View Full Version : Three wee stories.

Dakrath Ahn
20-06-2005, 13:57
These are three short stories made by me, originally on a guild forum. The first one is the origin of my character, Dakrath Ahn (Origin of the Vampire). The second one is of his untimely death (The Master Suppassed). And the third one is a story about the end of humanity in Tyria, in wich I slightly altered the original Guild Wars storyline (As Mankind Fell...) Hope you like 'em.

Origin of the Vampire

"...Father always wanted me to be a warrior, like him. "Together, my boy, we will fight alongside King Adelbern himself!". Big words, yet they would definitely come true...

He was always training me whenever he wasn't off fighting some war. He wanted to make a heroic warrior out of his scrawny little son. Unlike my father, I wasn't very strong. I was short, pale and skinny. Everyone always teased me, calling me 'Little Zombie'. Even the men from my father's Order, the Order of the Silver Dragon, thought that I would never become a worthy follow-up of my father. But father was diffrent. He always tried to encourage me, and most of the time, it worked.

But one day, my entire life changed...

It was about two years before the Searing. I was only 15 years old, and ready to go to battle. A small Charr warband was approaching Ascalon from the Green Hill Countryside. My father thought I was ready to finally begin my carreer as a warrior, and decided to let me come along to the battlefield. It was only a small warband, but King Adelbern had decided to use this as an oppertunity to show the Charr what Ascalon was capable of. He decided to go to battle himself, along with the Order of the Silver Dragon. So my father's prediction came true. In my very first battle against the Charr, I would fight alongside King Adelbern himself. Along with the Order of the Silver dragon also came a woman named Kasha Blackblood. The first time I saw her, I felt there was something strange about her...

So, there we were, face to face with a Charr Warband. I had heard some frightening things about the Charr, but I never actually saw one. They were enormous, monsterous beasts who walked like men. They wielded enormous weaponry wich, from the looks of it, could slice a person in half with ease.

This day I actually realise that, unlike most of the Charr I've seen, this warband didn't immediatly attack us on sight. Instead, they waited for us to attack them.
And so we did. King Adelbern yelled "Strike them down! For Ascalon!", and we just rushed in. We didn't think anymore...we just attacked. All our fears and thoughts flowed away. The battle was going in our favour. Even I had killed several Charr. And then, just as we were celebrating the victory in our minds, just as we thought we had won, the tides were turned. Just at that moment, we realised why the Charr didn't attack us. From the distance, a second warband approached, much larger than the first. Also, some of the Charr in this warband were diffrent...some of them had black furs, and others were wielding enormous torches. I would find out the hard way what these torches were for. These Charr stopped about 20 yards away from us, aimed they're torches towards us and launched enormous balls of fire. King Adelbern yelled "Watch out! Flame Wielders!". But it was too late. The fireballs were already falling down upon us. I managed to dodge them, but when I looked for my father, I saw an image that would haunt me forever. As if time slowed down, I saw a fireball plunge down upon my father. As the ball hit him from above, he fell to his knees and was ingulfed in flames. I watched by, helpless, as my father was slowly incinertated. Many others fell this way. I was still shocked when I heard a voice from behind me say " Look away now, young one.". It was Kasha. I didn't look way though, and saw clearly what she did. She made a few strange motions with her hands and spoke a few strange words. "From the dead, our soldiers shall rise once more, to deliver death to our enemies." And as she finished her sentence, I saw the flesh on the dead bodies decay, only to leave they're skeletons, wich in turn stood up, grabbed a random weapon and ran mindlessly into the fray. I looked in amazement as I had never seen such sorcery. I was disgusted to see my fathers corpse desecrated in such a horrid way, yet I was intreuged as well. And as I looked at the battle, I notice that my father's sword, Silverwing, was lying on the ground, away from the battle. I ran towards it to grab it, but just as my hand touched the hilt, a Charr swung his axe at me. I flung the sword towards the enormous blade flying towards me, but instead I cut the wooden haft. The blade flew away from me, and I stabbed the beast in his stomach with my fathers blade. I gathered all my courage and ran into the fray as well. I don't remember much from the battle, as my mind was drifing on difrent things...

We won the battle, although we had lost more then we had won. Only a handfull of the Order survived...

After the battle I met up with Kasha Blackblood. I asked her about what happened on the battlefield, and she explained the art of Necromancy to me. She took me in as a so called "Blood Apprentice", and that is how my carreer as a Necromancer begun. She tought me the basics of Necromancy, and showed me the secrets of Blood Magic. But, even to this day, I wield my father's sword, the Silverwing, proudly, and in memory of my father, I still hone the skills that he tought me."

