Copyright © 2019 Aaron Roland Holloway
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author and publisher. Fair use excepted.
Written and printed in the United States of America.
First Printing, 2019
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Map of the Borderlands Region on the Continent of Tor’sel
Prologue 1: The Creature
Prologue 2: The Gods
Chapter 1: The Beginning
Chapter 2: Welcome To Ethria
Chapter 3: Naming Conventions
Chapter 4: The Barbarian And The Elves
Chapter 5: The Word and the Law
Chapter 6: The Elven Forest
Chapter 7: A Festival, A Meeting, and A Funeral
Interlude 1: The High-Priest
Interlude 2: The Necromancer
Interlude 3: The Wildcat
Chapter 8: Learning, and Power
Chapter 9: Works of a Wizard
Chapter 10: The Foundations of Winters Quarters
Chapter 11: The Battle of Laketown
Chapter 12: Investigations and Preparations
Chapter 13: The Necromancer's Lair
Chapter 14: Journey South
Epilogue 1: The Creature
Epilogue 2: The Gods
Character Sheet: Danial “Rayid” Tear
Note From The Author
Acknowledgments
Editor: Ben Evans
Cover Artist: Ming-Luke
( https://mingluke.artstation.com/ )
Cover Formatting: Patty Wallace
(http://monkeypawcreative.com/)
Typesetter: Waqas Hussain
https://www.fiverr.com/mwaqash
Beta Readers
Lincoln Stewart
Daniel Rodriquez
Jordan Smith
Ben Evens
Ben Schuler
Nicholas Gran
Last but not least, I would like to thank my support network. My church group, my friends, and family who supported me through this process despite it being bad timing, poorly planned, and hastily executed on a shoestring budget. Thank you all.
Map of the Borderlands Region on the Continent of Tor’sel
Prologue 1: The Creature
“Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.” - William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Macbeth
The Dark Valley, Mori-Ferga 22nd, 2987 AoR (Age of Reconstruction)
The Creature slinked through the darkly rich and wet earth under a blackened sky. In the far distance, just peeking over the mountains, there, light existed. Precisely twice a day for fifteen minutes each, the unbearable, searing light of the sun burned the Valleys inhabitants to ashes unless they were able to find suitable protection. For one such as the Creature, protection was usually easy enough to find. A fallen mound of rocks at exactly the right angle, the hidden passages of ruins in the far southern portions of the great valley, or perhaps, as it looked like the Creature might have to do shortly, shield itself using the body of a victim.
The Creature had been summoned by its master, the Steward of The Valley. A valley of damned, discarded, forgotten and broken things, the Creature thought bitterly. The Creature could remember a time when the great plumes of darkness and shadow that shielded The Valley were complete, reaching over the mountains and blocking even the most intense rays of light - when The Valley had been a grand place of industry, power, magic, and death. It could remember that glorious era when a hundred victims a day were sacrificed upon the dark altars of the pyramids that festooned the center of The Valley.
The Pyramids used to be temples to gods of now-forgotten pantheons of darkness, death, decay, and destruction. But they had been repurposed a hundred times since The Valley had been discovered by the First People, long ago.
The first people , the Creature thought, a name it had not heard or even thought about in nearly a hundred years. A name the Creature had once been called, a name she had once been known by.
The Creature realized that it had belonged to a race, it had a gender, it had a name once. The Creature brutally squashed the thoughts of its past life. If its master found out about its past the master would surely have it killed. The Creature slithered on, its front legs dragging its form through the coarse, prickly grasses that surrounded the pyramids as its tail propelled its bulk forward. The Creature gingerly gripped with its upper arms a small wrapped bundle that its master had ordered it to bring. The Creature would not disobey its master, The Steward, no matter how much it loathed him.
The Creature could not wait until the day its true master returned. Or better yet when the old gods, Vensha, Delmoss, Belialah, or even the gluttonous Burte’loth scraped their way back to sentience and then back to The Valley. Those days were long yet to come, and the Creature knew it would most likely not survive long enough to see such glories. But if its True Master returned, perhaps The Valley could be brought to some semblance of its former self. At least the Umbra, the shadowy protections that shielded The Valley would become whole again, or so the Creature hoped.
The Creature dragged its bulk up the steps of the central pyramid, the Prime Temple. Long ago the Prime Temple acted as a place where all the powers of the gods converged, today it was the only active place of worship of the only god of the ancient pantheons that still yet lived, Tesh. Tesh was a child, the offspring of a weaker pantheon that had last ruled The Valley, who had themselves been descendants of Belialah the Beautiful and Delmoss the Destroyer.
What Tesh would one day become, the Creature did not know, but for now, the ancient place acted as Tesh’s immortal nursery. Tesh’s parents had failed to conquer even past the great valley’s outer rim before being destroyed by the forces of light; they had been true disappointments.
They had only been the most recent in a string of failed rulers with great ambition and capacity, perhaps greater potential than even their forebears. Each of the Creature’s hopes since the founding pantheons destruction, including Tesh’s sires, had succumbed to indolence. They had allowed their appetites to rob them of their true potential and the ultimate prize.
