The Cataclysms: Koor

 

Koor n'Rotri stared straight ahead at his commander. The two massive maces felt good in his hands, the words of the commander flying over his massive head. Not many things could survive his crush grip; his weapons made of the toughest steel from Rockholm's mines. Massive plate armour gave him a hulking look, body disjointed at several points. He scowled darkly, and then remembered where he was.

 

The ur'Guard watched with apprehension at the approach of his Commander. The dwarf barely reached his stomach, and yet Koor felt fear whenever they locked eyes. Once, he'd let himself go crazy and attack Biltan; a month in recovery. He was just merciless, utterly ruthless and manipulative. Soldiers fell before him en-masse, and he was someone the two of them could respect.

 

He was known as a Cataclysm of the ur'Guard, because he and his brother, wherever they went, caused untold devastation. The mention of their names caused villagers to scatter, and only the foolish or combative dared challenge them to a fight. Nothing was left when the battle was over, win or lose.

 

Koor was a Death Marshal. Although thought to be stupid, a brute who could do nothing but fight, he had proven himself time and again in his deeds. He was merely stubborn, and followed Lord Baalphegar of the Demon Lords, learning from him subtlety and the art of secrets. Rising quickly through the ranks on a tide of brute strength, admiration and invincibility, only one thing prevented Commander Biltan from promoting him higher; that lack of subtlety. He attacked, and killed, and slaughtered, without a plan, but the ur'Guard needed more than just fighting ability. They had to be worthy of Urlach, as clever and intelligent as he was strong. He remembered the lessons well.

 

--

 

A book in one hand, his symbol in another, High Priest Sulken, Prophet of Baalphegar, appeared unthreatening. Long robes hid any extenuating features, hood casting a shadow across eyes that held a calculating menace. Sulken could pass for any race dressed like this, although Koor knew his race was Viscanti. A barbed tail currently extended from the priest's back, swaying back and forth gently over Sulken's head.

 

Koor sat on the floor calmly, huge bulk still as a rock. Both maces lay unused beside him, fists clenching and unclenching reflexively; he wanted to wield them. He only felt right with a weapon in his hands.

 

"Subtlety. Manipulation. Secrecy. These are but some tenets of Lord Baalphegar" intoned Sulken, the book placed before him. Instead of normal pages as you would find in any book, a keen knife had scraped and cut the inside of the book to provide a pocket in precisely the shape of a dagger. Sulken removed the jagged blade, showing Koor the poisoned tip.

 

"Crotamine, ten-second death. You'd suffer terribly, and not even see it coming while my tail strikes you. Do you understand?"

 

Koor slowly shook his head, frowning in concentration and feeling a headache coming on.

 

"What is this?" showed Sulken, closing the book and holding it up.

 

"A book."

 

"And what is this?"

 

He opened it to reveal the dagger once more.

 

"A book with weapon in it."

 

"Would you know it had a weapon if I did not show you?"

 

"Eer… no? It look like book until you open it."

 

"Right. It is a secret, a deceptive facade. What you think it is at first, is not what it actually is" explained Sulken. He put the book down and looked Koor over. "You are fast I take it? I hear krokani are quite dextrous despite their size."

 

"I fast, High Priest. I outrun… er, I outrun.. .bird thing on legs. Er… in desert."

 

"Wakabi?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Good. Your opponents know this? They have seen you run fast?"

 

"Er…, erm, some? I just crush all, only few run faster. Then I throw hammer, they not run any more." Koor gave a deep booming laugh while Sulken smirked.

 

"Those people who run fast, there is a way you can get them before they run, ensnare them."

 

"En-snare?"

 

"If you pretend to be slow, what will they think?"

 

"I slow."

 

"Are you slow?"

 

"No."

 

"But they think you are. So they stop, they are slow, arrogant, then…?"

 

Koor's thuggish mind locked onto the answer and he nodded vigorously. "Yes, hah! I become fast, not slow! They wrong."

 

"Exactly. Now, onto secrets."

 

--

 

Dust stormed the air, a cloud of sand blinding everyone. Koor's improved sight saw through the exits, with Biltan next to him. Their armour had felt the dent of magic and combat together, and now they stood before the Pit of Lord Gorgulu, the Devourer. "I have no demesne there, sir" explained the Earthen Ire, manipulating the earth and keeping the rest of Nil secure.

