(( This one's for Tara, yar~! ))
Jodiah Ayreg was in his room this night. The patrons in the common room below were unentertaining, at best, and he hadn't seen Talomar in a few days. His coat was already off, and slung carelessly over the back of the small chair in his modest room. His booted feet stood upon the wood floors, and he frowned. Thoughts of Doomhammer in her prime entered his mind, and he wished Tiari had not been so utterly complete in the destruction of his fortress. If only one rug had remained...
Ayreg looked down at his hands, and for the first time in an age, fingertips trailed across the thin line in the middle of his right hand. His lips twitched.
_____
The sparring ring smelled of sweat, and blood. Jodiah Ayreg circled Imari Stark in his first -- and only -- spar against the co-leader of the White Dragon's Vengeance. Rayfe, her husband, and Tiari, her second-in-command, were standing nearby watching, along with a small handful of other members. Jodiah himself even had the symbol of the WDV worn on a patch, displayed on his left breast. He was Imari Stark's big gamble: to try and turn one devoured by the shadow back to the light, by allowing them into your presence. She was a fool.
The fight was supposed to be unarmed, as were the rules of the sparring ring there. Armor left aside, Ayreg faced down the priestess wearing only his shirt and breeches. Not even boots were allowed. Still, it did not stop Ayreg from fighting the way he fights. Blows were exchanged, a throw here, a trip there, before Ayreg himself got ahold of Imari's arm. Locking it under his own, his opposite hand swung upward into a terrible attack on the guild leader's elbow, wrenching it in ways the creator never intended, and announced the rather blatantly illegal move with the sickening crunch of bone, and a cried pain from Imari.
In an instant, Rayfe and Tiari were upon Jodiah. Feigning battle-haze, the death knight landed an elbow into Tiari's face, then reached up to grab the harlequin. Someone else attacked him, and Ayreg was forced to the ground, pinned.
Imari Stark herself, dagger in hand, plunged herself at Ayreg even as he was kicking away another member of the WDV. Long length of her blade biting flesh in the middle of his hand. Ayreg was defeated.
_____
He shuddered, blinking his eyes. He turned, snapping out of his momentary vision. Sitting down onto the edge of the bed, he kicked his boots off and laid back. Progress was being made, but it was slow. He had almost entirely corrupted that lich, Renna of the Dark by now. The more he introduced her to hate, though, the more she was becoming hard to control. She seems to have discounted any capability of following the path of The Nihil, but only time will tell. Now, if he could only scrounge up a few more supplicants, he could begin rebuilding his army.
After he killed Talomar Longden, of course.
He stood again, untying the knots down the front of his shirt. He really should go to the tailor and ask about these "buttons" he's been hearing about -- the drawstrings take entirely too long to manipulate. Pulling his shirt off, Ayreg saw in the mirror his naked torso, and he frowned. So many scars.. a finger slid lightly across a deep concave in the right portion of his chest.
_____
Kain Locke was not a man to be lightly crossed. Jodiah could always tell these things, about a man. Perhaps it was that element of danger that led Jodiah to be in service to the master of House Locke to begin with. Then again, it probably had something to do with being around all of the beautiful women he kept as slaves. Er.. Kajira.
Perhaps it was also that sense of danger that led Jodiah to lay with one of his slaves, without Locke's permission. The problem, Ayreg decided, with this simpering lot was that they all just loved to be Kain Locke's posessions. When one of them felt slighted -- even when she was more than willing the entirety of the time -- they just couldn't wait to go tell him all about it.
Kain Locke squared off against Ayreg in the courtyard of his house. He told him this was going to be punishment for what he did. Jodiah almost felt like drawing steel and going toe-to-toe against the great slaver Kain Locke, but in the end, decided that even Kain's death would be too much of a blow. Without him, after all, where would the beautiful women go? Kain's weapon of choice, tonight, seemed to be a heavy ball-and-chain attached to a long stick. A flail, Jodiah knew it as, though Kain had another name for it. His chin lifted, and a thin smile creased Ayreg's lips. Kain spun the flail up, and smashed it ruthlessly into Jodiah's chest. He crumbled to the ground, wheezing for air. Ayreg was defeated.
