Dakrath Ahn
21-07-2005, 16:27
This is a tale about a Necromancer, my character Dakrath Ahn (N/W, and still kickin'. This is FICTION after all :p )
A Cold Embrace
The Northern Wall was already lost. Everyone knew it, yet nobody would accept it. The outcome of the battle was known before it was over. Yet, none of the soldiers seemed discouraged by the fact that they were about to perish. For their family. For their friends. For Ascalon. For home.
I was there. I was fighting alongside all those soldiers. All those soldiers who were about to perish. And I would perish with them. I knew it, yet I wasn't discouraged. Was it pride? Honor? Idiocy? Maybe it wasn't any of those. Maybe it was all of those, and more. I do not recall...
The battle ensued. The Charr had breached the Wall. Ascalon made it's final stand. I thought of myself as a brave man, fighting for my home. For a while, I even thought that I, as a powerful and mighty Necromancer, would be able to defend Ascalon. I would be able to be at least of some significance in the saviour of my home, my Ascalon. How wrong I was..
The second that that Charr grunt embedded that sword into me, I knew I was nothing. I was foolish to run headlong into the fray. I already imagined myself destroying the first wave of Charr singlehandedly. I would step out in front of Ascalon's army, focus all my strength and destroy all those Charr with ease. How wrong I was. I did as I imagined, stepping out in front, bathing in my own vanity and self-proclaimed superiority. I focussed all my strength, and felt the blinding pain of a half-blunt blade, embedding itself in the flesh between my neck and my shoulder, crushing every bone and tearing every muscle in it's way. I opened my eyes, awakening myself from my blissful state of megalomania, only to see a Charr grunt with an enormous scar around his left eye holding a hilt, attatched to a blade, embedded in me. I fell to my knees. Everything went quiet. My vision blurred and my entire body was going numb. How humiliating, to be the first to die. How honorable, to be the first to die.
I thought it was over. Slowly but steadily my vision went from a blur to a complete blackout. My mind was racing. Memories, surging through me...the sight of my father being incinerated by a Charr Flamecaller, Kasha Blackblood teaching me the arts of Necromancy, seeing my first minion tear it's way out of a fresh corpse. The sight of my eyelids enclosing my eyes, the feeling of my would-be corpse being trampled by the army of Charr, about to destroy everything. Destroy my family. Destroy my friends. Destroy my Ascalon. Destroy my home.
Yet, lying there, feeling death's cold embrace gain a stronger grip on me every second, I just couldn't accept it. This couldn't be it. But I couldn't do anything about it. I gathered all my strength. All my willpower. I focussed. And as if Grenth's hand slapped me in the face, I awakened, breaking death's cold embrace. I rolled to my stomach, and set my hands to the ground, trying to push myself to my feet. I was back. I would destroy these Charr. I was invincible. I looked up, still on my hands and knees, to my first victim. I tried to get to my feet to rush at him, but something was holding me down. I didn't even feel any pain, only the disability to get up. I looked around me, and saw a Charr grunt, with an enormous scar around his left eye, standing next to me. He held a hilt in his hand, attached to a blade, embedded in my. Like a tapestry pinned to a wall, the sword was pinning me to the ground. I couldn't breathe, as the blade had punctured a lung. I couldn't move, as the blade has punctured my torso.
I fell back down. Slowly but steadily my vision went from a blur to a complete blackout. Death's embrace had turned in a bearhug, squeezing my soul from my body. I had no choice but to accept it...I closed my eyes and waited untill I had shed my mortal shell...
The battle ensued. The Charr had breached the Wall. Ascalon made it's final stand. I thought of myself as a brave man, fighting for my home. For a while, I even thought that I, as a powerful and mighty Necromancer, would be able to defend Ascalon. I would walk out in front of Ascalon's army and singlehandedly destroy those Charr. And so I did...
I stepped out in front of the legion of soldiers, bathing in my own superiority. I was Ascalon's only hope. I was Ascalon's--no, Tyria's greatest. These Charr were nothing. The Charr rushed in, mindlessly. I closed my eyes, focussed. I gathered all my strength.
"Lord of Darkness. Lord of Death. Lend me your power, to keep my home safe!"
The power of the dark deity flowed through me. Nothing could defeat me. Nothing could defy my power. With the flick of my hand, the entire first wave of Charr dropped dead in front of me. With another gesture, I raised an army of undead from they're fresh corpses. And with a final gesture, I sent them to kill all the other Charr.
I was a hero. I was life and death in perfect harmony. I was the living, breathing embodiment of Grenth himself. And those who would stand in my way would all perish. I turned around to face my fellow soldiers. My fellow fighers. My fellow fighers who hadn't done anything. I looked upon them, yet I did not see them. I saw only Charr. Everywhere around me, there were Charr. One of them walked up to me. A Charr grunt with an enormous scar around his left eye. He lifted his sword. I wanted to move, but couldn't. He struck me with his blade, embedding the sword in the flesh between my neck and my left shoulder, crushing every bone and tearing every muslce in the way. But there was no pain. My vision blurred and my entire body was going numb.
