Long ago, a man was knifed in the back during a tavern brawl. His body was looted, stripped, and eventually dumped into the river that bisects Rhy'Din City. It was an ignoble death, as far as deaths went. Especially for a man so accustomed to combat, so maddened with the glee of victory. He would randomly attack people. Sometimes to kill them, enjoying this random bloodshed. Often, he would simply maim them and leave them for dead, them with the knowledge that he was the stronger. He was the better. He had the power.
The Destroyer.
Yes. Yes, that is what he was called. What was his name?
Long ago, a body dumped into the river floated downstream. The body was broken as it turned over rapids, grinding against rock and stone, and smashing into boulders. As is often to happen, this body eventually sank into the depths of the water, and came crashing into the muddy riverbed. A husk, dead and lifeless and -- shattered.
The Destroyer.
Yes, but what was his name!?
It's right there. On the tip of my tongue.
Mark and remember. It was a name destined for infamy. A name that should have been associated with great things. Terrible, yes -- but great!
I remember.
Long ago, a body had sank to the bottom of the riverbed. Little fish, little serpents, creatures larger than they... nibbled. Flesh was food, but the fish were cautious. The body was truly dead, though. Like a felled tree in the forest, this bit of cordwood did not move. So the fish took nibbles, and all things carnivorous partook of the meat, the thick ichor that remained trapped in the body's veins and arteries spilled out as they were opened, and vanished into the water.
The Destroyer.
His name?
He comes.
Who?
I remember. You should, too.
Long ago, a body had been devoured over the course of years, one nibble at a time. Sinews still held the body together, but only barely. Mostly bone now, with only a few lingering strips of flesh or tendon. And so it remained, rotten in the river, eroded by the wildlife, for years. And years. But that was long ago. This is now.
The Destroyer awakens.
Anyone nearby probably would not have noticed the nimbus of inky blackness that formed in the water. There, down in the darkness of the murk, amongst the slimes and the molds and the mud, the sinews pulled taut and sprang fresh. The body lurched, then, as if struck by a terrible blow. What was left of the now-greenish jawbone opened in a wordless, horrific howl of agonizing pain. But it was a pain just birthed.
Bones cracked and popped, snapping together and growing new tissue to fill in the cuts and breaks of old. Bubbles rose as pockets of air were closed, or water was trapped inside the bone or reforming tissues. The badly decomposed skeleton writhed, lifting up as best it might like some spastic necromancer's plaything. From the surrounding nimbus came more fibers, more sinews, more tendons, more tissues, shooting into and wrapping about the figure there in the water. Nerves endings were fixed and replaced, winding through bones and the entirety of the body. Rotten brain, black with disuse, associated this rebirth with a kind of pain the likes of which no mortal should ever have to deal with. The likes of which harken to evisceration, capped only with a bucket of salt deposited where one's innards had just been removed from.
Muscle came next. Building out of the sinews and over the bones, connected via the tendons and white matter. Red and bright, vibrant, and alive, the muscles twitched and reeled, moving the bones beneath with purpose and direction now. Another burst of bubbles exploded out from a forming chest as a heart took shape, and took its first steady beats in this new life. Veins pumped water, and then a strange sort of mixture, and finally blood at last. New blood. Fresh blood. Blood that was still untrapped within the body, and so reddened the water around the grotesque figure.
Vocal cords formed, a tongue next, and an inhuman scream pierced the river, unheard on the surface save only the rise of bubbles. Flesh came next, stretching and growing and covering, wrapping the body up tight -- and locking within more water than was supposed to be there. It wasn't humanly possible, nor even natural, that faint sloshing noise that would be made with every motion. With every touch of pressure made -- every step taken -- a tiny bit of that rancid fluid would be eeked out, leaving behind wet palms for every hand shaken, and soggy bootsteps in every stride.