"But I thought you said you were a vampire?", Said Justicar Theoden in amazement,"How can you live by daylight then?"

"Well, my friend, the term "vampire" is a common Necromancer term for a blood addict. Blood magicians are known to sometimes get addicted to the lifeforce wich we drain from those who oppose us. We are still humans, like yourself. The nocternal blooddrinking creatures you're thinking of simply don't exist."

The two men were down in a dark, damp room, only lit by a small barred hole in the wall. Justicar Theoden was chained to a wall, unarmed.

"Well now, White Mantle scum, It's time to put an end to your misery."

"But you still haven't told me why you're doing this..."

Dakrath Ahn plunged his sword into Theoden's stomach, and whispered in his ear:

"Did I tell you what my father fought when he wasn't at home to train me? Your kind...mantle scum..."

The Master Supassed

The sound of a blade cutting it's way through layers of thin metal and leather filled the air. A hilt was sticking out of his chest, a large portion of a viciously shaped blade sticking out of his back. He fell to his knees. The blade went right through his torso, perferating a lung on the way. In his desperate attempts to breathe, he widened the hole in his lung, letting blood through. His longs were filling. He was drowning in his own blood.


A trickle of blood ran from his mouth, down to his chin. A drop hit the ground underneath them. The apprentice grabbed the hilt of his blade and pulled it out of his master's chest.

"You've outgrown your use to me."

The apprentice lifted his sword above his head.


The sword struck down on the master's head. The ground underneath them was coloured red.

"You little runt! This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"This is madness...please, no..."

Dakrath stood there, restraining a guard. One hand on the man's throat, the other one holding up the guard's hand. The guard's wrist was bleeding heavily.

"If you don't do this, then you'll never be anything more then you are now, you ignorant little runt! Drink! NOW!"

Ermac slowly walked towards the guard. He kneeled down, and looked at the blood, dripping from the barely concious guard's wrist.


Fearing the consecuences, he did as he was told. Ermac chomped down on the guard's wounded wrist and drank. Barely realizing what he was doing, he wanted to stop himself, but he couldn't. The taste disgusted him, yet it compelled him as well. A duality was going through his mind.

Suddenly Dakrath hit his apprentice on the back of his head.

"You greedy little bastard, leave some for me!"

He pushed Ermac away from the body of the guard, who was now unconcious. Dakrath grabbed the guard's head and bit his neck, draining every last drop of blood from his victim.

Both of them walked away from the ruined cathedral, in wich they had left the guard's body to rot.

"You're never going to survive on your own if you go on like this. You shouldn't feel reluctant to--"

"Murder innocent people?"


Ermac looked angrily, yet in silence, at his master. Many times had Dakrath cruelly forced his apprentice into necromantic rituals, at times even threatening him with death. At times Ermac had a strong desire to kill Dakrath, yet every time Ermac had passed one of these rituals, he felt stronger. It was only a matter of time before the apprentice suppassed the master...

It was a few weeks after the ritual of blood...

Dakrath and Ermac had traveled to the Canthan Fire Island. Dakrath had told Ermac that this would be the last ritual Ermac would have to pass to become a true necromancer. They were standing next to a pool of magma.

"This will be your final ritual, my apprentice. Here you will become a true master of the dark arts."

"What must I do?"

Dakrath took a long, viciously shaped kris from his belt, and handed it to Ermac.

"You will cut your facial mark."


"You facial scar. It is crucial for a necromancer to have a facial scar pattern."

"You mean I'll have to cut open my own face? What if I refuse!?"

"Then I'll cut it for you, and after that I'll cut you in half, you runt! Now do as I tell you!"

Dakrath unsheathed his blade, the Silverwing, and held it to Ermac's throat. He lowered his voice to a soft, threatening tone.

"Cut the scar, or I'll cut your throat. Now."

Ermac stepped back, and set the kris to his face.

"No no no, you fool! Are you that ignorant!? That's not how you create a scar! Give me that."

Dakrath grasped the kris from Ermac and walked over to the pool of magma besides them. He sunk a large part of the blade into the pool of molten rock, and handed the glowing blade to Ermac."

"Now, cut."

Ermac looked at the orange glowing blade and set it to his face. Taking a deep breath, he sunk the blade into the skin that surrounded his eye, and moved it outward. Three cuts from the outer side of his eye to his forehead, and two from the inner side past his nose and to his cheek. But no blood was shed. The pain was excruciating. The singering blade had left his face, yet it felt as if it was still in. Ermac was kneeled down, holding one hand to his face, as if to attempt to subdue the pain.

