Wrath's Descension

[Dat Meman46 109]

Browsing the wealth of knowledge the Drauchriem library has in it’s sacred shelves, Wrath was in search for one book in particular, an ancient tome detailing the possible cures from the grasp of Iblees. No such cure was ever found, thus proving Wrath’s search futile. Gathering all he required for a perilous journey across the wastes of Drauchreich, Wrath set foot upon the rock of the nether, and felt as if he would not return for quite some time, if ever.

~~~

Wrath stumbled upwards, almost at the brow of a hill of fiery rocks and sands of tormented souls. Moving eerily through the red mists that hang in the air from the presence of necromancy, Wrath came to a stop, overlooking a great lava lake. Pigman tribes surround fires in the distance, guarding their realm with utmost loyalty. Screams of tormented ghasts resonate throughout the caverns, Wrath pays notice to them, analysing their screams for any hint of human emotion. He could hear none. Muttering a curse beneath his breath and into the hood that shields his face, he continues onwards, cloak billowing behind him in the harsh winds of the outermost regions of Drauchreich.

For what he was there for he would not dare to let into the forefront of his mind. This is the realm of Iblees, the power to penetrate even the strongest of minds belongs to Him, and He will be listening. Delving deep into a crevice, Wrath paused for a moment, and all it had taken was a moment. A feeling of great dread entered his mind, an irrepressible feeling of foreboding and trepidation. A voice rang in his head, a most fearful voice that seemed to travel through every inch of Wrath’s body, unravelling his thoughts, penetrating his secrets, and weaving a web of terror and dread throughout him.

“I know what you seek, Wrath, and I could grant it to you with but a flick of a wrist. But why must one be granted such a privilege? You are a traitor, Wrath, so willing to abandon your own family for gains of your own. I granted you this life, and I could take it from you in any means I wish. I do not think you are worthy of such a death. You seek escape from my grasp? Then I shall grant it to you.”

A chalice of gold lay at the bottom of the crevice, a chalice encrusted with gems beyond any dwarven treasury. The chalice itself exuded a soft, golden glow to it’s surroundings, and drew Wrath towards it. Unable to resist the temptations of such a treasure, Wrath slowly moved toward it.

“None of your blood are worthy to exist in this world. I curse you with the sterility of the Elves, and make sure none of your kin shall tread my earth.”

Drawing closer, Wrath could begin to make out the jeweled diamonds encrusting the chalice, and begun to think of what wonders it would behold him. Fierce crackling of fire began to increase in volume, and frantic shuffling of pigmen distressed in some way.

“You were greedy in your past life, indeed, and now the greed of your previous race will overcome you once more. Immense greed shall cloud your thoughts and dim your spirit, for you shall always favour precious gems before friendship.”

As Wrath began to descend closer to the nook that was home to the precious chalice, lying so delicately and preciously where it lay, it began to glow ever brighter. Illuminating the crevice to an almost blinding level of light, he began to extend an arm to at last grasp the chalice which drew him with such a fervent desire.

“You learnt many skills in your long life, Wrath. And for this I curse you with ineptitude. Every skill you became acquainted with shall be taken from your memory. All knowledge which you once knew shall be sapped from you, for you are not worthy.”

Wrath finally came close enough to touch the beautiful jewelled chalice. Glowing a brilliant gold, Wrath could not resist, it had him completely and utterly under his grasp. The voice spoke once

more inside his head,

“And finally I curse you with the short lives of the hated Humans. I gave you the ability to live forever when you entered the link, and now I shall take it from you, granting you short life plagued with illness, much like the Humans whom you previously fought with such ferocity.”

And so as the last word was spoken, a searing pain ran through Wrath’s body. Pain he had not experienced since he was a Dwarf, of the descendant races. With fire engulfing his vision, he could just merely see the chalice fading away, an illusion created by Iblees. His greed having betrayed him, Wrath fell to his knees, and with a final gasp of toxic air, he vanished. And Drauchreich fell silent.

[Knox213 10]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.