Main My profile Registration Log out Login
Welcome Guest | RSS
Sunday
2017-07-23
5:43 AM
World of Gamerz
[ New messages · Members · Forum rules · Search · RSS ]
Page 1 of 11
Forum moderator: RgK_BloodHowl 
Forum » Twilight of the Gods » Lore » Heifous Fleshrender
Heifous Fleshrender
RgK_BloodHowlDate: Sunday, 2010-03-21, 4:16 PM | Message # 1
"Bloodhowl the Powerful"
Group: Administrators
Messages: 117
Awards: 3
Reputation: 6
Status: Offline
“Heifous Bronclad, I hereby bestow upon you the honour of the Kelthar Vanguard. The Vanguards are the spearhead of our army, the first into battle, the greatest in fights and the most feared when our enemies decide to cross swords with the Kelthar Empire. By entering the ranks of the Vanguard, you are deemed one of the bravest, one of the strongest, and thus, one of the best in Kelthar.”

The man looked up from where he knelt as he humbly received the finely and beautifully honed sword from the General of the Kelthar Army. It was one of those days that even the wild personality of Heifous Bronclad was subdued, and no less than the great honour that only a handful could achieve in the entire kingdom of Kelthar. After the Kelthar Vanguard, the Black Rose Royal Guards was next. Rumours have spread, however, and it seemed to have tarnished his name and destroyed his chances of becoming one of the Emperor’s personal entourage.

As a child, Heifous had always been one who communicated with fists. Engaging in fights ever so frequently, his name spread amongst the villages as one violent but strong child. Once, in his village, a tournament was held amongst the children and teenagers. It was unofficial and secret, of course, and Heifous was there as well. Some of the children had picked up sword skills or barehanded techniques or were just plain strong. Up against Heifous, however, they all fell, even the bully from three villages away who sported muscles and a wide girth from wood chopping. The spectators commented that he had great skills and asked what kind of barehanded techniques he used and where he learned to fight. He gave them a curious stare, “Technique? What’s that supposed to be? If my opponent has an opening, I punch him; if he drops his guard, I kick him. That’s all there is to how I fight.”

Surprisingly, Heifous never really had any enemies. In the worst cases, he would have a rival who sought him in a bid to improve his fighting skills, or the people would look upon him with disgust. Heifous fought not because he needed attention nor was he always so short-tempered. He fought because he enjoyed it. Before a fight, he encourages his opponent to give his all; during the fight, he used no names, made no insults nor boasted about his strength; after a fight, he does not look upon his defeat opponent with mockery, only with an expression of joy of having been given a worthy opponent. Should the opponent be too weak, Heifous would bluntly comment so, and his opponent would flare up, not with malice, but with rivalry.

Growing into an adult, he learned that some things would require tools to aid him in battle. He was unfortunate (in Heifous’s opinion, fortunate) to come across a wild bear and he had to spar with it barehanded as always. There was talk of how some of the greatest fighters trained in the mountains sparring against bears, but such talks ended with such fighters never returning home. Heifous had his tale told in the same way. With his left arm dislocated when the bear smashed him against the cave wall and the tendons of his right foot scratched, the Heifous could not escape. Merely punching it to death would be impossible if he is to be crushed underneath the bear’s great weight.

His right hand felt a loose rock. Shaped flat and elongated, thrusting it into the bear’s heart would be a simple feat. Heifous was not skilled in the use of weapons, however. His first slashes tore the fur off the bear’s hide or made gashes in its arms. Getting used to handling the rock, Heifous was able to keep the bear at bay and sped up his attacks, all the while tearing flesh off. The bloodlust developed in Heifous that day, and it grew, urging him to fight more. Seeing how the rock was highly efficient in his fights, unlike an unwieldy sword that takes too long to swing or a bow that takes far too long to reload, the dagger was fast and sharp, and his strength added the extra blow. Still nobody hated the man, though, but there would be people who commented he was like a berserker, in polite terms – behind his back, they called him a beast.


