Zah Bloodfist the Juggernaut of War, Champion of the Massacre

Role

Chapter 13

Hovering over the bubbling lake of lava, Zah takes one last look at his
Warlord. The Lord of Strife simply stares back, silent. Knowing disobeying
his Lord would be worse than the torture which lays below, Zah mentally
prepares himself. Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, Zah releases his
flight and plummets into the molten depths.

Pain. Agony. Suffering.

There is nothing else, in attempt to seek relief, Zah calls for the
bloodthirst but it does not come, there is no rage, only anguish.

Then as suddenly as it arrived, the pain vanishes. In its place is nothing, a
numbness. His skin destroyed, eyes ruined, ears burnt away, Zah cannot even
tell if hes still within the lake. All he can sense is darkness and an
eternal emptiness.

Sometime later, Zah awakens on the lakes edge. How he got there, how he
survived he does not know. Looking down, he inspects his destroyed body. The
fury of the lake taking its due, leaving him with nothing ruined but skin
and scars. Only the infinite helix tattoo remains intact, humming louder
than ever upon his wrist.

Although Zah can feel once again, the internal emptiness and the darkness
that came with it remains. His hatred for magic in all forms still burns
bright but no longer does he care or consider those around him. He is numb,
acting on only that which brings him pleasure: war and destruction.

Role

Chapter 12

Cursing loudly, Zah painfully pulls himself out of bed. Aches and pains
plague Zah's body, punishment for a lifetime of warfare. Cracking his
permanently blood-stained knuckles, Zah removes his grimace and puts on his
usual fearsome visage. It would not do well for the younger Villagers to see
him wincing in pain.

Floating out of his hut, Zah coughs violently, blood appearing on his hand.
Grumbling to himself, Zah knows this is not one of the usual symptoms that
accompany him. His body is weakening and Zah knows it.

Both time and battle have taken its toll, but it was not for nothing. Looking
about himself, Zah swells with pride. The Village remains strong, despite
weakening since Grord's leadership. Looking down, he flexes his hands:
blood-stained, scarred and hardened, his primary tools of destruction. The
left hand hums gently, the ever changing helix tattoo circling the wrist.

Commander, Drillmaster, Commander again, Champion of the Massacre, the
lessons of the Winter of Fury, his mark of favouritism, numerous wars, epic
battles and foes. Zah has lived his life to the fullest, leaving a swath of
destruction in his wake.

But now Zah can feel that life coming to an end. He is not saddened by this
thought, he knows better than most the futility of mortal life. The mere
moment of existence, in which one can blaze brightly or pass by unseen,
forgotten.

With the end in sight, Zah does not plan on passing peacefully. These final
years will be his swansong, a crescendo of devastation that ends only with
Zah's own destruction.

Role

Chapter 11

Zah's life has been as long as it has been brutal. Centuries of war have
passed by and Zah has long watched over the Village in one form or another.
Brave Villagers rising up, before being snuffed out. Enemies too, the
powerful, the cowardly, the respected. Many have faced Zah, few remain, but
always more arrive at the gates.

In all Zah's time, only one thing has remained constant: change.

In his youth, this would have bothered Zah, but time, wisdom and the Fury of
Winter had changed that. Zah no longer fought for victory, to rid Thera of
magic. The hatred for magic in all its forms remained and the rage that came
with it, but Zah no longer believed in the final victory.

Instead Zah now embraced this everlasting change. Every mage brought down,
gave opportunity for another to rise in his place. Every fallen comrade,
brought more young and eager to fill the Village huts. This was the beauty
and futility of mortal life.

So it was that Zah found himself standing within the Village circle, lying
broken before him were the corpses of rival Villagers, challengers to his
position as Commander. Zah had cast out the absent and weak-hearted Elven
Commander Galgeron and rightfully taken his place.

It was the second time Zah had stood as Commander, but this time it would be
different. Zah would bring conquest and destruction, wars and devastation to
the realm. The commands of the Lord of Strife sang within him. The Thirst
which had always dominated Zah rose up once again, the need to abandon
oneself and destroy. Only this time it was more powerful than ever, and with
it came a spark of darkness.

Role

Chapter 10

'He learned the price of victory.'

'And victory is empty.'

The words rolled around in Zah's slow head, they brought about a feeling so
familiar and yet he could not place it. Ever since the Lord of Strife had
uttered them, they had consumed Zahs thoughts.

Frustrated, Zah grunts loudly, before turning his thoughts to fonder
memories. The Massacre. Now that was a good day. Floating over the
bloodstained, snowy mountains, the Thirst running wild within him. All who
stood before Zah fled or broke, until only one remained: the wretched Chaos
Magi Gilversplitz.

Letting out his Cry of Thunder, Zah charged the jaguar, wrapped it tight
within his flail and using nothing but his bare hands, beat it to a pulp.

The rush of combat, the Thirst, the Cry of Thunder, all raged within him.
Turning about, Zah looked excitedly for his next victim, only to realise
there is none. Zah was victorious.

And victory is empty.

