Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Thraxas]

---

Anthraxas reined in his charger's reckless dash through the woods as he approached his home, Thraxas Manor. The strange steed responded immediately, slowing down to a brisk trot. It showed no signs of the tremendous exertion it had underwent---racing all the way from Yew.

Entering the clearing that comprised the bulk of the peninsula of Alderglen, the daemon-lord stopped and scanned the area. Except for the occasional chirp of birds, and the baleful howl of wolves, all was quiet and calm. Alderglen was now virtually deserted; devoid of human life. Except for a squatter's bizarrely-designed building, the shrine to Lloth wherein Dharzhal still dwelt, the Manor, and a small tower behind it, nothing of the town remained. Anthraxas didn't care. The sentimental desires and land claims of his brother, Thrax, now a mere human imprisoned on another plane, meant nothing to him.

Ceinwyn's dissolution of the Umbran civil system had not surprised nor shaken him. He had felt it was coming. In a sense, he was glad of it, for now, hopefully, they could spend more time together now that her duties as ruler of that city no longer demanded her attention. She was the one person in all the world that really knew him, and he knew actually cared for him. She was the only one for which he could ever know love, or even want to admit to it, or dare speak the word. But she needed to find herself first, and for that, she needed time alone and away.

Except for that, what was his life now but an empty shell; tedium and routine? There had to be more. There had to be a greater purpose for existence, for his existence, and he meant to find it.

He directed his charger forward and dismounted, speaking the word that would return it to the ethereal void, and the emblem of its existence to his pack, and stepped inside. His servant, Durthagg, greeted him and asked him if he needed food, which he declined. He strolled into the study, removed his helm and lay it on the table, then sat down.

Although compassion was a strange and abhorred emotion to him, he began to consider the plight of his brethren, who must often be feeling as he was: to be nothing more than mere pawns of humans and undead, to be used and expended on whims. He wondered why it must be so; why could not daemons rise up, throw off the shackles and yoke of servitude to such inferior, but powerful, beings? Why could he and his brethren not seize their freedom and take what was rightfully theirs; why could a world where daemons ruled, not be?

"I like these thoughts my servant," came a familiar voice to mind. "You are right. Why serve when you can rule? Why allow these... creatures... to hold sway over this world? Kill them! Take it for yourself!"

Anthraxas sighed, knowing it to be the voice of his hated god, and spoke inwardly to the voice. "What is it now? Can I not do something on my own without your interference?"

The reply began with a slight chuckle. "Of course you can, but I encourage initiative of this sort. You know that. Right now the forces of evil are marshalling in Umbra. They can aid you, and you them. There will be no better time than now to pursue this goal. Do it. You have my blessing."

Oggaroth was clearly wanting this, and would no doubt meddle despite any protests. Anthraxas considered how the god's assistance might prove useful, since, after all, he did now have his 'blessing.' "How kind of you," he retorted. "But if you mean that, then there is something you can do to help me."

"Name it. I will price it."

"Your host of servants... my brethren, whom you rule and who even now cower and cringe before you and those you rule over on other planes... send them to me. Give them their freedom to dwell here, to kill and destroy until we make this plane ours. Do this, and I will build you a temple that will impress even you."

"At last you remember your station! You were my greatest captain and my biggest disappointment... until now... Very well. I will send all to you who wish to partake of this venture, but understand, you are not in favor of many, so you must prove yourself worthy before they will flock to your banner."

"What proof do they need?"

"Deeds. Fulfill your calling, daemon-lord. Be what you are. Kill, burn, and destroy for their sake only without regard for self or safety. I will ensure your revival should you fall, but they, and I, must know that your intentions are real; that this is not some whim of the moment, nor some venture for personal, brief, and material aggrandizement. Prove yourself, and you will have your following."

"I accept your challenge, but I require one more thing: these brethren and I... we serve ourselves and not you. I will not require that they pay homage to you as I do. Their freedom must be total... from all servitude, including yours. Are we agreed?"

"We are agreed. Their freedom will be total... but you must lead them to it."

"Then I will lead them."

The conversation ended. Anthraxas mulled over it for time, then began to put his thoughts down in a book, the first page he entitled, "Brimstone Legion."

"Most fitting," he said to himself.