lich, “that was not me who sent those foolish beings after you. Apparently the Sentinel higherups convinced them to find you and bring you to them. The Cridian method is, well, you are here without your pack, and that speaks enough on that. And what is this here with you?” the Lich said motioning toward the ghoul behind the Lycanthropy.

“He was yours I thought,” replied the Lycanthropy.

“I belong to no one!” grumbled N’aix in his halted, guttural growling speech. Frantically backing away from the Lich.

“Ah, he must be one of the friendly Skeleton’s. Well then, I assume you are here to join me,” the Lich said, stressing the final words, making them an order more than a question, the magic intertwining with the words, the force striking deeply, and gently, into the hearts of the two creatures falling into the will of the Lich.

“We came for the archer, nothing more, Lich,” seethed Banehallow. “Leave him to us and go on your way.”

“Ah, but the archer is coming with me to see friendly Leoric. That is, unless you have a problem with that?” the Lich questioned menacingly, the blue glow flaring up in his eyes, the air surrounding the party growing drastically colder.

“I will come with you, Kel’Thuzad, King of Deceit,” said the Lycanthrope unexpectedly.

“And you, little ghoul?” replied the Lich.

The magic coursing through the words of the Lich bent heavily upon the will of N’aix. He knew what was going on. He knew that he would be forever bound to the Lich if he went now, but he also knew that there was no other choice. There would be a slight chance of escape later, but now, as he became conscious of the gargoyles circling above his head, he knew any attempt to escape would result in his death. N’aix chose life. Stepping forward, he chose to return with the Lich to the large one.

“Protect me,” N’aix said to the Lich. Although Kel’Thuzad knew not of what the ghoul spoke, he soon would.

“Come little ones, there is much to be done.”

With that, the four of them walked to the Javin, and made their way to Rigmar, keeping all eyes on one another all the while, walking into the fate that would await them at the keep.

to be continued.....

I'm sitll working on the oter ORIGINS so I'll post it right away when im done. Smile

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The Origin of Dota Allstars

The Origin of Dota Allstars

nice one!!!