Viktor Volkov - Stories, Journal Entries, Missives

[Doomed Hunter]

[ CHARACTER BACKGROUND FOR REFERENCE ]

The Pact

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1355 DR:

As I lay here in the shadows of ancient ground... Unable to move, close to death. The promise of final release... Or something darker awaits.

Then comes the cold whisper in my skull.

Uninvited. Malevolent. Alien.


YOU ARE BLEEDING OUT MORTAL... THERE IS NO ESCAPE...


It's words resonate in my mind as an echo of my failure.

Even as the pain fades and time slows.


I CAN TASTE YOUR SORROW... YOUR ANGER... YOU SHALL PERISH HERE...


The others were slain and I wonder if am the last even as it taunts me.

Murky images are recalled in my dying mind. Gathering in the backstreets of Mulmaster with the other hunters. Standing before the council's agent to discuss our plan. The lantern light dancing on her face.

I feel it's cold, terrible presence claw into my mind. Seeing what I see as I bleed out in the darkness.


YOU WERE DECEIVED MORTAL... YOUR MASTERS STAKED YOUR LIVES TO SEAL US HERE...


The image twists in my mind and I see the figures of three venerable men garbed in Brotherhood robes. Together raising their hands before the shadowy entrance of the ruin, shaping mystic runes of force and chanting their ancient words of power.

The chill presence stirs unbidden and the image twists in my minds-eye like oil poured in water. The gruesome remains of numerous demons, as well the other twelve hunters to lay around me. Twisted and torn, battered and broken. Lifeless. The blood from their corpses seeping out. Ebbing away into the cold ground.

With my life hanging by a thread, the unholy thing explains everything to me, showing me further visions.

The Cloak mages instructing us to investigate the ruin. Our sacrifice and spilled blood intended to strengthen and empower the ancient wards holding the presence here. And then finally the mages using their arcane magic to destroy the entrance of the crypt, sealing us in here forever to bleed out in the darkness.

The presence conveys it's desire to escape and offers me... gifts.

VENGEANCE... POWER... Over and over, the words pulsate in my mind. All while the conditions of it's proposal are woven and explained.

It wishes to become... Part of me. I need only let it in. Let it take control for a moment.

VENGEANCE...

POWER...

If I yield to it... This black messenger, if just for a moment... I'll be restored, I'll be strong again. I will hunt down all my enemies. All to have wronged me and all of my betrayers. I will bring death to them all.

My instincts wrestle with my desires. It knows... It knows I want this. I want this power...

And It knows I understand the cost too.

To be continued...

[Doomed Hunter]

A Dark Oath

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One month later, Mulmaster sewers, 1355 DR:

My victim squirmed uselessly, stripped to the waist in bloodied britches and bound to the crude excuse for a chair I'd found.

In the dark of the night I'd hounded him through the alleys and struck from the shadows. Even as I forced his retreat into the sewers, I brought his fear and desperation to a slow boil until there was nowhere left to run.

A Malarite true, even as I answered to a new master.

"Tallwand's instructions, I swear by the gods... Please... please listen..."

I didn't care who Tallwand was, though I'd wormed it from him he was a rising power in the brotherhood.

Ultimately, this one would bleed out and the Void Stalker could slake itself if necessary.

Even if it went ignored in the long run, his death would mark the beginning of a dark promise and send a message once the corpse was discovered.

The sounds of the harbour were subdued here and only the most foolhardy scum and riff-raff thought to prowl these fetid, stinking parts. No one to hear or see.

"P-please... I don't..." He protested in a weak, stammering voice as his eyelids grew heavy and a pathetic whimper escaped his throat.

The venom was working as planned.

I loosed my blade from the sheath at my belt and closed in silently.

Time to butcher the prey, I mused with numb detachment but also wondered... It's thoughts or mine?

No hesitation or remorse. A hunter has no room in his heart for either.

That night I left Mulmaster, vowing only to return at my dark patron's pleasure.

To be continued...

[Whirlwind]

Prey

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Ruins beneath the High Moor, 1360 DR:

Somewhere within the High Moor, in a ruined complex beneath the ground do men and women of ill intention dwell, hatching their sinister plans and plans far from the sight of others. The more pious of their ilk, clad in dark robes and masks might even make entreaties to the Lord of Shadows himself to keep their schemes hidden, but even in the darkness are their efforts hampered.

Despite their efforts to remain unseen, something stalks them through the tunnels and many of their comrades end up missing or found slain in the most bloody fashion.

Upon one wall of an ancient crumbling ante-chamber a warning would be found scrawled in blood.

ALL WITHIN ARE PREY

MY PREY

Beneath the gristly message, a cracked and battered mask would be found laid against the wall. Staring eyelessly at any to encounter the scene, it's sombre expression would be stained with the gore of it's previous wearer.