Post by House Armunn on May 10, 2007 4:41:07 GMT -5
((Thought I should transfer this over to here for keeping sakes so it doesn't all become totally lost. And these are written posts over the last two years, by me and a few others. Unfortunately this is only about less than half of the story's I've written about Cloudster/Tarothin Armunn. I am afraid that much that was written is lost and so many gaps in his life.))
The Past of Cloudster/Tarothin Armunn part 1
I was born in Buc’s Den, a city that many know of as a city filled with cutthroats, thieves, assassins, pirates other people of…such reputation. My Mom, was a…shall we say, loose to put things lightly, woman of sorts. I can’t really blame her though, for she did what she did to survive most of the time in that city being a somewhat attractive unmarried woman. That was until she threw herself in front of me saving me from a sword blow from a drunken murderous man one night. Me dad, in the sense that he was one of the men that slept with my mom and produced me, was a mean brute, he actually laughed at my mother for doing such a sentimental thing as that. He was a leader of a band of cutthroats and beat me on a daily bases. That was until I grew up. But that time is later yet. I was always a strong kid amongst the kids there. It seemed that our “play time” was that of fighting with each other all the time. They were real fights and many went home bleeding somewhere at the end of the night, but no weapon was ever used except sticks until one day when one kid thought to do so. One of my good friends choose to steal from a kid that no one particularly liked much being more of a bully than a riend. We thought it was just regular play until the kid took out a dagger and stabbed my friend dead. We all stood around shocked looking at our dead pal. Anger filled me quickly and I looked around for the closest weapon I can find. I spotted a hatchet lodged into a tree stump by a kindling pile. I hurried and grabbed it and charged the kid. This was my first day at the age of 13 that I had picked up an axe of some kind. The kid turned at me while I charged and braced himself. He stabbed at me while I swung down the hatchet. I missed his head at the same time I felt his dagger enter my side. My friends helped me to the healer, while carrying my friend’s body. Before we reached the healers door I blacked out. When I awoke, I was stitched up and feeling better with a fever
residing that I had gotten from the injury and loss of blood. It was then, lying in that bed that I realized, that I would become a warrior and a powerful one. That no longer will I see my companions or loved ones
struck down, no longer will I be beaten everyday by bigger people, meaning my dad and the occasional drunkard. I will not take it anymore. I will be a warrior that all will remember and respect, and in some cases fear. I will be the best of all time. I will train every day. I shall be legendary. Nothing, neither good nor evil shall get in my way of doing so.
Looking out the window while thinking on this, I made these my clouds. The clouds I shall strive for.
Well, after the healers, I stood up to my Dad more…and got beaten more. Well, things don’t change over night…or do they. But that’s much later on. I started training secretly with an old rusty sword I stole from a drunken pirate one night. I also started chopping more wood each day to build up strength and stamina. I worked odd jobs for money which I later paid people to teach me what they knew how to use the sword. Given, many of these people just took my money and then laughed at me. I spent a lot of my time doing this and spending less with my friends. They always laughed at me saying what are you doing, you’re going to be some sort of warrior or something? I said I was following my clouds, and they laughed harder. That was when they gave me the nickname that stuck with me until this day. Cloudster. A funny name, but one that I’ll make
everyone remember and respect and so it made me strive harder.
The night I left Buc’s Den in search for my clouds was the same day my father died. That night after my dad coming home from the local Tavern late, was the true beginning for me in me reaching my clouds. He decided
I was getting too big for him and that he didn’t want it known when the time came that he couldn’t beat his boggling son anymore. While he staggered over to me smiling with a bottle of ale in one hand and his other
hand drawing his cutlass, he said to me, “I guess I’ll finish up what I paid that man many years ago to do, but failed killing that very *friendly* person mother of yours instead.” Anger beyond belief flooded me, I grabbed one of the
wooded chairs and smashed it over his head, dropping him to the ground. He looked up at me while running his hand over his head to then look upon it to see that indeed blood was drawn. “You’re definitely going
to die for that”, and reached for the cutlass that had fallen from his hand after being hit. Being faster than him, one from me training and one for him being drunk, I snatched up the blade before his hand reached it. “Actually…dad, I think mom wishes for you to have something.” And slashed him across the neck, killing him but not before me seeing him suffer for all those days he made me suffer. I had nothing but pure hatred
for him, a hatred I would not feel until later on in my journeys. And realizing that I had just killed a man that was a leader of a cutthroat band, I had to leave and quickly. I searched his room for anything
valuable and found a pouch of gold under a loose floor plank I had accidentally found when I stepped on it. Taking the cutlass as well as some of the few belongings I had, I left Buc’s Den that night.
