Lord of Dread (Back Story of Heru Ghor)

[Paragon Vanguard]

"You were Helel, you were of beauty, and great power. King's bowed before you, and all was given to you from the highest. Yet you did not stop there, oh ghor. You would not be satisfied with these mortal riches. Why, king of the kings of all your lands, why would you do such? For this I call judgement on you, as man judges man. As the Most High judges us down low. Even El shall not be satisfied until all comes to pass."

 

The wizard Ro read the passage, many times over, from the heavy tome in front of him. He was sure this could not be the same creature he even now sought. He left that retch in a far away place, a place of different time as well as space. A place ruined and brought low.

 

"Sheol shall have you, it shall swallow you. You shall have no more dealings with the living, you shall only have tidings with the dead. The maggot is spread under you, and worms cover you. You will forever be known for your dread, and even then, the Lord of Dread. Flies will encircle you, and the eye of the fly shall forever tickle and torture your mind. You will be Heru Ghor, and you shall know despair and death for eternity. You will be a lord of flies, a lord of lies, and shall not know peace. The pitt shall spit you out, and even death shall not deny your torture."

 

"Heru Ghor. Yes, yes, I know that name," the wizard muttered, his mind digging at a time so far gone, a place now so far away that it almost hurt to consider. Even as he did struggle to consider it, dread soon set in, and the wizard felt something few would ever expect him to feel.

Wizardro felt fear.

 

 

                                                                       To Be Continued

 

[Paragon Vanguard]

"You have corrupted your office, Heru Helel. You have made a mockery of everything you once were," the prosecutor said, pointing a finger at the bound white haired man. He was bound to a large gnarled branch driven into the ground. He had been sentenced, now he was being punished.

 

It was a time even before kings. Before his people were ruled by bloodline instead of heavenly order. It was the time of Judges and priests and no real borders. The lands were separated by Parish, and how far the priest of that Parish's influence reached.

It was a time of peace, before he came into his own.

 

"You are no longer Heru Helel, Lord of the Morning Star," the prosecutor said, no longer in a loud accusing voice. He could see a bit of sadness in the prosecuting priest's eye. They had been friends.

"You will forever be known as Heru Ghor, Lord of Dread, for what you did to that Parish."

With that, the sword was plunged into his chest. Despite wanting to die with more dignity, Heru Helel, now Heru Ghor, gasped from the pain. His bladder and bowels released, and he choked uncontrollably as blood poured from his mouth.

"I hate you, old friend," he managed to choke out. "I hate all of you, and I curse you with darkness for the rest of your days."

Heru Helel died. His corpse would be left there to allow the birds and the insects and the worms to devour as much of him as they could. He would be a sight to bring children and the youth to see, to see what happens when you turn on your own people and your own god.

 

Yet, deep in the night, when all were asleep, the dead man stirred.

Yes, Heru Helel was dead.

Heru Ghor had awakened to undeath.

To Lichdom.

 

The thoughts were strained through an undead mind. It was difficult to put all things into perspective, all things into the right order, when you have been.....what? Alive was not the word, but he had simply "been" for ages now. That memory was his first, upon awakening. It was always his first thoughts upon awakening.

Something had stirred. Something stirred him.

His eyes opened suddenly. Eyes that were once blue and bright, now dark. The whites now a sickening yellow color of death.

Heru Ghor, the Lich of old and of elsewhere would walk the world above again.

 

 

 

Edited May 31 by Paragon Vanguard