Legends of Belariath

ShaKaSelu

Quasi-Dark Elf Chronicles - #3

Of Demons and Souls

I, Sha-Ka, apologize to you, dear journal, for neglecting you for so long since my last entry. When I last left you, I had begun the process of establishing myself and my presence in the inn. Well, since then, I have overcome my kleptomaniac tendencies, died twice by the hand of that arrogant simpleton Elthorion Kinslayer, of that brainless brawn-clad House Kinslayer, and most recently, embraced the teachings and wisdom of my goddess, my savior, Death herself. You see, being a dark elf upon the surface is hard, even harder when one has few allies and many enemies…foolishly, I attempted to garner many friends through denying my heritage, refusing to embrace my true nature. When I finally learned of my house, my true name, and my potential…I decided it was time to shed all my former weaknesses. It had cost me many friends and allowed me new ones, most of them dark elves themselves. My former slaves Melange, Kitrian, and Aphris feared my change at first…but they soon learned that it was through darkness and cold brutal reality, that I was able to protect them better, despite the events involving that barbarian bitch, K2 and her disdain for me. The first few days I came to my epiphany of ‘evil’ as some have a tendency to call it, I was walking through the forests outside of Unigo, the magic tower, when I heard the screams of a high elven maiden…warrior maiden rather, in trouble.

Rather than the atypical ogre or troll destroying her poor sex, it was of all things, a human. In that moment of seeing the human, I thought back to all the years of oppression I suffered at the hands of humans, and then I thought back to the years of slavery I was put through by high elves…and something within me shifted, as if a veil was lifted from over my eyes…and it felt wonderful, it felt liberating, and it made me feel like making a change, a long needed change. I sprung into action, removing my no-dachi sword, I advanced upon them both. The high elf saw me coming and screamed, thinking I had come to partake in her ravaging, of her violation. She was wrong, dead wrong. I raised my sword, the panting human, the filthy RIVVIN, did not know that the instrument of his destruction was right behind him, so engrossed in his ill-gotten decadence was he. The screaming stopped. When I brought my sword down, something within me, deep within me, told me that this is my purpose, this is the reason I came to this land, and this will always be my destiny…and it felt exquisite. The blood splattered upon my chest, turning part of my leather armor into a canvas of evil, my victims’ blood as its paint. In one fell stroke, two really, but the elven wench refused to accept her death with dignity, my soul and my heart had hardened, my eyes had become a darker red from then on, and the search for my identity had ended. I was Sha-Ka Estarkin Emboitant of House Emboitant, and I joyfully let the hate inside of me take limited control. I say limited, because I knew that I could not allow it to take complete control lest it destroy me. I also knew the joys and pleasures that love and being loved could bring, and I chose to hang onto those capabilities, maintaining a delicate balance. However, as many have told me, and still tell me to this day, I was ‘evil’ and ‘twisted’ through and through. Hah…the fools, they fear what they cannot understand, they brand what they fear with mundane labels, hoping against hope that it will somehow change the nature of what they brand. I hate them….I hate their ignorance, I hate the way they nurture their ignorance with the same inane and asinine tasks every day, from dawn till dusk, dawn till dusk, by the gods, it makes me sick to my stomach just talking to them, yet I know it is a necessary evil, pun intended.

There are a few redeeming creatures out there, and surprisingly I met most of them within the months of my change. One of note was Ehlanna, the sylvan elf who loves patrolling her woods, debauching poor slave girls with her sexual innuendos and actions, and being my devoted partner in the clothing shop business. Yes, I failed to mention our then recent partnering of abilities. My skill at bookkeeping and designing new types of clothing for the disgusting masses to gawk at and perhaps purchase, attracted Ehlanna to my offer of opening a clothing shop. She had her reservations about working with me, namely because her lover was murdered by one of my kind many many years ago, unfortunately that is also her only serious failing, the fact that she, like many other surface elves, have the habit of judging the forest by the one tree…a foolish action to say the least. Nevertheless, she was not a buxom wench, quite flatchested to be exact, but I was never one to judge women on their bosom, twas the fire in their eyes that I judged, and this one had quite a fire when riled, nowhere near my then hidden love now current devoted and willing slave and pet Aphris’ fire, but enough to fry a goblin’s testicles upon a sheet of iron.

We were a success with the Naked Bird, the name of our shop, named as such due to our first sale which was a barter involving a crow with rubies for eyes, consumers were coming in and out of the shop by the handful, paying our extremely high prices for extremely well made clothing. Twas a good life for a while, but it was unfulfilling to say the least. I felt that I was wasting these new feelings on simple sewing and knitting, and that I needed to go and seek new avenues of expressing these feelings.

Enter the high elves, apparently word of my recent changes and actions in the areas around the Lonely Inn and the town of Nanthalion have reached the high elven nobility in the area, and they were not pleased. However, I am not without my own eyes and ears in the world of high elves, and I was not then either, namely that fool Elthorion’s slave Kyrspeth Anwar, her devotion to the dark elves is admirable at least, blind at best. Anyways, I was tipped off to the high elves hiring several sylvan tracker mercenaries to hunt me down and put a few arrows in my vital organs. Needless to say, I could not have this, and I set off to ‘get them’ before they could ‘get me’.