 

"Trooper Koor, you want to be a Death Marshal?"

 

"Yes sir!"

 

"Then this is the first Ordeal you must pass. Eight attackers, take them all out yourself. Your first ordeal will be over. Show me what you have learnt of subtlety, show me you are worthy to be a ur'Guard" ordered the Commander, pointing to the hole. Koor roared and gripped his maces tighter. Bellowing, the Krokani threw himself into the pit, entering into a confusing fall and blackness, followed by a putrid rotten smell. Ignoring the stink on his body, the Krokani stomped through to the top of a staircase.

 

The Ordeals of the ur'Guard. Any Trooper could ascend up the ranks, but to be recognised as anything other than a soldier, mere piece of fodder, two things had to happen. Either they would win an election to become one of the Trinity, or do the Ordeals and become Death Marshals, the elite of the ur'Guard. Many leaders did not take the chance to prove themselves, and Death Marshals held almost as equal say in matters of guild politics, business and doings. Each leader gave the candidate three tasks to complete, pushing the soldier past the limits of their training and making them taste fear.

 

Koor was eager to prove himself, bristling with something close to pride and thirst.

 

"Keep feeding him corpses, it will bloat him up" ordered a voice from below. Koor was about to charge in, then remembered what Biltan had said. Eight attackers, he didn't know what they were, or what they were doing. Thinking up a plan, the Krokani let out a cry to attract the enemy's attention, then threw himself down the stairs recklessly. Pretending to be hurt, blood pooled from the back of his head, the krokani actually injuring his head but healing already thanks to his necromancy. He lay still at the bottom of the staircase, water high enough to reach his knee. Rain battered the inside of Gorgulu's cavern while jellyfish flocked around Koor to sting him over and over.

 

After a moment's pause, the Celestians laughed and turned back to their deed. Koor opened an eye, spitting out water and dragging himself slowly across the room. "Stop! You no hurt Gorgulu. He Demon Lord, big person" yelled the ur'Guard, the stink and greasy dirt on his body adding to the image of a dunce, although the rain washed it away soon.

 

"Shut up, tainted scum. Rurk, watch him, kill him if you must. We're nearly done.

 

Through the deep water and cold air, an Orclach paladin ignored the weather around his body, sneering at the krokani. His single sword spun in his hands and he lifted them up."You no kill me, I strooong. Smaaash!" Koor jumped up and swung, intentionally missing and performing a pirouette. Rurk laughed, lowering the sword and aiming for a different tactic.

 

"Staaaab" mocked Rurk, something fast hitting his jaw, body crumpling minutes later. The lower part of his mouth splattered blood on Koor and the water, creating a crimson tide. Koor punched a hand through the orclach's chest, his comrades not noticing due to the inside storm. "Smaash" spoke Koor mockingly swinging his mace up and sending the Paladin's brains into the water, blood and detritus turning stinging jellyfish red. No panic? Perhaps the demesne hid him from them as well. Getting down on his knees, Koor took up the sopping wet dropped sword, taking it to the Orclach's face.

 

Hidden in the water, Koor stood behind the obvious mage, blue robes covering the merian's body. "So, you killed the krokani?"

 

"Krokani kill you" announced Koor. She gasped and turned, and his foot demolished her insides. A hand covered the small mouth, her screams dying against is palm. When she sagged, he dropped her and saw the demesne drop. Eelement of surprise gone, he thought, and picked up the two bodies. All attenion was on Koor now so the krokani  threw the body into the crowd of Celestians. The one who had told Rurk to kill Koor was hit by the aquamancer's corpse, the force behind the throw injuring his neck. He fell into Gorgulu's body, touching it with a hand instinctively. Abruptly, a tentacle snaked out, grabbed her neck and shoved the mage into his mouth. Fresh blood made the Demon Lord tremble and hundreds of mouths grew in minutes, disembodied mouths snapping at the air and flying towards them all.

 

Horrified, the six remaining watched their comrade get devoured. A towering merian in robes had two angels flanking him. He opened his mouth and Rurk's thrown blade cleaved his scaled head in two. Five down, acknowledged Koor. Enraged, they all attacked the krokani as one, a grin coming across Koor's brutish face.