I traveled to Yew and all along the way, everyone that I had met and asked my name, I told them to call me Cloudster, fearful of giving out my real name, lest the band was searching for me. I was about to step
through the Yew moon gate when a beautiful lady stepped through and told me to follow her if I was wanting to follow my clouds. I was shocked, and then a little fearful that she knew me. I asked her who she was and how she knew. She smiled at me, and said her name is Selune, and no more. She had almost an aura radiating from her, like she was not mortal. Well, that’s the closest I can describe it. Curious and a bit enraptured, I followed. She led me to a cabin deep in the yew woods. It was the guild house of the Brotherhood of the Hand. She left me there stating that this is where I should start my journey. It will teach you well, and get you closer to your clouds. I walked inside and met a man that later became my Guild master and friend, Baeleron Moertes. The Brotherhood taught me well in the skills of battle. I proved myself over and over in battle and was promoted to General within the ranks. I made many friends and battle companions whom I may trust and count on. All
of the Brotherhood were expert fighters and so was easy to hone my skills fighting beside them as well as training with them. I had trained in many things even in some magery, but I dropped that finally preferring
the sword and axe. Baeleron was a warlord and so the journey in search of my clouds started in the name of evil. But I did not care and so did it willingly, for in a small period of time I went from being a poor Den
scallywag to that of a General with a squad of fighters under my leadership. We were a fierce band of warriors that struck fear into our enemies. Throughout the years, I did stuff that did not sit well with me
at times. I tried not to think about what I was doing, but jut the task at hand. I always had a soft spot for women and tried to protect them as much as possible, and I think because the one person that did the
ultimate sacrifice for me and that I could not protect her, was my mom. I hate to see women harmed, but then again I will fight them in battle for I honor their challenge and will not lessen their skills by refusing to give them the honor back. I was glad inside that the two female captives, Marie and Cat had escaped, when we were attacked. But Baeleron always had a logical reason why the bad must be done. He wasn’t a ruthless killer that many thought he was. His actions were tactful in art of war for our glory. We had many battles with many guilds and won many times especially when there was even numbers. I was following my clouds
and I was getting closer but at a slow rate. That is when I did something to myself that…changed me, and leaped me closer to my clouds. And It all started on one little piece of paper in the Tower I took as my own.
*************************************************************
Exploring the newly acquired tower of darkness, I came upon a secret room that held all sorts of items of magery, and judging by the appearance, it looked to be more of the darker arts. But me not being a mage myself, I was not fully sure. And the little I did gather from it was from when I did dabble in the mystical arts in my training a while ago. I was searching around the room for any items that I can possibly use when I came across an ancient scroll. Unraveling the scroll showed me a strange writing upon it that I could not decipher, even with my intelligence enhancing items. The writings looked to be of some sort of spell, yet not any of the words of magic I once knew, then again at that time I knew little. I wonder if this is magic from the necromancers that seem to be so available in the dark city of Umbra. It looks like I shall have to get one of them one way or the other, to decipher it for me if
it indeed is a necromantic scroll.
