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Post by scud47 on Jul 16, 2011 20:30:19 GMT -5
And here's my 2.0 bio. It's a prequel to my 1.0 bio.
There were some among the Ancients who were against the attack on Vargai. We were led by the famous soothsayer Jirok. He had prophesied that a victory at Vargai would come only at great cost. Thousands of dead, we argued, was too great a price for a quick end, especially as reinforcements were already en route. Despite our protests, however, the attack went ahead as planned. Jirok counseled us to utilize passive resistance, sabotaging the farms and factories of the land, turning us from political dissidents to rebels in arms. At our council in our camp the night before the attack, he ordered us to plant a bomb in tha Ancients' camp. Hearing this, I immediately seized the right to speak. I was a distinguished veteran, considered wise and moderate by my peers. "Friends," I began. "Brothers. There is no doubt that the situation is grave in the extreme. We see before us a council of Ancients who, through their blindness are preparing to doom us to deaths we need not suffer. This I do not deny, nor do I condone their actions." "But this is going too far! We must remember that these soldiers, the warriors whose sorry lives we are trying to protect, are our kindred, and killing a small amount, even if to save the rest, would violate everything we hold dear as a culture! We must not dishonor our names by shamefully murdering our brothers!" The tension in the room reached its acme. Debate raged in all corners of the room. Some were apparently agreeing, others equally vehemently disagreeing. Far in the back, someone drew a sword, and it took the combined efforts of at least five people to prevent serious injuries. Another Ancient, by the name of Rokan, came up and stood next to me. "Listen to Scud. He will save us all from dishonor worse than death." However, Jirok, the soothsayer who had been our leader for so long, walked slowly up to us, tilted his head forward at Rokan, and stared at him for a second or two. Then, out of nowhere, a ball of pure psionic energy flowed out of the old man and towards Rokan. "What the -- " said someone. The ball blasted into Rokan's chest, and I watched, horrified, as my friend was atomized before my very eyes. "This," said Jirok, "is what will happen to those who doubt my word." I saw him ready another blast at me, charging his shot, and firing. Even though I had gotten a shield up as soon as I saw Rokan die, the blast reduced it to half-energy. I could do nothing but run, out of the tent, out of the camp, not knowing where or when or why I was. I heard Jirok shout behind me, "I will have my revenge on you!" I had secluded myself from my people and been expelled from my sect. There was nowhere to go but to the people I had separated myself from, in hopes that I would be spared a terrrible fate by the Council. I still had some influential friends... As soon as I arrived in the main city of the Ancients, I was taken into custody. When I was interrogated, I told all: the plot, the location of our camp, Jirok's frightening powers. Since I had spilled the beans, I was given a choice: Face the penalty for treason or be reinstated to my old rank in the military. The condition was that I would fight in the siege of Vargai. With no other choice, I accepted this offer. Meanwhile, due to my information, a detachment of mages, led by Kastor himself, leader of our race and bravest of all, intercepted Jirok's band of rebels with the bomb. It was a brutal fight, but even though Jirok killed many with his bolts, almost hitting Kastor himself, his rebels were easily defeated and Jirok himself slain by a burst of concentrated fire. The small battle had been won, but the siege was yet to come. The next day, every citizen in our race knew that his or her destiny would be decided on that day. I received a posting on the left flank of our attack force. Any initial mistrust was overcome at the sight of the wolfkin force advancing. At a quick council of war, Kastor was brought into question by another general of our army. Why, he asked, had I been let off so easily and why was I, a traitor, placed in command of a division? Kastor then told the generals of the secret he and I had been harboring all along: I was an infiltrator assigned to relay information about the dissident movement to the council. Our blood oath to keep the secret between the two of us had been lifted. "Gentlemen," said another general, "I am as happy as you all are that our old friend Scud is back at our side. However, the time has come that we must discuss tactics. There will be massive casualties; this we know. Now, look at this plan of Vargai." He created a 3D magical (resembling a hologram) map in the palm of his hand. Red dots represented Varg, and we were blue dots. Everyone stared at the map, fearing for their lives: a massive horde of red facing a tiny handful of blue. "I know the stuation seems treacherous, " continued the general, "but observe the nature of the valley we are about to attack. The large cliff on the left and the small one on the right are almost completely unguarded - we should capture them, if only to provide a vantage -" "No, " said Kastor. "We must not needlessly kill our soldiers. This attack will be postponed indefi- aaah!" He fell to the floor, clutching his head in pain. Everyone stood around him - nobody expected the fearless leader Kastor to shy away from attacking. Finally he got up, rubbing his head. "It's alright. The attack will take place one day after we planned, as we are expecting a shipment of supplies tonight. I want us to go into battle