"Well done, my apprentice. You are now a true necroman--"

Ermac was furious. All the torment, all the pain...it had driven him mad. The pain from this scar was the final stroke. He felt powerful...powerful enough to kill his "master". Before Dakrath even finished his sentence, Ermac jumped up towards him and pushed him backward, towards the magma pool. Dakrath regained his balance, just as Ermac rushed in a second time in an attempt to push Dakrath into the magma. Dakrath jumped aside, letting Ermac run himself into the magma. But Dakrath wouldn't allow him to die. Not so painlessly, anyway. Dakrath grabbed Ermac by the back of his neck and tripped him. He kneeled down, holding Ermac by his neck.

"Betraying me!? I have given you everything. EVERYTHING! And this is how you thank me? Trying to kill me!? You've just made a mistake I won't see you live long enough to repeat!"

Dakrath dragged Ermac towards the magma, grabbed him by the back of his head and lowered his face into the burning pool. The fire engulfed Ermac's head, slowly burning away the skin. But just as Dakrath thought he could let go, Ermac pushed himself up to his feet. Dakrath was caught unaware by this, and stumbled back slightly. Ermac's facial skin was mostly burnt away, but his anger was clearly visible. He unsheathed his blade and lunged towards his master.

The sound of a blade cutting it's way through layers of thin metal and leather filled the air...

As Mankind Fell...

I watched as it happened, long ago. The man-beasts, known to men as the Charr, had completely erradicated the human nation of Ascalon. It had happened to the Orr before them, and soon after them, the Krytans would follow. Mankind would finally come to justice. Balance would be restored. Tyria would no longer be plagued by the disease that is mankind.

Yet the Ascalons amazed me most. Even after the Searing, wich was meant to cripple them completely, they resisted. But not enough...

It was one faithful day, little over two years after the Searing. A large part of Ascalon's population had fled to the Shiverpeak mountains.

The Charr had planned a massive attack to finally take over Ascalon. Every single Charr marched towards the grand city, or what was left of it, anyway. Mankind had forseen this attack, and had also gathered every single soldier they could to make they're final stand to defend they're home.

Even mankind's greatest heroes had gathered. Men and women, attired with blue and orange capes decorated with the symbol of the grandest beast, the dragon. They led Ascalon's army towards the battlefield.

The hour had come when Ascalon would defend itself for the last time, and I watched carefully. Yet the flames of courage in the hearts of men did not burn as brightly as they normally did. Mankind was in fear. The massive army outnumbered and overpowered the human army tenfold. The army of men did not look to this battle as a grand fight....but as an inevitable doom.

It amazes me now, how a small action can have a massive reaction among men...

The two enormous armies stood, facing eachother. Waiting for eachother to attack. One of them for strategic reasons...the other out of fear.

But among the frightened soldiers, one man, one of the heroes at the frontline, gathered all his hope. All his courage. All his strength. And he ran. He ran, across the barren field, towards the army of the Charr, hoping his brothers in arms would follow him. This small spark of courage lit the fires again. Soon, every single man wearing the blue and orang cape would follow they're leader, and the entire army of Ascalon followed. I watched from above as the two armies clashed. From my point of view, I saw only two enormous black stains, like puddles of oil, slowly flowing into eachother. But as the battle ensued, black turned to red...

Sadly, the heroes first to charge into the invading Charr army would be the first to fall, and they're sacrifice would be in vain.

The Ascalons were defeated in the battle. The Charr had taken over Ascalon. Mankind had suffered it's greatest loss ever.

Balance was restoring. The entire Charr race had destroyed itself after attempting to massively cross the Shiverpeak mountains. The Stone Summit army had overpowered them, in thesame way that the Charr had overpowered Ascalon.

Ultimately, it would be the Undead to take over Tyria. But the last of the surviving Ascalonian heroes would slay they're leader, and the army would decay.

Only few men still lived. They're homes destroyed, they're families killed, they're life stripped away from them.

Mankind had fallen, and balance was restored. Ironically, many men had said "Balthazar willing, we will destroy these Charr.", not knowing that I had created the man-beasts myself, meant to destroy mankind. They would pray to the God that would ultimately destroy them...

21-06-2005, 10:38
Very well-written. I like all three of them especially the third one :happy65:

Andrew Nightchaser
22-07-2005, 11:43
You are one hell of an artist lol beautifully woven stories.

22-07-2005, 13:57
Aaaah Dakrath, I like it, but please do try to use "their" whenever it's needed, and not always "they're". It makes me twitch everytime. ^^;

Dakrath Ahn
22-07-2005, 18:34
Heehehe, I wrote these a while ago, before I actually realised that there is a diffrence between "They're" and "Their". It sounded thesame... :p

Look at the post date, these were from a while ago :p

Evennia Starlight
14-05-2006, 19:31
dude i love your story!:wink: