The Martyr of Assuranoar

As his life essence flowed out of him Dallath’s vision faded into cold blackness. Then the now familiar feeling of noncorporeality came upon him and his senses were heightened. He saw with eyes that did not see, heard with ears that did not hear and felt without the need for physical touch. As his soul lifted free from the goblin form he had still yet to truly become accustomed to he saw the mechanical form of the left heel of Assuran before him laughing. “I told you I would be right here waiting for you.” Said Neumannus. “Yes you did, though when you reminded me of the humor of our patron I never imagined it would take the form of my transformation into a goblin.” “A man needs new experiences young Dallath, they jar something deep inside allowing him to grow. Without change, something sleeps inside and will never awaken.” Looking beyond the planar representative of his deity Dallath could see the colossal form of Assuran himself, arms folded, with a wry smile on his face as he observed the interaction. Dallath took note of the strong pull he felt to join his patron but also immediately felt the wraith king’s curse upon him as well. “Perhaps this time will be the last that I will meet my maker until the day I join him for good,” Dallath added to the zelekhut in front of him. “Ah yes, about that, you may find such a thing will be very long in coming Doombringer as your next form will be the one that Assuran believes will truly allow you to the path of experience you seek.” Neumannus smiled, “as well as give you the opportunity to fulfill a role commensurate with your place among the faithful if you are strong and wise enough to take on the responsibility that comes with it.” Not truly understanding what he meant Dallath asked, “What is it that you mean by that?” “You will see, and no doubt you will understand quickly, what the meanings behind my words are shortly.” At those words the zelekhut turned to return to the heavens “Until next we meet again Dallath the Twice Martyred!” and with that Dallath began to follow his call from the Wraith Kings curse down into the temple, into the dimly lit torch corridors and then into darkness and a stillness and quiet void of all senses. For what seemed like forever, the cold darkness filled the reality of Dallath. After a long while he began to feel a tingling in his extremities. This tingling gradually began to get stronger until it turned into heat, upon heat, upon heat as blood began to once again flow through veins sinews formed and muscles coalesced. It even felt like his very skin was knitting itself together inch by agonizing inch. As the flood of new feelings overwhelmed his senses he quickly began to realize that this was not like before. Although the goblin was much less of a physical force, Dallath’s thoughts clouded though they were, it was much like waking up from a long deep slumber. In this new form still hidden in darkness, complete blackness his eyes could not pierce, there was no such awakening. The very fact that he could not see in darkness frightened him a little. He had always taken his ability to see in darkness as an Aasuran and then a goblin as part of the way the world is perceived, but for the first time in his existence he could no longer pierce that veil and it was a very unnerving experience. The darkness though was not his most concerning issue however as he began to stir he found that his thoughts were not only his alone, even in the darkness flashes of vivid memory assaulted his mind. It was from a time long ago, perhaps decades though it could just as easily be centuries or millennia. He saw himself as strong youthful leader of a small family of remarkably similar looking men and women, all with the regal bearing of Dallath’s own Mulan ancestry. He was one of seven remarkable individuals with great gifts neither divine nor arcane but something else. They had all gone through a similar initiation to become what they were, masters of their mind, body and soul. They spent generations towards the peaceful singular perfection of their minds, their crafts, and their arts. Although they never aged a member of their family could die from disease or mortal wounds. Although rare, on occasion this would happen and the group would seek another to fill their place, they would seek out an exceptional individual and give them the choice to become one of their number. If they agreed they would first learn their ways and then undergo a transformation in a place special to the group, surrounded by crystals that transformed the initiate into one of their number, an immortal master of mind body and spirit. Dallath saw through eyes the history of the eventual leader of the clan from the time of his transcendence to the death of him and his clan of companion elans. He was now the last and the only one remaining after they had all fallen to a strange illness and passed into the astral void long, long ago. Dallath had died at the hands of four hobgoblins and three sand hunters, been told the last few months as a goblin was a test of character, awoken in a dark sarcophagus, blinded for the first time, experiencing the remnant of living memories of multiple lifetimes worth of existence not his own, he reacted in the only was he could; he screamed and pushed on the lid of the sarcophagus with all of his might. As the large stone fell, and smashed into fragments on the floor below, Dallath raced out gasping nearly uncontrollably into the darkness outside of it just as complete. He steadied himself against it, relaxing into his prayers. As he did so the comfort of divine grace, lost to him in his goblin form, returned and he quickly began to calm with the familiarity of the graces he received. By the time he had completed his prayers and meditation he felt strength in mind, body and spirit like that of his former self but even more intense, for although he no longer possessed the ioun stone he found his own mental prowess was more than enough to sustain and energize his body. Feeling around him on the cold stone floor he picked up a palm sized stone fragment from the now broken lid beside him. With only a moment of concentration and a prayer to Assuran he felt the grace of his patron flow through him into the stone, a grace that built and ignited into a spark that became a stronger and stronger light until the room and much of the next one ahead of him was lit as if by a powerful lantern that would never go out. Picking himself up off the floor he took in his surroundings and moved into the next room with purpose. The remains of the other six members of his caste were laid out here in all their funeral finery. Taking the offerings from them he marked a gem and committed to memory it’s size, shape, hue and mark before placing one in the skull of each of them. In the future he could use this to find them if they are ever lost to him. After a short prayer for each of his brethren he continued onward exploring until coming upon a room with a large portal. The thick dust revealed several strange and unidentifiable snake-like tracks leading into it. Turning around he felt an urge to open an extremely massive stone door down a side corridor. As he did so he wished he hadn’t. Still as death, withered, desiccated tentacles surround a barrel like body wrapped in centuries old funeral dressings. Two staring orbs surmount the gargantuan form, promising annihilation stood a motionless crawling apocalypse. Dallath quickly closed and locked the door, better to let the thing sleep for now he thought, and continued on exploring the next corridor which quickly became familiar as a trap door in the floor in a room of four doors brought the realisation to what he had already assumed; he still remained in the temple. The temple, his friends, how long had he been out before awakening? How long had he prayed? Too long he decided, at this point they may all be dead or a thousand leagues from here if Stabbers had truly succeeded. He could not slowly continue on but began running back to the entrance. As the heat from the desert sun pounded him his heart sank; the mounts and cart were gone and in their place a note. As he picked it up he realised it was a note in a language unknown to him and simply pocketed it before returning to the hatch and venturing back to the trap door, if lucky the ones who had slain his goblin form would still remain for his vengeance. (the scroll ends there)

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