well-stocked." Relieved that Kastor had not given up, we discussed tactics for the rest of the night. Even so, I could not tell my division of my true nature as a spy, and I got the feeling they did not trust me. My division was assigned to capture that cliff on the left side of the battlefield, which had been only lightly guarded and would provide excellent view of the battlefield. The cliff was captured easily - holding it against inevitable wolfkin assault would be a real problem. We decided to set up a bubble shield around the site: we all poured energy into a ball specially designed for the purpose, which took ten minutes to charge and then could not be pierced without extreme effort. Unfortunately, we could not teleport out from the bubble shield while it was being raised. After two half-serious attacks, which were easily repelled, the wolfkins sent out a platoon of soldiers that outnumbered us six to one. Unfazed, we began one of the bloodiest skirmishes in the entire siege. I took cover behind a boulder and began sending out missiles towards the wolfkin army. Although every shot eliminated two or three wolfins, their sheer numbers meant that they could advance through heavy casualties. Here we learned: Wolfkins fear no death. Anyone whose instinct was not to duck behind something was slaughtered by the legions of wolfkin warriors. One by one they were mauled, stabbed, impaled, or sliced. Only a few of us remained, behind the four large boulders that occupied the cliff. For a while it seemed that we could hold them off. Then their tactics changed. The wolfkin army advanced towards the largest boulder, whose residents tried their best, but were quickly overwhelmed. I saw my second-in-command, surrounded by wolfkin, go out in a blaze of glory by releasing a giant fireball, killing himself and all around him. Then the wolfkins attacked the next boulder, then the next, killing everyone, but thinning their ranks. Finally, the wolfkin army advanced towards my boulder. We steeled ourselves, preparing for death or escape. Forty-seven wolfkins attacked the five people behind the boulder. Defeat seemed inevitable unless we could flee. Suddenly, the bubble shield went up. There would be no escape. The wolfkins attacked menacingly, then stopped as a blast killed several amont their numbers. They then remembered their ability that they had not used before in the battle. The leader did it first, then everyone else. They had readied their defense to magic. Our greatest weapon was now useless. I shouted a short order, and my four troops pulled out assorted weaponry: swords, knives, a bow. The wolfkins growled, a menacing yell calculated, if wolfkins were capable of such advanced mental abilties, to strike fear into our hearts. We had been lucky that they were too stupid to use their defense before. Now we seemed doomed. Fortunately, they had not noticed a booby trap I had created. A rope lying near me would trigger a rock to fall on the hapless enemy. With a snicker, I pulled on the rope, angling it towards the wolfkins, who recoiled in surprise. Our defense would be successful. I rejoiced inside - until I fell out from behind the rock I was hiding behind. A push from someone else had done this: my troops did not trust me. As the rock fell harmlessly to the left of the Varg, one of them trained a weapon on me. As I ducked behind the rock again, something hit my left leg, crippling it. I shot a dirty look at my allies, then realized we had more important business to attend to. As the Varg crept up towards the rock, we did our best to defend. Someone had been clever enough to bring throwing knives, but those were quickly exhausted and the Varg kept coming. Then, suddenly, someone jumped in front of the rock wielding a massive sword. He killed at least a dozen Varg my swinging his sword maniacally until he was overcome. I will always remember the boldness of that hero. Another person, frightened by battle, jumped out and tried to run away, forgetting the Varg and the bubble shied in a blind panic. He sprinted away, somehow managing to evade the Varg, until he rammed into the bubble shield and fell down screaming. A single Varg was dispatched to kill him mercifully. At once, the screams were silenced. War is a disturbing business, but that poor guy did not deserve to die. The third and fourth soldiers, battle-scarred veterans, and twins, took out bows and began to kill Varg at a ferocious pace. Their aim was straight and true, and they reloaded faster than the eye could see. As I could not fight due to my leg, I used my magic to create more arrows for the bowmen, as their supplies would run out without help. The Varg, fearing no death, advanced steadily, and it was not long before six Varg, the only ones remaining after the bloody battle, came around the rock, blowing our cover. The bowmen both drew daggers and killed two Varg each before being stabbed by the leader of the Varg platoon, a massive wolfkin, at least ten feet tall and with monstrous claws the size of bananas. Another, smaller, Varg, rushed ahead of the leader, sensing an easy kill - and he would have it. With my crippled left leg, I could not get up, or even reach my longsword, without rendering myself vulnerable. I stared death in the eye as the smaller Varg greedily approached me, readying itself to pounce. It flew into the air, as I looked up, defenseless. But it flew not towards me, but over to the right, off the cliff entirely and onto the battlefield below. Confused, I looked at the larger Varg and saw that its arm had pushed the small Varg away. It knew I was a prestigious general and wanted to eliminate me itself. As it slowly advanced towards me, I felt