Ebon Skull Archives: Trask, The Forsaken
From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki
This is reposted from OES documentation for the pleasure of the Atlantic Community. Story by Trask of OES.
Many years it has been since Trask was one with the living. This is the story of how he became that of not the living but not quite dead either. To most he is labeled, simply, undead.
'Twas nearly four years ago on an early spring day, the wind was still chilled from the passing winter, but the sun was shining down, warming the lands of Sosaria. Trask was one of the Guards of Chaos, and one of the strongest among them. He had been called upon by one of Blackthorn's messengers to go forth from Britain with a small platoon to rid the village Cove of an invading enemy. This time the enemy took the form of a band of killers; some were masters of the sword and others the mystic arts, and the anticipation of the coming battle filled the warriors' souls as they made the two day journey to Cove.
The battle was long and fierce. The enemy had abandoned the virtues, but had in no way abandoned their wits. Apparently they had expected some form of resistance, yet they could not have foreseen that this resistance would come in the form of what was quite possibly the finest warriors in all of Sosaria. Throughout the day magic energies ripped through the air, tearing apart flesh and armor alike. Swords glinted in the sun's rays, parrying and thrusting, many thrusts of which marked the end of another life. Healers stood at the back lines doing whatever they could to keep their allies in fighting condition, knowing that the difference between victory and defeat might rest on their shoulders alone.
Eventually the battle gave way to withdrawal, and shortly thereafter, chase, as the invaders fled the fields, leaving behind victory for the Virtue Guards. The men were allowed to collect whatever spoils they chose to, and were ordered to collect the dead for a proper burial ceremony. After a week of rest in cove, the majority of the Guards headed back to Britain, leaving half a dozen to stay at the village in case of any following trouble.
Trask was to return to Britain with the bulk of the platoon, and it was shortly after his return that news of wife, Tasha, whom he deeply loved, was with child. He put in for two weeks leave so that he might celebrate this wondrous news. Permission was granted, and Trask went home to be with his wife.
That night they decided to journey to Trinsic so they could pass the news on to their parents. Trinsic was where they had both been raised, but had moved to Britain when Trask had been accepted into the Chaos Guard. Trask packed early so that he might go spend some time with friends at the Blue Boar tavern before they left. In the morning they threw their bags onto a carriage that Trask had managed to secure from the palace, and took off at a steady canter, leaving their home behind. Little did Trask know that this was his last time to see the fair city through the same eyes.
That night after camp had been made, and Tasha and Trask were fast asleep, two men snuck into their camp. They were equipped with a powder which they threw into the tent Trask and his wife lay asleep in. The powder placed Trask and his wife into a deep sleep; so deep, in fact, that nothing short of a cannon firing might wake them.
When finally they awoke, they found themselves tied to two trees in a location unknown to either of them. The two men were at a fire about ten paces away, speaking quietly to each other, and looking at the two prisoners. One of the men, seeing that Trask was awake, stood up and came over to regard him.
"Release us, or by the gods..." Trask was cut off.
"Save your breath, knave!" Yelled the captor. "You'll not be released now, nor ever. Here is where you shall die."
The man looked like your average vagabond: dirty black hair, fairly muscular, and the beginnings of a beard growing form neglect. The face of the man was chiseled and looked vaguely familiar.
"Why are you holding us?" asked Trask.
"Revenge." was the reply. "You killed my brother, as well as a cousin of mine, during your battle in Cove. I arrived only hours after your departure, and was able to gather the information from allies being held from your guards. Tough swine they were too. Took nearly two dozen of my men to bring them down before we could take the city again.
Despair slowly set in. "My wife, she is with child. Will you at least let her go?" pleaded Trask.
"Ah, her. A pretty one indeed she is." The man moved over to Tasha, and she simply stared at him with a frightened look on her face. "Yes, very pretty." Quickly he grabbed a hold of her dress, and with one stroke the garments covering her were stripped away.
"No!" yelled Trask. "She has done nothing to you. Leave her be!" His yelling fell on unresponsive ears.
For the next hour, he was forced to watch his wife be raped by first the first man, and then the other, through tear filled eyes. He yelled until he could no more, and even then still he continued his pleading. He pulled at the ropes that held him with all his might, pulled until the ropes cut into his flesh and a steady flood of blood seeped forth, but to no avail. The man which he had been talking to turned to him as the second man finished with Trask's wife. He looked at him, and Trask could see the this man actually enjoyed what he was doing. At that point he knew all hope was lost.
The man looked at Trask for a long while, and then walked over to Tasha, bloodied, battered, crying and naked, drew his dagger, and in one wicked slash, ended the life of Trask's wife, and his child to be. Trask could only watch as the blood flowed from the gash on her neck, as she in her last seconds turned to him, extending her hand as much towards him as possible, trying as hard as she might, just to touch him one last time. And then she was gone.
The feelings flowing through him were indescribable. Rage, hate, anger, frustration, pain, and more, like fires they roared in his soul. Tasha raped and murdered, his child lost before ever having lived at all. His life flashed before his eyes, he knew he was going to die very soon. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the horrors he'd witnessed. Years of battle had never prepared him for this. His mind yelled out to the gods for vengeance, vengeance so terrible as to surpass justice itself.
After what seemed an eternity he opened his hate filled eyes, he was ready, nay, more than ready for death, for although he lived the life he had, that life was no more.
"May you rot in the hottest hells Lothos knows, you and your comrades, and your family, and your dogs and horses...." his word were cut off by the same dagger that ended his wife's life tearing through his own throat.
The Darkness came so slow, it all seemed so comforting, but eventually Trask was to learn he was not alone. In this void Trask was to meet a conscience of an unknown origin. After a time, the rage submerged, all of his past was forgotten. He began to speak with the voice he could hear from time to time. Eventually the voice took form as a figure shrouded in a cloak, that seemed made of darkness itself. They spoke of secrets that cannot be written, nor ever told. The voice told Trask that he was in a limbo. He was dead to Sosaria, yet not quite consigned to Oblivion. Something in life kept him from passing through the boundaries of life and death, something so strong that Death itself would not, could not claim his life, for even Death lived by its own rules.
From there Trask was given two options. He could elect so remain in limbo; it wasn't so bad there. There were an infinite number of other souls in there, and if you liked to talk, you could be content virtually forever (or until something else was done with them). Or he could chose to return to Sosaria as an undead servant. Entropy had an agenda there, and Trask was a good candidate for the job.
Trask choose to return as an undead, and now roams the lands of Sosaria for reasons unknown to any mortal.