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, 2024 by Paragon Vanguard

[Paragon Vanguard]

She stirred. 

She did not want to stir. 

She felt the coldness, the hunger, the unlife returning to her dead body. 

She did not want this. 

She could smell the vile smell of rot and decay that filled the cavern. She knew nothing before and wished to continue to know nothing. 

He was awake.

She knew he was awake because it had awoken her. The nothing she craved was torn from her. The dreamless death was turned to the undeath. The want for nothing was now replaced by hunger. 

Oh how she hungered now. The blood called. The blood she did not possess. The blood she so dearly wanted. 

 

He made her in times of old, perhaps in a place not even here.

She loved Heru Helel. She laid with him, knowing that one of his kind should never lay with one such as she. It was beautiful, it was forbidden, and it called to her then as the blood called to her now. 

She hated Heru Ghor, though they were one in the same. Helel was always Ghor. There was always dread within the beauty. She knew this now, but she could not have known then. No, he was more than beauty. He was powerful. He made promises to her. They would rule and all would be theirs. He would lay at her feet anything she desired. She whispered her greatest desire in his ear one morning after a night of passion. 

"I desire forever with you". 

 

She watched as he was judged and killed. She watched in shock and dismay. She watched in horror and pain. She wanted to go to him, but he was guarded. They wished find an accomplice. They wished kill another for the acts he committed. For the acts she committed with him. 

"I wish only be with you", she had whispered. 

 

Her dreams were full of desire and terror, the night he returned. At first she was filled with wonder and joy at hearing his voice. It was raspy and seemed age, but it was him all the same, standing in her doorway. The light though, the light was gone, and a great darkness set within him. It was not visible to the eye but it was felt. It was felt down to her very soul. 

"I have come to fulfill your desire," he said. 

 

She was not made by fellow vampires. She was made by a Liche. An undead monster that use to know light, but only now knew darkness. She was no better. There was a time that she knew passion. She knew pleasure. Now she only knew hunger. The only pleasure was to please him, and his only pleasure was power. 

"My Bloodrose, you stir," he said. No, he thought. 

She was dried up, without even blood to show her tears. That would change soon. Soon she would hunt. Soon she would kill. Soon she would feed. Soon she would do his pleasure, and kill whom he wished dead.

Forever, she would be with him. Bound in pain and pleasure and hunger. Oh, the hunger.