The Creature knew something though, something that its True Master would not like known by others. The Creature knew that soon one of the ancient gods, a member of the founding pantheon of The Great Valley, would return. A grand member of the pantheon, whose leaders were the great grandsires of Tesh. The Creature squashed the buds of hope that had begun to take root in its soul if the Creature was not careful its current master would know; its master would discover the Creature’s true nature and have it destroyed.
The Creature’s thoughts turned towards Tesh as it made its way up the temple steps. The child god was never seen by any except by the Teshi High-Priestess, and the Creature’s True Master, when he had been alive. Even the Steward of the Valley did not dare enter the birthing chamber hidden deep in the under-caverns of the temple.
When the Creature reached the first archway into the temple, on the first of three tiers of the pyramid, it entered just as the light from the setting sun began to burn the valley floor. Inside was pitch black. As it entered the Creature sighed in pleasure, the noise its jowls and flaps made as air escaped was truly disgusting, even to itself, but the Creature had grown largely accustomed to its degraded, disgusting body long ago. Besides, the darkness was bliss to Creatures such as it, and the Creature had to relish what little ecstasy it could in case it did not regain favor with the Steward of The Valley.
Inside the temple’s darkness, the Creature could see as clearly as if it were day. It slithered through the lower corridors, having
easy access to only the least holy of the three tiers. The Creature would have to pass security checks to enter the higher rungs, and even then the Creature would have to use back passages designed for servants and slaves.
The Creature was not offended by this, it knew it was not currently in favor with its master, and for good reason. It had been banished outside of the temple complex after its massive bloated bulk had knocked over a wine glass onto the Steward’s best dining robe. The Creature had simply been thankful to keep its head, and thankful that its master had forgotten to rescind his order to safeguard the bundle it still clutched tightly to itself. The bundle gave it the chance to earn favor again.
The Creature made its way through multiple checkpoints, each more heavily guarded than the last until finally, the Creature stopped outside the great hall where the steward held court. A guard, a tiny shadow imp, dark ethereal wings flaring, pushed open the door. Shadow imps were impetuous creatures, always playing pranks and slacking off, but they were loyal and generally useful servants to the Court, and so their nature and presence was tolerated.
The Creature squeezed its bulk through the crack that the imp had been able to open in the side door, the slave's door. It was not a comfortable fit, but the Creature did not particularly care. Every moment in the true darkness of the temple was a near-perfect ecstasy compared to even the darkest moments of the outside world. Even at night, the light of the stars or of the accursed moon filtered through the incomplete Umbra in small drips and drops.
As the Creature’s bulk squeezed and pulsed through the comparatively small crack that the imp had made, the heavy metal door finally gave way to the remaining mass of the Creature, its body spilling into the chamber beyond. The chamber was lit for the Court’s mortal servants only by a green fire in the central brazier, and blue fire in a brazier behind the Steward’s throne. In the center of the room, opposite the central brazier, was a long wooden dining table capable of seating nearly a hundred. The Creature had emerged in the midsection of the room proximal to the green fire, between the throne and court with its marble flooring, and the dining hall which was carpeted with the finest velvet.
“Creature” a voice boomed from the direction of the throne. “Have you brought what was required?” The voice was a deep baritone, and the Creature was very familiar with it. It was the voice of the Herald of the Throne, a man second only to the Steward of the Valley. The Creature raised its front arms holding the wrapped bundle even higher. The Creature knew that its own voice was not beloved by any, including itself, so it did its best to communicate via other means.
“Come forward, and place your charge on the third step. Do not come closer or I will destroy you with but a word.” The Herald warned. The Creature slithered forward towards the throne. As it did so it noticed that the room was rimmed with lesser demons that chittered away, dark priests who prayed silently or burned incense in their censers, and atop the great throne sat his master.
The Steward of The Valley was a small humanoid man, but the Creature knew all too well his strength. He had powers that the Creature could only dream of, the likes of which had not been seen in others in the Valley for nearly a hundred years, since … the Creature stopped that line of thought, crushing it and forcing its mind away from any semblance of hope that the steward might be able to detect in it. The Creature wasn’t sure exactly how much of its True Master’s powers the Steward had assumed, but if the ability to read minds was among them, the Creature had to be careful.
When the Creature arrived at the stairs, it looked to the Herald almost pleadingly. The Herald nodded and announced, “The Creature wishes to thank its master for the opportunity to serve.” The Creature nodded, and its bulk rippled unpleasantly. The Creature bowed deeply towards the throne, where the small, well clothed and comfortable looking man, it's master, sat with an intense expression of concentration on his face.
The Creature laid the wrapped bundle on the third step as instructed, and swiftly retreated to the corner of the room on the right side of the throne, as far out of sight of all there as possible, its delegated spot in the court. The spot had remained open in its banishment, and the Creature settled in with an internal sigh of relief that it hadn’t been killed out of hand.
