Dark Sun: Shards of a Broken Crown
Abel Ausama "The EverAfter Knight"
Dead man walking.
Generally does not look any different from a normal human being, aside from a few distinctions. He is unnaturally pale and his blood is darker black. This makes his veins look unnatural and sickly looking. Like most Revenants, the color of his eyes has become red. His heart beats at a very slow rate, and his body is naturally cold to the touch. Although, this might not be the case considering the climate. He is Living Undead, which means he does not receive all the benefit of being undead. Particularly, he still has to eat, drink water, breath, and sleep. As a plus, he is still considered a living creature. So he is much like a vampire in that regard. Please do not think of him as a rotting corpse, just because he was once one for some time. He’s been restored through necrotic magic, and so he is no more a rotting corpse than Dracula would be. As a note, there is a feat for Revenants were they don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep, but if you take it you are no longer considered alive.
Once upon a time,
There was a young boy who was raised on stories of noble knights rescuing beautiful princesses and slaying evil dragons. These fairy tales filled the boy with noble ideals and dreams of grandeur. People like that don’t live very long.
The reality the boy lived in was much too harsh and cruel for dreams like that to come to fruition. His parents were slaves, and from the moment he was conceived he was already the property of another man. As soon as he was old enough, he was put to work as a servant boy in his master’s kitchen. He stayed a gopher until he was old enough to carry heavier things, and was then put to work as a ‘stuff mover’ in the warehouse of one of his master’s business ventures. His life was hard, and he often went with out, despite his constant laboring. Worst of all, it was mundane and boring. No matter how hard he worked, his situation would not improve. So there was no real motivation to try hard. He just coasted through life, doing the bare minimum to avoid being beaten. He squandered the majority of his life in obscurity, working hard labor.
Then one day, he suddenly was free. Tyr became a city of freed slaves, and the young boy felt a new hope build up inside him. He could not possibly understand why his parents had decided to stay with their fleeing master. They pleaded with him to join them. They said that the master had always been good to them, and that he could still provide a steady supply of shelter and food, like they had enjoyed all their lives as slaves for him.
However, the boy refused. He was a free man now, and he would earn his own keep. More than, he would become a great hero. He said goodbye to his parents, who had decided to stay as slaves in another city-state, and to his former master as well.
Then the boy died.
He could not find work, not enough to properly sustain himself. His skills were sub par at best. He couldn’t afford the tools for the trades he did know. There were many others like him, newly freed slaves, and they all competed for what little positions available.
The young boy died as he lived, in obscurity. He was unable to support himself, and there was no way he would allow himself to become a slave again. His noble ideals would never allow him to stoop to petty theft, even to survive. He would much rather die than compromise, and so he did.
However, that is not the end of this tale. His strong feeling of regret and unfulfilled dreams lingered within his corpse. That body was piled together with many others like him, who could not cope with their new found freedom or otherwise succumbed to the many treacheries of these sun scorched lands in a mass grave. A defiler from Bodach, the city of the undead, often frequented the mass grave to practice his forbidden arts. She was an aspiring necromancer, who hoped to reanimate corpses for her own dark designs. The boy’s body was among the handful of corpses she used to create an entourage of undead minions. The shattered remains of his psyche that lingered in the boys corpse were slowly pulled together by the necrotic energies. By the time he came to, he found that he was armed with a blade and shield and that he wore hide armor. The necromancer was using him to attack and steal from unsuspecting merchants weary from their travels through the desert.
This conflicted with his noble ideals, but not as much as the fact that once again he had become a slave to a new master. With each atrocity she had him commit, he felt his will find new resolve. Until finally he was able to break free from her will.
“There’s another caravan. Kill them. All of them. …and bring me the spoils of your victory!” the hooded necromancer commanded her undead hoard. As they charged off towards the elven merchants, one lingered behind.
“…” The single remaining corpse did not comply with her order as it had so many times before.
“What’s the matter? Have your legs rotten?” She huffed in an annoyed tone.
“…no,” A dry, haunting voice answered.
“What? …You can speak?” She remarked with a hint of surprise in her voice.
“…” The corpse did not respond.
“Listen… I am you’re master. Do as I say, and destroy my enemies!” She demanded, her curiosity wearing off. She felt she needed to establish dominance over her minion.
“…No…” He repeated the word again.
“Do as I say! I command it as so!” She demanded again.
“No!” The undead corpse replied, turning to her and drawing the blade she had armed it with.
“What?! But how? Why?!” She fell back in fear.
“…because… I am a hero of justice!”
The boy’s will had finally resurfaced, within his new body. He broke free from his new master. She retaliated by sending her undead minions after him, but he fought them off long enough to fall back close to Tyr. Fearing the various factions of guards, she did not dare pursue him. Among magic, necromancy had once been considered the most taboo. In this world, were any kind of magic could scar the land barren, her dark arts were considered the worst kind atrocity.
And so, with a second chance at life as a living undead Revenant, the young boy decided he would never again live in obscurity. He would live as a hero of justice.
However, despite going through the trials of dying once. He didn’t find that life had changed much. It was still difficult to find work. However, he finally had tools for a trade that he had some experience in. He would never allow himself to resort to becoming a bandit, but he found that by wandering the desert around Tyr he could often find people in need of protection. Alone, he was a ripe target, but he also found it easy to move on his own. He avoided conflict, or managed to escape from those who would want to feed on him.
If he saw a group of merchants in being assaulted by creatures of the dessert, or bandits, he would charge in to help them. Fighting alongside the protection the merchant caravans had with them made the fight less one sided. He’d rarely be be offered a reward, but helped himself to supplies that he could scavenged off the raiders, and often ate the creatures he killed.
Living like this, he always knew that he might one day meet up with the necromancer who created him, but he didn’t know if he should take his revenge on her, or if he should thank her for saving him from that mass grave. At any rate, he figured he’d cross that bridge when and if it ever appeared before him.
In his travels he met, Rawr. A simple, yet noble beast man with impressive strength. He did not share much about himself, but the young hero of justice found him to be a strong ally. They came to an agreement that it would be safer to work together to fight off the various dangers of the desert.
Eventually, the duo noticed odd movements in the air. The tribe of so and so… whatever their names were and the appropriate spelling for that tribe’s name… were doing some crazy stuff…. And that’s pretty crazy. So cra cra, that they just had to check that shit out.