By: Gaisei Posted on: May 24, 2008
Those who falter, hesitate, or become distracted in their service to
Oppression shall be trampled beneath the feet of those devoted to
service in Evil. Do not dare to think for a moment that the Truths are
fallible, that those who would deny them may have valid points. They are not
called the Truths for nothing. When you are begged for mercy, trample the weak
in the name of Oppression. Thus are the Lords well served.
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At one time, the strongest warriors of Mhaldor were a pair of knights, named
Orgedon and Dephos. They had been bred by their families since their births for
service to the Lords in the path of the blade; Orgedon was from the house of
Aristata, and Dephos of the Lichlord clan. Their only similarity was their
passion to bring about the day when the world would be cloven in twain. Orgedon
Aristata was a burly troll, massive in girth and enormous in height. From his
childhood he had already shown a great penchant for blood and carnage, often
attending executions in the Red Square for no reason other than to enjoy the
sheer pleasure of the agonized screams of the guilty. He favoured brute force
as his tactic for destroying the weak, and his gleaming axe and giant-forged
warhammer
were legendary for shattering the limbs and hopes of countless opponents to Evil. Dephos Lichlord was a fair-skinned human with blue eyes and blond hair, and a cold cruelty to rival that of Mhaldorians thrice his age and experience. He favored the rapier as his weapon of choice, and many whispered in fear of his ability to move the blade faster than the eye could follow.
Their rise to prominence in Mhaldor was nothing short of extraordinary. They
passed the rigorous Maldaathi entrance examinations with ease upon their
adulthood, and quickly became the top students in their class. After a short
three years, at the tender ages of twenty-one, and to the amazement of all,
they were both knighted on the same day. The High Lord Maleficence had thought
to force them to wait until they were older, as such a thing had never been
done before. A few terse words from Lord Shaitan shortly afterwards convinced
him his prior judgment had been incorrect, and it was done.
Sir Orgedon Aristata and Sir Dephos Lichlord quickly became the twin
terrors of Sapience. They cut a trail of blood and death through the
forests, especially the Eastern Ithmia, crushing legions of impetuous
forestal warriors who had dared insult and oppose the Lords. Once, when seven
Maldaathi knights were defending a shrine to Oppression, they were ambushed by
no less than thirty Guardians and their allies. The seven fought tenaciously,
and managed to fell five, then ten, then fifteen of the Churchmen. But their
wounds plagued them sorely, and one, then two, then all of the Maldaathi fell,
save for Sirs Orgedon and Dephos. Fighting alone against fifteen assailants,
they wore down their opponents and once again started to even the odds. It was
said the last Guardian, realizing he was the only one still fighting, turned to
flee and cried for deliverance from his foes. He found deliverance when he was
cloven in twain by Orgedon's mighty axe. The shrine almost seemed to grin
gleefully with the blood of countless enemies seeping into it. Lord Shaitan
showered his prize warriors with praise, status, and honour unimaginable.
But both felt they yet lacked something, despite their seemingly
fulfilling service to Evil. Aedlia de Soulis was widely thought to be
the most beautiful (and most cruel) woman in Mhaldor at the time. Both a moving
speaker and deadly fighter, she naturally drew the eye of many of the males in
Mhaldor. Yet her affection was reserved for two alone - the Knights Aristata
and Lichlord. Only to these two did the Abbess speak, only to these two was her
touch a thinkable grace.
As time wore on, Orgedon and Dephos began to be split up in their
campaigns. Where Orgedon led an army against the Church in Shallam,
Dephos might be assigned to fight a ragtag band of Ashtani making
trouble in allied Blackrock. As they were seperated, so did their
temperaments change. Orgedon, lacking a companion who understood him
(his trollish intelligence and brutal reputation making him a poor
choice for conversation, in the minds of many) turned to ever more
brutal and monstrous ways of killing, often torturing his victims and
feeding them their own torn-out, bleeding hearts. Dephos turned further to the
technical mastery of the blade, and was eventually able to turn the cassock of
a priest into a bunch of ribbons with the merest flick of the wrist. Yet with
this mastery came arrogance, and cockiness. When travelling alone, often he
would come upon a Guardian, and challenge him to a duel. When Dephos naturally
bested his opponent in seconds, instead of killing him, he would wound him
badly, but allow him to live, that the story of the blademaster might thrive
and grow. And so it did. The fame of Dephos Lichlord soon eclipsed that of
Orgedon Aristata by leaps and bounds.
