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[PK] Death of The Crystal Prophet


Boknice275
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“My child, you come to the world to be a beacon of light and purity to all. The gates of death shall not prevail against ye..”

 

 

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cd/12/e1/cd12e147b3bb84960477b252f3c8c4c8.jpg

 

Those words echoed in the minds of Agis, the devout servant of Pharis, lesser spirit of crystalline purity. He opens his eyes shortly after receiving such a strong admonition of his soul, allowing it to permeate his being. A short time before hearing this voice, he took a cursed goblin on a sojourn to the Queendom of Purity to be healed from an unknown curse which manifested in the form of a glowing scar. All in a day’s work, the beleaguered Elf thought.

 

The weight of the world rests on the young elf’s shoulders. Not even past the age of a middle-aged adult according to Elven standards, he faced several challenges: he was an emissary for an immortal power he truly did not understand. He dealt with a teacher, Pamphilos, whom he greatly adored but simultaneously departed from some of his methods. After all, Pamphilos was more than willing to consort with Sokoron, the famed Inferi who he believed is a champion of Qarkah, the flaming God of culling. Borok, the Rex of the Iron Horde, also had his own issues: he was mired in darkspawn practices and mentalities; he had no issue using coercion or threats to get his way and to expand his political power. He saw the spirits merely as a vessel for control, not praise, exaltation, or wisdom.

 

And yet, at the same time, Agis fought side-by-side with Borok numerous times to defend the spiritualist lands from excursions. Agis had even tried to recruit more people to join the Iron Horde by spreading the religion of Pharisianism, an ancient belief he resurrected by rediscovering Pharis during a spirit walk.

 

These conflicting emotions all colored the Elf’s perception towards life and duty in Krugmar. In truth, the young elf hated no one, and held no grudges. He simply wanted a baseline of respect. In the High Elven lands, they cling to vain notions of genetic purity and racial supremacism. But Agis did not believe such falsehoods. He saw the divine spark in every soul who had not openly embraced Iblees’s power, and sought to cultivate greatness in those who would listen.

 

But do Borok and the Orcs know that? Do they even care? Were his efforts in vain? Would they one day pay off, like a long-term investment in an unimpressive market share? These questions course through his head as he grapples with the contradictions and conflicts of his life. 

 

Another matter he contemplates is the path of Uruk honorary. Agis had been told numerous times that he needed to endure physical and mental abuse to become an honorary Orc. And he had. Borok snapped his arm once, threatened to kill him innumerable times, and even openly bragged about working with darkspawn despite such behavior displeasing the spirits Borok claimed to serve. All of these obstacles merely caused Agis to persist in his divine mission at whatever cost. In his view, none of his comrades showed such dedication to higher principles over temporal, crude, primal selfish instincts. All are born selfish, but they need not stay that way, he thought. Duty is higher than vanity. 

 

But there was another matter on the horizon: a new Orcish cub called Forgot, whom Agis had a tense conflict with. Almost every time Agis set foot in the capital of Krugmar, he was met with some kind of physical or verbal attack from Forgot. The conflict began when Forgot attacked Agis for slighting an Immortal spirit, a lesser of Ankrus whose name escaped the Elf’s mind. Since then, Agis had been mired in a war of hot rhetoric which ultimately led to no action on his part. But Borok took this matter and used it to continually torture and terrorize the Elf, he thought, all in the name of an honorary process Agis had no interest in continuing. The conflict truly exploded when Agis called forth the judgment of Pharis upon Forgot in the form of a hex, which causes the victim to become overwhelmed with a throbbing pain that accompanies vivid images of their impurities. Uruks don’t believe in fighting with any other tool than one’s own hands when challenged to combat. But Agis did not see much of a reason to follow that rule if they didn’t, as Forgot tried killing him with an ax and a bow-and-arrow on two separate occasions before he used the hex.