The Steward of the Valley stood, and moved down from his throne, purple cloak swaying slightly behind him as he took each of the thirteen steps. The man picked up the bundle, and unwrapped it, taking a long few minutes to examine the beautiful object that was now cradled in his arms like a child, careful not to touch bare flesh to it.
The man grabbed the handle of the object, a bright red flash and a wave of heat washed over the crowd that was gathered. The Steward should have known better as the sword of the Creature’s True Master could not be wielded by any other, unless the prophecy of his return was left unfulfilled on the hundredth attempt. The Steward cried out in pain and frustration. The Creature had seen this same sight a hundred times before, once every year since the True Master had gone beyond death’s veil.
“Bring me the Crucible! Today marks a hundred years since our Master was slain, and the last opportunity for the prophecy of his return to be fulfilled. It is time for the testing. The last testing!” He yelled to the cowering, chained, and naked slaves in the corner opposite of the Creature. The gaggle of slaves scurried away down a corridor and, a few seconds later, returned dragging a large black cauldron into the room.
The cauldron glowed red with heat, where the slaves touched it their bare flesh seared black and was left bleeding. The slaves did not cry out in pain, indeed most of them wore expressions of ecstasy and pleasure. These were full Slaves of the Court, trained in secret and perverse practices of one of the ancient long-dead pantheons of old. They dragged the massive cauldron to the center of the room, placing it on several black stones that had been set there for the exact purpose when the temple had first been built. When it was finished and the slaves began retreating, one of them was so badly burnt that it had to be dragged back into its corner by the others. All of the slaves were covered in blackened burns and their own dried blood.
The Creature envied the looks of pleasure the slaves wore as their gift from Tesh healed their wounds; it would never know the pleasures of the flesh again, even such perverse ones as these slaves ‘enjoyed.’ The Creature hated the slaves, despised them as they had everything that it had once had long ago, even if they were lowly.
The Creature crushed these thoughts and returned its gaze back to what its master was doing. The Steward was holding the True Master’s sword with one hand using a cloth. The Steward obviously did not want a repetition of the heat and pain that he had experienced just moments ago.
The Steward of The Valley held the sword over the cauldron and heat rose from the infernal plane with which the cauldron had a direct connection. The Steward, after a moment of introspection, thrust the blade of the sword into the cauldron as he had done ninety and nine times before. A hiss began, heat and light appeared and rolled over the Court.
“No!” the Steward yelled and the room was rocked by a mighty explosion. The Creature had closed its eyes, believing it had known what was about to happen, and well that it had, as blood and viscera and great waves of heat and light blasted from where the Steward had been. The blade itself stood stock still, piercing the veil between Ethria and the infernal plane. While most of the demons and priests in the room had fallen over or were blinded temporarily, the Creature had adequately protected itself. It saw what happened next.
A skeletal hand reached out of the cauldron and grasped the blade of the sword, pulling itself up through the fire of the cauldron. Another hand appeared gripping the side of the vessel, and the Creature’s true master finally pulled himself free.
The Creature’s master fell to the floor in a heap of liquid fire and bone. He curled into a fetal position, as muscles, blood, veins and then finally skin all began to grow on the skeletal frame in a form familiar to the Creature. As flesh regrew, the true master was b
urned by the liquid fire that surrounded him, which was cooling far too slowly.
The Creature dragged its bulk forward and gestured with a bulbous grey finger at the slaves, “Bring our True Master water and clothes!” The words were barely understandable as they came out among fluted noises and perverse spouts of gasses from its flaps. But the Creature’s meaning and order had been understood. Three of the slaves who had been least burned and who had finished healing ran for all they were worth to fetch what was required.
The Creature turned towards the Herald and nodded. The Herald’s voice boomed over the Court “Behold our Dread Lord Marcus has risen again! Rejoice Oh Valley of the Dark, for soon we will rise with him!” The Creature knew that the Herald’s voice had been heard by every dark denizen of The Valley, even as it had boomed loudly through the halls of the temple. Tesh itself, the child-god, had no doubt heard it in its slumber.
After a few more minutes of regrowth, and multiple buckets of water to extinguish the burning liquid fire, Dread Lord Marcus began to shake. A female slave moved forward and covered their lord in a soft purple cloak, speaking soft words in his ear, no doubt words of comfort and promises of service.
Slaves of the Court were among the few lowly mortals who had the privilege of touching any of the denizens of the Dark Court. It was permitted so that they could serve, but even so, what the slave was doing was pushing that boundary.
Dread Lord Marcus reached out an arm and pushed himself up slightly. The Creature was close enough to hear what the female slave, naked and chained, tattooed with the holy writ of Tesh’s gift and the ancient rituals of training, was saying. “Lord Marcus, may I assist you to stand?”
The Dread Lords head, still with half his skull exposed to the air as his flesh knit itself back together, shook in the negative. The slave backed herself off of their lord and prostrated herself fully in front of him. “Whatever my lord desires, I am at his command.” A few more seconds later, and their lord rose of his own accord, flesh, meat, and muscle still knitting together in places. For the most part, his body was hale and whole, although his skin was pale and pink as a newborn. He draped the cloak around his shoulders, clothing his nakedness.
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