Information

Vorel Kurik has a minion!

Minion the Spooky Matter

Vorel Kurik
Legacy Name: Vorel Kurik

The

Graveyard Darkonite
Owner:

Johniarty

Age: 13 years, 6 months, 2 weeks

Born: October 10th, 2010

Adopted: 13 years, 6 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: October 10th, 2010

Statistics

Level: 19
Strength: 74
Defense: 35
Speed: 18
Health: 37
HP: 37/37
Intelligence: 97
Books Read: 96
Food Eaten: 6
Job: Junior Lifeguard

There was a sound behind the worn seal of the tomb. A scream, then, full of anger, cut through the air as the structure shattered. From the dust and crumbled stone strode a figure with glowing golden eyes full of malice. The creature turned its head, first left, then right, and inhaled deeply. The cool night of the desert seemed to caress her fur as a breeze began to build. She grinned and began walking toward the city lights in the distance. "I'm home."

" I was nobody, once. A worthless urchin, using what little magic talent I had to stay alive. Then he found me.. Ibn. He took me under his wing, showed me how to harness the power of the only certainty in this world... death."

The streets of Serinos were cruel to the urchins littering its dark alleys. The wealthier denizens paid them no mind, and the criminal element constantly hunted them to sell into slavery. The children had to band together, and factions began to form among the orphaned children. Many were led by non-humans, because the human children looked up to them as being special, fantastic, and strong. Vorel was only seven when she was pushed out into this world, her family dying to a terrible plague that claimed the entire quarter they resided in. Hers was an unusual case; Unlike the others, she had known love. She had known family. She had known some sort of comfort. Her calling began when the others flocked to her, begging to hear stories of dinners and bedtime reading and warm baths. She was exotic- even as a little one her dark black fur set her apart from other Faunan, her gold-trimmed ears and thin snout a mark of something far greater than she could fathom. Pure jackal, with a luxurious long tail and golden eyes that caught and held the light of the sun. Oh yes. It was no surprise they turned to her to head their band of ragamuffins- leadership was in her tainted blood.

Her claws closed around the arm of a young human boy, eyes burning fiercely as she snarled at him. Blood trickled from the puncture wounds, matting the fur of her fingers. The child was terrified.

“Silah, what have we told you about the western quarter?”

“That it belongs to you.”

“Exactly. Do you have an excuse for poaching in our territory again?”

Silah’s brown eyes filled with tears as he stared up at the thin girl holding him with an iron grip. He had heard stories, rumors laced with magic and violence on Vorel’s part, and it was everything he could do to keep from screaming.

“It was a slow day in the market, I swear! Hardly anyone was around! I thought one or two coins wouldn’t matter!”

“Oh Silah. We’re a pack. We hunt as a pack. You? You’re a lone cub, creeping into our zone and stealing from us. We can’t let that go unpunished, can we?”

There was a chorus of cheers from behind her as the other children agreed, their rugged faces leering down at the small boy, bloodthirsty and cruel. Silah began to quake, terrified for his life at the hands of this gang of urchins.

“Please, Vorel, I didn’t mean it! I haven’t eaten in days, I was hoping to earn enough coin to buy bread! Please, please don’t hurt me!”

“Silah, I would let you go if it worked that way, but you know it doesn’t. We have to follow our own rules, no one else will. If you had only poached another group... Ah, well. You cannot change the past. Look at me, Silah. Look into my eyes.”

He did so, meeting her gaze once more. Vorel focused on him, on the rings of green circling his dark pupils, on the brown iris shrinking as her eyes began to glow, taking deep breaths as the powerful burning sensation came flooding down her arms. The boy in her grip tried to scream as his body was engulfed by her dark flames, twisting and writing as his smooth flesh blistered and burst from the intensity of the heat. The oxygen in his lungs was gone; he made no noise.

The flames were reflected in Vorel’s eyes, a small grin playing at the edge of her lips.

“FIRE!”

The kids bolted as the buildings surrounding them began to catch, filling the dark night sky with a bright orange glow. Vorel lingered, almost hypnotized by the dancing flames, as smoke filled the small alley. She began to move toward the dangerous light, sweat beading on her dark fur. Slowly she extended her hand, reaching for it, longing to feel it envelop her in its warm embrace...

Hands reached out and wrapped themselves around her tiny waist, yanking her backward and away from the danger.

“Are you daft? You could have died, little one! What were you thinking?!”

Vorel looked up into the face of an elderly man, human, his long white beard singed black around the bottom. He was dressed in a dark robe, black with silver bands woven into the fabric. She knew the outfit well- he was a mage from the nearby college. He smiled down at her and ruffled her shaggy hair.