_____
Bony fingers felt the slight interior curve of the concave where his chest was crushed. The wound healed back, of course, when he was raised from the dead, but before then it was an injury he carried for most of his life. It certainly changed the way he chose to exert himself from that point on. He shook his head, remembering that moment again with Kain Locke, and he could not help but laugh. Truly, he did feel that it would be worth it at the time. Those women certainly were beautiful. Looking more closely in the mirror though, Jodiah frowned. Near the concave of his chest, almost directly over the central bone where all the ribs met, was a smaller scar. It was circular, he could see, and after a few minutes, could tell where it was directly from.
_____
House Verlocken and the Blood Amazons had quite a few interchangable members. Verlocken itself, it seemed, was almost entirely made up of demons. Not the beautiful tempters, mind, but eight-feet tall behemoths, with curved horns, spaded tails, claws, talons, and breasts the size of balconys one could sing poetry off of. They were truly gorgeous. Unfortunatly, many family members of House Verlocken were also members of the Blood Amazons -- a group seemed entirely devoted to the infliction of pain upon the male members of any species. Imagine their joy when the death knight turned his attentions to one of their own.
Snow Verlocken, of course, was never pleased. Try as he might, Ayreg could not remember the name of the Verlocken he had become so infatuated with. His only dream was to take this she-demon to his bed, but she was reluctant, under the best of times. At length, Snow herself became fed up with Ayreg's advances. One day, as he ghosted into the haven of the Blood Amazons, Snow punched him.
Not just any ordinary punch, mind, but the punch of a pissed-off demoness, with all the power of Hell at her command. Though her skin was white as her name, the hellfires she conjured was anything but cold. Even to this day, he carried the mark left on him from her crushing blow. The punch itself, even fueled by demonfire, did not hurt nearly so badly as the searing brand she had left on his chest, and upon his pride.. (zAB). Ayreg was defeated.
_____
He smirked, now, though. That was one scar he wasn't proud to have. And to think, he stood like a dolt and took it, too. It could be worse, though -- he could have taken it to his face, and just be permanently branded as having been beaten down by the Blood Amazons. That humiliation probably would have made him simply take his own life.
He turned, examining his back. Corded muscle rippled across his thin frame. It's almost hard to believe the man could be as strong or quick as he is, for how thin and frail he looks. Without his shirt, though, the build of muscles is quite impressive, if the frame of the body is not so. On his back, though, a terrible, jagged scar of raised flesh rolled down from shoulder to waist across his spine. He frowned, remembering...
_____
FOES was at war. Oh, it didn't matter who with, they just were. That was the way of things. Jodiah himself had just joined the guild, at the personal request of Lord Grimm. In a way, it was a good deal -- he was one of DEATH's premeir assassins, though with Grimm's personal invitation, he was made a general in FOES. No doubt it was due to his affair with one of Grimm's higher-ranked underlings, Silk. That affair in itself was odd... the two sneaking around in nooks and crannys, hiding the matter from "Dark" Angelo, Silk's defacto husband, and also a member of some standing in FOES. One of his duties to Lord Grimm was as his sword -- where Grimm pointed, Jodiah delivered death. It was the way of things, for him. The call of The Nihil had not yet grasped his dark soul, and he had not yet developed the ambition to serve only himself. The other duty Grimm gave him was as a personal guard.
It was during this war that Jodiah Ayreg happened to be standing near Lord Grimm. An assassin sprung from the shadows, blade drawn, and already in mid-swing. It was his duty, after all, to protect Lord Grimm from the assassination attempt. He leaped forward, putting himself between the attacker, and his master.
It was a vicious attack that left Ayreg almost crippled. The assassin himself was dispatched by Grimm and his other guards, and Ayreg was cared for. The rest of his time during that war was spent from a bed, being nursed to health by Silk. Despite all the pleasurable company in the world, he despised being kept away from the fighting. In a way, Ayreg was defeated.
