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The Realm of the Gods


Firstborn Dragon

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Yeah, I do write some fanfics, as some have found out. But I prefer orignal works most of the time. More freedom, and better ideas of what drives my chaircters. This is a WIP. I lost aout half of what I wrote during a HD crash, so things will come fast for a while, then slow down. A few of the charicters are baised on ones I use for RP writting. The rest are fully original for this writting.

 

Prolog

 

The Gods have dictated my life, as they have my death. As I sit listing to the creak of the rope on the gallows, I have little doubt that soon I shall join the numbers of those offered up before me, and a prelude to those who follow. ‘As the Gods dictate life, so do they dictate death. Let none question their wisdom should they wish to live. Let those who disbelief sever in death, as they failed to in life.’ These are the words I hear every day. They haunt my dreams every night. Sooner or latter, these words shall be said, as I too am lead to the gallows, to face the judgment for defying these Gods. Gods gave mortals power, and take it as it pleases them. To question their judgment is to invite death. I pray that someday someone will find the truth of these ‘Gods’. It is my belief, even now, that they are no more then creations of those who control this world to control us. Beings that exist only to control us.

This is why I sit here, awaiting my end. The Gods, or those who speak for the Gods, have willed it.

 

Footsteps. I hear them approach now, as I sit here. If there truly are Gods, I shall know soon enough. My life is now to be offered up, as are all the others who reject these so called ‘Gods’. The priests shall offer my life as a servant to their creations, in order to keep their sheep in line. But for how long will the flock follow it’s shepherded, allowing their lives, and deaths to be decried by these chosen few? I would like to think that my life, and death, will awaken others to this truth.

 

Before I became condemned to die and be reborn as one of the God’s slaves, I heard stories. If they are true, then I pray they will lead the path to freedom soon. I must end here. The door opens, and I suspect now is my time.

 

Let this be a warning to all. Should you seek to defy the Gods, seek the black wolf, and the red hawk. Together they shall show you the way.

 

Chapter 1.

 

The silence of the night was shattered by the screams of a child, which were as suddenly cut off. The Gods did not appreciate such noises in the night. Indeed, it seemed they did not appreciate much of anything anymore.

 

The young brother stood a solemn watch as his sister was bought into the world, and swiftly silenced. It was a painful thing to watch. On the bed, his mother lay, holding back the screams. She had hoped to give birth before night fell, but it was not to be. Children of the night were deemed ill luck in the eyes of the Gods. Twice so if they were female.

The one holding his sister turned and left, without a word, the silent but terrified child still in his arms. As if that was the cue he’d been awaiting, the boy’s father came, and lead his son to bed.

 

There was nothing more to see that night. Only the dawn would tell if the child would live, or die. So would speak the Gods…

 

 

His seventh birthday. It was a cold, rainy day as the boy joined the line with the others. Like them, he had no name. No child could bear a name until he, or she, reached their seventh birthday. And that day, the Gods would grant him or her one. The naming temple was drastically different from that of the birthing temple.

While the birthing temple was generally loud, and warm, with many priests and keepers, the naming temple was cold.

 

The boy, along with those others who turned seven, was herded into a room. Before them stood a priest, who spoke few words, but the meaning was clear. The children were quickly separated into males and females, and taken to yet another set of rooms.

The boys were ordered to strip, not a single piece of clothing was allowed to remain on them, even their loan cloth.

Some of the boys cried, but their cries were quickly silenced by a blow from the priest. Once all the clothing had been cast aside, the priest gathered it, and carried it from the room, leaving the children alone; naked and cold.

 

Still, the boys did not make a sound. They dared not. Too many stories of the priests abound for them to be willing to speak. Eventually another door opened, and yet another priest emerged. This one ventured into the boys, hands touching them, as if verifying something only he could see.

 

He paused, and turned to look at the boy, hand closing around the child’s wrist. He drew the boy from the room, leaving the other children alone.

 

The boy was lead down a darkened path, the moaning of the condemned about him. He, like the priest, said nothing. The pair entered the guard station, whereupon for the first time, the priest spoke.

“It is time. Bring him out.”

The solders did not speak, nor glance at one another. In silence they left the room, returning a short time latter with a man between them. Following the guards, and their prisoner, the priest led the boy from the room.