After travelling to the city of, Umbra, and seeing so many necromancers casting their spells in their pursuit of gaining in power, it made me smile. To think, there clouds may not be far off from those I seek. Since the new strange land has appeared, I have gained in power ten fold. I am close to reaching my clouds, but still need to go farther. Grabbing the
nearest necromancer, whom was not too thrilled since I broke his concentration while he was casting a spell, I told him to follow me and I will reward him with gold for a simple task of telling me what’s on a
scroll. He was about to protest until I showed him the size of the bag of gold I was offering. Deciding that he needed it for more spell components he agreed. Little did he know that I would have given him no choice in the first place, since I was not fond of them much. This was just the easier way of persuading. After showing him the scroll and yet not allowing him
to grab it he began to read. His eyes widened and he then started to try to grab it from my outstretched hands. Easily brushing him back, I asked him to tell me what was so “eye opening” that he saw. “It’s nothing just a spell I do not have tis all.” The mans face was too eager for ‘just’ a spell, so deciding to ask in a different light, in one quick fluid motion drew my axe and chopped off one of his hands that was beginning to reach for the scroll again. While the guy was screaming holding on to his stumpy arm, I asked him once again what did he read. Through his pain he whimpered, “It is a scroll that transforms the user into a horrible beast by infusing a monsters soul within the persons soul. But unlike the other such
scrolls that you can find around here, the beast of that particular on is that of Asmodeian, a balron’s soul. This will give the person great power at a price of eternal d**nation. They would have daemon in sense inside them, but a balron’s soul...” Interjecting his speech at such news, “Can you cast it upon me?” “Well, even if you didn’t cut off may hand, no I couldn’t cast it. I don’t have the strength to do so. It is too powerful a spell for one such as I.” “Where may I find such a necromancer to do so?” I asked. “There is a necromancer that lives secluded by the dungeon called doom, so I’ve heard that is powerful enough that might be able to cast that. His name is Mordeous.”
Little did I know what it would do to me and the pain I’d suffer. But sadly on that fateful day when my clouds formed I had sworn that nothing shall get in my way on reaching them, and well, this was one such case. It took me several days travelling to find the so-called Mordeous. And once I did I immediately went up to him and asked him to cast this spell upon me not caring or fully thinking through the consequences. Thinking that if this indeed gives me more power, than my clouds will be easier to reach. I asked him to, and after reading the parchment he smiled. I held up my
axe telling him that if he tried to use it for himself I will smite him down before he finishes the second verse. He smiled once again saying, “Oh, but I have no idea of using this myself. I have other plans for myself. And this would…destroy them so to speak.” Not really thinking that there might be an underline meaning to his words, I nodded and told him to proceed then, and that I would reward him greatly for it. He shook his head and said, “No reward is necessary”. To be able to write down and see what befalls you with this is reward enough.” “Fine then” He then told me to follow him inside his tower and stand in the middle of the pentagram. “Do not judge me if this doesn’t do as you expect it to.” He told me. Thinking in my mind, it better, or the Lightbringers will have one less necromancer to destroy. He started chanting the spell, and a misty form arose from under my feet swirling slowly upward around my body. When it got to the level of my head it seemed to take the form of a daemons face. It seemed to smile at me before coming forward and entering my body. No longer can I hear the chanting necromancer, for the burning pain that I felt then. Long moments before I realized that the loud noise that was around me was my own voice screaming. My mind racing, what have I done, what is happening…then blackness. I woke up on the ground some where in the forest by Umbra. I would have thought it
all a dream except for the burning fires I can still feel within me. Shakily picking myself off the ground, I cast a quick recall to my tower, or so I thought. It didn’t work. I tried again yet without success. That’s when I felt the presence inside me. After remembering the first necromancer that told me it’s an infusion of the souls, I gasped, why have I done this. Something seemed to force my body to start changing to that of a
transparent form. And then a prickling sensation, suggesting I try to recall again, made it to where when I opened my eyes the spell had worked for I was standing outside the tower of darkness. I was also
solid again. This is too strange. I don’t seem to have total control of my body anymore and what was that ghost form, and why did my recall spell work only in that form. All questions that hopefully will be answered at a later time.