around for something, anything, I could use as a weapon. I found, in my pockets, a battle plan, a shopping list, a letter - perhaps I could kill the Varg with a papercut? - nothing useful. I fell down, exhausted, onto the ground, littered with rocks of varying sizes. Then I noticed the rocks. Perhaps, if I hit a vulnerable spot... I selected a rock from those among me, a baseball-sized hunk, and flung it towards the wolfkin. It flew in a high arc, sliced to the left, missed by at least 15 meters, and fell into the brush. The wolfkin seemed to laugh at me as I cursed the wind conditions. Next, I grabbed a football-size rock. As if knowing I could not possible throw it far enough, the wolfkin leered and moved closer. Though I knew it was probably futile, I threw the rock anyway. Of course, the rock was going to fall short. I knew that as well as the wolfkin-monster advancing towards me. But, in that instant, I diverted the course of the rock, and it curved upwards, surprising the wolfkin, who, although not knowing about such things as gravity and acceleration, knew from experience that things like to go down. The diverted rock sailed through the air and hit the wolfkin squarely in the eye. Stunned, the wolfkin stepped back, only to get another rock in the chest. I hit the wolfkin in the abdomen, the mouth, the nose. After what seemed like forever, the rocks made an open wound on its chest. I aimed rock after rock at that location, widening the wound slightly each time, until finally, I broke its spine, paralyzing its legs. It groaned in pain and fell to the floor in agony. However, I was not in much better shape, although free from imminent danger. My leg wound still hurt immensely, and I did not have enough energy to heal it. Furthermore, my natural magic generation process had been interrupted by the leg wound. I had only the bubble shield protecting me. Ignoring the pain, I hobbled over towards my longsword and picked up the bubble shield generator, which was still in fairly good condition after having been hit with an arrow. But it was only after I inspected the device more closely that I became worried: it was only at about one-quarter strength after being hit by the arrow, as it was running on a backup system. Still, even a one-quarter strength bubble shield is quite powerful, and its defiant purple glow consoled me. I began to wait. I do not know for how long I was alone on that cliff, but it felt like weeks. My rations were sufficient to keep myself alive, but my leg was not healing and my magic would not recharge. On about the second day, a wolfkin scouting party discovered me, alone on the cliff. They had seen the bubble shield and assumed we were still in control of the cliff. The next day, the wolfkins brought some kind of battering ram and began atttacking the shield. Each blow barely grazed the shield, yet they kept at it, working day and night, for every day I was on that awful cliff. I was cursed doubly, for I could only watch the battle from where I stood, seeing good people die, watching wolfkin ambushes that unwary generals fell into. It only took a few days for the paralyzed wolfkin to die, but while it was alive, its cries kept me awake at night and haunted my mind continuously afterwards. I can't remember how I survived without going insane: fortunately, what remains of my memory block prevents me from remembering this part of my existence. Then, much later, the terrible thing happened: The wolfkins broke through. It was a warm afternoon, and I was watching Kastor lead a charge at the heart of the enemy lines and a Varg force begin to move towards the medical camp when the bubble shield started to flicker. I moved over to the generator, and it said the same thing: the bubble shild would collapse in a matter of minutes. I peeked outside and saw hundreds of wolfkins ready to attack. I had to get out somehow, but the only way off the cliff was currently blocked by about 500 battle-ready wolfkins. The only other choice was teleportation - it did not require much energy, but it was more than I had. I looked down again at my wounded leg and glanced at the bodies of my fallen comrades, who I soon would be joining. A flicker of magic from one of their bodies started my mind. I needed magic desperately, and I would have to do the thing no Ancient had ever done before: desecrate another's body by stealing their aura after their death. I walked over to the soldier who betrayed me, and thought my situation over. I had been told during my training that if I stole a dead person's magic, I would DIE. Seeing as I would also die if I remained, I braced myself and drew out his magic. It was an awful feeling, another's magic inside me, rebellious and near-impossible to control. This man had had a strange life. The only way I could convince the magic to work for me was to promise it to play sock puppets with it later. It might have been a bizarre experience, but I certainly did not die. As the wolfkins broke through the bubble shield, I teleported to our medical camp, using all the magic in the process. Inside the medical tent, the situation was calm. A doctor treated my wound quickly, and I was soon battle-ready again. My relief was interrupted however, by the sound of marching outside the medical tent. The attack I had seen from the cliff was coming. I was only one Ancient, though, against a massive horde of wolfkin. I stood, alone, at the opening to the medical camp, seeing the wolfkins advancing. The lead scouts already had begun to attack me, the single guard of the camp - everyone else had gone with Kastor in his charge. I stabbed a scout, dodged a swing of a sword, and decapitated another wolfkin. Jumping