 

The boy did not speak, even when they emerged into the courtyard. Nor did he make any notice of his lack of clothing. As he’d been trained, the child remained silent, taking his lead from the priest before him.

 

The guards paused at the foot of the gallows. The priest turned to the child. “In order to bear a name before our Gods, you must prove yourself. The Gods have foreseen great things for you boy. Redeem your family, and do what you must. Show the Gods your family has not betrayed them.” Having said that, the priest lead the boy to the noose, then stood back to watch.

 

The guards lead the prisoner up the steps. They made no effort to assist the boy, they only stood, holding the prisoner between them. For a moment the boy froze, remembering the night, many years ago, when his sister had died. He’d watched in horror as one of the priests crushed her skull with his bare hands. For all he knew, it was the one who stood watch over him now.

 

Knowing not what else to do, the boy did as he was told, placing the noose around the prisoner’s neck. Defiant even upon his death, the prisoner stared at the boy. “Do not be blinded by that which is not there. These Gods are not real!” He screamed, even as one of the guards knocked him in the back of the head hard enough to knock a tooth loose.

 

The priest turned to the man, and went to speak, but halted as a door opened. The soldiers backed away, as the boy turned. Yet unlike them, he stood his ground, watching in mixed fear and awe as the new figures approached.

 

The priest and guards quickly bowed. The boy, unaware that they had done so, continued to watch the approaching figures.

“You do not fear us?” The man asked, halting at the foot of the gallows, in front of the boy. “Few can stand their ground at Death’s approach, and yet you do. What is your name?”

“The Gods have not named me yet, high one.”

“I see. Then why are you here? For what purpose have you been brought into this place?”

“It is not my place to question the priest.”

“I see…” The figure turned to the priest. “Why this boy? Why here?”

“He drew himself here.”

“One of them?”

“I believe so Great one.”

“Then this boy shall come with me. If he passes the test, he too shall become of the dead. If he fails…”

“As you wish, Great one.”

“The prisoner comes with us as well.” The man said, pointing at the prisoner, then at one of the figures beside him. It was not until the being moved that the boy realized it wasn’t human. Not in the normal sense.

Even the prisoner, who’d been defiant up until that point, backed away in fear at the approach of the beast. With one arm, the creature lifed the prisoner off the ground, and turned to move next to the man.

“Follow me boy.” The man said turning.

 

Shaking, though not from the cold, the boy followed the man and his creatures.

 

The hall down which the man lead the boy was lit by an eerie green glow coming from the walls. Except for the screams of the prisoner, it was quiet. If the man was disturbed by the screams, he did not show it. The man signaled for the boy to join him. The boy did so.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No great one.”

“I see. Tell me, what do you think those creatures are behind us?”

“I…do not know Sir.”

“No, of course not. No one outside of the priesthood and it’s guards sees them. Or us. To the world outside you are now dead. Though unlike your sister, you died for the glory of the Gods.”

“I do not understand Sir.”

“No, of course not. You see boy, while the priests deal with matters of life, there are those like myself who deal with matters of Death. The Gods have chosen us, and our kind to chose souls who shall server them in death. In return, the bodies serve us in life. The two who follow us are such slaves. Their bodies enslaved to us to bring order, their souls enslaved to the Gods. You do not fear them?”

“Should I sir?”

“No, not in your case child. We shall see if you are worthy to give servants to the Gods shortly. If so, you shall join us. If not, you shall join them. Dose that though bring you fear child?”

“I must accept whatever fate the Gods choose for me.”

“Yes, of course. After all, that is our way. Yet even though that priest feared me, you do not.”

“My sister showed fear, and did not last the night. My parents told me that to fear what fate the Gods have for us, is to bring about our death.”

“Your parents are wise. And they shall be rewarded should you pass. If not, they shall become offerings in way of repayment for their failure.”

“If that is the God’s will, then so be it.”

“Excellent child. Should you pass, you and your family will be greatly rewarded. Should you fail, you will serve the Gods in death.”

“May the will of the Gods be absolute.”

“May it indeed…” The man said smiling.

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  • 2 weeks later...
:possessed: must...have...more
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And here I was thinking no one was intrested.

 

Chapter 2

 

The prisoner was quiet now. Not by choice so much as by force. As the creatures had dragged him into the chamber they were now in, one had torn out his toung, throwing it onto a pile of decomposing flesh.