 

Light and water surged together and slammed Koor into the wall, the krokani grunting. Looking at the advancing party, Koor decided it was time to do something crazy. The Handmaiden of Shakiniel lunged, the sword was yanked from her grasp and shoved through her neck. Before her body hit the ground he grabbed her around the waist and fed her to the Devourer. Passing through the archangel's neck, the weapon continued through the air to hit Gorgulu.

 

Cutting through the air, it hit Gorgulu's bulk. No damage was done, but the smidgeon of pain was enough. Once more, tentacles flew out, but this time abominations flailed in rage alongside them, a thousand mouths roaring and hungrily sucking at the air, tentacles whipping through the room. What remained of the attack force tried to leave  and Koor smashed the man's skull in two. vitae took over but Koor punched him into the Demon Lord.  Seeing the bodies of their slain comrades around the krokani, the remaining three tried to retreat and run.

 

Koor just bulrushed them all into Gorgulu's mouth, their cries echoing across Nil long after their bodies had vanished. The krokani dusted his hands, wiped his maces on a dead merian's shirt, and walked back.

 

--

Wearing formal armour of black that gleamed with cleanliness, the huge figure stood amongst the other wedding guests. Many words were whispered, everyone wondering who this person was. As people began to sit down, the best man walked over briefly and clasped the huge being's hands in his hands. A humoungus head nodded and patted the dwarf on the back.

 

Soon everyone had sat, and the priest said some words.  Before, koor had always hated hearing the prayers of Celest  but now he found them not unbearable. It was necessary after all; he wouldn't let down his Guild's Commandant. Long and boring, the speech was thankfully interrupted by the two doors behind the crowd bursting open. Instantly Koor jumped up, arm straightened out.

 

A kephera monk had lunged from the doorway with shofa cutting and whirling in the air. His face crushed itself against the hammer head, taking him down. His comrade went down after him, the female kephera stumbling in the act and easy prey for Koor to smash neck, finishing off by stamping a foot down on her chitinous body. The exoskeleton broke, his foot continuing past to pulversize the organs. People screamed out and then were confused. Koor spun, two sharp blades digging into his shoulders. Hooked into the krokani's back, another monk leapt away, over the congregation, to land before the couple. His own shofa dug into the left arm, thrown by Koor, and he caught the next, turning to the krokani.

 

Like a taurian the ur'guard barrelled down the aisle, single eye glaring red. The kephera closed his eyes, body becoming even harder, and tensed to receive the impact. Koor swung his arm in a circle to build momentum and brought the weapon down. He felt even more resistance from the kephera's body, perhaps some defence from his psychometabolism but the floor itself had no such reinforcement. Both fell into the catacombs of the Silent cathedral, dusty rubble joining their collapse on the floor. 

 

The monk jumped up, feet battering the gigantic body before him. Koor shook the rubble off his body like water, grabbing the foot and crushing. Screaming in pain, the kephera used Koor's grip as leverage to bring his other foot around. The krokani let go, swatted the limb away and swung his head forwards. A dull thunk and the monk fell in a daze. Scrambling away from the killing blow, floor cracked from the mace's impact, he began moving impossibly fast. Darting around the room, bouncing off the walls, he was a blur, attacking every now and then while his body super-accelatd to such a speed nothing could hit him.

 

Koor spun around, disoriented, then remembered what was riding on this battle. For the moment, the attacks weren't doing much, his guard focused on keeping his head protected. Koor's brother Jachen had told him often about the special properties of a krokani's eye, inherited from their progenitor Divine experimented on by the Twelve. Seeing past illusions was only part of it; krokani saw the world in a different light, their perception altered extensively when compared to other races.

 

Breathing in slowly, Koor's single eye blinked twice, focused and grabbed the kephera's foot. A scream told him it was the broken one, but this time when the other limb swung in, the ur'Guard grabbed that as well. Once, twice, into the floor, and then Koor changed to the monk's arms. Bellowing, he tore the wounded kephera in half, revelling in the blood that splattered up his face. Dropping the quivering pieces of flesh, he staggered back, looking around for a way back up to the upper floor.