I said my goodbyes to my then lover and now deceased lover Nidawi, climbed upon my horse Darkness, and set off to the west, looking for the high elven nobles who sent their ‘dogs’ after me. It took me a few days travel, quite uneventful to say the least, but I reached the main city…utilizing the guise of a Change Self spell, a hooded cloak, and the inadequacies of the elven city’s defense force, I gained easy access to their sacred palace temple. One hears and reads of the wonders a high elven temple contains, but one must view it before they can even begin to grasp the concept of the word ‘wonder’. I would describe what I saw here, but there is no need to record what I have seen for it will never leave my mind. I infiltrated deep within the palace temple without incident, until I came upon what could only be called the throne room, although I would not doubt if the room contained a pulpit as well…arrogant preachy bastards the high elves are. Apparently there was a magical enchantment in the room that prevents such minor spells like mine from concealing true natures or intentions.

Instantly I was surrounded by elven warriors and archers, all pointing their arrows and bows directly at my person. The high priestess Shee Le’Niet appeared, waving her little staff at me and ordering me captured and kept as study…you see dear journal, these high elves were after me not because of what I have done, but what I can possibly do for them…lovely eh? I was taken to an inner chamber, where there was a womanly statue holding a stone, at the time, sword in her hands, presenting it to the sky. I was laid on the table in front of the statue and put to sleep, quite a powerful staff of priestesses they have. When I woke up, they were chanting in ancient elven, and although my ancient is pretty rusty, I believe they roughly said, “Hear us oh Goddess of Vengeance, take this, a sacrifice to your glory in exchange for your eternal blessing”, or somesuch. Nonetheless, I stayed still, waiting to see what would happen next before making my move…stupidly, they decided not to bind me, apparently thinking that the sleep spell would keep me down for the day.

Shee Le’Niet lifted the sword from the statue and placed it upon my chest before raising her hands and joining in on the chant…I figured that this was my time to move, I could grab the sword and use it as a club to beat my way out and recover my confiscated equipment from across the room. As I touched the sword, there was a rumbling of thunder…yet it seemed to originate from the sword. Undaunted, I lifted the weapon and swung it at the nearest priestess, Shee Le’Niet, literally breaking her face open and knocking her out. Yet as I swung the sword and drew blood with it, I felt a warmth in my heart, not the comforting warmth of love, but the warmth of hatred, of hellfire.

The elves all backed up in shock, as if they saw something behind me, I looked myself, but I saw nothing…then I realized that they were not looking behind me, but at me. The sword I held grew warmer and warmer, causing me to look down at it and in shock, I noticed that it had turned into a real sword…a longsword to be exact, its hilt was a virtual blaspheme of everything holy with its demonic motif and the blade itself had black flame surrounding it…Shee Le’Niet gasped from her prone position on the floor, saying something about a ‘guardian’, and how I was not supposed to be the person that wielded it. I walked over to her body, her assistants and guards having run from the room, and knelt by her side, grabbing her hair and yanking her head up towards me.

“WHAT is this sword you donkey excrement?!”…my language had changed along with my attitude and ways, as many had learned the hard way. The priestess merely shook her head and coughed, apparently she was losing too much blood from the wound in her skull caused by the sword in its stone form. Narrowing my eyes, I shook her body harder by the hairs in her head and repeated my question. Looking up at me through bleeding eyes and a cockeyed vision, she told me that “my filthy presence has corrupted a potentially world saving ritual by touching the sword and drawing blood with malevolent intent”. Shaking her again, I told her to elaborate…she told me in so many words, that by corrupting the sword with my own hatred, I ruined their only chance to destroy the vile demonsword ‘HellGuardian’. As she said those words, I smiled…I had read stories, rumors, and studies on the legendary sword known as Hellguardian…but never in my wildest dreams did I think I would find it, much less possess it. Dropping the dying elf’s head, I plunged the sword into her neck, severing her head and part of her spine from her body. As I did, the sword grew even warmer in my hand, as if the more chaos and pain I cause, the more it wants and the stronger I become; and as I held the sword, I felt extra strength flow through me, the power centuries of destruction and desecration of holy items and places. Another surprise within the sword came to light as I gathered my items and made my way out of the temple, I had become lost considering I was asleep as they took me further into the temple, but somehow I knew the way…as it turned out, the sword granted me ancient knowledge, and as such, the temple’s infrastructure was second nature to me. I smiled as I came to grips with this new ability, my striding turned to a full blown sprint, eager to return to my home and conduct experiments upon my new acquisition.

My rapport with my women was not very good for the next few days, I was trying to find some way to keep my grip upon the sword secured, lest it be use against me by my enemies. After two days of tireless studying and trial and error tests, including one involving me cutting my wrists and dripping my blood upon the sword, I found a way…one that involved the possibility of my soul being lost forever. Heh, big risk…I felt that I had nothing to lose…my marriage with the high elf Nidawi was falling to pieces, my friendships were losing their luster, and my health was waning, so I attempted the experiment…. I plunged the dark demonsword HellGuardian, deep into my chest, wincing as the searing heat of the sword bathed me with agony, yet caressed my with power and confidence beyond my wildest dreams…and as I reached to pull the sword out, it disappeared, and all that was left was a tingling sensation in the center of my torso, like an itch that just refuses to leave.

HellGuardian also transmitted its own bloody evil past into my psyche, it told me that it was formerly owned by a succubus whose name escaped it at the moment. She also told me, yes the sword was intelligent enough to consider itself a female entity, that if I did not supply her with a steady amount of blood and destruction, that she would turn on me and extract herself through the same avenue she arrived: my chest. I smirked and thought to myself, blood and destruction is never a problem with me. I gathered my materials from my hidden little retreat and headed back to the inn, eager to show all those insolent, ignorant, disrespectful bastards who is their lord…their god.

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