The smell was overwhelming, yet neither man nor child seemed to pay attention to it. The creatures had shackled the prisoner to the wall, then left. Now, only the man, the child, and the prisoner remained.

The man handed the boy a knife, then moved towards the prisoner. “In life you dared to defy the Gods exist. Like those before you, you dared to announce the Gods were mere illusions, created by the priests for power.” The man raised the prisoner’s head, to stair at him in the eyes. “You shall join the ranks of those condemned to serve in both life and death. Though you will not speak of those who aided you, you shall join us in the hunt. My only regret is that in death you cannot speak of what you knew in life.”

The prisoner now just stared at the man defiantly, unable to speak.

“You see, even as your powers wane, ours grows. We allow you to continue because your own acts strengthen the flock. Those who are too weak to resist your words are culled, and those who remain are more loyal for it. The Gods have use for even those who refuse to admit their existence. As you shall soon see…”

Having said that, the man turned. “Come here boy.”

The child did so.

“Do exactly as I say. We shall see if the Gods find you worthy.”

“As you say, High One.”

“Take the knife, and proceed to remove the skin from his chest. Do not force the knife too deep, or you will kill him. And that will lead to you taking his place.”

“Yes High One.”

The boy began to slowly, but carefully remove the skin from the prisoner’s chest. Blood flowed freely down his arms, and body. But the boy paid it no more mind then he did his lack of clothing. As the man had told him too, he striped the skin from the man’s chest, then halted.

“Good. Now you will wait here until my return. Do nothing until then.”

“Yes high one.”

The man left the room, leaving the prisoner, and the blood covered child alone. The prisoner looked down at the child in pity. He wished he could speak, not to beg his own death, but to beg the boy to destroy himself.

Perhaps sensing this, the boy looked up, yet did not speak. His eyes held acceptance, not defiance, nor fear.

 

As time passed, the blood covering the child began to dry. Yet as he’d been told, he made no effort to remove it in any way. One hand still held the knife, the other the strip of flesh taken from the prisoner’s chest.

Finally the man returned. The smell of death followed him.

“You are doing well, child. Many who would join our ranks choose to destroy themselves rather then await what is to come. You have not. Still, if you are to pass, there is much yet to be done.” He moved forwards, a glass vial containing a black ooze, the source of the oder, in his hands. “Now child, we see if you can handle what must be done.”

“I will do as told, High One.”

“We shall see child. We shall see. Now, place the flesh upon the table.”

The boy did so.

“Spread it out, and lay your left arm upon it.”

Again he did so, without a word.

“Excellent… Now take the knife, and drag it down your arm, from your wrist to your elbow. Draw blood, allow it to flow upon the flesh. The Savent must be bound to you in life, to follow you in death.”

Although it must have stung, the boy did not speak. Nay, he did not even open his mouth as he drew the knife along his arm, spilling his blood upon the strip of flesh that had once belonged to the prisoner.

“Now child, be strong. Binding a body to you is a painful act. If you are strong, you will endure. If you are weak, it will destroy you.”

“Yes High One. I shall endure.”

“Excellent.”

The man poured the contents of the vial along the cut on the boy’s arm. It burned with a fury that threatened to drive him mad. Yet the boy did not scream, even as the pain intensified as the man wrapped the flesh around his arm. Almost instantly, the prisoner’s flesh bound to his arm, as if it were his own skin. The boy moaned slightly in pain, as the very marrow of his bones burned with a fury.

The prisoner too was quiet, though unlike the boy his silence was not due to choice or will, but rather the lack of a tong to speak.

 

The pain ended as rapidly as it had begun. As the boy looked down upon his arm, the flesh of the prisoner, and his own flesh had become one.

“Now child… There is but one thing left; to give this heretic’s soul to the Gods. Take the knife up again.”

The boy did so.

“Now that the body may be bound to you in life, as his soul shall be in death to the Gods, drive the knife into his chest. Cut his beating heart out. Send it as an offering to the Gods.”

“As you say, Great one.”

“Do this, and you shall be one of us. Hesitate, and you will be destroyed.”

The boy turned, moving towards the prisoner, who watched him in horror. Perhaps it was not the fear of his death, or the horror of a child who would destroy him. Perhaps it was fear of being bound in life to the very priests he despised. Yet the prisoner struggled, attempting to stay the child’s hand.