_____
Stretching out across the rather comfortable mattress in his room in the Inn, Ayreg sighed softly. He pulled the blankets up over his body, and leaned up to blow out the single lantern that lit the modest rented room. His eyes closed, but the weather was getting truly bitter outside. It wasn't snowing again tonight, but that didn't mean it wasn't cold. Not cold as in Hm, it's a little chilly. Why don't I just throw another blanket onto the bed?, but cold as in Wow, look. My arm has just turned into a solid block of ice, broken off, and shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor!
His knee ached.
_____
It was near the close of his war against Rhy'Din. His armies had marched across the southern realms of the land unchallenged, save only a few skirmishes against local militia groups. Finally, he encountered stiffer resistance -- his old 'friends,' the White Dragon's Vengeance. The war came, at length, to the great hall of the WDV, and his armies fought mindlessly against the desperate foe. Jodiah himself was cornered by a raid from the keep. It was Tiari, and her lover -- the necromancer -- plus a few others who called themselves "The Shield." Tiari having a necromancer on her side made for interesting warfare. Entire formations of his skeletal army would sometimes turn, and begin attacking each other, or other regiments. Were it not for the skill of his Dreadlords, and Asmodaen in particular, that necromancer could likely have single-handedly defeated his entire army, and only by turning itself upon itself.
Jodiah fought like a demon, even then. His Dreadlords had been getting cut down since the start of the war, and by this battle, only two remained -- Asmodaen, and Damondred. While Asmodaen led the troops, Damondred was the personal escort to Ayreg, and his First.
Damondred was also the first to fall victim to the raid. Losing most of his functions to the necromancer, Damondred was cut down. Ayreg brought his large greatsword to bear, locking steel with one of The Shield. But.. he was outnumbered. A spear was brought down onto his right knee, shattering the bone and sending him to the ground. Tiari herself was upon him, then, stealing the power of The Truncheon. There would be no victory that day. Ayreg was defeated.
_____
He rolled onto his other side. Defeat, after defeat, after defeat. First, by chance. Then, by lust. Later, by duty. Once, for ambition. Finally, by pride. He would not be defeated again. How many more times could one man possibly have to face bitter defeat at the hands of his enemies, when all he wants is nothing short of total victory?
Ayreg slept, fitfully.
Jodiah Ayreg was in his room this night. The patrons in the common room below were unentertaining, at best, and he hadn't seen Talomar in a few days. His coat was already off, and slung carelessly over the back of the small chair in his modest room. His booted feet stood upon the wood floors, and he frowned. Thoughts of Doomhammer in her prime entered his mind, and he wished Tiari had not been so utterly complete in the destruction of his fortress. If only one rug had remained...
Ayreg looked down at his hands, and for the first time in an age, fingertips trailed across the thin line in the middle of his right hand. His lips twitched.
_____
The sparring ring smelled of sweat, and blood. Jodiah Ayreg circled Imari Stark in his first -- and only -- spar against the co-leader of the White Dragon's Vengeance. Rayfe, her husband, and Tiari, her second-in-command, were standing nearby watching, along with a small handful of other members. Jodiah himself even had the symbol of the WDV worn on a patch, displayed on his left breast. He was Imari Stark's big gamble: to try and turn one devoured by the shadow back to the light, by allowing them into your presence. She was a fool.
The fight was supposed to be unarmed, as were the rules of the sparring ring there. Armor left aside, Ayreg faced down the priestess wearing only his shirt and breeches. Not even boots were allowed. Still, it did not stop Ayreg from fighting the way he fights. Blows were exchanged, a throw here, a trip there, before Ayreg himself got ahold of Imari's arm. Locking it under his own, his opposite hand swung upward into a terrible attack on the guild leader's elbow, wrenching it in ways the creator never intended, and announced the rather blatantly illegal move with the sickening crunch of bone, and a cried pain from Imari.
In an instant, Rayfe and Tiari were upon Jodiah. Feigning battle-haze, the death knight landed an elbow into Tiari's face, then reached up to grab the harlequin. Someone else attacked him, and Ayreg was forced to the ground, pinned.
Imari Stark herself, dagger in hand, plunged herself at Ayreg even as he was kicking away another member of the WDV. Long length of her blade biting flesh in the middle of his hand. Ayreg was defeated.