“I know that was you, little one. I know you possess the gift.”

“But, how? The only ones who know are the other kids, I’ve never-”

The man laughed a deep baritone laugh.

“Oh, Vorel, I know all about you. I’ve been watching you for quite some time. Your family and I go way back, little one.”

Vorel shook her head, her expression grim.

“My family’s dead. The plague took them last year. You never came around, I’d have known you by sight. I appreciate you saving me, but I have to go. I don’t trust liars.”

The man raised his hand and a grey-green smoke began to swirl around his forearm.

“Vorel Kurik, beautiful slaughter, Do not believe everything your mind remembers. You are much more powerful than you realize. The humans who cared for you were not your parents, though they were kindhearted people. No, Vorel. You will never know your true past unless you come with me. I can open a power inside of you that you’d never imagined to be possible. What do you say, little one? Will you follow me?”

The small Faunan cast her eyes back over the burning city as mages gathered to stop the flames. She knew she possessed the magic. She was tired of feeling lost and helpless. Power was all she wanted, power and control. She stood and took the man by his slender fingers.

“Lead on, Master.”

The robed man led her through the chaotic streets, his eyes never leaving the path ahead of them. Vorel scurried along beside him, trying to keep up with his long strides. Her eyes took in their surroundings as they traveled. They were heading east, toward the city gates, much to the child’s surprise.

“Master, are we not going to the college? Are they not going to train me in the ways of magic?”

“No, child. The college has nothing for you. I will be teaching you everything you need to know. We are going to my home, so that I may gather supplies. We are going abroad.”

The young Faunan loosened her grip on his hand and prepared herself. She would bolt if she needed to, at a moment’s notice. In her seven years of life she had never ventured out of Serinos’ large walls. She had heard stories of the harsh desert, stories of thirst and death, of black spirits lurking within the cracks of the rock faces. It was not safe for a child. Sure, she was with a powerful mage (she assumed), but it did not ease her fears.

A large stone home loomed into view, run down with the passage of time. It sat alone on the street, surrounded by blackened lots burned down ages ago. The man opened its wooden door and ushered her inside, closing it behind himself as soon as he entered. Inside it was much larger than it appeared, lined wall-to-wall with shelves of books and strange plants. There was a strange smell about the place, musty and dry, with a hint of rot. Vorel sniffed the air and drank in the scent, forcing herself to enjoy it.

“Tell me, Vorel, what do you know of Necromancy?”

“I know it’s illegal.”

“Do you know why?”

She shook her head as she took a seat in a small wooden chair near the door.

“Vorel, Necromancy is dangerously powerful. You know of Bane, yes?”

The jackal girl nodded- everyone knew Bane. He was the steward of Serinos, Lamben Serinos’ right-hand-man. He was also rumored to be an ancient vampire.

“With the powers I will be teaching you, you could have him in the palm of your hand. The Risen fear us, the Revenants and Vampires fear us. The clergy fear us because we create ‘abominations’. Our magic is the strongest, the most threatening to the structure of many kingdoms. Imagine how they would flee if you could raise the lifeless corpse of an ancient dragon and set it against them, destroying entire fortresses with a creature that knows no pain or fear. We, child, have that power. And they will respect us.”

He packed as he talked, gathering a collection of the weathered tomes and spell components, placing them in a leather satchel hung across his torso. Vorel watched him work, increasingly aware of her hunger. The adrenaline from the attack had disappeared, leaving a crushing exhaustion in its wake. Her stomach felt painfully hollow- she hadn’t eaten all day. It hurt, but she refused to speak up; she did not want to seem weak to her new teacher, especially so soon.

“Are you ready, Vorel?”

She nodded and stood, casting one last look at the place before turning and following the human back into the night. She had quite the sharp memory- she was confident she could find the hovel again if the situation called for it. The pair quietly exited the city, though they needn’t have worried. All the guards were busy holding the crowd back while the fire was extinguished.

As they crossed the boundaries of the city, Vorel could not help but feel awed by the vast emptiness of the desert. Once she had passed the gate, she could hardly believe her eyes. There was nothing there, nothing but sand. No pack animals, no plants, not even a caravan. Just sand, sand and sky, threatening to swallow her whole. She turned toward the human, who smiled down at her knowingly.

“It’s a lot to process at once, yes?”

“I never expected it to be so... cruel.”

The necromancer laughed, and grinned wider.