The priest turned, his own eyes catching those of the prisoner, and the prisoner’s blood ran cold. He found despite his desire to, he could not move. There was no life in those eyes. He felt as if his own life were being drawn out, devoured by the empty soul before him.

So absorbed by the sight before him, the prisoner did not even feel the pain as the child drove the knife into his chest, carving out his heart. He did not feel the burning as his body responded to the arm of the child upon whom his skin rested. He did not even know his body had faded. All he saw, were those eyes. Deep, dark, and empty…

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:) You really should get this published, i showed it to a few friends and most of them said theyd definetely pay ofr it.
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It's something I've considered, but I have a lot of work to do before hand. Like re-writting the 10+ chapters I lost when my PC crashed.

 

Glad people like it though. It was an experimental project of mine.

 

Chapter 3

 

The man turned to look at the child, who held the prisoner’s heart in his hands, then nodded. “Excellent. Now, to see if you have passed…” He said, releasing the shackles that held the body to the wall.

The prisoner’s body did not fall. “Order him to follow you.”

“Yes High one…”

“If this works child, you will be one of us. No longer will you refer to me as High one, but rather Master. This is your final test.”

The boy turned to the body. “Follow me Savent.”

The body jerked, empty eyes turned to look at the body. Then slowly it moved towards him.

The man nodded. “You have passed. Now, follow me. We must offer up the soul to the Gods. And then, your training will begin.”

“Yes Master.”

The man left the room, followed by the boy. The Savent, as the prisoner had become, followed the child.

 

The pair entered into another chamber, the boy still carrying the heart. Despite it’s removal from the body, the heart continued to beat. “The heathen’s soul is trapped within. When it is released, it will become a servant to the Gods, as it’s body is now your servant.”

“As the Gods will Master.”

“Indeed… No doubt this is what the priest saw in you, when he removed you from the chamber. Those who would number amongst our ranks do not gain a name in the temple of naming. That is a place of life. Rather, we are named in the temple of death. For to the living we are dead. The bridge between the realm of mortals, and the realm of the Gods. You have been granted a great honor for one so young.”

“Thank you Master.”

“The Gods shall grant you a name in due time. You are the only child in these halls. For now, you will respond to that. When the Gods choose to name you, you shall know.”

“Yes Master.”

Others dressed much as the man was watched the pair’s progress. Yet none interfered with them. They looked on with respect to the one the child called Master. For though the boy did not know it yet, he was their Lord. Many years had it been since the Gods had called him to take on a student. They all knew that great things had to be forthcoming from the boy in order to draw their Lord to him. Far be it from them to question him.

 

The pair approached the alter, the Savent still following it’s master. “Place the heart upon the alter. Let the fires consume it, and grant the soul to the Gods.”

“As you say, Master.” The boy advanced, and the flames erupted, as if with a life of their own. He showed no fear as his hands entered into the flames, laying the heart upon the central pillar, granting it up to the flames.

Fire erupted up around the boy, but he did not flinch. His Savent somehow found a voice, and screamed, yet the child noticed it not. The screams continued, as the child remained transfixed upon the heart. When the heart had turned to ash, the screaming stopped, and the fires died.

“You have passed Child. It is time to begin your training.”

“Yes Master.”

The boy turned, and followed his Master from the hall, his Savent once again following in silence. For in death, Savents find their voice but twice; Once upon binding, and once upon release. In the halls of the dead, no Savent had ever screamed twice.

 

The boy was shown to a room, which was almost bare. A cot occupied the back wall, a desk the side wall. “These are your chambers. We will collect the books shortly. The room across the hall is where you may store your Savents until they are needed.”

“Yes Master.”

“For now, send it away. I will show you what you need to know, and then we shall see about getting something to cloth yourself with.”

The boy nodded. “Go.”

The Savent did as ordered, vanishing into the chamber across the hall. Although it had a body of flesh, it was no more alive than a tool. Indeed, to the dead, that was all the Savents were. Tools.

 

The Lord then lead the child down another hall, showing him the dimly lit food area, as well as the bathing area, and library. Finally they paused outside another door. “In here will be the chambers where you will take your lessons. When you are summoned, you will come with all due haste. You will leave whatever task you are doing. You will know you are being summoned when your arm burns. The longer you delay, the greater your pain. Fail to arrive, and the pain will destroy you.”