_____
He shuddered, blinking his eyes. He turned, snapping out of his momentary vision. Sitting down onto the edge of the bed, he kicked his boots off and laid back. Progress was being made, but it was slow. He had almost entirely corrupted that lich, Renna of the Dark by now. The more he introduced her to hate, though, the more she was becoming hard to control. She seems to have discounted any capability of following the path of The Nihil, but only time will tell. Now, if he could only scrounge up a few more supplicants, he could begin rebuilding his army.
After he killed Talomar Longden, of course.
He stood again, untying the knots down the front of his shirt. He really should go to the tailor and ask about these "buttons" he's been hearing about -- the drawstrings take entirely too long to manipulate. Pulling his shirt off, Ayreg saw in the mirror his naked torso, and he frowned. So many scars.. a finger slid lightly across a deep concave in the right portion of his chest.
_____
Kain Locke was not a man to be lightly crossed. Jodiah could always tell these things, about a man. Perhaps it was that element of danger that led Jodiah to be in service to the master of House Locke to begin with. Then again, it probably had something to do with being around all of the beautiful women he kept as slaves. Er.. Kajira.
Perhaps it was also that sense of danger that led Jodiah to lay with one of his slaves, without Locke's permission. The problem, Ayreg decided, with this simpering lot was that they all just loved to be Kain Locke's posessions. When one of them felt slighted -- even when she was more than willing the entirety of the time -- they just couldn't wait to go tell him all about it.
Kain Locke squared off against Ayreg in the courtyard of his house. He told him this was going to be punishment for what he did. Jodiah almost felt like drawing steel and going toe-to-toe against the great slaver Kain Locke, but in the end, decided that even Kain's death would be too much of a blow. Without him, after all, where would the beautiful women go? Kain's weapon of choice, tonight, seemed to be a heavy ball-and-chain attached to a long stick. A flail, Jodiah knew it as, though Kain had another name for it. His chin lifted, and a thin smile creased Ayreg's lips. Kain spun the flail up, and smashed it ruthlessly into Jodiah's chest. He crumbled to the ground, wheezing for air. Ayreg was defeated.
_____
Bony fingers felt the slight interior curve of the concave where his chest was crushed. The wound healed back, of course, when he was raised from the dead, but before then it was an injury he carried for most of his life. It certainly changed the way he chose to exert himself from that point on. He shook his head, remembering that moment again with Kain Locke, and he could not help but laugh. Truly, he did feel that it would be worth it at the time. Those women certainly were beautiful. Looking more closely in the mirror though, Jodiah frowned. Near the concave of his chest, almost directly over the central bone where all the ribs met, was a smaller scar. It was circular, he could see, and after a few minutes, could tell where it was directly from.
_____
House Verlocken and the Blood Amazons had quite a few interchangable members. Verlocken itself, it seemed, was almost entirely made up of demons. Not the beautiful tempters, mind, but eight-feet tall behemoths, with curved horns, spaded tails, claws, talons, and breasts the size of balconys one could sing poetry off of. They were truly gorgeous. Unfortunatly, many family members of House Verlocken were also members of the Blood Amazons -- a group seemed entirely devoted to the infliction of pain upon the male members of any species. Imagine their joy when the death knight turned his attentions to one of their own.
Snow Verlocken, of course, was never pleased. Try as he might, Ayreg could not remember the name of the Verlocken he had become so infatuated with. His only dream was to take this she-demon to his bed, but she was reluctant, under the best of times. At length, Snow herself became fed up with Ayreg's advances. One day, as he ghosted into the haven of the Blood Amazons, Snow punched him.
Not just any ordinary punch, mind, but the punch of a pissed-off demoness, with all the power of Hell at her command. Though her skin was white as her name, the hellfires she conjured was anything but cold. Even to this day, he carried the mark left on him from her crushing blow. The punch itself, even fueled by demonfire, did not hurt nearly so badly as the searing brand she had left on his chest, and upon his pride.. (zAB). Ayreg was defeated.
_____
He smirked, now, though. That was one scar he wasn't proud to have. And to think, he stood like a dolt and took it, too. It could be worse, though -- he could have taken it to his face, and just be permanently branded as having been beaten down by the Blood Amazons. That humiliation probably would have made him simply take his own life.