I closed my eyes...I had failed. I had failed my family. I had failed my friends. I had failed Ascalon. I had failed my home...
A Cold Embrace
The Northern Wall was already lost. Everyone knew it, yet nobody would accept it. The outcome of the battle was known before it was over. Yet, none of the soldiers seemed discouraged by the fact that they were about to perish. For their family. For their friends. For Ascalon. For home.
I was there. I was fighting alongside all those soldiers. All those soldiers who were about to perish. And I would perish with them. I knew it, yet I wasn't discouraged. Was it pride? Honor? Idiocy? Maybe it wasn't any of those. Maybe it was all of those, and more. I do not recall...
The battle ensued. The Charr had breached the Wall. Ascalon made it's final stand. I thought of myself as a brave man, fighting for my home. For a while, I even thought that I, as a powerful and mighty Necromancer, would be able to defend Ascalon. I would be able to be at least of some significance in the saviour of my home, my Ascalon. How wrong I was..
The second that that Charr grunt embedded that sword into me, I knew I was nothing. I was foolish to run headlong into the fray. I already imagined myself destroying the first wave of Charr singlehandedly. I would step out in front of Ascalon's army, focus all my strength and destroy all those Charr with ease. How wrong I was. I did as I imagined, stepping out in front, bathing in my own vanity and self-proclaimed superiority. I focussed all my strength, and felt the blinding pain of a half-blunt blade, embedding itself in the flesh between my neck and my shoulder, crushing every bone and tearing every muscle in it's way. I opened my eyes, awakening myself from my blissful state of megalomania, only to see a Charr grunt with an enormous scar around his left eye holding a hilt, attatched to a blade, embedded in me. I fell to my knees. Everything went quiet. My vision blurred and my entire body was going numb. How humiliating, to be the first to die. How honorable, to be the first to die.
I thought it was over. Slowly but steadily my vision went from a blur to a complete blackout. My mind was racing. Memories, surging through me...the sight of my father being incinerated by a Charr Flamecaller, Kasha Blackblood teaching me the arts of Necromancy, seeing my first minion tear it's way out of a fresh corpse. The sight of my eyelids enclosing my eyes, the feeling of my would-be corpse being trampled by the army of Charr, about to destroy everything. Destroy my family. Destroy my friends. Destroy my Ascalon. Destroy my home.
Yet, lying there, feeling death's cold embrace gain a stronger grip on me every second, I just couldn't accept it. This couldn't be it. But I couldn't do anything about it. I gathered all my strength. All my willpower. I focussed. And as if Grenth's hand slapped me in the face, I awakened, breaking death's cold embrace. I rolled to my stomach, and set my hands to the ground, trying to push myself to my feet. I was back. I would destroy these Charr. I was invincible. I looked up, still on my hands and knees, to my first victim. I tried to get to my feet to rush at him, but something was holding me down. I didn't even feel any pain, only the disability to get up. I looked around me, and saw a Charr grunt, with an enormous scar around his left eye, standing next to me. He held a hilt in his hand, attached to a blade, embedded in my. Like a tapestry pinned to a wall, the sword was pinning me to the ground. I couldn't breathe, as the blade had punctured a lung. I couldn't move, as the blade has punctured my torso.
I fell back down. Slowly but steadily my vision went from a blur to a complete blackout. Death's embrace had turned in a bearhug, squeezing my soul from my body. I had no choice but to accept it...I closed my eyes and waited untill I had shed my mortal shell...
The battle ensued. The Charr had breached the Wall. Ascalon made it's final stand. I thought of myself as a brave man, fighting for my home. For a while, I even thought that I, as a powerful and mighty Necromancer, would be able to defend Ascalon. I would walk out in front of Ascalon's army and singlehandedly destroy those Charr. And so I did...
I stepped out in front of the legion of soldiers, bathing in my own superiority. I was Ascalon's only hope. I was Ascalon's--no, Tyria's greatest. These Charr were nothing. The Charr rushed in, mindlessly. I closed my eyes, focussed. I gathered all my strength.
"Lord of Darkness. Lord of Death. Lend me your power, to keep my home safe!"
The power of the dark deity flowed through me. Nothing could defeat me. Nothing could defy my power. With the flick of my hand, the entire first wave of Charr dropped dead in front of me. With another gesture, I raised an army of undead from they're fresh corpses. And with a final gesture, I sent them to kill all the other Charr.
I was a hero. I was life and death in perfect harmony. I was the living, breathing embodiment of Grenth himself. And those who would stand in my way would all perish. I turned around to face my fellow soldiers. My fellow fighers. My fellow fighers who hadn't done anything. I looked upon them, yet I did not see them. I saw only Charr. Everywhere around me, there were Charr. One of them walked up to me. A Charr grunt with an enormous scar around his left eye. He lifted his sword. I wanted to move, but couldn't. He struck me with his blade, embedding the sword in the flesh between my neck and my left shoulder, crushing every bone and tearing every muslce in the way. But there was no pain. My vision blurred and my entire body was going numb.
I closed my eyes...I had failed. I had failed my family. I had failed my friends. I had failed Ascalon. I had failed my home...