 

All of these unfortunate events led Agis to one single conclusion: not only would he no longer seek honorary Uruk status, he would quietly seek asylum in Nor’asath where he knew Qudlia, a close ally and friend of his, would keep him safe from Borok’s excesses. Agis went to Qudlia a few years back to convince her to sign Al’Uk’s declaration to overthrow Borok after it became clear of his darkspawn alignment. Conditions certainly have shifted since then, but if one thing is clear it is that Qudlia cared for Agis, even if no one else did. From there, he thought, he could continue the mission of Pharis and begin recruiting more people into her fold. He would survive this ordeal and, as Pharis had prophesied, weather the forces of Hades yet still.

 

The Elf made a move on and walked into the capital of Krugmar for the last time, or so he thought. He was immediately greeted by Forgot, the Orc cub who had been terrorizing him, and attacked instanteously. Agis tried retreating from the conflict and calling Borok and several of the other Orcs for help, to no avail. One Orc did intervene, Ghoraka, but not before the orcish cub sent his full orc strength into Agis’s chest, crushing his ribs and upper-body almost instantaneously. Defenseless, Alviss the Dwarf stole his staff, which was a special gift by Pamphilos infused with the power of Pharis. Agis saw the light fading from his eyes as he raspily begged for his staff, and simultaneously told Borok he would leave Krugmar, should he survive this. At this moment the Elf heard all the internal workings of his body in one rhythmic tune; his heartbeat, pounding head, and aching body all communicated to him one immutable fact: death was on the horizon. The land he had fought for, despite his political and moral disagreements with the Rex, is the same land that would kill him for simply having a conscience. There was no time to become outraged or even to weep; he understood that the Queendom of Pharis awaits him for his dutiful service to her. Borok turned towards him with a bone dagger in tow and admonished him for wanting to leave to Nor’asath, calling him weak and not deserving of respect. The Orc then asked him one question: how would you like to die? Quickly or with honor? Agis, having resigned himself to fate, merely uttered a single phrase: “either.” The Red orc rushed him with an ax in tow and instead of attacking him he swung it directly towards the head of Ghoraka, the only Orc who sympathized with and tried to protect him from the ravages of Forgot. At that moment, Agis saw his only friend fall to Borok’s rage. There’s few things one has in life that are constants besides friendship, empathy, or other values not immediately known to man. And all of those things were cut-down in one fell swoop.

 

Agis screamed, attempting to attack Borok to no avail, only to see him resurrect Ghoraka shortly thereafter.

 

This was not the end of it for Agis. The Red Uruk bellowed to the surrounding Orcs a command to drag Agis along the road. They were going to a destination unbeknownst to him. He expected death to come quickly, but what Borok had planned was everything but quick, humane, or sane. They dragged his maimed body through the dirt with no care in the world, taking him up mountainsides, slopes, and stairs carelessly. His head whacked against the various natural obstacles several times, causing severe bruising and bleeding on his face and head. Agis in that moment was no longer Agis Penweather, respected devout of Scorthuz and servant of the Bronze Band. He was little more than chattel; property whose value was dependent on Borok’s whim. They finally reached their destination: the great Maw, a sacrificial pit devoted to a spirit often praised by Ologs. 

 

Agis had seen this place quite a few times, and even devoted himself to serving the great Maw when he first moved to Krugmar. Ironically, the very object of his devotion would be his downfall. Borok announced the charges as Agis’s body was hoisted to the edge of the pit. Robbed of his dignity, staff, and the little status he had, the barely conscious elf listened as Borok smeared his name, insulted his standing with the spirits, and announced his demise. Agis took some peace in his eventual fate. In the Pharisian faith, death is merely the process of becoming one with conceptual purity. Once dead, the Pharisians believe the devout of Pharis would become divine themselves, and sit on the right side of Pharis in service to her ends in the spirit realm. All things considered, that did not sound like a bad prospect.

 

But the Red Tyrant, Borok, had other plans. As Agis sat idly on the edge of the sacrificial pit, Borok raised his hands and began invoking the name of Ogrol, spirit of entrapment and sapped strength. Agis knew this spirit was known for trapping the souls of the afflicted and keeping him in a prison in the spirit realm. At this point, every fiber of Agis’s being screamed out in terror. He would not be relinquished to Pharis’s Queendom should his soul get captured by Ogrol. His eternity would be endless imprisonment and little more. Did he truly deserve this fate? Justice didn’t seem to matter here, only power. Perhaps the elf’s naive view of the world is to blame for his current predicament. Maybe he was too kind. Maybe he was too diplomatic. Or perhaps he did everything right and the bad guys still managed to win. Isn’t that life, after all? 

