Tales of Trugan - Chapter 1

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Tales of Trugan

by Sliverbane

Libraries: Adventure, Fantasy, Original Fiction, Series

Published on / 1 Chapter(s) / 0 Review(s)

Updated on

Shaadiv; The Demon Realm - Yetra; Home to the benevolent Elundri - Trugan; The mortal world. All three worlds are connected by a thin invisible veil. Only a select few can travel between. It has been a millennia since the Dark War that sundered the three realms. Now peace reigns throughout and the Balance is restored, yet there are those who have grown weary of it.

Tales of Trugan


Tales of Trugan

-Lust for Havoc-


Eristock Ghendri, demon lord of the Havoc tribe of Shaadiv, roamed calmly between the flitting shadows and chilling hisses of The Labyrinth. The Labyrinth it self was literally an endless maddening web of dark passages that spanned infinitely towards the black horizon. The air was dry and stank of rot. Blowing mildly, a breeze shifted his dark green hair about his broad shoulders. Encompassing all, the malevolent Dark Storm seethed and lurched. It was a live entity, the Dark Storm. There seemed to be no end to it. There were moments when the contours of twisted faces would appear, uttering soundless screams, their bulbous clouded eyes puss filled, glaring coldly upon him. They were incessant, the broken bodies, and dismembered rotting things.

The morbid setting did little to unsettle a demon such as he. Eristock sought the center of the Labyrinth and he knew his way well. His brow shadowed his focused cunning yellow eyes. He stared strait ahead as he progressed along the crumbling stone path before him. The demon's blue skin pulled tightly over his knuckles as he clenched his fists. Eristock was approaching something much more sinister than the taunting wraiths of the Dark Storm, something old as time, the pinnacle of malfeasance. Eristock slowed his determined strides as he came to the edge of the stone path. The demon lord stared out in to the mire to watch a virulent black dragon slip in to view. It's glittering black scales undulated and writhed as the great beast whipped the stagnant air with it's immense leathery wings. Eristock watched cautiously as the creature flew overhead. The dragon cocked its slender reptilian head and focused one of it's sharp eyes upon the demon lord. Eristock sneered. The dragon’s large milky eye blinked, narrowing inquiringly at the demon's presence. The dragon flicked its tail haughtily, tilted a wing and departed silently, disappearing back in to the black fog of the eternal Dark Storm.

Eristock was relieved to see the dragon. The great beasts were only seen this deep with in the Labyrinth when the ancient Kontagion, Ruzabel, was wakeful. The Elders called the Emperor Ruzabel Ithuan'ezbur Lord of the Dark Storm. The Kontagion were the most ancient of the demon tribes.  Their numbers were few but their power was unmatched in all of Shaadiv.  Erisotck paused at the precipice in the Dark Lord's throne, deep in the bowels of The Labyrinth, Eristock Ghendri waited. He reluctantly waited to be noticed, waited for permission, and it enraged him to have to wait for anything. 

Eristock clenched his already tense jaw. It was necessary for him to grovel in this manner. It had been almost three thousand years since the war in which the Elundri, the children of light, had dared to face the Horde. Eristock grit his teeth in bitter remembrance. Just when the Horde had nearly crushed the Elundri legions, inches from snaring the pale morsels by the throat, Ruzabel, called a truce with the Divine.  He had been forced to abandon his victory for Eristock, a demon of havoc, a creature that lived for chaos, was growing ill. He was tired, tired of waiting countless centuries for the chance. He craved the blood soaked battlefields and the din of the suffering. That is why he stood before the greatest creature of malevolence silently begging to be heard.

There was a sudden shift in the gently blowing air. A wave of stinking moisture assailed Eristock. He peered out in to the mire. There was a noticeable amount of activity among the creatures of the Dark Storm. It seemed to bubble and boil. Eristock watched, awe widening his fierce eyes, as two long winding slivers of dull light creased the Storm. These slivers gradually widened to become a pair of glowering eyes. Eristock couldn't help but feel a certain amount of trepidation as watched his master materialized before him.

A resonant, androgynous voice echoed wickedly in the cavernous void followed by a surreal echo of countless voices.  " Child. You pursue me...me...me...." 
Another gust of fetid air made the demon lord step back a bit.

Eristock summoned his voice and called out confidently.
" I do, Dark Lord. I, Eristock Ghendri," the havoc demon bowed his head respectfully. "Seek your foresight.”

The great pair of eyes tilted inquisitively. " Speak."

" The time has come my lord to act. We have waited long enough. We must strike out at our enemies."

There was a long pause. The sliver eyes wavered, reflecting, scrutinizing the insolent creature before it. 
" You wish to war." stated Ruzabel. 
" I wish to vanquish our enemies, yes, my Lord."

" Child." chided Ruzabel. " What you request can not be....cannot be..."

Eristock's lips parted, aghast. He snarled. " What? I cannot believe what I am hearing! I could readily see that the other demon Lords could shirk their duty!" He huffed. " They have grown indifferent and lazy! Yet, even you, Ruzabel, Sanguine Emperor...shy away as if to hide like a sniveling kobold! It is time! Do you NOT see!?" Eristock grit his teeth, unsure of what his extreme breach of protocol would unleash. This is utter madness, he thought ruefully.

A gentle cackling started as a echoing whisper, then grew in to a chorus of heckling laughter, snickers and giggles. The seething entities of the Dark Storm churned. The huge pair of eyes narrowed regarding the youngling standing before it. A horizontal slit formed below the eyes taking the shape of a grinning sliver-mouth. 

" Whimsical child...child...child..." Ruzabel chided.

Eristock's expression darkened. The grinning mouth faded. The dull glowing eyes slowly closed then dissipated all together. The quiet roar of the Storm replaced the now fading voices of Ruzabel's voice. His audience with the Dark Lord was over. Eristock stepped back, regarding the mass of mocking faces and jeering shadows. His rage and humiliation made his pale cerulean skin burn. He sucked in a great breath through clenched fangs and bellowed angrily at the cackling wraiths. He turned swiftly, sweeping his heavy cloak about in his wake and stormed away from the Shadow Throne. His hardened visage rippled with fury. 

" I don't require your permission," he growled with resolution. " You daft old fool."

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