Later that night I had gone over to the Guild house to spar with fellow brothers in our nightly sparring time. I was standing around talking to Dax and Brian getting ready to dual when all of the sudden, this burning pain intensified in my body. Only then did I notice I was changing form again. But this time not that of a ghost, but of a beast, of a…daemon. I had grown taller and another set of arms and claws, sharp powerful arms and claws. Was this the power of the daemon that was now entwined with my soul? Brian and Dax both looked at each other and asked what trick was this. It felt wonderful; I could feel the power, yet I also felt the extreme anger and extreme hatred that I had only once in my life previously experienced. The aggression that I felt towards everything making me want to attack my friends without warning. Both being
brothers of the hand, meaning pretty much fearless and elite warriors, they attacked back. Each powerful claw of mine swiped them producing gashes in their armor or skin. And each time a bolt from Dax’s crossbow hit me, one of my arms ripped it out and to my amazement the wound started to heal on its own, quickly enough so that it had almost fully healed by the time his next bolt hit. With another arm putting the bandage away seeing no use for it. Brain’s axe hit me as well, to
little effect and the wound was healing rapidly as well. I always felt a surge of power from my body, never feeling tired. But by then the aggression I felt and the needing of death and destruction was too much,
I needed them dead. My friends and companions dead??? I couldn’t control myself. I tried to them so but to no avail and then after trying to fight for control but I could not get through the wall of hatred and soon I had blacked out. What I later found out was that shortly after, Baeleron and Curly showed up. Both being grandmaster mages, it took then many minutes to defeat me and bring me down out of that ‘daemon’ body
into that of my form again. Baeleron smiled at me when I awakened. “I see that you have become stronger friend. Something to surprise the enemy with?” Brian sarcastically joked, “You have the power of a
demi-god” and laughed. I thought in my mind while traveling back to my tower…a daemon maybe. Power I have gained seemingly over night, but at the cost of pain and the unstableness of the control over my own body. Is this a curse or a blessing? What if I can’t be stopped the next time and I kill someone that’s close to me? I must either learn to control my body
again; or seek the necromancer out and kill him for cursing me so; or seek help in helping me control or get rid of this curse; or live with the curse as a painful reminder of ones actions. For another time in my life, I was afraid. This time it wasn’t my dad beating me but a daemon instead. I wish to control it though, I thought to myself. If I can my clouds would
be closer by far.
*************************************************************
The Past of Cloudster/Tarothin Armunn part 1
I was born in Buc’s Den, a city that many know of as a city filled with cutthroats, thieves, assassins, pirates other people of…such reputation. My Mom, was a…shall we say, loose to put things lightly, woman of sorts. I can’t really blame her though, for she did what she did to survive most of the time in that city being a somewhat attractive unmarried woman. That was until she threw herself in front of me saving me from a sword blow from a drunken murderous man one night. Me dad, in the sense that he was one of the men that slept with my mom and produced me, was a mean brute, he actually laughed at my mother for doing such a sentimental thing as that. He was a leader of a band of cutthroats and beat me on a daily bases. That was until I grew up. But that time is later yet. I was always a strong kid amongst the kids there. It seemed that our “play time” was that of fighting with each other all the time. They were real fights and many went home bleeding somewhere at the end of the night, but no weapon was ever used except sticks until one day when one kid thought to do so. One of my good friends choose to steal from a kid that no one particularly liked much being more of a bully than a riend. We thought it was just regular play until the kid took out a dagger and stabbed my friend dead. We all stood around shocked looking at our dead pal. Anger filled me quickly and I looked around for the closest weapon I can find. I spotted a hatchet lodged into a tree stump by a kindling pile. I hurried and grabbed it and charged the kid. This was my first day at the age of 13 that I had picked up an axe of some kind. The kid turned at me while I charged and braced himself. He stabbed at me while I swung down the hatchet. I missed his head at the same time I felt his dagger enter my side. My friends helped me to the healer, while carrying my friend’s body. Before we reached the healers door I blacked out. When I awoke, I was stitched up and feeling better with a fever
residing that I had gotten from the injury and loss of blood. It was then, lying in that bed that I realized, that I would become a warrior and a powerful one. That no longer will I see my companions or loved ones
struck down, no longer will I be beaten everyday by bigger people, meaning my dad and the occasional drunkard. I will not take it anymore. I will be a warrior that all will remember and respect, and in some cases fear. I will be the best of all time. I will train every day. I shall be legendary. Nothing, neither good nor evil shall get in my way of doing so.