 

Walking through the double doors, he saw everyone both amazed and horrified. He went up to the couple getting married, the illithoid and the lucidian. He bowed to them, and they returned in kind, grateful for his defence. Lifting up a gigantic limb tenderly, he grabbed the illithoid's face and smashed it into the Lucidian's. Her body shattered, and he took up a shard from the crystal corpse to slice open the illithoid's neck. Everyone cried in fear now, scrambling for the exits. ur'Guard troopers stormed in, cutting down everyone in the room.

 

Koor flung the two corpses down into the hole, the priest sneering in triumph. He raised the hood, clapping Koor on the back. "Well done, my student. Today you've helped kill two traitors and three insects."

 

"Father Sulken, I not understand still. Why not let monks kill illithoid and lucidian? Why kill them each separately?" asked Koor confused, relaxing amidst the screams of the butchered wedding guests.

 

"To send a message. I knew the Brotherhood of Hyfae would want to kill them, since they helped in eradicating the colony of mushrooms, and decide to kill several birds with one krokani. You showed what happens to those who would dare insult us, and then mercilessly destroyed those who would betray us. In short, a successful day."

 

Koor looked at the shattered remains of the Lucidian. "She Commandant's daughter, but he not care?"

 

"Why should he? Family love? How disgusting. Family helps each other survive, props them up, but when one member becomes weak or diseased, the branch must be cut off. His family tree will remain pure."

 

"I see, Father Sulken. I am glad to do good, for the Engine, and Demon Lords."

 

He saluted, and Sulken inclined his head, still smiling. The Krokani walked away, only a few guests remaining. They were not complicit, but the lesson had been shown either way. For days, even years, they would talk about what happened, and the merciless actions of Magnagora on disloyal dogs.

 

--

 

"So, you are known as one of the Cataclyms, little krokani?" smirked the imposing masked figure of Fain. Known as The Red Masque, he had led the Council of Twelve in their profane and blasphemous attempts to to fight the Soulless. Betrayed by the one he loved, exiled alongside all his comrades, he was cruel ruthless and calculating. "I have heard much from my Scythe; Thoron speaks highly of your deeds. So, what is it you want?"

 

"By the order of my Commander, I am to earn the right of entering your Order, Lord Masque" explained Koor in flawless Krokani. "I want to learn of your ways. As you fought with my creator, Krokano, I will fight for you. I am strong, stronger than any of your followers, this I promise, but not very clever. Still, The Angkrag Massacre, the Slaughter of Tolborolla, you know what I can do.  Any challenge, I shall face. Put me through Nil, and test me as only a Divine can test a mortal."

 

Lord Fain stared through the krokani, Koor standing tall in the face of this momentous God. "I should kill you for your arrogance, but you are not worth it. Instead, I shall make you an enemy of my order. They will hunt you down, they will take your head. For a year, they will hunt you, and at the end of that year, make it to my Fulcrux. Survive my chosen, the incarnations of my rage, and I will welcome you as my new champion.

 

"But be warned" threatened Fain. "My scythe never rests. All may challenge those with the title.A lifetime of conflict, of jealousy, of battle and betrayal, that awaits you if you succeed, so think carefully, little shard."

 

"The blood of your chosen shall mark my worth, Lord Masque. I swear this."

 

Although the mask hid his face, Koor felt like the God was sneering at him a moment before he disappeared in a flash of crimson smoke. A mask appeared within the krokani's hands, a mark of the Fainites but with its colours inverted. He put it on, and felt the full rage, the full wrath that Fain felt for his old comrades, those which had abandoned him. Roaring to the sky, he gripped the sword that came at him and slaughtered its wielder. The Queen's Own Torturer, Barana, fell to her knees, entrails spilling out and expression looking at him in hatred. A dagger struck his leg, poison rushing through the ur'Guard's body.

 

Swinging about in a delirium, he saw more figures approach, people he had called comrades and fought beside. Each wore crimson, those without masks looking at him with intense hatred. "For the Masque!" yelled a voice, and they came at him, Barana becoming an undead lich and slicing at his neck. He shifted heavy armour, stopping the blade, and head butted the taurian back.

 

An intense hunger suddenly gripped his body, a wave of tiredness dulling brutish senses. He felt the grasp of the Masque, weakening his body, but still he crushed a skull here, kicked a creature away, and split open the head of an archdemon. Too many of them, too much fighting. He flung himself away from the temple, heading to the chasm. Swaying before the darkness, he looked deep into the pit below the bridge, nothing to be seen around him except darkness.