“Yes Master.”

“Now come, we will get you something to cloth yourself with.”

 

A short time later, clothed with dark robes, the boy sat at his desk, and read. While in the world outside, his parents wept the loss of their son.

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Chapter 4

 

The lessons were long, and strenuous. More than one night the boy was awoken by the burning of his arm. Sometimes days would pass before he was allowed to rest. Still he persevered. Days became weeks, and weeks became months. He soon learned that few Savents were created, and even fewer of the Death Priests existed.

 

Three years after his training began his Master lead him to another room. “It is time you learn of that which we battle against. In here are forbidden items, taken from the heretics. Now that you know of our defenses, you must learn of their attacks. Go, read, examine, do what you wish. Learn the ways of the heretics, so that when all is said and done, you are ready to battle them. That is the greatest test of the Death Priests; to destroy the heretics, and preserve the peace of our lands. One day you may be called upon to venture forth in the darkness, with none but your Savents, to seek out the heretics at our borders. They fear us, and they would destroy us if they could. Yet they fear our powers more. For though we are few in numbers, our powers are great.”

“Yes Master.”

The Lord nodded. “Take nothing from this room. What is here must remain here. In the end, it is all we have to find the motives of our foes, and to seek a way to defeat them. Read, learn, and find their weakness. The Gods will grant you sight to do so.”

“Yes Master.”

“And keep open for visions. It is odd for the Gods to wait so long to name one of their own. Especially one so chosen. Should you feel the call, go. I will know.”

“I shall Master.”

“Good.” With that, he turned and left.

 

The boy began going though the artifacts. Books, and swords, tools and staves. All were present, all told a story. One book, a battered journal, caught his eye. The boy turned to it, removed it from the shelf, and began to read. How long he read was impossible to say. For in the realm of the Death Priests, there is no night nor day, only an eternal darkness. One that enshrouds all who enter, and only who’s numbers may depart alive.

 

The final part of the entry, the journal of a condemned heretic from ages past, caught the boy’s attention. It’s words echoed in his mind. ‘Let this be a warning to all. Should you seek to defy the Gods, seek the black wolf, and the red hawk. Together they shall show you the way.’

 

Closing the journal, the boy looked around confused. He was no longer in the storage room, of that he was certain. As he looked up, he knew. Somehow, something had drawn him to the temple. And yet somehow he knew; this was not the temple of the Dead. Indeed it was not any of the temples he knew of. Glancing around, the boy could find neither entry, nor exit to the room he was in. With no alternative, he strode forwards. In the distance he could hear voices, though he could not make out the words. He could see shapes, though he could not tell what they were. Indeed, everything was just on the edge of his recognition. Something that bothered the boy.

 

And yet, with no alternative, he moved forwards, the paused. He gasped at the scene that unfolded before him. The scene he’d seen seven years earlier, yet barely recalled. He watched himself standing in the temple of life, hours after his sister’s birth. The room was deathly quiet, until a voice, a single voice, broke out crying. He watched himself creep though the room, wishing to help his sister survived the night. He had heard his parents fears, and they had become his own.

 

He watched himself reach up for his sister, in an attempt to silence her. He heard, rather then saw, the approaching priest. He watched himself draw back into the shadows, hiding. Watched as the priest lifted his sister from the crib, staring at him as if he knew that the boy was there. He watched at the priest slowly placed his sister’s head between his hands. Heard the crush of bone, as her skull shattered. Saw himself frozen in horror at the sight of what the priest had done.

 

And then he found himself following the priest, as he carried his dead sister from the room. His parents had been told the next day she had not survived the night. He’d known otherwise, but never told. As the boy watched the visions, he questioned how he could see what he’d not seen then. Yet still he watched.

 

The priest entered another room. Had he seen what he saw when he was a child, the boy had little doubt he’d have been found out. The priest placed the infant body on the table, and slowly began to prepare it, as his mother would a chicken, or a side of beef. His sister’s body was undressed, and skinned, the fingers and toes cut off, and placed to the side. As the horrified boy watched, the priest began to cook his sister’s remains, slowly roasting the body. Once it was cooked, the priest carried it from the room. Although the boy did not see what occurred next, he knew. His sister had been eaten. The very though of him made him ill, in a way that the Savents hadn’t.

