Chapter 1: Casarn Curse
Grall
"I have become the God of death." Grall said, he expected Tyril to strike him down where he stood, and rightfully so. The God of death is the one who controls the veil, who determines who can cross through and who cannot. All his choices weaken the veil and rushes the world to its end.
"Hmm." Tyril said started thinking on the matter. "It's plausible," he said after a moment of silence, "from what I heard from Grodak and Adrian, you were the one to strike the final blow, and considering you weren't dead yet, the powers of the God of death would have chosen you as its new host."
Grall looked down he couldn't bear to look into Tyrils eyes. He wished more than anything that he had just dyed back there.
"But," Tyril continued, "it's not always a bad thing that you received this power."
Grall looked up at Tyril, his bandage raised a bit to show Gralls shock and dismay.
"What?" Tyril asked, he looked a little hurt at Gralls expression. "Did you think I would kill you because of that power? I'm hurt." He smiled and slapped Grall on the back with a slight chuckle. "No, I won't kill you. We need your help to stop the cycle from restarting."
"I've been meaning to ask, Tyril," Grall said as he watched Tyrils expression, "how do you know about the Rebirth Algorithm?"
Tyril laughed, his laughter lightened Gralls mood and put him at ease. "I was once friends with Eidrich, the God of Life, and he told me all kinds of secrets."
"What kind of God was he?" Grall asked, he yearned to learn more of the God's of old.
"He was a complete and utter asshole." Tyril said scowling his face at the memories that dredged up. "He refused to allow us to hunt in order to survive. Always said 'you can live off plants, yo.' what does that even mean? Then he would always have at least three women in his bed every night, regardless of their marital status. He would always ask for peace, not war. He made my life a living hell."
Tyril sighed, then sat back in his chair pondering the past. "But he did save my life countless times. Even went so far as to turn me into a wraith so that I wouldn't be as easily killed. He sacrificed his life for my wife's and always made sure to protect others. Don't get me wrong, he was an asshole through and through," Tyril sighed, "but he was the only good asshole I've ever met, no homo."
Grall opened his mouth to ask about that word, homo, it was new to him, but before he could ask Tyril was already answering. "I don't know what it means, but, Eidrich used to say it a lot."
Grall nodded his head, resolving to never use the word. It almost sounded like a bad slang to him and he didn't want to offend anyone by miss using such a word.
Grall stood up, he knew there was still a chance he would turn against his allies. "Tyril," he said, pulling the black orb out from under his armor, "take this, and if there is ever a time when I cannot be trusted, use it to strike me down."
Tyril took the black orb and peered inside it, memorized by small lights inside. "What did you do to it?" Tyril asked in disbelief, watching as the small lights inside the orb moved, as if alive. "I've seen this orb on a few occasions in the past and it was never this...." Tyril paused as he looked for the right word to use, then quietly he continued. "Breathtaking."
"I did nothing," Grall explained, "it was all the orbs doing. It chose the shadow world as my new dominion. Those lights are the elders moving about in the shadow world."
Tyril nodded his head as he pocketed the orb and looked to Grall. "I agree to your terms. If I shall ever feel that there is need to, I will do everything in my powers to slay you myself."
Grall smiled, thanked him, then walked into the shadow world, where the elders greeted him. Grall had come to accept his predicament, and now, sees everyone in the shadow world as his friends.
"What are you doing here, chieftain of none?" Wreag asked, his huge body casting a shadow in the already dark world.
"That's God-chieftain of none." Grall corrected to the orc's amusement.
"I wouldn't be waving that God title around if I were you." Wreag said, cracking his knuckles, getting ready for a fight. "Some people still don't like the God's because of the war they forced on us, some years ago."
"Will I'm not a part of that. I do not wish for anything to end, or for war to begin." Grall spoke smoothly, his voice reaching even those in the back-causing murmurings among the dead orcs.
"What makes you think you have a choice?" Wreag asked, a smile on his lips.