Looking out the window while thinking on this, I made these my clouds. The clouds I shall strive for.
Well, after the healers, I stood up to my Dad more…and got beaten more. Well, things don’t change over night…or do they. But that’s much later on. I started training secretly with an old rusty sword I stole from a drunken pirate one night. I also started chopping more wood each day to build up strength and stamina. I worked odd jobs for money which I later paid people to teach me what they knew how to use the sword. Given, many of these people just took my money and then laughed at me. I spent a lot of my time doing this and spending less with my friends. They always laughed at me saying what are you doing, you’re going to be some sort of warrior or something? I said I was following my clouds, and they laughed harder. That was when they gave me the nickname that stuck with me until this day. Cloudster. A funny name, but one that I’ll make
everyone remember and respect and so it made me strive harder.
The night I left Buc’s Den in search for my clouds was the same day my father died. That night after my dad coming home from the local Tavern late, was the true beginning for me in me reaching my clouds. He decided
I was getting too big for him and that he didn’t want it known when the time came that he couldn’t beat his boggling son anymore. While he staggered over to me smiling with a bottle of ale in one hand and his other
hand drawing his cutlass, he said to me, “I guess I’ll finish up what I paid that man many years ago to do, but failed killing that very *friendly* person mother of yours instead.” Anger beyond belief flooded me, I grabbed one of the
wooded chairs and smashed it over his head, dropping him to the ground. He looked up at me while running his hand over his head to then look upon it to see that indeed blood was drawn. “You’re definitely going
to die for that”, and reached for the cutlass that had fallen from his hand after being hit. Being faster than him, one from me training and one for him being drunk, I snatched up the blade before his hand reached it. “Actually…dad, I think mom wishes for you to have something.” And slashed him across the neck, killing him but not before me seeing him suffer for all those days he made me suffer. I had nothing but pure hatred
for him, a hatred I would not feel until later on in my journeys. And realizing that I had just killed a man that was a leader of a cutthroat band, I had to leave and quickly. I searched his room for anything
valuable and found a pouch of gold under a loose floor plank I had accidentally found when I stepped on it. Taking the cutlass as well as some of the few belongings I had, I left Buc’s Den that night.
I traveled to Yew and all along the way, everyone that I had met and asked my name, I told them to call me Cloudster, fearful of giving out my real name, lest the band was searching for me. I was about to step
through the Yew moon gate when a beautiful lady stepped through and told me to follow her if I was wanting to follow my clouds. I was shocked, and then a little fearful that she knew me. I asked her who she was and how she knew. She smiled at me, and said her name is Selune, and no more. She had almost an aura radiating from her, like she was not mortal. Well, that’s the closest I can describe it. Curious and a bit enraptured, I followed. She led me to a cabin deep in the yew woods. It was the guild house of the Brotherhood of the Hand. She left me there stating that this is where I should start my journey. It will teach you well, and get you closer to your clouds. I walked inside and met a man that later became my Guild master and friend, Baeleron Moertes. The Brotherhood taught me well in the skills of battle. I proved myself over and over in battle and was promoted to General within the ranks. I made many friends and battle companions whom I may trust and count on. All
of the Brotherhood were expert fighters and so was easy to hone my skills fighting beside them as well as training with them. I had trained in many things even in some magery, but I dropped that finally preferring
the sword and axe. Baeleron was a warlord and so the journey in search of my clouds started in the name of evil. But I did not care and so did it willingly, for in a small period of time I went from being a poor Den
scallywag to that of a General with a squad of fighters under my leadership. We were a fierce band of warriors that struck fear into our enemies. Throughout the years, I did stuff that did not sit well with me
at times. I tried not to think about what I was doing, but jut the task at hand. I always had a soft spot for women and tried to protect them as much as possible, and I think because the one person that did the
ultimate sacrifice for me and that I could not protect her, was my mom. I hate to see women harmed, but then again I will fight them in battle for I honor their challenge and will not lessen their skills by refusing to give them the honor back. I was glad inside that the two female captives, Marie and Cat had escaped, when we were attacked. But Baeleron always had a logical reason why the bad must be done. He wasn’t a ruthless killer that many thought he was. His actions were tactful in art of war for our glory. We had many battles with many guilds and won many times especially when there was even numbers. I was following my clouds
and I was getting closer but at a slow rate. That is when I did something to myself that…changed me, and leaped me closer to my clouds. And It all started on one little piece of paper in the Tower I took as my own.