“Yes, Vorel, it is very cruel. The desert is harsh and unforgiving to those who cannot fathom her secrets. Luckily for you, I’ve been a desert nomad my entire life. Do not fear, my child, she will not harm you while I am with you. We have a rather long hike ahead of us, we should start while we still have the protection of the night.”

He began moving once more, bearing north, and motioned for her to follow. The girl did so unquestioningly.

The trek was long, and though Vorel was young she was tired and hungry. The city had shrunk into nothing when she finally collapsed, too weak to continue walking. The human was by her side in an instant, annoyance clearly visible on his features.

“I’m... I’m sorry Master. The lesson I taught the boy has left me drained, and there’s nothing in my belly but the crisp night air.”

“You fool! Why did you not speak up when we were in the city? I could have gotten you a hot meal before we began!”

He stood up and looked down at her disdainfully.

“Rest here, Vorel. I will return with food. If you leave this spot, I will find you, and I will destroy you. Do you understand me?”

The girl nodded weakly, swallowing a lump of fear nesting in her throat.

“Good. I will return.”

Robes fluttering, he turned on the spot and disappeared. Vorel was alone with the night.

Time stood still as she rested on the sand, the glimmering stars circling around above her weary head as she waited. It was hypnotic, watching them dance and twinkle, almost as if they were performing just fer her. She stared until her eyes began to burn with the effort, drooping slowly...

Slowly...

Slow...

A strong wind blew around the child, sending chills down her spine as she fought for warmth. She was still in the desert, alone, but the sands had shifted from their familiar tan to a steel gray. The sky above her was a deep violet filled with red stars. There were cliffs on either side of her, tall and black and ominous. Vorel turned quickly, trying to wrap her young mind around what she was seeing. Terror gripped her heart- she was paralyzed with fear. The wind grew stronger, forcing her from her safe spot, pushing her forward through the slate sand. She walked, shaking, casting her eyes about manically, watching for some sign of life or comfort. There was nothing, nothing but her in this alien land. As she drew close to the horizon she glanced down, catching herself before she tumbled into a deep hole. Curious by nature she knelt down, forcing her fears away, and leaned her head into the darkness.

“Vorel... You are mine...”

She could not scream. Something had clamped a clawed hand over her mouth.

Vorel’s eyes snapped open and she sucked in a grateful breath. She was laying on her side, facing a distant cliff. Everything was as it should be, plain and boring. A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she rolled onto her back.

Something was staring back at her, something with a horrible fanged visage.

The creature’s skin was jet black and thin, giving it the appearance of being spread across jagged bone. Two silver lights burned in its eye sockets as it loomed over her, saliva dripping from its maw. It was barely larger than her, and its back was oddly curved. Its bony fingers closed around her throat. She fought weakly, slapping her small hands against the monster’s rough hide. It ignored her blows and gripped her tighter, removing her ability to breathe. Blackness crept across her vision. She was going to die here.

“Iلا يضر هذا الطفل، روحها ينتمي لي. لقد جلبت لك وجبة لصالح زعيم عشيرة ووكر من الكثبان الرملية.”

The voice that spoke was raspy and fragile, its broken Arabic flowing into the girl and her attacker. She felt the iron grip around her throat lessen and she sucked in a deep breath, sputtering and coughing as her lungs filled.

“Lord Ibn, my apologies. She was weak, smelled so good. We hunger. Where is feast you promise?”

The necromancer dropped a bag at the creature’s feet. With haste the black-skinned thing opened it, crying out in exultation as he withdrew a rotting foot. It turned its back on the pair and began devouring the meat. Vorel fought to keep her gorge from rising.

“The Dunewalkers are dangerous, but I’ve known them for many years. This is Skrel, their clan leader. He and his kin will not harm you again. I managed to find some food for you, Vorel. Sit up and start a fire for us.”

Vorel obeyed, digging a small pit with her claws. She held her hands over it and focus, gathering her power. Fire raced through her veins and out through her palms, splashing into the hole and roaring madly. She backed away quickly before the flames could singe her dark fur. Her human teacher clapped his hands together and smiled at her as he laid the meat across the pit. It was a hyena, its throat slit evenly. Turning her nose away from the fire she could indeed smell blood. The scent was invigorating.

Her sharp fangs tore into the roasted meat, devouring it with a hunger she hadn’t felt since the first months of her urchin days. Master Ibn watched her, speaking to Skrel in a hushed voice while she ate. Vorel did not understand the strange language they shared, but she was enjoying her meal too much to trouble herself with their secrets.

When she had finished Ibn rose and doused her dancing flames.

