MY Origin Story

Been a slow day, so I figured I’d peck up some stuff, and what I got was something that I’ll call my origin story. Even though I haven’t really done anything here that requires an origin story, I figure what the hell, why not? I dont write fantasy very often, and I figure I can have some fun with this. I’ve got a lot more than this, but I thought I’d get some initial reactions before posting more.

So, here we go.


A world shrouded in chaos and darkness spirals uncontrollably towards it’s own self destruction. A land once beautiful and fruitful with an uncountable varied amount of life in all forms, torn to pieces by the ravages of war. Once filled with life, all that remains is a void, a black hole, of death.

Nasagreth was located on the outer rim, an area surrounded by mountains and deep, murky forests backed with swamps. The people of Nasagreth kept to themselves for centuries, not wanting to traverse the perilous trails through the swamps, then the woods, and over steep mountains to a world they may not even find suitable. Preferring to remain at home, Nasagrethians lived in peace for the almost the entirety of their existence – until the omen came. The omen rocked the very foundation of everything Nasagreth stood for. Plummeted from the heavens and into the home of Sir Joseph Gastron, this omen instilled a sense of fear never before known amongst the people of Nasagreth. Scarring the earth forever, this omen remained untouched by the populace until darkness itself came to collect it’s due reward.

Mysteriously drifting into the capital city of which Sir Gastron resided, he made his way to his residence. Creeping in the death of night, all he passed became alerted to his presence. Shivers of an unimaginable chill drifted up and down their spines, forcing their hair to stand on end, leaving trails of goose bumps up and down their arms and legs. In a black cloak and leaving a wafting smoke behind him, the figure made his way to the home of Sir Joseph Gastron, which had been roped off by the authorities. Stopping near the house, the figure observes the guards. The world around them had become gray with evil, as it precipitated from this figure. People could no longer speak, their throats were dry, their noses became congested, and their heads burned on the inside, as if their brains were having a melt down. The pain intensified as the figure began to slowly drift towards the house of which the omen landed. The guards still feeling a sense of duty rose to greet their intruder, but were quickly dispersed with bouts of pain in their knees and elbows. Burning the ropes as saw them, the figure enters the house. Through the entryway, around the kitchen, and into the dining room.

Moon light seeps into the room through the hole in the roof, revealing a room that suffered from an impact unlike any other. As if the devil himself had blown his nose in Gastron’s dining room, all that remained were the charred and blackened walls of the room, which looked as if sneezed upon they would plummet to the floor. The figure looks upon the omen – a sword, whose hilt is sticking just above the surface of the floor, the blade fully inserted into the blackened earth. A blue hilt with gold trim, it radiated in the moon light. Screams of agony and pain echo into the night, the pain of the towns people almost unbearable. Their heads feel as if they are to explode, while their appendages are numb with an evil cold. A gloved hand emerges from within the robes of the figure, and he grasps the hilt of the sword, and with a mighty force he pulls it from it’s tomb. Swinging it above his head, the blade hums of craftsmanship into the silent night. The pain is gone, the people no longer feel any of the chills or the headaches of before. However, they cannot forget the pain of only moments ago, and cannot help but feel that it is only going to get worse.

Edit: Wow, it looks like a lot more in word…

I like the story, great work Sorc.

BTW, what exactly is an origin story?

Telling the origin (gasp! What a surprise) of someone’s RPGC persona.

Oh shush. I’m not a big story person.

Perhaps I should have said that this isn’t as much the origin of this sorcerer, but rather the origin of a sorcerer, who happens to carry a number of the same personality traits as I do.

People seem to think that Origin Stories are too common now, but so far, only five people have really done them, not counting Sorc, and so far, Glenton and I are the only ones still working on theirs.

BTW, nice setting, Sorc. Confused as to why you psot the epilogue first, but what the hell.

You know what, that confuses me too, because I really should be posting the prologue first, right? Right.

Oops :stuck_out_tongue:

Very nice, Sorc. There’s a good flow, and the dark, ominous feeling is very strong. Impressive imaginary as well.