"We all have free will and can do as we please." Grall said stating the basics of life. "What makes you think I'm any different?"
"Simple," as Wreag spoke, darkness crypt into his voice turning his words into snakes that ensnared Grall for the remainder of his life, "there is a reason Voctue, the previous God of death, kept ending the cycles, and beginning a new one. Someone, or something, forced him to do so."
A vision passed Gralls eyes, a man, or maybe not a man, but something fierce stood above him, commanding him to do what he is told. Fear spread through Grall, he felt compelled, forced to listen to what he had to say. Then nothing. Gralls vision returned to present day. What was that? Grall wondered as he clutched his head. The past, or was it the future?
Grodak
Grodak stood outside Whitewater, carrying the body of a dead elf to a pile that was to be burned. As he laid the body gently on the pile, he turned to find Xierma standing behind him.
"I come here to good ole Whitewater in search of you and what do I find? A war, with a Casarn of all things."
Grodak smiled, he hadn't noticed the elves joining in during the battle but was grateful for their help. "Xierma," Grodak began, his voice showing his excitement, "I thought it might have been you who led the elves here, but none of your elves would tell me where you were."
"That's because," Xierma answered, poking Grodak in the chest with every word, "I told them not to." She turned from Grodak in anger, or maybe embarrassment, her ears bright red told Grodak it was the latter. "I was worried about you, you know. Suddenly running off to check on your people and not returning like you promised...."
"Xierma," Grodak spoke softly as he wrapped his arms around Xierma from behind, "I'm sorry. A lot had happened, and I couldn't return in time."
Xierma turned around and looked into Grodaks eyes, tears sparkled in hers. "If you want to make it up to me," Xierma said, "then never break another promise to me."
Grodak smiled, such a simple request when he would've given her the head of a dragon, if she so wished. "I won't break anymore promises to you."
They stood in place just staring into each other's eyes for a long moment. The clearing of a throat interrupted them. "What?" Grodak asked, never taking his eyes off Xierma.
"Will," a strange woman's voice spoke, "for starters, look at me when I speak before I take your head, orc."
Grodak turned to look at the speaker, expecting some elf to be standing there, only to find an Altean. The Alteans are a proud, fierce, and angelic race that sports the body of a human with pure white wings sprouting from their back. This race rules the sky's and, usually, never leave their castles that remained suspended in the sky.
The last time their race left their sky castles was during the second war of the races, or the war of hero's, as some called it. It was a war that had almost wiped out every race on Xeno-movia.
This Altean sported jet-black wings, showing that she was a mix blood. Grodak knew better then to insult her in anyway, for even the mixed blood Alteans were to be feared.
Grodak quickly turned to the Altean, his long hair swung wildly from the sharp movement, and bowed his head. "I apologize, great lady of the sky." Grodak spoke as if he was groveling for his life. "I meant no insult to you, or your kin."
"My kin is long dead, save for one who acts like a child." The Altean spoke as someone of her stature, someone who should be feared. "I am here to look for my brother, he is the king of this dung heap." She eyed the orcs in disgust, obviously seeing them as beneath her.
"Are you perhaps speaking of Tyril?" Grall asked, he felt small, almost non-existent, in front of this woman.
"Yes, I speak of Tyril." She spoke in an exasperated tone. "Go get him already or do I need to start taking heads before you bring him here?"
Grodaks head bent further to the ground, a cold sweat poured over him. "No, my fair sky lady, it's just..." Grodak took a sharp breath in preparation for his death before continuing. "He is no longer here."
Grodak closed his eyes tight, holding his breath, and praying to Talengar that she would make it quick and painless. No orc was foolish enough to try and fight the Alteans. One was enough to wipe out every orc in existence.
Grodak waited for a minute, then two, then three. Grodak opened his eyes to see that she had yet to kill him and peeked up at her. The Altean stood in front of him an amused expression on her face.