to the left, I cut off someone's arm, stabbed them, and watched them fall down, dead. Then the main force attacked. I did my best, eliminating wolfkins left and right, but there were too many. As I was dodging a blow, another wolfkin stabbed me through the stomach, a likely mortal wound. Ignoring it, I stabbed a few more wolfkins, then jumped back towards the gate, standing between wolfkins and the camp. My blood fell onto the ground, creating a splattering mess on the ground. Feeling faint, I keeled over, about to die - and then the combined healing power of two hundred thirty-nine medics surged into me, restoring me completely. The medics ducked back into cover as I started again towards the wolfkins. This battle continued for some time, and the wolfkin were easily defeated. We only lost one medic, who had poked his head up and was killed by an arrow. I thanked the medics, but I told them I was needed on the front line. I bid them farewell and teleported forwards to Kastor's assault force. I had just arrived when I saw Kastor dueling the Varg leader. As I rushed forwards to assist him, he launched a massive ball of energy at the Varg leader, teleporting both of them to another dimension. I was caught in the wake of the teleport and pulled in. The two leaders had already begun to duel. I could only watch as they fought it out. The terrain was completely flat, as far as the eve could see. Kastor was launching massive energy balls, the likes of which I had only seen be made by Jirok. Clearly Kastor had been hiding his true power from us. Even though the Varg was so resistant to spells, the energy balls tore through him like paper. His own counterattacks barely scratched Kastor. Kastor pummeled the now hapless beast, severing entire body parts in his unbounded rage, fighting like no Ancient had ever done before. The savagery reached a peak when Kastor's spell tore the Varg's head off completely. Kastor then let loose a roar the likes of which had never been heard. For a while, I thought he was the Varg and the Varg Kastor. I ran up to Kastor, who looked at me strangely and collapsed. He had undoubtedly not planned to teleport three people and had been exhausted by the effort - I had killed my good friend. I fell back into normal space, where the battle had become confused and disoriented. The two corpses came back around me. The Varg's corps had somehow teleported into his second-in-command's body, who, attached to a corpse, was quickly killed. After this, the Varg lost all coherence, attacking and falling back randomly and in an uncoordinated matter. Again my memory block prevents me from remembering the details of the battle. Afterwards, the survivors straggled into our camp and began trying to console each other. Our leader had died, our medics slaughtered, our citizens decimated seventy times over. A knock was heard on the door. Kastor walked in. Everyone turned around, shocked. They had seen him die and he was back. After several tearful hugs, he got down to business. We had to scout the area, make sure there were no wolfkins were left. We took a head count. Only 102 had survived. Kastor himself decided to search the city. Having seen him die firsthand, I followed secretly, intending to ask him what had happened, and hoping for an explanation for his odd behavior. He headed straight for the body of the Varg leader and bent over it, examining it. Hiding behind a pile of corpses, I observed him. "Nadanu shi ka," he chanted. "Recti xa semu ki!" I recoiled in horror as I realized what he was saying. "I give you the breath of life. Arise and obey me!" There was only one person who would or even could do such a thing: Jirok the soothsayer! Jirok, who had been wrestling for control from the very beginning, giving Kastor headaches and trying to get him to delay the attack. Jirok, who had attempted to doom me by sending me to capture a lookout point with a tiny force and no reinforcements. Jirok, who had been the source of the arcane magic Kastor had used: energy balls and mass teleports. Then I knew what I must do. Slowly I crept up behind Kastor, who was too busy resurrecting the Varg to notice. I aimed the blade of my longsword directly at Kastor's heart and took a deep breath. Then I stabbed. Kastor howled in pain. "Scud!" he yelled. "I should have known you would betray me! I should never have let you into my group!" "No," I replied. "You should never have gone against the Council." "You don't realize - Auugh!" He howled in pain, attracting the attention of a nearby medic. I had to use my shield to block the medic's healing. The medic ran off, presumably to get backup. I stayed by Kastor. Suddenly, his face contorted, and I could feel Kastor speaking to me. "Thank ... you," he gasped. "Took ... me ... over. Evil runs ... through ... that man. The Varg..." I turned around to see the half-resurrected Varg trying to attack me. A quick swing of my sword, and it was no longer a threat. A crowd of Ancients began to gather. Surely they would have killed me right there had not Kastor lifed his hand and, with his dying breath, managed to say, "Spare ... him..." And thus, the 102 became the Hundred. I cannot remember what happened after this: the memory wipe is too strong at that point. I know that they wiped my memory, reverted me to child form, and cast me away, a punishment nobody had ever recieved before. But the memory wipe is fading, and I now know of my painful past. But has the evidence vindicated me? Did they eventually realize that I was not guilty and, in fact, probably a hero? Or am I still an outcast, hated by my own people for a crime I did not commit?
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