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Thrax · Posted: Fri Jun 03, 2005 10:42 am Post subject: The Lesser of Two Evils?

The pain was growing steadily worse, and Lord Thrax knew its source. Trying to rest in his bed, he sent a slave to find Ivan Blackhands whom he knew was somewhere in the manor. It did not take long before Ivan answered the summons and stood before him. "What is it you need, m'lord? Are you ill?"

Trying to suppress an expression of pain, Thrax nodded. "I am indeed. I want you to find that drow for me... Dharzhal. I have not seen him or his consort hereabouts for days. I believe he has poisoned me, and has fled. Find him and bring him here to me. No, bring them both to me. Get whatever help you need, and use any means necessary," he ordered.

"It shall be done." Ivan bowed his head once and left.

Thrax got up from the bed and paced the floor for a few moments. He was quite distraught, agitated. He cursed out loud. "I did not want to do this... again... just yet," he muttered. "You will pay dearly for this, drow."

Leaving his bed chamber, he went to the roof of the manor where he performed sacrifices daily to his god. Twin stone horns flanked an abbattoir charred black by countless offerings and caked with dried blood. A brazier burned consantly, the receptacle wherein the heads and hearts of victims were placed to burn in appeasement to the god of destruction. Two pentagrams were drawn out on either side of the altar, one used to summon a daemon to rend and destroy his enemies and the other for special purposes. He strode purposefully to that particular one.

He removed his clothing, robe, cloak, and armor, and stood in the middle of the pentagram. He winced as pain seized him; pain he knew was the result of something he had drunk recently to "prove" to his prisoner, Duke Kotare, that no harm would come to him by eating the food he was providing him. It was, of course, a lie. The cider he gave him was laced with a toxin, as the drow called it, intended to keep the Duke under his control forever. He had been giving the Duke enough of the cure to nullify the symptoms, not wanting him to know he had been drugged... yet. But had not drunk enough of it himself to effect a complete cure. Hence the pain he felt... burning, aching, sharp and lingering. From what the drow, Dharzhal T'Ar, had told him, it would grow worse until death came. But death would not come to him, he vowed.

He waved his hands in the air, in long-practiced circles and forms, uttering syllables of a language foreign to this world, unnatural and unholy. He looked up into the sky, his eyes blazing like twin orbs of flame. In moments his body was sheathed within a whirlwind of flame, effectively concealing it from human eyes. A soul-rending cry of mortal anguish ripped through the air, echoing far into the dense, naked, forest that lay to the west of the manor, and far across the waters of the bay to the east.

The wind and flame vanished suddenly, quickly. Standing on the pentagram was not the man who had conjured the forces of darkness. Instead, a gigantic, imposing, blood-red creature stood stretching its wings and limbs as lumps of human flesh tore away. Blood flowed freely down its huge form as the sagging and useless human flesh fell to the ground.

Harbinger, Thrax's pet raven, itself an unnatural creature, fled squawking fearfully into the woods, unwilling to accept its master was truly this obscenity that had been born into the realm; something monstrous, vile, spiteful beyond words.

Thrax, in his true form, not seen in a millenia, stretched his bat-like leathery wings and extended his massive arms and claws out to his sides. He looked up into the heavens and bellowed in fury. But it was not to show any displeasure for failure, for, with the shedding of his humanity, he was cured of the poison as he had hoped. It was, rather, the outpouring of his malice and hatred, especially toward the one who would now force him to remake his human form, at great trouble and expense.

Anthrax, the right hand of Oggaroth, would have his revenge.

Ivan Blackhands · Visitor Joined: 03 Jun 2005 Posts: 3

Ivan Blackhands sat in one of the many spacious and richly adorned rooms of Thraxstadt Manor, his attention focused on the pages of the book before him. Lord Thrax gave him leave, and in fact, encouraged him to make use of the library's manifold resources. "I could certainly find myself a houseguest in much more meager accommodations," Ivan thought to himself with a smile. Indeed, the dark priest was a gracious
and generous host and Ivan intended to do everything in his power to stay in his Lord's good graces.

Ivan heard a soft, quick knock upon the chamber's entryway and looked up to see one of Thrax's subservient attendants standing there. "M'Lord, Master requests your presence urgently," the slave said softly while trying to avoid locking eyes with Ivan. Ivan quickly closed the book and walked upstairs to Thrax's personal chambers.

Minutes later Ivan was on his way westward towards Yew, his horse in a full gallop. He had a mission to accomplish and his mind was alive with excitement and anticipation. He hadn't made it far when he heard what he perceived to be a thunder clap and his steed reared back on it's hind legs effectively throwing Ivan to the forest floor. The sound that he heard next sent his blood cold as death, he trembled and buried his face into the thick moss that grew where he landed.

If asked, Ivan would be almost at a loss for words to describe what he heard....but he soon felt the presence of Oggaroth and a peace fell over him. Ivan lay there listening to the sound echo through the deep forest and ebb away. His faithful mount had long since bolted away to parts
unknown and nothing moved or made a sound. Insects, birds, beasts and even plants if they could have uprooted and walked, had fled in the terrifying wake of the unholy and otherworldly. The very air around him was energized and alive, and he felt a new strength come over him and he willfully drew from it. He stood and drew in a great breath, taking in the dark earthy scent of the forest and the powerful and terrible presence. "Oggaroth be praised," he said and returned to his duty at hand. In the shadows he stealthily made his way towards Yew.