"I'm not going to kill you; I need you to deliver a message for me." The Altean lifted Grodaks head with the back of her sword. "I need you to give Tyril a message for me. Tell him 'Cassandra is looking for you.'"
She removed her sword away from Grodaks neck and sheathed it. "Make sure to tell him soon." Cassandra said as she spread her wings and, with a powerful kick off the ground, took to the sky's.
Grodak stood in place, his body trembled from the sheer power she easily could've exerted on him. His eyes lingered on where she stood, unable to move. Xierma laid a shaky hand on Grodaks shoulder causing the orc to tumble backwards onto the ground.
Grodak looked around the field just outside Whitewater and found that every orc and elf present were either passed out from fear or couldn't not stand. His eyes stopped on Xierma, who was the only person still standing.
"Are you okay?" He asked Xierma, his eyes searching for any visible wounds.
"I'm fine." Xierma forced herself to smile as she spoke. "Who's Tyril?"
"I am." Grodak turned to find Tyril standing behind him, his arms crossed. "Sorry you had to deal with that, would've been here sooner but I was busy."
Grodak stood up on wobbly feet, his eyes filled with hatred. "What were you so busy with that you had to subject us to that creature?"
Tyrils eyes flashed a murderous gaze at Grodak, chilling him almost as much as Cassandra's presence did. "Careful, Grodak," Tyril spoke with a threatening tone, "that 'thing' you speak of is my sister."
Grodak stumbled back as Tyril took his gaze off him, Xierma catching him. "So, it's true?" Grodak asked, his voice small. "She's your sister?"
"Half-sister, but yes." Tyrils eyes went back to Grodak, the murderous luster that had been there before, now gone. "I have a job for you."
"Go ask someone else," Grodak waved his hand towards Tyril, "I'm busy."
"If you do not help me," Tyril said with a sickening glee, "then I'll just ask Cass to come back."
Grodaks eyes widened, he never wanted to see that woman ever again. "Alright," Grodak said submissively, "what do you need me to do."
"Great," Tyril chuckled a bit, "I just need you to grab Grall from the Shadow World and meet me at the ruins of Ronstadt."
"Ruins?" Grodak asked in confusion, he had just left the kingdom of Ronstadt three days prior and it was fine.
"Milindar had attacked the kingdom the day you left. He showed no mercy and the grounds are overrun with corpse flowers."
"Corpse flowers?" Grodak asked, he had never heard of corpse flowers before.
"They are monstrous plants that can only grow in places where mercy wasn't shown, and the innocent was slain."
Grodak nodded his head and looked to the bodies that had been stacked up. "Let me take care of my men's burial and I'll grab Grall afterwards."
"Alright," Tyril said, a hint of sorrow in his voice, "sounds good." Tyril vanished as he finished his sentence, off to hold off the corpse flowers, Grodak guessed.
Grodak walked to the top of the wall and as he looked down, he noticed rather large flowers with purple hues growing through the bodies that weren't there before. So, Grodak thought, those are the corpse flowers Tyril spoke of.
Grodak took a torch from the wall, lit it, and tossed it onto the oil-soaked bodies. Grodak stared into the flames as his soldiers burned. His face soaked in sorrow and despair, he had lost to many of those he swore to protect, and he felt a great pain in his chest.
As the song of the dead slowly ebbed to life Grodak found himself unable to join in. It was his fault they died. He could've protected them better. He could've and should've done more. Grodaks fist clenched, he felt miserable.
As the fire grew larger, screams could be heard. The corpse flowers moved as if to try and escape the fire. Grodak frowned, plants aren't supposed to scream out in pain or try to run from there doom.
As the screams died down and the last of the corpse flowers fell victim to the fire, Grodak turned to Xierma. "I'm going to be leaving now to grab Grall. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"How long will you be gone?" Xierma asked, her eyes pleading for Grodak to stay.
"I do not know." Grodak said simply, his eyes drifting off to the distance.