“Come, Vorel, we must make haste. We need to reach the kingdom of Al-Kresh within the week.”

Skrel walked alongside them for many miles, disappearing on their third day of travel. His clan lay waiting for his return, burrowed beneath a large dune. At his approach a collective shriek sounded and the sand exploded outward as they surged toward. The air was thick with their strange tongue, a strange hissing language both ethereal and evanescent.

Lord Ibn brings childling, will make ghoul. Share meat we will. Strong ally, much power. Death in blood. Female. Faunan. Farther than Ibn can go.

Skrel, Faunan taste. Much sweet. Good. Why not eat?

Ibn stretch. Ibn rot. Ibn devour. Nothing left. Dunewalkers gone, gone forever. Never Ibn, never anger. Suggest again, death.

The chastised ghoul bared its fangs, hatred carved across its twisted features. Skrel was their leader, true, but his reverence toward the human deathmage was a disgrace. Ghouls did not bow or bend, not even to masters of the black arts. No, Skrel was weak, and this one knew it. This one would have his feast at any cost. This one hungered. His name was Vos, and he would prove that Ibn was not a force to fear. He would go and find the Faunan child. He would bring her back to the clan, and they would feast on the magic coursing through her veins. They would tear her thin flesh, they would gnaw through her tendons, they would bathe in her blood. When Skrel’s attention was turned elsewhere he slunk away, becoming one with the darkness of the night.

Vos could smell the child on the wind. Her heartbeat pulsed through the air. He was drawing nearer. Within an hour he had found their tracks, tiny bare paws and large slippered feet cutting a path through the desert earth. He hunched his back and drew in a breath, making himself as thin as possible. In a matter of hours he began to see the flickering light of their fire in the distance. Slowly, silently, he began to creep forward. Ibn was absent. The Faunan child lay wrapped in thick blankets, breathing deeply. Every so often hear tail twitched beneath her cover.

Vos slunk closer, his wicked claws held out before he. The scent of her body was intoxicating. He brushed the hair back from her neck and ran a finger along her soft fur. Yes, she would be delicious. In an instant he was upon her, holding her down as his sharp fangs ripped at her flesh. The child screamed in agony, her hot blood matting down her black fur. He bit the soft tissue where the neck and shoulder met first, tearing a chunk away and screeching in ecstasy as he swallowed. Her torso followed, her flat chest marred by the marks of his teeth. She slapped weakly at him, calling for her master to save her, to rescue her from the burning agony, from the sharp teeth, from the claws gouging tracks through her skin. As the ghoul relished in her blood, the world began to grow black.

Eat you. Taste you. Delicious. Hunger. More. More. MORE.

“Master, forgive... me... I was... was weak...”

She sunk beneath the waves on consciousness, giving in to the overpowering pain of her wounds.

Sounds, all around her. Voices, perhaps? Was she dead? Vorel quickly discovered that she could not open her eyes. She tried to speak, but her throat did not work. She could feel something holding her arms and legs down. Silent, still, all the jackal girl could do was listen and hope the strange language being spoken in the room would begin to make sense.

It, of course, did not.

Unable to communicate she laid there, trying to remember what had happened. Her entire body ached, and her flesh burned with an unnatural heat. She could feel the cold sweat on her back soaking whatever it was she was resting upon. What had happened?

Desert. Night. Alone. Warmth, safety, flames. Emptiness. Here.

Unable to make sense of her memories she drifted off into an uneasy sleep, filled with images of a blood-covered grin blotting out the moon.

The air was thick with the scent of herbs. Vorel’s golden eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry with disuse. Dark splotches danced in the shadows, swaying and bobbing in time with the voices echoing through her tall ears.

“-at least twice a day. The scars will stay with her for the rest of her life. She’s been stable for a few days, and her eyes have begun to move. She may be up and about in a matter of weeks, sir.”

“Thank you, sister. May you always walk in the light.”

That voice... Vorel had heard it before. It was gruff and low, with a rumble that seemed to shake her very bones. Her mind formed the image of a long, gray beard topped by a deep black hood. Master? Teacher? Something reminiscent of those words. He was her escape...

“Ah, you’ve finally decided to return to the world of the living. How are you feeling, little one?”

A weight dipped the foot of her cot. She opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound issuing from her throat was a spidery rasp. Her eyes widened in shock as her hands flew to her throat.

“You musn’t touch!”

A gnarled, flesh-covered hand slapped hers away. She glared at the shape sharing her bed, anger and frustration flooding her senses.

