//------------------------------// // Hard Reset // Story: Mark of the Wyld // by DarkParable //------------------------------// "Momma! Momma!" the little colt screamed, writhing in the dirt as he tried and failed to get to his hooves again and again. His mothers screams rung in the air with the clarity of a bell, reverberating throughout the dying town and mingling with other blood curtling noises. I watched this pitiful foal slowly succumb to the necrotic energies slowly sapping the life from the very earth around me, and I felt nothing. I watched as his body shuddered one last time, a faint little breathy whisper of "momma..." escaping his lips as he breathed his last. I watched as his body sat up slowly a few scant moments later and turned unblinking and horribly vacant eyes to me, jaw hanging slack as the new little ghoul rose up to do my bidding... Rose up to help tear apart the village that until a moment ago had been home, had been safe for these ponies... Had been blessedly ignorant of the fact that there are worse things out there than Diamond Dogs, and far far worse things than death. Turning my head skyward I howled, the eerie sound echoing with the reverberating quality that marked a death knight's words and showed just a part of their unnatural existence. I turned my attention to the axe I held in my hand, the leather grip seemed made to fit it perfectly. The dark wooden and slightly curved haft of the axe was as blood stained as the old black iron axe head that topped it, the same axe head that I could feel baying for blood... Gods help me I gave it what it wanted that day, gave it all it wanted and more. Damn me for a demon or a monster, but I enjoyed it too, the satisfaction rolling off that axe spoke right to me, resonating with some slumbering beast within... And they were made for one another. Those memories still haunt me, that first time I truly gave in to my nature and enjoyed it to its fullest. They don't haunt me because I feel what I did was wrong, no I know it was, they haunt me because I just don't care. They stay with me because, deep down I know that I've done so much worse by the standards of the ponies, by human standards for that matter, and I still just don't care. I know why I don't have a heart beat, and its not just because I'm undead... Its because Elune dropped me here as exactly what a death knight is meant to be... A force of dark, bloody, and violent change that brings death and decay in its wake, freezes solid that which opposes it, and bathes in the blood of the innocent as it wades through the oceans of sanguine vitae it spills. This is what I am now... And I embrace that fully. Ah, but I get ahead of myself here, and jumping ahead in a story is a big no no for me, so allow me to set us back on track dear readers, back to the night after I wiped the town of Colt's Breath off the map and feed one hundred new souls to my axe. Back to the night I finally realised just how nice it is to let go of that moral highground and sink right down to the level of those who'd try and claim the darkness for their own... When I left that town I left with my new weapon slung over my back, stuck there somehow, I honestly have no clue. I suspect biomagnets or some such bullshit. I left with tears in my eyes, dirt staining my fur and mingling with the blood into a reddish brown mud that matted down the fur of my hands something awful. I left with the knowledge that even after I'd killed them all, either with blade or by forcing their undead loved ones to tear them limb from limb, I'd at least buried the foals properly. I'd cast a glance back over my shoulder at the nine little graves in the center of town, marked with crude wooden crosses, and drew some measure of solace from that. I wasn't a complete monster, I didn't raise them intentionally... That one colt and been accidental after all. Gah, enough of that mopey shit. I left that blighted and dead town behind and aside from that single glance, I didn't look back. I had plenty ahead of me to occupy my attention. Seems I hadn't gotten all the Diamond Dogs down in those tunnels, there were a handful of escapees and they stood at the treeline, watching as I came closer with looks of almost religious rapture plastered on their faces. "Great demon..." they whispered as I walked past them, "Bloody handed goddess... Death bringer, Life ender, most deserving of praise..." Don't ask me where the sniveling little fucks got a thesaurus, but apparently they added some basic english skills to their repertoire of tricks over the few days since I turned their whole world upside down and lopped it off at the neck. I stopped in my tracks, turning back to face them as the whispered increasingly elaborate titles and piled them at my feet like offerings at a temple. When I'd had enough of it I let out a low rumbling growl and let my power roll free, freezing the ground at my feet. "What do you want you little shits?" I asked them, quite nicely all things considered, I mean I coulda just killed them after all. Aren't I such a nice chick when I wanna be? "To go where you lead..." they said, speaking in a creepy sort of unison, all at