 

When he could again see, he looked about the room. For the first time he noticed the pillar. He approached it, journal still in hand. Faintly he could feel his arm burn, but something kept it from becoming too bad to ignore. He placed his hand on the front of the pillar. He had no idea what he expected, but nothing happened. “Why am I here?” He asked quietly of the room.

 

He moved about the pillar, wondering if this was all some vision. Yet, why would the Gods send him a vision which would turn him against the Gods’ own priests? None of it made sense.

 

Reaching the back of the pillar, he again looked around the room, this time sighting a small alcove, which has previously been hidden from his sight by the pillar. Slowly the boy moved towards it, hand shaking. What he feared, he did not know. But something in that room scared him greatly.

 

Nothing lay on the alcove, save a single book. The boy placed the journal down on the ground, and reached for it. As he opened it, he found the text old, dated. And yet he had no problems reading it. As he read though the first page, he began to question the very existence of the Gods, and the powers of the priests themselves. And yet nothing concrete was said on the first page to lead him to feel that way. His first thought was to drop the book, and flee. Flee, and forget all that had occurred, and retune to his life amongst the Death priests. Yet something told him he could not do that.

 

Instead, he gathered both books, and left the room, knowing he had to hide both. Why, he could not say. Only that something important was buried in the books. Something he had to find out.

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:oDude, i thought you said it wouldnt get creepy for a while..... CHAPTER 4 = CREEPY!!!

 

:thumbsup: Good job!!

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So I lied. I do that when I forget thing.

 

Chapter 5

 

“You’re late.”

“Forgive me Master. Visions took me while I was reading.”

The Lord nodded. “Everyone assumed as much, given what they saw. Did the Gods choose to give you a name?”

“Not yet Master.”

“Odd that they’d send a vision to one untrained, yet offer no name.”

“It is not my place to question them.”

“Nor is it mine. Perhaps the Gods have their reasons. No matter.”

“Master… If I may, I believe they wish me to go to the Northern boarder.”

“What makes you say that?”

“In the visions… They showed me of something occurring there.”

“I see…”

“I do not know why they chose me, but…”

“I am. You are the strongest amongst us, second only to myself. Even as lowly trained as you are, your command of your Savents, and those of others is remarkable. Indeed, you have gained control of more Savants in your three years then many do in a lifetime. It is only reasonable they send you.”

“I see Master.”

“Although the lack of a name worries me…”

“Perhaps that is another reason. One with no name is in less danger of the Northern spells then one with.”

“Indeed. You do learn quickly.”

“Thank you Master.”

“Very well. Take the next week to rest. I will oversee your supplies. Gather what you feel you need that is special. Tell me if there is anything you cannot obtain here. I shall see that the others equip your Savents for the task ahead.”

“I shall require mounts. Time is of the essence.”

“Very well. Go, rest. Visions are quite draining. I can see it in your eyes.”

“Thank you Master.”

The Lord quietly watched the boy leave. “That one is dangerous… Too dangerous. It would be a great fortune should he not return alive. He saw something today, but what, and from whom?”

 

 

The week passed quickly. On the eve before he was to set out, the boy was summoned to the hall.

“Where you venture, you must no longer go as a student. The Gods have chosen to leave you nameless at this time, for their own reasons. Whatever reasons they may be, they are not ours to question.”

The boy bowed before his Master as he spoke.

“At this time, I see no reason to keep your training alive. I free you now of your bond as a student. You are now amongst the numbers of the Death Priests. And yet, as the Gods have chosen to withhold your name, there is little choice but to await a time until they reveal your name. Only then can you truly be one of us. Still, there is no choice but to free you from your bond as a student; for otherwise, you shall never venture forth to the Northern border. Come forth child.”

The boy moved forwards.

The Lord took his arm, the same arm upon which so many years ago the skin of his first Savent had been attached to. He took a vial, similar to the one he used that first day, so many years ago. Similar to the one the boy had used every time he’d created a new Savent. And yet, while that first one had been black, and the following ones grey, this one was a sickly green color. “Let this dissolve the bond of student and Master. Let this one stand forth on his own merit. Whomever feels this boy is not set, let him stand forth now.”