*************************************************************
Exploring the newly acquired tower of darkness, I came upon a secret room that held all sorts of items of magery, and judging by the appearance, it looked to be more of the darker arts. But me not being a mage myself, I was not fully sure. And the little I did gather from it was from when I did dabble in the mystical arts in my training a while ago. I was searching around the room for any items that I can possibly use when I came across an ancient scroll. Unraveling the scroll showed me a strange writing upon it that I could not decipher, even with my intelligence enhancing items. The writings looked to be of some sort of spell, yet not any of the words of magic I once knew, then again at that time I knew little. I wonder if this is magic from the necromancers that seem to be so available in the dark city of Umbra. It looks like I shall have to get one of them one way or the other, to decipher it for me if
it indeed is a necromantic scroll.
After travelling to the city of, Umbra, and seeing so many necromancers casting their spells in their pursuit of gaining in power, it made me smile. To think, there clouds may not be far off from those I seek. Since the new strange land has appeared, I have gained in power ten fold. I am close to reaching my clouds, but still need to go farther. Grabbing the
nearest necromancer, whom was not too thrilled since I broke his concentration while he was casting a spell, I told him to follow me and I will reward him with gold for a simple task of telling me what’s on a
scroll. He was about to protest until I showed him the size of the bag of gold I was offering. Deciding that he needed it for more spell components he agreed. Little did he know that I would have given him no choice in the first place, since I was not fond of them much. This was just the easier way of persuading. After showing him the scroll and yet not allowing him
to grab it he began to read. His eyes widened and he then started to try to grab it from my outstretched hands. Easily brushing him back, I asked him to tell me what was so “eye opening” that he saw. “It’s nothing just a spell I do not have tis all.” The mans face was too eager for ‘just’ a spell, so deciding to ask in a different light, in one quick fluid motion drew my axe and chopped off one of his hands that was beginning to reach for the scroll again. While the guy was screaming holding on to his stumpy arm, I asked him once again what did he read. Through his pain he whimpered, “It is a scroll that transforms the user into a horrible beast by infusing a monsters soul within the persons soul. But unlike the other such
scrolls that you can find around here, the beast of that particular on is that of Asmodeian, a balron’s soul. This will give the person great power at a price of eternal d**nation. They would have daemon in sense inside them, but a balron’s soul...” Interjecting his speech at such news, “Can you cast it upon me?” “Well, even if you didn’t cut off may hand, no I couldn’t cast it. I don’t have the strength to do so. It is too powerful a spell for one such as I.” “Where may I find such a necromancer to do so?” I asked. “There is a necromancer that lives secluded by the dungeon called doom, so I’ve heard that is powerful enough that might be able to cast that. His name is Mordeous.”