Eventually, the two turned to rivals of a sort for the hand of the
Abbess. Their cooperation on military matters suffered, and seeing this, and
wishing the will of the Masters to be done as best as possible at all times,
the Abbess herself proposed a challenge. The two would duel to the death, and
the winner would have her hand. The knights agreed, and a date was set.
It was a stormy and chaotic night on top of the Spire of Hatred that
evening. The two stood apart from each other, neither speaking nor making eye
contact. They both had picked out their weapons, Orgedon having chosen a heavy
scimitar and a shield and Dephos wielding a single rapier, an incredibly fast
blade gifted to him by Lord Shaitan. Orgedon also wore a locket received from
Lord Apollyon, amplifying the suffering he felt when he was hurt, but allowing
him to use that as fuel for incredible strength.
The duel began, and Dephos wasted no time. He began whipping the sword back and
forth in a whirlwind pattern, too fast for Orgedon to follow. The shield blocked
a few of the hits, but many of them managed to cut or nick the troll knight. The
natural defense his skin offered aided somewhat, and with the pain surging
through his brain, he was able to slash the scimitar with alarming alacrity,
almost as fast as Dephos's rapier.
The human knight was caught quite off guard by this unexpected turn of events,
and took a few blows before he learned just how quickly Orgedon could attack.
Timing his dodging and lunging perfectly, the superior swordsman was able to
overpower his burly foe and throw him to the ground quickly. Orgedon panted for
him to finish the deed, but Dephos refused. Grunting angrily, his pride wounded,
Orgedon snatched up the scimitar that had fallen from his hand and once again
pressed the attack. After a futile attempt, he once again found himself on the
floor, Dephos's sword pointed at his throat. And yet, once again Dephos refused
to slay the defeated knight. Orgedon rose to his feet one last time, and once
again was quickly thrown down.
"Why in the name of the Lords do you not kill me?!" screamed Orgedon
Aristata as he grabbed his bleeding side in considerable pain.
"We grew together in the service of the Lords. You are like a brother to me,
Sir. I pray you, quit this duel, and stand beside me as a brother again."
Orgedon grunted in a paroxysm of rage and gathered himself up to lunge Dephos
again, but once more in vain.
"I am sorry. I will not do it. But please, Orgedon, say that you wish to be
this over and it will be over. I believe the Abbess has made her choice
already, anyway."
"I have, indeed," came a quiet voice from behind Dephos. A piercing pain shot
through his stomach, and as he glanced down in shock to find that a soulspear
had impaled him, Orgedon was all of a sudden charging him down, scimitar in
hand, and Dephos realized he was not long for this world. A pathetic cry, muted
by the copious amounts of blood the human was coughing up, was the last
utterance he would make.
And the Lords, who had been watching from a distance, smiled, for They were
well pleased.
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It was in pride, distraction, and mercy that Sir Dephos Lichlord made
his mistakes. Hopes for greater infamy and the rumours of his might
being spread prompted him to let the foes of Evil live. Yet Evil is best served
when everyone does the tasks required of him or her, and cares not who receives
the credit. Ultimately, we are all servants of the Lords. When he became
distracted by his desire to have the Abbess, Dephos was no longer focusing on
his role as a military leader in Evil. The rivalry caused the power of Mhaldor
to suffer, and thus did were the Lords offended. Finally, in hesitating to cull
physical weakness and exercise cruelty, instead choosing to allow sentimental
feelings interfere, Sir Dephos rejected the Truths themselves, for it is in
cruelty and affliction towards others that weakness is rooted out from the
lands. Oppression has no forgiveness or patience to offer the weak, only
despair and pain. On Their day, atrocity shall overtake the world.
Praise be to Evil!