Grassus Narkold and the Cave of Demons

This is an excerpt from my partial attempt at completing NaNoWriMo in 2014. It was supposed to be a High-Fantasy setting, borrowing elements from the Dungeons & Dragons campaign I was running at the time.

Grassus Narkold, Protector of the Sermons, holy warrior of the God of Justice, soldier in the army of Arskesia, survivor of the Battle of the Rose Headlands, husband to beautiful Silas, father of four healthy children in Dragonspire, and Dragonkin. A horde of titles earned over a lifetime of battling the evil things that crawl upon the land. These achievements bring me some contentment as I watch a trickle of crimson flow down my armour.

I shakily bring my blue-scaled hand into view, and I am reminded of the pride I felt when I first learned that the God of Justice also had blue coloured scales. All Dragonkin claimed their ancestry from the great ancient Dragons of the world, and there were certainly many other blue-shaded Dragonkin in Arskesia. But only a rare few bore the bright light-blue shade that is associated with the ascended Dragon that became the God of Justice.

From that day onwards, I began the long arduous journey to become a holy warrior for the Justice God. Master Sorkash was a harsh trainer, but under his tutelage I learned how to wield both sword and divine power. My family was honoured when I was being ranked first among the Initiates. My first assignment was to travel to the lands of the humans and protect the newly-founded ministry there. My last for the temple was to found a ministry in the lands of the halfmen. It was the assignment I remember most fondly, as it was where I fell in love.

And then the war began. The war so ferocious that it seems like it will consume the whole world.
Ancient stories tell that the Fellborn were once human, but they made a dangerous compact with the devils and demons of the underworld in exchange for power and wealth. The humans and the fiends then bred together, and out sprang the tainted Fellborn. The Fellborn went on to found the Empire of Turak in the far east, and eventually their borders stretched to touch the fringes of Arskesia.

Peace and Mercy did not seem to not be words in the language of the Fellborn. They knew only about domination and power. Border skirmishes were frequent and deadly, and there were plenty of rumours about captured Dragonkin being sold as slaves in far flung depraved citadels. Hatred simmered among the Dragonkin, and parents began to teach their children that the only good Fellborn is a dead one.

Silas and I also taught our children to hate the Fellborn. Gods forgive me, if there is one thing I regret the most it is teaching my children to hate. Those innocent minds, eager for nourishment and knowledge, gladly supped at the hateful tales told by their parents. I had personally ended the lives of many Fellborn, and then boastfully retold the tales to my eldest son. Maybe the sword sticking out of my chest is punishment from the God of Justice, fated to die so far from home for the sin of Hate?

I remember the anger towards the Fellborn that boiled inside of me, and anger so hot it threatened to burn all those around me. I was a ferocious tempest on the battlefield, an avatar of the God of Justice meting out punishment to the enemy. I thought that the Fellborn were creatures without emotion, without a single trace of good in them. That they were no better than the rabid beasts and the mindless undead.

Oh, how wrong I was.

My gaze fell upon the body of Walla, the Fellborn who warned my squad of an ambush earlier in the underground cave system. His throat was now a gaping hole, blood gushing out of his body. He had fought beside me. He sacrificed himself to protect me. He will die while under my command.

The mission was to stop the Fellborn from unleashing a terrible weapon that was supposed to end the war. My squad, respectfully named “Grassus’ veterans”, were tasked with locating the weapon and to destroy it if possible. But upon finding the cave system and venturing inside, we learned that it was a Cult who worshipped Demons that were going to unleash the weapon. The Fellborn had also learned about the weapon, and had sent a squad of Fellborn to stop the weapon.

Walla’s squad arrived before mine, and they were captured. The Captain of the Fellborn squad was executed, and before they could kill the rest the Demon Cultists heard my squad trample towards them. They had set up an ambush, but Walla had given us the warning that allowed my squad to easily defeat the rest of the Cultists.

Walla and the other Fellborn survivors joined my squad, and we managed to make it to a large chamber where a ritual was taking place. We tried to stop the ritual, but one of the cultists summoned a Fiend from the underworld. It was a large four-armed ravenous beast that could cut an unlucky warrior to ribbons and was as fast as a horse. The evil thing was tough, and most of the warriors fell trying to distract it while Walla and I could get close enough to land a killing blow.

The Fiend was now lying dead in front of me, it’s life coming at a cost of a sword in my chest and the rest of the squad are dead or dying. And yet the ritual continued.

I was starting to feel light-headed, and I the temptation grew to just lie down and sleep it all off. The Death Goddess’ whispers were calling to me to take my place in her realm. And I almost fell to that temptation until I heard a gurgled cry from Walla. I knew I could let our sacrifice be for nought. But I had no strength, and little will.

I closed my eyes and called upon the God of Justice, imploring for aide. I prayed for Justice, for peace, and for the ritual to be stopped. And, for the first time since my initiation, I felt His reply.

My body surged with holy power, my life essence bolstered by the spirit of the Dragon God. Strength returned to my weary body, and will coursed feverishly in my veins. Divine knowledge flooded my brain, and I knew what had to be done. I could feel that part of the ritual was complete and that an unnamed horror was set loose upon the world, but the worst was yet to come. The ritual was meant to unleash the Demon Lords of Undeath upon the world, where they would sacrifice mortals in their plan to ascend to Godhood.
But the God of Justice had just infused my body with the divine power necessary to disrupt the ritual and destroy the portal to the underworld. I just have to step forth and sacrifice myself to do it.

Without a second thought I lifted myself up from the ground and rushed to the centre of the ritual. I could see the formation of a portal, and from it I could smell the foul stench of Demons and Fiends. Before any of the cultists could stop me I leaped up towards the portal, resigned to my fate.

As my body entered the portal, the divine energy made contact with the foul things of the underworld. I could feel my skin and bones and muscles rupture as the divine energy exploded, destroying the large chamber behind me and whatever it was waiting in the portal.

And for the fleeting second of consciousness I had left, I thought about Silas. My beloved, may you forgive me for my sacrifice.