The surface of the river was broken, a naked arm striking up and over the rim of the stone edgings. A man gasped for air, very nearly dying again on the return trip from the riverbed. He crawled up into the dark of the night, panting and gasping still before collapsing onto the cobbles that ran on this side of the river. Old Town. Rhy'Din City.
The Destroyer has awakened.
What was his name?
...Garen Corlagon...
The Destroyer.
Yes. Yes, that is what he was called. What was his name?
Long ago, a body dumped into the river floated downstream. The body was broken as it turned over rapids, grinding against rock and stone, and smashing into boulders. As is often to happen, this body eventually sank into the depths of the water, and came crashing into the muddy riverbed. A husk, dead and lifeless and -- shattered.
The Destroyer.
Yes, but what was his name!?
It's right there. On the tip of my tongue.
Mark and remember. It was a name destined for infamy. A name that should have been associated with great things. Terrible, yes -- but great!
I remember.
Long ago, a body had sank to the bottom of the riverbed. Little fish, little serpents, creatures larger than they... nibbled. Flesh was food, but the fish were cautious. The body was truly dead, though. Like a felled tree in the forest, this bit of cordwood did not move. So the fish took nibbles, and all things carnivorous partook of the meat, the thick ichor that remained trapped in the body's veins and arteries spilled out as they were opened, and vanished into the water.
The Destroyer.
His name?
He comes.
Who?
I remember. You should, too.
Long ago, a body had been devoured over the course of years, one nibble at a time. Sinews still held the body together, but only barely. Mostly bone now, with only a few lingering strips of flesh or tendon. And so it remained, rotten in the river, eroded by the wildlife, for years. And years. But that was long ago. This is now.
The Destroyer awakens.
Anyone nearby probably would not have noticed the nimbus of inky blackness that formed in the water. There, down in the darkness of the murk, amongst the slimes and the molds and the mud, the sinews pulled taut and sprang fresh. The body lurched, then, as if struck by a terrible blow. What was left of the now-greenish jawbone opened in a wordless, horrific howl of agonizing pain. But it was a pain just birthed.
Bones cracked and popped, snapping together and growing new tissue to fill in the cuts and breaks of old. Bubbles rose as pockets of air were closed, or water was trapped inside the bone or reforming tissues. The badly decomposed skeleton writhed, lifting up as best it might like some spastic necromancer's plaything. From the surrounding nimbus came more fibers, more sinews, more tendons, more tissues, shooting into and wrapping about the figure there in the water. Nerves endings were fixed and replaced, winding through bones and the entirety of the body. Rotten brain, black with disuse, associated this rebirth with a kind of pain the likes of which no mortal should ever have to deal with. The likes of which harken to evisceration, capped only with a bucket of salt deposited where one's innards had just been removed from.
Muscle came next. Building out of the sinews and over the bones, connected via the tendons and white matter. Red and bright, vibrant, and alive, the muscles twitched and reeled, moving the bones beneath with purpose and direction now. Another burst of bubbles exploded out from a forming chest as a heart took shape, and took its first steady beats in this new life. Veins pumped water, and then a strange sort of mixture, and finally blood at last. New blood. Fresh blood. Blood that was still untrapped within the body, and so reddened the water around the grotesque figure.
Vocal cords formed, a tongue next, and an inhuman scream pierced the river, unheard on the surface save only the rise of bubbles. Flesh came next, stretching and growing and covering, wrapping the body up tight -- and locking within more water than was supposed to be there. It wasn't humanly possible, nor even natural, that faint sloshing noise that would be made with every motion. With every touch of pressure made -- every step taken -- a tiny bit of that rancid fluid would be eeked out, leaving behind wet palms for every hand shaken, and soggy bootsteps in every stride.
The surface of the river was broken, a naked arm striking up and over the rim of the stone edgings. A man gasped for air, very nearly dying again on the return trip from the riverbed. He crawled up into the dark of the night, panting and gasping still before collapsing onto the cobbles that ran on this side of the river. Old Town. Rhy'Din City.
The Destroyer has awakened.
What was his name?
...Garen Corlagon...