He turned, examining his back. Corded muscle rippled across his thin frame. It's almost hard to believe the man could be as strong or quick as he is, for how thin and frail he looks. Without his shirt, though, the build of muscles is quite impressive, if the frame of the body is not so. On his back, though, a terrible, jagged scar of raised flesh rolled down from shoulder to waist across his spine. He frowned, remembering...
_____
FOES was at war. Oh, it didn't matter who with, they just were. That was the way of things. Jodiah himself had just joined the guild, at the personal request of Lord Grimm. In a way, it was a good deal -- he was one of DEATH's premeir assassins, though with Grimm's personal invitation, he was made a general in FOES. No doubt it was due to his affair with one of Grimm's higher-ranked underlings, Silk. That affair in itself was odd... the two sneaking around in nooks and crannys, hiding the matter from "Dark" Angelo, Silk's defacto husband, and also a member of some standing in FOES. One of his duties to Lord Grimm was as his sword -- where Grimm pointed, Jodiah delivered death. It was the way of things, for him. The call of The Nihil had not yet grasped his dark soul, and he had not yet developed the ambition to serve only himself. The other duty Grimm gave him was as a personal guard.
It was during this war that Jodiah Ayreg happened to be standing near Lord Grimm. An assassin sprung from the shadows, blade drawn, and already in mid-swing. It was his duty, after all, to protect Lord Grimm from the assassination attempt. He leaped forward, putting himself between the attacker, and his master.
It was a vicious attack that left Ayreg almost crippled. The assassin himself was dispatched by Grimm and his other guards, and Ayreg was cared for. The rest of his time during that war was spent from a bed, being nursed to health by Silk. Despite all the pleasurable company in the world, he despised being kept away from the fighting. In a way, Ayreg was defeated.
_____
Stretching out across the rather comfortable mattress in his room in the Inn, Ayreg sighed softly. He pulled the blankets up over his body, and leaned up to blow out the single lantern that lit the modest rented room. His eyes closed, but the weather was getting truly bitter outside. It wasn't snowing again tonight, but that didn't mean it wasn't cold. Not cold as in Hm, it's a little chilly. Why don't I just throw another blanket onto the bed?, but cold as in Wow, look. My arm has just turned into a solid block of ice, broken off, and shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor!
His knee ached.
_____
It was near the close of his war against Rhy'Din. His armies had marched across the southern realms of the land unchallenged, save only a few skirmishes against local militia groups. Finally, he encountered stiffer resistance -- his old 'friends,' the White Dragon's Vengeance. The war came, at length, to the great hall of the WDV, and his armies fought mindlessly against the desperate foe. Jodiah himself was cornered by a raid from the keep. It was Tiari, and her lover -- the necromancer -- plus a few others who called themselves "The Shield." Tiari having a necromancer on her side made for interesting warfare. Entire formations of his skeletal army would sometimes turn, and begin attacking each other, or other regiments. Were it not for the skill of his Dreadlords, and Asmodaen in particular, that necromancer could likely have single-handedly defeated his entire army, and only by turning itself upon itself.
Jodiah fought like a demon, even then. His Dreadlords had been getting cut down since the start of the war, and by this battle, only two remained -- Asmodaen, and Damondred. While Asmodaen led the troops, Damondred was the personal escort to Ayreg, and his First.
Damondred was also the first to fall victim to the raid. Losing most of his functions to the necromancer, Damondred was cut down. Ayreg brought his large greatsword to bear, locking steel with one of The Shield. But.. he was outnumbered. A spear was brought down onto his right knee, shattering the bone and sending him to the ground. Tiari herself was upon him, then, stealing the power of The Truncheon. There would be no victory that day. Ayreg was defeated.
_____
He rolled onto his other side. Defeat, after defeat, after defeat. First, by chance. Then, by lust. Later, by duty. Once, for ambition. Finally, by pride. He would not be defeated again. How many more times could one man possibly have to face bitter defeat at the hands of his enemies, when all he wants is nothing short of total victory?
Ayreg slept, fitfully.