You know, Sorc, I’ve always found your stories too dark for my liking, but damned if you don’t have a very good grasp of drama and detail. Good work.

You know, folks, I was one of the people who started with the Origin stories, but It’s been a looong time since I continued mine- mostly because I didn’t much like the persona I created for myself (it had originaly started as a joke.) I’ve been trying to get myself back into into writing (I’ve been blocked for a while) so I’ve decided to- what the heck- do so by writing a NEW origin story for myself. Expect it soon.

:fungah: :mwahaha: :hmm: :noway:

Thanks wil, it’s cool that you think that.


Act I

The sun shone bright on an oasis, with a gentle breeze that shook the trees ever so slightly. Within the oasis resides a small freshwater pond, where two women bathed in the glorious sun light. The cool water and the brisk breeze excited their bodies, and they soon found themselves amongst each other in a passion. Stroking and kissing, the women exchanged blows with delicacy, and in the distance a pair of brooding eyes watched from within the brush. Carefully observing the activities going on, he blinks, and rushes from his hiding spot and appears at the foot of the pond.

“Just what in the hell are you doing? You know such acts are forbidden! Get dressed, we see the high sorcerer!” He bellows. He swiftly moves into the brush once again, and the two women, extremely frightened, slowly remove themselves from the lake and put their clothes on, and slowly but steadily approach the man in hiding. “We’re sorry sir, please, don’t report us, we’ll do anything…” She drifts off with her last words, as if to insinuate something. Keeping his composure, the man stands once again, and motions them to follow him. They march onto the cracked earth, and start towards the mighty castle that lays only just before them. The draw bridge lowers, and two hellish hounds stand at the gate. The man waves his hand, and the gate opens and the two hounds go about their business. The women, shaking with fear, follow the man into the dark corridors of the castle. Climbing flight after flight of stairs, down hallway after hallway, they reach a room marked with a set of double doors with dirty, frayed red tapestries that are ripped at the bottom. Knocking on the doors, they open, and the two women follow the man, who is waltzing inside with an amusing demeanor. As they walk, fires ignite out of dry torches on the walls, filling the room with a dim, eerie light. A dark, sinister figure glares at the three from atop his throne, and eyes the two shivering women with fiery eyes from beneath his hood.

“What have you brought me Archadeus?” His voice is soft, yet commanding, full of authority and echoes within the walls of the room. “I have brought you the two girls that I have spied …”frolicking” in the oasis just beyond the front gates. Seeing as how you have outlawed such acts, I felt it best to bring them before you.” With his last words, he lowers himself to a knee, and rises again when the figure stands and begins to walk forward. He walks past Archadeus and circles the two girls, who are holding each other in such fright. He eyes them both, two girls, each of brunette hair with attractive features. “Remove your clothes, and follow me.” The two girls do as such, and follow the cloaked figure out of the room and onto a balcony, where a number of people work and dawdle in the courtyard below.

“Hear me now!” His voice booms across the open plains beyond the castle. The workers stop what they are doing and crowd around the base of the balcony. “In my reign, there will be no such love making between women. They are to be at home, or in the fields harvesting what their men have grown for them to eat. They are to be fat, and they are to make as many children as necessary. You know this, yet some of you seem to believe otherwise.” His voice had mellowed, and become friendlier, more sincere, and within an instant became as dark and sinister as his appearance. “Yet…you realize that passion is a thing of the past. Lust no longer exists. These two girls, will be made an example of. If I ever hear of such acts again, your punishment will be far, far more severe.” With those words, the two girls are lifted into the air by forces unseen, over the edge of the balcony. Their nude bodies glistening from tears and perspiration only a few feet above the crowd. In an instant, the patches of pubic hair between their legs burst into flames, and the crowd backed away from the two women. Their screams, high pitched and furious, reveled in the ears of their countrymen. In the same manner of which it happened, the fires were quelled, and the women lowered to the ground in pain and shame. The dark figure leans over the edge of the balcony and whispers into the wind, “Do not test me.” With that, the crowd disperses and returns to work as the figure returns to his hovel, followed by Archadeus.

