One quick glance over his shoulder brought into view hordes of demons with Stygian masters bearing down on him. The demons appear amorphous and ever changing but they moved with serpentine grace and had fangs that he was all too familiar with. For what felt like an eternity he had been dodging vicious strike after vicious strike from these horrid snake-like demons that appeared to be controlled by his fellow Stygians. Behind him, there was a horde of men and demon trying to rip the life from him. In front of him... four demons with a death wish... there had been too much running and not enough fighting lately. He raced forwards, away from the group that vastly outnumbered him and towards what he considered excellent odds... four on one. The first demon that reached him lunged straight on, flying through the air horizontally as he sidestepped and with a simple downward slash, lopped the demon’s head off. The next three demons reached him simultaneously, choosing to circle him, clearly intimidated by his swordsmanship and waiting for more of their demon kind. He knew he would shortly be outnumbered and sprung into action, slicing into the one demon’s midsection. A second demon lunged at him as he drew his dagger and spun out of the way while opening the vile beast from head to tail as it flew past. Quickly spinning to face the third threat, he raised the point of his blade at the last possible moment as the demon impaled itself through its mouth and out the back of its head. He was taken to the ground however, and could just barely raise himself and spin out of the way as the demon with the gaping wound in its mid section lunged at his face with razor-like fangs as long as two hands length. He was not quick enough, as the demon’s left fang grazed from over his left brow onto his left cheek as he spun and threw the demon against a sharp angled boulder. He thought it was a graze at least, until blood smeared his vision and ran down his face, pooling on the hard clay surface beneath his feet. With one eye drowned in blood, his other eye caught a glimpse of at least forty demons with ten Stygian sorcerers raving with uncontrollable laughter within ten body lengths of himself. With this, he ran.
While the demons are quick and agile in short bursts, they could not sustain his own pace and he quickly raced away from his pursuers. The land is hard and dry and hot to the touch. Smoke is rising from a long gash in the ground to his west as he runs north away from the demons closing in on him from the south and southeast. His mind races... weighing his limited options. He has no choice but to run. The land is too barren and desolate for hiding. Suddenly, the smoking crack in the earth to his west explodes with a fiery eruption, spewing molten lava. He scans the horizon as the ground continues to shake. Chasms open up to his east as he hears the screams of the foul Stygian sorcerers as they burn alive in the molten stew below. There are no other choices... he must head north towards the cliff overlooking a vast ocean of lava as far as the eye can see. The ground seems to settle as he approaches the edge. He kicks a stone off the edge and counts 10 seconds before it plunges into the molten lava. Looking back at the quickly approaching snake demons and Stygian masters, he knows he's not powerful enough to stand against their numbers. They slow when they realize he is trapped and form a barrier preventing him from fleeing. The High Priest takes a step ahead of the line and shouts, "How the mighty have fallen, Kadan! You were His chosen... those markings of Set on your back will be sliced off, slowly and deliberately with my blade, before you are sacrificed before Set!"
"Our ... Your god hungers for the flesh of the innocent Raheem! I will be no part of that anymore. You will not have the honor of setting your hands upon my flesh foul sorcerer!" He realized as the words came out of his mouth what he had to do. They could not have him... his soul would be torn from his body to be placed in the next Chosen. He would not let the cycle continue. With that he stepped backwards......
Two seconds....The sky never looked so beautiful.
Four second... The wind never felt so invigorating.
Six seconds.... The air felt cooler instead of hotter.
Eight seconds.... Darkness overcame him. For a moment he believed that he was dead. He was not. The darkness was a billowing obsidian cloud. A voice boomed "KADAN." In fact, it was not a voice but an idea in his mind. He looked around. He was still falling... yet everything slowed. He tried to answer but his mouth would not move quick enough to form the words his mind thought. "Kadan, you were Chosen for your strength. Now be my Chosen. I hunger for the souls that Set commands. While I hunger for the souls of all men, I know that your righteousness will deliver unto me only those who are evil. Become my Herald... and extract your revenge on those who have taken everything from you."
"Zakuhri! Zakuhri!" .... his eyes shot open as cool water ran under him... "Zakuhri! Is that you?" ... he felt, strange, must have had just a bit too much ale last night. The sun was blinding as he sat up on the beach. The water gently lapped at his feet. "ZAKUHRI!... please be my Zakuhri," the woman running down the beach hysterically said to herself. "Zakuhri? Is that you Zakuhri? My son, it has been so long." Why could he not remember his name? Surely he had drank more on other occasions than he had last night… what happened last night? "Is that you? You have the hair of my Zakuhri but it has been so long. Why will you not answer me? Let me get a look at your face." He searched the depths of his mind. Dazed with a pounding headache, he could not think of much. Memories that he could feel were there would not come to the surface of his thoughts. "Oh Zakuhri, it must be you! Oh my boy has turned into such a handsome young man. Everyone told me I was crazy, Zakuhri. Everyone said, Dagna, it has been fifteen years. The boy is not coming home. The ocean is his mother now. But I knew. I always knew I would see you again."