 

"Chosen of the Masque, I shall show you how insignificant you are!" he yelled, and leapt into the abyss. Without hesitation, Fain's order followed, diving down to kill this creature for their Lord's honour. He had challenged them, insulted them, and now he would pay the price. Screeching, yelling, the darkness enveloped them all.

 

Confused, disoriented, tired, hungry, Koor felt his mind warp by the eldritch sensations around him. Black fire scorched skin, tiny daggers getting under his armour to open tiny wounds. Swivelling in mid-air to throw them off, a strong hand punched his chest, broken by his motions an instant after he noticed, a confusing mess of bodies all around him.

 

Falling for longer than normal, the power of a God warping the world around them, the fighters freefalled down a black abyss. Who knew when they would stop, who knew when they would have respite, and what would the outcome be?

 

<><><>

 

Koor knelt before the Fulcrux of Fain in supplication. Arranged around him were the injured and dying, but they all looked on impassively. Koor's eye was bloodied, the mask was torn to pieces and bits of armour fell off. A bloodied mess remained of the krokani's face, and a bloodied leg lay somewhere he didn't know. Supported awkward by one knee and two arms, he had managed to kneel, finally, at the fulcrux of his Lord. Around him, the chosen of Fain stood demurely, ashamed of their failure to stop this ur'Guard brute from reaching the sanctum of their Lord.

 

Harsh whispers filled the air, and the sky turned crimson, manifesting the Red Masque in their presence. United, all assembled bowed down, touching their head to the floor and grovelling in the Masque's presence. He ignored them, focusing only on the krokani that knelt half dead. "Thoron, come forth." The Scythe of the Masque stood on his feet and walked to stand beside Koor, basking in the majesty of his Lord. "You have failed. Look at him. He still breathes, he still lives, challenging me. Kneel before him!" boomed Fain angrily.

 

Thoron trembled, a bandage over one eye, his entire left arm mangled. He followed his Lord's order. "Koor, stand."

 

The krokani weakly pushed himself up, spitting blood at Fain's feet. "Kill him, and take your place as my champion.."

 

Koor felt a sword in his hands, falling back down on his knees, the two wounded warriors facing one another. He raised it up, Thoron's mask cracked and shaking. To his credit, thought Koor, he did not plead for mercy… but what should be done? What would impress the Masque enough? Subtlety. Sadism. Destruction. No, something complex, something manipulative, damaging…

 

He looked at the viscanti swordsman, and grabbed the cracked mask. He pulled it off, massive chunks of skin tearing Thoron's face who cried out in pain. Koor crushed it, and chose his words carefully.

 

"I beat you. I beat all you. Your life is in my hands. But death would be a blessing. Live. Live with the shame, live with disgrace, live with the defeat you felt at my hands. I am Koor, soldier of the ur'Guard. You will remember my name, my face, my actions." He threw the sword down, and breathed in suddenly. Divine energy filled his body with a warming heat, leg regrowing, wounds healing. The mask shimmered, becoming like the others, and he stood up, energised. "I have executed you in mind and soul, but your body, you will carry the weight always."

 

Thoron collapsed, and those around bowed to Koor. "You are no mere scythe of mine. You are truly a Cataclysm, a bastion of Magnagora. Welcome Koor, to my chosen, as my new scythe."

 

Koor nodded kneeling low and grovelling like a maggot, demonstrating to his Lord that even with his power, his achievement, he was still a worm. As Koor lay prostrate, the Masque turned to his followers. "My chosen, you have failed. I watched as you followed Koor into the deepest pits of Nil, into the abyss, across the Planes. You were ferocious, violent, and unrelenting. But although you failed, your devotion to me is known, and proven. Not one of you showed fear, not one of you showed regret, or hesitated in this task."

 

"I am pleased."

 

With that, he disappeared, their masks losing the latent power they gained from His presence alone.

 

So it was that Koor passed the last ordeal, handed to him by his Commander, and became a Death Marshall, along with his brother Jachen.

 

His story comes next. For now, fear the name of Koor, the Cataclysm.