“Don’t. If you damaged those stitches you’d never have the chance for power. They are all that’s holding your fragile flesh together. The ghoul nearly killed you, child. I’m not entirely sure he didn’t, to be honest. You’ll have a set of rather nasty scars on your slender neck, but you’ve pulled through surprisingly well. His venom, though... Well, you survived that too, though three of the nurses did not. It took restraints and a ‘holy’,” he said the word with a mocking tone, “ritual to purify your blood. Someone’s watching over you, Vorel. You’re rather lucky.”

Gathering her will the young Faunan inhaled, preparing to break the communication barrier.

“I... I think the opposite is true. I think something wants me to suffer.”

She was barely audible above the din of the room, but her leathery voice did not fail her.

“The disease... the attack... the violence on the streets... Did you know I was raped, Master? It happened the second week I was on my own. Raped and cut, bleeding in the alley. No one came to my aid. Adults ignored me, the stained child whore suck in the gut. I was just a filthy example of the truth of their city. The urchins-”

She stopped and pantomimed drinking from a glass. The shape of the man she remembered as her teacher put a small stone cup in her outstretched hand. She drank gingerly, mindful of the stitches in her fur. She felt the pain subside as the cool liquid dripped down her esophagus- her vocal chords felt stronger, less fragile than they had before.

“-thank you. The urchins found me and took me to a doctor. He cleaned my wound and gave me a bath. The look on his face- pity, mingled with disgust... I’ll never forget it. I decided then and there that I wouldn’t let myself be so weak. I would be strong, I would be dangerous, and I would scare those types away. I wanted power. I wanted to change myself. It didn’t take long for the other children to look up for me. I was scary. I would lure men, and sometimes women, back to our home. I would strip them and beat them, burning their clothes and taking their coins. Our gang was distrusted, easily recognized. Some of the people we robbed were outed for what they were- predators, predators outfoxed by kids. No, we were never the strongest gang, but we were easily recognized. We were chased away from every building we tried begging at, for the owners feared losing their high-paying perverts.

We did decently for ourselves until our group began turning up dead, naked and broken, laying in their own blood and waste. All of them were found with notes.

‘Hello, V.’

‘Scared, V?’

‘Missing you, V.’

On an on, until finally there was just the six of us- Three humans, myself, an orc boy and a catkin. The murders stopped, and we got on with our lives. We never added to our ranks, though, no.

Months went by, we were fine. We never forgot our brothers. I woke up in the middle of the night one evening- it was summer, it was hot even in the dark. I was naked. There was an orc man crouched over me, holding a knife to my snout. He was dressed in rags like we were, but they had obviously been much finer than ours. He told me if I made a sound, he would split me up the middle and decorate the alley with my intestines. I lay quietly as he took me carnally, as he rained blow after blow upon me. Raped and beaten, for hours. He stood, spitting on my fur as he took his leave.

That’s when I discovered my magic. I rose, shaking, feeling worthless, filthy and wasted, and I glared at his retreating back. The flames came, curling around him like a serpent, devouring him. I stood there, panting with rage as the fire died. His blackened, charred husk fell to the ground and shattered, and the other children watched me in shock. Then, and only then, were we free.

I’m no stranger to horrible things, Master. Everything in my life, one after another, has been a string of death and pain and blood. I don’t care. I will become something even the monsters of the world fear. I will be the bearer of ruin. I will come out on top, no matter the cost.”

Ibn smirked at the young girl and shook his head.

“You’re a terrible liar, Vorel.”

The youth’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Wh... what? Why would I lie about something so horrible? I-”

“Your ears twitch when you lie. I know more about you than you yourself, child. You cannot trick me.”

Vorel narrowed her eyes in a dark glare, hatred radiating from her small form.

“Alright, fine, I’m a bad liar. I was never sexually assaulted. I still think something has it out for me.”

“Hah! What proof have you, little orphan? You’re as important as a grain of sand blowing across the dunes of your home. You are nothing, no one. No one cares that you are missing, not even your friends. ‘One less mouth to feed’, they say. Do you honestly think some great power would be striving to make you sad? You’re foolish and self-centered, Vorel, but you are quite lucky all the same.”

He stood and glanced down at her, the shadows playing across his sharp features.

“We’re going to make you someone, something, a force to be reckoned with. You have my word. You will never be nothing once your training is complete. The world will bow before your might... as long as you bow before mine. Follow my instructions and all the world will whisper your name in fear.”

“Yes Master,” she replied with a heavy sigh.

As he turned and exited the room, Vorel caught a glimpse of something silver clutched in his gnarled hands.