once kowtowing to me. It was flattering in a way to know I'd broken these dogs so badly that they looked at me as some sort of vengeful deity. Flattering enough that I took them up on their little offer after a few moments thought. "Who is chief among you?" I asked them, watching as one dog, slightly larger than the other twelves stepped forward... Well crawled really, like a good little submissive dog that he was. It took a moment to get him to stand upright, but when he did I looked him dead in the eye and found a feverish fanatical devotion staring me back with an unwavering strength. "Why do you want to follow me Dog?" I asked him, and his response was predictable enough I suppose. I mean, seriously, how fucking cliche can you get? "You are strong, you are alpha of alphas... We wish to be your pack." That's honestly how I got my real start here in this world, got headed down the path I took to where I am now, but again that's getting ahead of the story. That's also how the cult of Wulf began, with thirteen dogs supplicating themselves to something they saw as their new god. They were rewarded for it too, made into something to better spread the word among other packs, to bring more to my cause and unite them under a single banner... So to speak, I didn't have a banner then. The moon rise that night saw thirteen new undead sent out into the world, their eyes glowing with the icy blue flames of their leader's power... Hey I can wax poetic about making some D-Dogs into pseudo death knights, so meh to you all. To be dead honest I really just did all that because I'd had my fill of killing that day, and frankly didn't have it in me to lop off any more heads, rend any more flesh, or horrifically maim anything else. I just wanted to be alone, and if it took starting a death cult to do it, by thunder that's what I'd do. Sighing quietly I sat my furry ass down on the earth and leaned back against a tree to watch the moon rise over the clearing in which the village sat, looking peaceful under the silver glow of Luna's celestial charge. As I watched I wondered if I really had any reason to be here than some arbitrary quest from a goddess who just wanted a pawn in a grand chess game with undefined rules. I mean seriously, what was the point in taking a gamer like me, robbing him of his dangly parts, slapping him with the great estrogen makeover, and giving him the form and power of his MMORPG character? Seriously... That about sums it up doesn't it? Either way, I was here now and I didn't know why. ....ten What the hell? Lis...en Ok... Apparently I was going nuts and hearing voices in my head, joy of joys, just what I needed at the moment. Listen to me... Ok... Sexy voices I'll admit. If you had to be hearing voices hissing in the back of your skull, who better than Morgan Fucking Freeman's voice? Well... It sounded like him anyways. Ah... There we are. Now then bearer mine, take me up and carve thine name into the face of this world. Drench me in the vitae of those who'd dare to stand too tall in your path, let me drink of their heartsblood. I am Pravus, I am the malevolent edge of immoral perversions... Yes that's a bit long winded, but it all boils down to this. Imma axe, now go find some shit to kill with me or I swear I'll start singing show tunes. I take it back... No one would want Morgan Freeman's voice in their head making demands like that... Even if he can make anything sound pretty fucking amazing. I reached up and took hold of my apparent chatter box of a killing tool and held it up to inspect it properly for the first time. It looked plain enough, black and very old iron on a wooden haft. Thing is, it was so stained with blood that I almost missed the little rune carved on the axe head, right where the blade met haft. It whispered its meaning to me, same as my old axe had, and I blinked in surprise at what it said. "Rune Wulf." My name, on an ancient and sentient weapon that felt so very right in my hands... Yeah... Creepy right? Either way it was mine. Had my name on it any everything! Not to mention I'm pretty damn sure it was soulbound. Don't ask how, but it was meant for me and me for it. Rune and Pravus, two halves of a whole. An axe and a hand to swing it. Still... It made me want to throw the damn thing into the nearest lake. Last thing I wanted was a voice in my head telling me to go kill shit for fun and profit... What's that? It said nothing about profit? Well I did, so there. Murder for fun and profit as directed by Rune Wulf and the rather vocal weapon in her hands. There will be enough explosions to make Michael Bay feel like he needed more. Coming to a theatre near you sometime in the far distant future. Bah, I've rambled enough for one sitting. I'm a busy death knight. You all can wait a bit longer for more of this story, I have an invasion to plan after all, can't put that off just to reminisce about the past with my former people now can I? Tatty-bye for now readers... I suggest you try not to clamber all over the poor fellow I've got writing all this down for me, bad enough that he wears that weird hat of his all the time. Who the fuck wears a wide brimmed hat these days?