Within the bowels of his chamber, the figure removes his hood, and reveals a pale face with dark brown hair, bordering black. His eyes are normally of a jade, and he sits in his throne. He leans back and enjoys the comfort of his seat, and eyes a crystal case that contains a sword with a blue hilt with gold trim. It sits on a pedestal near the throne, and the fire from the torches reflects off the case. “Why did you bring them to me Archadeus? Surely you are competent enough to have handled this by yourself.” Archadeus stiffens, and raises a brow. “But my lord, I thought it best that an example be made, to prevent such things from occurring again.” The man sighs, and turns his head to the left. “It is not up to you to decide anything. You’re job is to oversee the peasants and ensure their productivity. My job is make you do your job.” With that, Archadeus grabs his sides and falls to the floor in immense pain, whimpering. “Do not trouble me with such petty matters again Archadeus, or I will see to it that you burn in the same fashion. Now leave me.” With that, Archadeus pulls himself from the floor, mostly free of his pain and hobbles to the door, and leaves. The man sighs in a tired manner, and puts his head in his left hand and leans on his throne. A door to his right, hidden from normal view by darkness opens, and a beautiful women comes into the light. Her hair is a silken black, with her skin as pale as his. Her eyes, are a fruitful orange and red, and radiate within him. “Ah…Meredith. How good of you to awake. Please, come.” She slowly moves forward and takes her seat at his feet. “Oh Dimitri, how could you have done that to those poor girls? That was absolutely unnecessary.” Dimitri perks his head up and looks down at her. “Ah, but it was wholly necessary. Such discernment amongst my workers is terribly unproductive, and without them my empire is nothing. They can’t know that however, and I must use fear as my best weapon against them. My loyalists are only so loyal, and there are far more of them than there are me.” She lays her head against his leg, and sighs. “I know…but such punishment was terribly cruel.” “Ah, yes, it was, but it was very much effective. This problem won’t arise again.”

Dimitri cocks his head back in disgust and lets out a loud sigh. “I’m so bored. I’ve conquered this land, and I am satisfied with my victory. The people are wrapped around my finger. They live in fear – and that is how I want them. However, I can’t help but realize that because I so swiftly defeated these people, that there is nothing left for me to conquer. Nothing left for me to make my own. Not here anyway. The people don’t know what lies beyond the mountain peaks, and I must confess that I don’t either. Nor am I too anxious to find out. Failure is not an option with me – but it is most definitely a probability that cannot be ignored. If I were to venture into the unknown, it would be very possible for me to loose everything. So here I must remain, in my ever lasting boredom.” Meredith caresses Dimitri’s leg with her hand, and remains silent. Dimitri, not overly concerned with what Meredith is doing, drifts his vision over to the case that contains the omen – the sword with which he conquered this land with. Within his own mind, he could not conceive of the blades origins. The blade fell from the sky, so he is told, and into someone’s house. From there, the blade beckoned him, almost forced him to come. It robbed him of his sanity until he was within mere miles of it. Meredith breaks the silence; “Too bad there isn’t an uprising, or a rebellion or something like that to keep you interested.” A thought flickered in Dimitri’s mind, something so sudden, yet so scheming that it startled even him. “Meredith, I knew there was a reason I liked you.” She rises, and kisses him on the check and leaves through the dark door she entered. “ARCHADEUS!” Dimitri bellows into the hall outside his doors. He quickly returns to his seat and replaces his hood and extinguishes the flames closest to the door. Archadeus eagerly enters the room and bows in the dim light at the end of a flamboyant red carpet that leads to the throne. “Sir?” Dimitri rises and stands on the second of three stairs to his throne. “I have come up with a plan to keep ourselves occupied. We shall incite revolution!”

I’d like to mention that I’m pretty sick at the moment. So updates will be near and far inbetween.

The power of your writing, especially your descriptions, keep a firm grip of my interest, Sorc :slight_smile: The only nitpick I have might be that maybe you should divide speech and descriptions a little more, these long paragraphs gets a little tiring.