Both Master and student looked around the clearing at the Death priests gathered. The Lord knew generally that one of them would seek to challenge a new inductee. But not one dared move. Something which did not surprise the Lord. He knew as well as they that there was only one who could challenge the boy.

“So be it.” With that, the Lord drew a knife, slicing though the skin on the boy’s right arm, followed by the green ooze from the vial. Once again his blood boil, and marrow burned. Once again, the boy did not make a sound. When all was said and done, the Lord nodded. “You are now a Death Priest, or as close as a nameless may be. Once the Gods have chosen your name, you shall then truly be one of us. Tomorrow at dusk you shall set out North. To seek the secrets the Gods have granted to you.”

“As is the will of the Gods, Lord.”

“Indeed, as is the will of the Gods.”

The Lord watched as the newest priest left the room. “Not a boy, yet not a man either. What future have the Gods set for him?”

“You are aware Lord, that he is taking some of the forbidden artifacts with him?”

“Yes… He told me as much. He dose not know why, only that he must. It is impossible for me to deny one such as him.”

“Dose this not worry me?”

“Indeed. I am old. Perhaps the Gods have chosen my successor even as I live. Or perhaps they seek to remove the boy before he is an issue. Who can say? Despite that, I am aware of the fact that trouble brews at the North. And that one has been chosen, for whatever reason, to venture forth.”

“Yet, he is not fully trained?”

“He is as trained as you were. The boy learns quickly. Too quickly perhaps. And there is little doubt that something strange occurred that day.”

“Is it wise to send him alone?”

“We have no choice. The heretics have become bolder as of late. The priests struggle to maintain order. There is none to send with him.”

 

Dusk came all too soon. Followed by his Savents, the youth set forth. Both he, and his Savents were dressed in black. Mounts, specially trained to bear the nearness of both Death Priests and Savents, awaited the group. The youth mounted, as did his Savents. Not a word was spoken as they set forth under the Lord’s eye.

At that moment, the Lord knew, he’d either made a great sacrifice, or a grave error. “Who watches that boy? And why can I not tell?”

 

The youth, followed by his dozen Savents, rode though the darkness. For that night, the moon was hidden, and the lights dimmed. As if the Gods themselves did not want their messenger seen.

 

And in the following dawn, people would speak of how Death had ridden though the city, and spared them. None had dared to look, and each believed it was their fear which had spared their lives.

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YAY! MORE OF REALM OF THE GODS!!

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  • 1 month later...

No I am not dead, though resently have felt that way.

 

Just been busy with stuff, and had issues writting my next chapter, which is finally finished.

 

Chapter 6

________________________

 

Dawn broke all too soon, as the rider knew it would. He and his Savents had taken cover in a small wooded lot, still many days travel from their final goal. What he sought, and what he would find, the youth did not know. Whatever it was however drove him on. And it was only with the greatest reluctance that he halted at all for the day.

 

Still, with the long day ahead, the rider drew forth the books he’d taken from the temple. As he examined the books, the one taken from the empty, and lost alcove, and the journal, he wondered why they had called out to him. Why he had felt compelled to risk his life, and soul, to steal them from the Death Priests. He opened the journal again, reading the final entry, even as his Savents took positions about the clearing.

 

Only his first Savent, the one he’d made under the high priest’s teachings, the one that had lead the high priest to accept him into the ranks, remained. Something about that Savent drew the rider to it. A drawing that became stronger as the youth read though the journal yet again. The rider looked up, only to find his Savent watching him, an act that unnerved the youth immensely.

 

“Who were you?” The rider asked, knowing he’d never get an answer. The more he studied his Savents, the more he questioned the priest’s beliefs that they were brainless, ignorant of their lives before becoming loyal servants of the Death Priests. The Savent’s eyes seemed to move from its master’s face, to the Journal in his hands.

 

“Did you write this?” The youth asked, uncertain why he suspected the Savent had, yet unable to shake the feeling. However if the Savent responded this time, it was beyond the youth’s understanding. “The God’s slaves… Perhaps you and your kind are not… No. I mustn’t question the High Priest.”

 

The youth slammed the journal closed, returning it, and the book he’d found to the pack from which they’d emerged. In an attempt to draw his mind away from the ill thoughts he turned to his mount, tending to its needs, using the physical work to draw his mind away from the blasphemous thoughts that crossed his mind.