"I will stay here and wait for you then." Xierma spoke with such pride that Grodak thought her an orc for a moment.
Grodak wrapped Xierma in his arms and pulled her close. He let his lips fall onto hers and kissed her longingly.
As they pulled apart, Grodak lifted the horn he made from Talengars orb, creating a way into the shadow world, and stepped through.
Grall
Grall laid in the front leaning position, Wreag on his back, concentrating on his newfound Godhood.
"Breath, Grall." Wreag said, forcing Grall to remember to let out the pent-up air in his lungs. "Concentrate on your connection with the Spirit World." Wreag instructed Grall. Grall had asked Wreag to help him cultivate his Godly powers, he could think of no one else he could've wanted to train him. "Draw from it, as you draw from the Shadow World. Let it flow through you and call the name of the person you wish to summon forth."
Grall called out a single name, a name that meant little to him but had great significance to his abilities. He was going to be the first he summoned and so he was important to Gralls cultivation.
"Hedious." Grall said, as he spoke the name a small figure appeared for a few moments looking confused, then quickly disappeared.
Wreag looked at Grall, impressed with his progress. It took Grall a few thousands of years to gain the strength he needed to fight Wreag, but only one to get this far in his Godhood. Normally it would take someone tens of thousands of years to ever be able to summon forth their abilities, but Grall, he was made for Godhood.
Grall fell to the ground exhausted and drained. He felt that he would never be able to use his abilities the way they were meant to be used.
"Why do you despair, Chieftain of None?" Wreag asked, his voice showing a hint of amusement.
"I feel like I just won't be able to do it." Grall said, his voice full of sorrow.
"You might not realize this, but you have no talent at Godhood." Wreag lied, he did not wish to tell Grall how impressed he was, in case he may decide to stop his training. "The only solution is for you to continue to practice. If you decide to slack off for even a moment, I'll beat you to a pulp."
Grall grunted but dared not to argue for fear that he may act upon his threat. Before Grall could go back to his training, he felt an odd sensation run through his body. It felt like someone had entered the Shadow World without his permission.
"Grall." Grodak said as he stepped into the Shadow World. Grall turned to Grodak, his demeanor calm and cool, but on the inside, he burned with rage towards his brother.
"What is it you wish of me, Grodak?" Grall asked as he stood and wiped the sweat from his body. Grodak was taken aback at Gralls changes, his body became sturdy, his thin arms were now thick, almost as thick as Grodaks. As the dim light if the Shadow World glistened off Gralls abs, showing the work of someone who spent years building up their physic.
Grall tossed the clothe he used to wipe away the sweat, into a bag he had. Turning to face Grodak once more, Grall straightened up and plastered a fake smile on his face.
"What is it you want, dear king of Whitewater?"
Hearing Grall call him anything but his name and brother hurt Grodak, but was it just the pain of Grall driving home the fact that he doesn't consider Grodak and him brothers anymore? His chest burned as if it was on fire, his head ached, his arm was numb. What was this pain Grodak felt?
"Tyril needs us to go to Ronstadt as soon as possible. I have horses ready for us back in Whitewater." Grodak showed signs of difficulty as he spoke.
Grall watched him carefully, and knew he was in pain. The elders had told him of the battle and how Grodak will begin to change, if he wanted to or not, he was about to start fighting for his life.
With a sigh, Grall let out his pent-up anger, he couldn't hold it in when he knew Grodak may be on his final leg. "Alright, brother," Grall said patting Grodaks shoulder, "let's go, but not to Whitewater. We are going straight to Ronstadt."
Grodak smiled an ever so small smile, he was surprised Grall would accept him back into his life after what all he did to him. "And how do you plan on doing that?" Grodak asked, he was amused by the idea, it was almost as if Grall believed himself to be Imp.
Grall held out his hand and a portal opened, revealing the ruins of Ronstadt. Grodak stared in disbelief, the last time he saw his brother he couldn't do such things.