"I..... mother?" He sat there. He had never seen this woman before, he was sure. He searched the depths of his mind for memories but... there was nothing. There was a feeling though… a feeling of longing for the unconditional love of his mother. He knew he had a mother once and the emotions connected to her still lingered, even if he could not remember who he was he knew that the feeling of that love would never leave him. He looked at Dagna and smiled.
Taking his smile as a yes, tears filled Dagna's eyes as she said "Oh Zakuhri. I knew you would return. Fifteen years and you still have your room. Fifteen years and I prayed to Set every night for your safe return." Set...he knew Set. A memory crept into his head of being in the Snake Lord's presence. That was impossible though. He felt the bile creeping up his throat at the thought. He knew he hated Set. The notion of that came to him as easy as the thinking the sky was blue and the grass green. For a moment he wondered if that thought was his own. The realization that an idea like that would even come to him made him ponder further... it felt like something in his head was telling him what to think. He returned the hug that Dagna was giving him when he realized that the woman was embracing him. It felt wrong. He remembered being in this position... being held by his mother... and he remembered feeling and seeing long, fire-touched hair against his cheek. Hair like his own. Not Dagna's black hair. Another idea in his head that he could not fully explain, but he knew that this was not his mother. "It is good to be home, mother." With that, he walked back towards the village in Khopshef Province that would be his new home. Dagna was holding onto him as if he was going to run. She was rambling about a huge welcome home celebration the village would throw for him. "... and the whole town will come, I am sure. Zakuhri how did you get that awful scar over your left eye?" A sudden unexplained anxiety seized him. He remembered... something. "GOOD, CHOSEN ONE. DO NOT FAIL ME, " a voice whispered in his mind as a blood thirsty smile spread across his face while he walked with Dagna back to the village.
((Zakurhi is 27 years old and has been living in a village in Khopshef Province for two years since he mysteriously washed up on the beach. During those two years he has re-learned a few things about the world but is still very sheltered in that he rarely left Khopshef besides a few quick trips to Khemi. He is not sure how he knows, but he is certain that Dagna is not his mother. For the past two years he has been discovering his magical Herald of Xolti abilities and doing various good deeds around Khopshef. Publically, he is a follower of Set. With his large Set tattoo on his back and his scattered memories that return to him from time to time about the religious aspect of worshiping Set, no one questions his faith. Secretly, he worships Xolti and would gladly take the life of any Set worshiper who commits what he considers an evil act in the name of Set. Xolti will speak to Zakuhri from within his mind from time to time and Zakuhri is wrestling with the idea that he may be going mad or if Xolti is really communicating with him.. although his new powers make him think it is actually the Demon-God communicating with him. Still he has heard tales of other Heralds slipping into madness so it is a constant battle in his own mind. His story of forgotten memories and washing up in Khopshef and the two years after that replaces his Tortage/slave/lost memory story... although he has found the Phoenix medallion piece in a similar manner within Khopshef. He upholds law and order while masquerading as a devout follower of Set to those he can not yet share his true past with. He still remembers only fragments of his previous life. At the age of 27 he decided he was strong enough and left Khopshef to vanquish evil and find his true family.
As for me, my names Erik and I'm 23 years old. I may have gone a little overboard on the story up there but I wrote it at work and it beats the hell out of actually working and I had fun writing it. I've always been an avid video game player but the last MMO I played was EQ1, mainly because I know how addicted I can get to MMOs. I constantly struggle with going out to the bars and socializing or staying in and playing games. Frankly, I always have more fun playing video games but I force myself to go out to meet new people. None of my friends play games so they look at me like I have six heads when I'm playing AoC on the computer for 10 hours straight. This is my first time ever attempting to Role Play and I really like the idea and I think it makes the game more enjoyable. For the few days I have been in the guild I have been guilty of a few too many OOC comments but I'm going to really concentrate on stepping into my characters shoes and saying everything IC that I possibly can. I have one alt named Osmodean that I will be playing as well. I do not think Osmodean will join the guild however, since I am focusing on role playing an evil assasin and kill pretty regularly. Looking forward to getting to know all of you (IC and OOC) more as the days and months go on!))
Anyways, I see a bunch of people posted a pic so here's mine... with a deadly bow and arrow!
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Subject: Zakuhri - Erik 
Sat Feb 13, 2010 4:08 am