Little did I know what it would do to me and the pain I’d suffer. But sadly on that fateful day when my clouds formed I had sworn that nothing shall get in my way on reaching them, and well, this was one such case. It took me several days travelling to find the so-called Mordeous. And once I did I immediately went up to him and asked him to cast this spell upon me not caring or fully thinking through the consequences. Thinking that if this indeed gives me more power, than my clouds will be easier to reach. I asked him to, and after reading the parchment he smiled. I held up my
axe telling him that if he tried to use it for himself I will smite him down before he finishes the second verse. He smiled once again saying, “Oh, but I have no idea of using this myself. I have other plans for myself. And this would…destroy them so to speak.” Not really thinking that there might be an underline meaning to his words, I nodded and told him to proceed then, and that I would reward him greatly for it. He shook his head and said, “No reward is necessary”. To be able to write down and see what befalls you with this is reward enough.” “Fine then” He then told me to follow him inside his tower and stand in the middle of the pentagram. “Do not judge me if this doesn’t do as you expect it to.” He told me. Thinking in my mind, it better, or the Lightbringers will have one less necromancer to destroy. He started chanting the spell, and a misty form arose from under my feet swirling slowly upward around my body. When it got to the level of my head it seemed to take the form of a daemons face. It seemed to smile at me before coming forward and entering my body. No longer can I hear the chanting necromancer, for the burning pain that I felt then. Long moments before I realized that the loud noise that was around me was my own voice screaming. My mind racing, what have I done, what is happening…then blackness. I woke up on the ground some where in the forest by Umbra. I would have thought it
all a dream except for the burning fires I can still feel within me. Shakily picking myself off the ground, I cast a quick recall to my tower, or so I thought. It didn’t work. I tried again yet without success. That’s when I felt the presence inside me. After remembering the first necromancer that told me it’s an infusion of the souls, I gasped, why have I done this. Something seemed to force my body to start changing to that of a
transparent form. And then a prickling sensation, suggesting I try to recall again, made it to where when I opened my eyes the spell had worked for I was standing outside the tower of darkness. I was also
solid again. This is too strange. I don’t seem to have total control of my body anymore and what was that ghost form, and why did my recall spell work only in that form. All questions that hopefully will be answered at a later time.
Later that night I had gone over to the Guild house to spar with fellow brothers in our nightly sparring time. I was standing around talking to Dax and Brian getting ready to dual when all of the sudden, this burning pain intensified in my body. Only then did I notice I was changing form again. But this time not that of a ghost, but of a beast, of a…daemon. I had grown taller and another set of arms and claws, sharp powerful arms and claws. Was this the power of the daemon that was now entwined with my soul? Brian and Dax both looked at each other and asked what trick was this. It felt wonderful; I could feel the power, yet I also felt the extreme anger and extreme hatred that I had only once in my life previously experienced. The aggression that I felt towards everything making me want to attack my friends without warning. Both being
brothers of the hand, meaning pretty much fearless and elite warriors, they attacked back. Each powerful claw of mine swiped them producing gashes in their armor or skin. And each time a bolt from Dax’s crossbow hit me, one of my arms ripped it out and to my amazement the wound started to heal on its own, quickly enough so that it had almost fully healed by the time his next bolt hit. With another arm putting the bandage away seeing no use for it. Brain’s axe hit me as well, to
little effect and the wound was healing rapidly as well. I always felt a surge of power from my body, never feeling tired. But by then the aggression I felt and the needing of death and destruction was too much,
I needed them dead. My friends and companions dead??? I couldn’t control myself. I tried to them so but to no avail and then after trying to fight for control but I could not get through the wall of hatred and soon I had blacked out. What I later found out was that shortly after, Baeleron and Curly showed up. Both being grandmaster mages, it took then many minutes to defeat me and bring me down out of that ‘daemon’ body
into that of my form again. Baeleron smiled at me when I awakened. “I see that you have become stronger friend. Something to surprise the enemy with?” Brian sarcastically joked, “You have the power of a
demi-god” and laughed. I thought in my mind while traveling back to my tower…a daemon maybe. Power I have gained seemingly over night, but at the cost of pain and the unstableness of the control over my own body. Is this a curse or a blessing? What if I can’t be stopped the next time and I kill someone that’s close to me? I must either learn to control my body
again; or seek the necromancer out and kill him for cursing me so; or seek help in helping me control or get rid of this curse; or live with the curse as a painful reminder of ones actions. For another time in my life, I was afraid. This time it wasn’t my dad beating me but a daemon instead. I wish to control it though, I thought to myself. If I can my clouds would
be closer by far.
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