He died with tears in his heart, but none on his eyes – nobody taught him how to cry. - Umbra's Biography
 
RgK_BloodHowlDate: Sunday, 2010-03-21, 4:16 PM | Message # 2
"Bloodhowl the Powerful"
Group: Administrators
Messages: 117
Awards: 3
Reputation: 6
Status: Offline
His family was afraid for him at first, and did not like their child bloodying up the roads. But, he was their child after all; their love urged his parents to find some outlet for his violent personality. They suggested he enlisted in the Kelthar Army to make use of his strength and violent desires on the battlefield instead of at home. That Heifous was reported to have fewer fights with his own mates was heartening enough, but when he advanced to become part of the Vanguard, they were actually proud of him. It was unfortunate that the war with the Night Fall came, merciless to anyone and everyone. Heifous and the commanders of the various divisions were called to attend a military briefing. From the map, Heifous learned that the flow of battle would sweep past his village or a stalemate may be held there. The man felt his heart stop. Letting his emotions take over, he asked for the General to divert the battle. Unfortunately the General rejected his request. By going a different route, they leave the enemy an empty passageway; by bringing the frontline backwards they risk a geographical disadvantage; if they could push the line towards the enemy’s encampment, they would have done so already. Thus, it was decreed his village was not worth saving and the battle would take place regardless of the villagers’ safety. Heifous pleaded for a scout to warn the villagers to evacuate. Again, he was rejected because the General was unwilling to spare any man from the war.

Heifous deserted. He rushed to the village alone, his strongest dagger in hand. Smoke from the distance quickened his already speedy pace and his pants of fatigue turned to pants of despair, watching the people lying dead on the roads and the houses collapsed in and burning the families, his included. He returned to the camp, seeking out the one who gave the order to forgo his village. The guards were unable to help him, and in his anger, Heifous drew his blade.

Several humans fell that day, most from the Night Fall, but several from Heifous Bronclad alone. The first thing the Kelthar Army saw was his dagger, and the last thing to make a mark upon the bloody grounds of the camp was the same dagger. The people cried Fleshrender, the name of the dagger instead of the name of the person, before falling to the steel. The next day, Heifous was hung from the gallows.

The Kheltarian Army lost a valuable soldier that day. The formidable dagger, Fleshrender, represented Heifous Bronclad, and the dagger was the signature of the soldier gone berserk. Heifous ‘Fleshrender’ was recorded in the histories of the Kheltharian Empire, the Bronclad family’s honour lost in time and name forgotten. The only memory left of the incident was the dagger still spotted with dried blood, and the warning not to bestow any babies with the name ‘Heifous’.


He died with tears in his heart, but none on his eyes – nobody taught him how to cry. - Umbra's Biography
 
RgK_BloodHowlDate: Sunday, 2010-03-21, 4:16 PM | Message # 3
"Bloodhowl the Powerful"
Group: Administrators
Messages: 117
Awards: 3
Reputation: 6
Status: Offline
Light flowed into the darkness that was Heifous’s sight. It was rather painful to see something that wasn’t made up of the darkness. The High Realm accepted all beings, but it was their minds that created the kind of environment they wanted. Heifous had lived a fast and vigorous life, and he was finally tired of it all. He wanted the peace, comfort, and darkness… And when they were taken away from him, his rage, accompanied by his bloodlust, returned to him. His blade was not in hand, not since the armorer confiscated it from him, but he grew up with bare hands and he was still proficient with brawling techniques. The nearest robed man suffered the onslaught of his straight punch, smashing into the wall behind and falling unconscious. The next one had his breath taken out of him with a solid blow to his midriffs. It took two armed members of the Sun Rise and one Necromancer casting a restriction spell to contain the furious Heifous Fleshrender.

Things calmed down, and the ex-militant realized the opportunity he was given. Before, he was in rage; now, he relished the new life he was given; better yet, his new life did not require him to learn how to fight all over again. The dagger-wielder now stood on the highest peak of his dwelling, taking in the sights that stood before him and reveled in the great amount of Keltharian blood he could take in. Human blood magic, taught by the Necromancers, flowed and absorbed the life source of a passing patrol guard after he engaged in an effortless duel with him.

The only thing Heifous needed now to regain his full glory was Fleshrende


He died with tears in his heart, but none on his eyes – nobody taught him how to cry. - Umbra's Biography
 
Forum » Twilight of the Gods » Lore » Heifous Fleshrender
Page 1 of 11
Search:


 Copyright MyCorp © 2017
Free website builderuCoz