 

All these thoughts coursed through Agis’s mind as the power of Ogrol ravaged his body. Broken bones, warped flesh, and other guttural fates immediately befall Agis, leaving him nothing more than a mangled ball of flesh at the end of Borok’s ritual. The servant of Pharis met an unjust end, and now his eternity is bound to be worse than his time on the material plane.

 

The gates of death prevailed against Agis, indeed. And not a single soul stood against it. 

 

Spoiler

I have mixed feelings about this entire event, but I suppose it had to be done. Hope all of you enjoyed reading this.

 

Edited by Boknice275
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Spoiler

Very based post.

Enjoyed the roleplay I had with Agis and hope to have many more fun times on your next characters. (You have a free slot for an orc now.)

 

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Gulls squak overhead. The river reflects the elf's face upon it. Which bleeds from souls within the stream Gundar Broshan. A lone spirit, eyes but hollow sockets pushes off from the shore. Using it to guide the river boat into Stargush. 

 

"I hear that the Lillies in the fields are beautiful this time of year. A perfect place for reflection." 

 

"It is mortal nature to bare conflict. Though worry not of it. Eternity is yours now. Shamans, politics, religious ideals. One thing is true. This is the spirits. "

 

Comments Matum'Lur, Ferryman of Kor. 

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The word of the death traveled quickly. A lad began to polish his bronze scales. "The lads are not going to like this"

Edited by RyuTheCoolest
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Some elfess sat in the back room of a tavern, a wolf at her side.  She'd stare blankly at the wall.

 

"Will he be in Stargush . . . or . . . did they send him somewhere else?"

 

Her head dipped.

 

"Now that I am an honorary . . . will Borok ne do something like this to me, if I offend him?"

Edited by High_On_Math
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Somewhere deep in the labyrinths, the hulking figure of Skorkon'Ugluk lit a torch in honor of the elf who had passed through his flames unharmed. The bearer of the Shield of Dazkur was considered by the goliath as something of a worthy rival, a shaman worthy of his title upon facing the tribulations of the labyrinth.

 

Though weakness is not so easily kept at bay. Especially among those so unfortunate to be born of weak flesh. And those whose pride exceeds their capacity for strength are quickly swallowed by the flames which stoke their will. "Agiz Penweather. Zhield ob Dazkur. Champion ob Phariz. Brother ob da Band. Latz tik haz run out."

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Gharak knew, for she had been at the great Maw to witness the sacrifice. Still, she was impatient for the missive, and read it as soon as she received it.

"Azh lazt attak…" she thought to herself, biting her lower lip.
"Ah wonder if it waz a miztake, or mabi dey got miz name wrong tu protekt mi?" she mumbled while carefully folding back the missive.

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"Lat wil bhee mizz'd friend." 

 

The goblin shaman stated as she knelt before a srine of Scorthus.  

 

"Perhabz... et am tik Mi mayde mi uhmendz wit da zpirit uv' puritee... Ef Mi kuld respekt ang kare deeply futh hez herald, perhabz dey am hope."

 

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A certain Clanless orc coughs, rattling in his tower.

 

A certain Clanless orc listens.

 

A certain Clanless orc, pallid with shock at the missive handed over, snarls with a half-muttered, phlem coated maw.

 

 

"...Nub more."

 

A former Rex's eyes flare with Rage.

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An old Prophet - an honorary, a soldier, a maleficar - hunched over themselves, brooding. Lifeforce churned in either palm, rising a corpse between them with an awful fizzle and a sickening crunch.

 

 "The wheel of death turns and turns, man below earth filled with worms. Krugmar has joined us, haven't they?" rattled the necrolyte, snickering to themselves. ". . . Agis was a nice man."

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The dwarf, who had stolen the dropped staff in a moment of greed watched the execution, handing it off to Luthriel as he realised they were better off having it compared to him, as it was provably the only thing that was now around to remind them of their fallen friend

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