A flash of realisation dawns upon the simple Zah. War. Destruction. That is
what makes Zah who he is. Without it he is nothing. Without magic, the
accursed Magi, he would have never found the Village, never been named
Commander, Drillmaster and never been the Champion of the Massacre.

The War might never end, magic may never be defeated and Zah realised he
didnt want it to. Zah needed the War, to grow, change and become the
greatest that he could be. With this new found understanding, Zah lets out
a deep, booming laugh as he heads out to pick another fight.

Role

Chapter 9

Hovering over the broken corpse of the Scarab Gargoyle, Zah cracks his
bloodied knuckles and prepares himself to face the Lich within.

"GRRRGGHH"

The sound echoes throughout the temple, the rumble of Zah's massive
stomach. Cursing to himself, Zah realises he did not pack enough food for the
forthcoming battle and turns back in frustration.

After consuming what feels like an endless amount of Candi's bakery
cookies, a feeling of impending doom overcomes Zah, yet within it, Zah too
feels a spark of exhilaration. Looking up, he sees the Warlord Jormyr looming
over him, shrouded in a cloud lightning and ash. The Warlord has come to
discuss the Village Wars and their lack of progression.

As the pair speak, a new realisation rises within Zah. Never has Zah given my
thought to the Heavens, his old Tribe, their Village and last name long since
abandoned, were God fearing. Like most Cloud Giants, they did not worship the
Divine for fear of drawing their attention.

Zah looks down at his hands, hard, calloused and stained pink from years of
blood. Yet despite their strength, they shake as always before the fearsome
Warlord. But it is not fear that causes them to tremble, it is something
deeper, something far more primal. It is the savagery of the Ancient Village,
it is the Thirst that constantly calls to him, and it is so much more.

The Warlord vanishes, Zah is left alone. Hands shaking, heart racing, a storm
of emotions raging within him. Turning back towards the Temple, Zah lets
loose his Cry of Thunder and charges the Gargoyle once again, determined to
bring Destruction to all within.

As the Lich Coprophagous falls, the Unholy Icon of the Scarab appears in Zah
hands. Looking down at it, Zah notices that it remains still, his hands no
longer trembling. With the battle now ended and the temple quiet once again,
a feeling of calm washes over Zah.

He hates it.

The need for the Destructive power of the Thirst still yearns within him,
only this time it is something greater, something Divine. Determined to find
this feeling once again, Zah leaves the temple with a new goal in mind. He
will seek out the Warlord Jormyr and he will embrace the Fury of Winter, for
better or worse.

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Role

Chapter 1

Throwing the last of his belongings into a sack, Zah twists the end and
slings it over his shoulder. Floating slowly, he leans forward and glides
soundlessly out the bedroom window, landing gently on the dew wet grass
outside. Turning back, he takes one last look at the family home, before
drifting off into the night.

For almost a century Zah had remained trapped in the mountain village. Cloud
giants, massive, strong, fierce in combat, yet here they were cowering
amongst the clouds, hiding from what lay below. Zah was unlike the rest of
his tribe however, Zah was the strongest of his peers, the bravest and the
most reckless. He believed Cloud Giants should take their place in the world,
and against the tribal Elders warning, he set out to do so.

Like most wanderers in Thera, Zahs natural path eventually led him to
Galadon. A city unlike anything he had ever imagined, so crowded he wondered
if the walls were actually designed to keep people in, rather than invaders
out. It was here that Zah discovered the Warriors Guild, the familiarity
of training and combat providing a home amongst the chaotic city.

Role

Chapter 2

"Zah will be the greatest!" booms the drunken cloud giant, spilling some of
the contents of his home-brewed beer over the Warrior Guild's bar.

Chuckling deeply, the behemoth of a bartender turns to face Zah "Ah would be
guessin' there be a few Villagers 'ho who be challengin' ya on dat!"

"Villlllagers? Whaa' villagers?" slurs Zah.

"'Em Battleragers o' course, so strong 'em not need no magic to fight, just
'em skill an' strength. They say 'em best in da land"

"Where Zaaah find village?"

Chuckling again, the bartender responds, "East, way down tha' east road. Head
towards tha' sound o' battle".

The very next morning Zah set out, determined to find and learn from the
greatest warriors in the land. Progress was good, until he ran into a
roadblock.

"Halt!" cries one of the centurions, "you must pay the toll to pass"

"Toll? Wha' toll?" responds a confused Zah.

"This road is part of the Imperial Empire, all who wish to use it must pay
their due"

"Zah not want road, Zah want Village, where Zah find Village?"

Before either of the guards can respond, a high pitched voice cries out, "I
can help you find the Village!"

The two centurions step aside, bowing their heads as a sickly looking human
steps between them. Behind the man, a small group of zombies can be seen
keeping pace.

"You do speak of the mighty Battleragers, do you not?". A smile as dark and
slimy as his slicked back hair slides across his face.