 

Aware of the Savent’s eyes upon his back, the youth turned to it. “Go patrol the area. Ensure we are not found.” He said, suddenly unable to take the Savent’s gaze. Why, he could no more say, then why he had taken the books in the first place, or continued to return to them. As he returned to the fire, the thought of throwing the books to the flames did not cross his mind at any point. Shaking his head, the rider settled down for a rest before dusk fell once again, and he began his journey to the boarder yet again.

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:o HE LIVES!!!!Yay!ive been waiting...i thought you lost more computer memory and quit...
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  • 3 weeks later...
I demand More!

I agree with what he just said!!

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  • 3 weeks later...
:bored: ....*waits* -_-
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  • 4 weeks later...

Anyone want to E-mail FB and see if he's alright? he hasnt logged on in forever.

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someone else do it im shy...just mention our concern, not the fact that were also waiting for a new chapter

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Sorry my PC has been down for over two weeks while my room was paintd. Just got it up tonight. I should have another chapter up soon, but when is dependant on how getting my room back in order gose.

 

It was only supposed to be down for a few days. Not a few weeks.

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Sorry my PC has been down for over two weeks while my room was paintd. Just got it up tonight. I should have another chapter up soon, but when is dependant on how getting my room back in order gose.

 

It was only supposed to be down for a few days. Not a few weeks.

It's okay. I was more worried that you had an accident, because you hadn't even been on.

I'm used to waiting for the chapters. a lot of the time i don't even check for a while.

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Isnt yours the Scooby one that that jackie user messed with before he was brought to Woodus' attention?

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  • 3 weeks later...
Isnt yours the Scooby one that that jackie user messed with before he was brought to Woodus' attention?
Yes.... Dang... THAT happened? I need to come to the fanfic forum more often....
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  • 4 weeks later...

Sorry the last month has been insaine to put it lightly. Ended up sick for three weeks, visitors from out of town, a PC forma and reinstall, and more. Just been busy.

 

I am back, and I bring you this: (Seven will be up latter tonight if I get it done. Just started writting again.)

 

Chapter Six:

 

Dawn broke all too soon, as the rider knew it would. He and his Savents had taken cover in a small wooded lot, still many days travel from their final goal. What he sought, and what he would find, the youth did not know. Whatever it was however drove him on. And it was only with the greatest reluctance that he halted at all for the day.

 

Still, with the long day ahead, the rider drew forth the books he’d taken from the temple. As he examined the books, the one taken from the empty, and lost alcove, and the journal, he wondered why they had called out to him. Why he had felt compelled to risk his life, and soul, to steal them from the Death Priests. He opened the journal again, reading the final entry, even as his Savents took positions about the clearing.

 

Only his first Savent, the one he’d made under the high priest’s teachings, the one that had lead the high priest to accept him into the ranks, remained. Something about that Savent drew the rider to it. A drawing that became stronger as the youth read though the journal yet again. The rider looked up, only to find his Savent watching him, an act that unnerved the youth immensely.

 

“Who were you?” The rider asked, knowing he’d never get an answer. The more he studied his Savents, the more he questioned the priest’s beliefs that they were brainless, ignorant of their lives before becoming loyal servants of the Death Priests. The Savent’s eyes seemed to move from its master’s face, to the Journal in his hands.

 

“Did you write this?” The youth asked, uncertain why he suspected the Savent had, yet unable to shake the feeling. However if the Savent responded this time, it was beyond the youth’s understanding. “The God’s slaves… Perhaps you and your kind are not… No. I mustn’t question the High Priest.”

 

The youth slammed the journal closed, returning it, and the book he’d found to the pack from which they’d emerged. In an attempt to draw his mind away from the ill thoughts he turned to his mount, tending to its needs, using the physical work to draw his mind away from the blasphemous thoughts that crossed his mind.

 

Aware of the Savent’s eyes upon his back, the youth turned to it. “Go patrol the area. Ensure we are not found.” He said, suddenly unable to take the Savent’s gaze. Why, he could no more say, then why he had taken the books in the first place, or continued to return to them. As he returned to the fire, the thought of throwing the books to the flames did not cross his mind at any point. Shaking his head, the rider settled down for a rest before dusk fell once again, and he began his journey to the boarder yet again.

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