"The elders have me permission to come and go." Grall explained, he watched Grodaks reaction with dull amusement. "With a little experiment I found I could use the Shadow World to traverse to almost any part of the world."
"When and how?" Grodak asked dumbfounded that the elders gave Grall, the only orc in history, since the second, that had been abandoned by the elders.
"I gave him a test." Wreag spoke up, he had a grin upon his lips as to tell Grodak to go ahead and try to challenge his word. "The test was to see if he was worthy enough to have the right to continue using the Shadow World."
Grodak shook his head in disbelief, of all the orcs here, Wreag was the last one he expected to speak up for Grall.
"Let's go, brother." Grall spoke with haste, his body motions told Grodak that he was concentrating on what was happening in the portal. "Tyril might not last to much longer if we just simply stand here and talk."
Outside of the portal, Tyril was fighting several plant-like monsters. These plants weren't normal, they could move their bodies wherever they wished as if they had the legs of humans.
Without another word, Grall walked through the portal while pulling his armor on. Grodak hesitated for a mere second before following, unsheathing his sword as he did so.
Grall charged forward, drawing oathkeeper from its sheath and attacked a corpse flowers that was sneaking up behind Tyril. Tyril turned to find Grall standing over the corpse flowers body and nodded his appreciation.
"You took your sweet time to get here." Tyril said as he fended off another attacking corpse flower.
"My apologies," Grall said as he cut down another one, "Grodak wanted to chat me up before we arrived."
Tyril chuckled as he cut down two corpse flowers. "Have you two made up yet?"
"Considering how we ended off," Grall said as he punched a would-be attacking corpse flower, "I'd say no."
As Grall and Tyril fought off the corpse flowers Grodak stumbled over. He was wobbling on his feet, almost as if he was drunk. Every swing he made missed its target and Grall had to save Grodak several times. As they killed the last corpse flower, Grodak fell to the ground panting and covered in sweat.
A small muffled scream echoed in Gralls ear as he reached for his brother. He turned to find a rather small girl with brown hair and what looked to be a breathing apparatus over her mouth. A scarf wrapped around her neck and a light pink dress covering her body.
The young girl hurried over to Grodak and motioned for Grall to roll him over. Confused, and not knowing what else to do, Grall followed her instructions. She went to place her hand on Grodaks chest but Grall stopped her.
"Who are you and what are you trying to do to my brother?" Grall asked, his voice coming off with more venom then he meant.
The girl, scared, quickly produced a board and chalk from her bag and began to scribble on it. She turned it to face Grall. "I am a doctor. My name is Sakurako." It read, she hurriedly erased the board with her sleeve and started to write something else. "I can't talk because of this device on my face and taking it off for long periods of time would kill me."
"Why would it kill you?" Grall asked, he was suspicious of this girl that appeared out of nowhere and insisting to help a stranger.
"Grall," Tyril said, as the girl looked down doubtful if she would be believed, "she is of a special race that lives in the waters. They value life more than anything. They are also the creation of that jackass, the God of light."
"No orgies." Grall said to Sakurakos disgust. "If you can ease my brother's pain, that would be enough. He cannot be healed, not with Casarn sickness."
Tyril gasped, his eyes locking onto Grodak in worry. "He has Casarn sickness?"
"Yes." Grall spoke low, hiding his own worry.
Tyril stepped forward and stopped Sakurako from numbing the pain. "If the pain is numb so is the mind." Tyril spoke quickly. "He has to be able to fight the illness of body and mind to overcome this. To numb his pain is to kill him."
Grall stood up, Grodak in his arms, and turned to Tyril. "If that is the case then send us back to Whitewater so that he can at least die near the people he love."
Tyril nodded and held out his hand to Sakurako. "Would you like to tag along, little one?"
Sakurako slowly reached out and took Tyrils hand. Tyril then placed his other hand on Gralls shoulder and transported them back to Whitewater.