"Yeh, Zah want go Village"

"But of course you do, a strong young Giant such as yourself. The Village you
seek is far to the east, past the great city of Hamsah Mu'Tazz and across the
Dragon Sea. Once you reach the city of Arkham, you'll find the, ah... " the
man pauses momentarily to cough "mighty Village you seek hidden outside its
northern gates."

Frowning at the pale man, Zah grunts his thanks.

"You're most welcome, oh, and don't forget to pay the toll"

Role

Chapter 3

Floating over the pile of rubble, Zah comes to land in a strangely silent
clearing. The journey here had taken longer than expected, but he had finally
found the mighty Village.

As Zah approaches, it becomes clear something's not right. The stench of
death fills the air, so thick it threatens to choke him the closer he gets.
The surrounding walls, which once must have stood tall and strong, now lie in
ruins. Stepping through the rotting gate, Zah is confronted with a horrific
sight.
The village, like the walls, are little more than pile of rubble. It
is clear that nothing has lived here for centuries. But it is not the ruins
that shocked Zah, it is the enormous throne built of skulls. Towering up
within the ruins, the morbid throne appears to be the only structure to
survive the ravages of time. Zah cautiously steps closer, examining the
skulls in detail, as an uncomfortable chill runs down his spine.

"MORE SKULLS FOR THE THRONE OF BONE!!!"

The powerful warcry echoes throughout the Village. Heart racing, Zah draws
his weapon and drops into a fighting stance. Staring about himself, he sees
nobody and nothing.

Zah was finally beginning to relax, thinking perhaps he had imagined it, when
another warcry erupts from behind him. Spinning quickly, Zah barely has time
to ready his weapon before a savage looking Dwarf is on top of him, their
wicked looking mace raised. Moving too slowly to block the strike, Zah braces
himself for the blow. But as suddenly as the Dwarf appeared, they vanish into
a cloud of rapidly evaporating mist.

Looking about himself in confusion, Zah barely has time to dive aside as
another ghostly figure lowers their wand at him and unleashes a bolt of
deadly energy. The bolt slides past, barely missing Zah and slams into
another unseen barbarian behind him. The blast tears into the warrior,
sending the now limp corpse flying across the ruins. Zah turns back in
anticipation of another assault, but the ghostly figure is already gone.

Panicking, Zah picks himself up and once again drops into a fighter stance.
In the distance, sounds of combat ring out. A huge fire giant is slamming
equally massive axes into a slim figure. The unarmed figure has their hands
raised, causing the axes to send showers of sparks flying off an invisible
barrier. Roaring in outrage, the giant raises one axe in a wild overhead
strike. Slamming the axe down, the barrier shatters like glass, before the
mage is split completely in two. The raw brutality and gore makes Zah's
stomach churn.

Role

Chapter 4

A shadow descends over Zah, looking up he sees the outline of a gargantuan
fire elemental towering over the ruins. The elemental spins, a burning
tornado of death and dissipates into an expanding cloud of mist.

All around Zah the sound of combat echos out. Humans, Elves, Giants and
creatures of all kinds lash out at each other in ghostly battle. Zah's panic
further rises and with it all his combat lessons are forgotten. All he can do
wildly block, dodge and evade the ongoing battle. Hours pass, but the battle
does not relent and fatigue begins to set in. As Zah finally crashes to the
ground, the blackness finally overwhelming him, a now familiar warcry echoes
out from battlefield.

"MORE SKULLS FOR THE THRONE OF BONE!!!"

Role

Chapter 5

A grizzled looking Dwarf hobbles into the ruins of the ancient Village.
Heavily armed, scarred and bearing a silvery-white beard, this elderly Dwarf
has seen plenty of battles in his lifetime.

Curled up in a massive ball, cowering before the throne of bone, sits a young
Cloud Giant. He shakes uncontrollably, eyes wide as he stares vacantly at the
ghostly battle raging around him.

"Yer alright there, laddie?" calls the Dwarf. The young giant does not
respond.

Stepping in front of the giant, the dwarf waves a meaty hand in his face. The
giant's expression does not change, eyes still staring into emptiness, not
even acknowledging the Dwarf's presence. Letting out a deep sigh, the Dwarf
examines the giant closely. He's not surprised, the ancient village is a
powerful landmark, its power drawn from a milenia of war, hate and death. For
one so young, feeble minded and suffering from the Violet Spider's curse, it
is no wonder that his mind was broken.

Reaching out gently, the Dwarf takes the Giant's hand and pulls him to his
feet. Together they slowly leave the village, the giant providing no
resistance to the Dwarf's guidance.

Role

Chapter 6

"MORE SKULLS FOR THE THRONE OF BONE!!!"

Zah wakes suddenly, sitting bolt upright he looks about for the source of the
warcry. Instead Zah finds a cosy, wooden bedroom. Before he can think
anything more of it, the door bursts open, followed by an aging Dwarf.

"Finally yer awake! Now don't go breakin' anythin' ya big bugger" cries the
Dwarf, "I'm Durin, what yer name?"

Completely confused, Zah responds blankly, "Zah".

"Zah, eh? Ya floaty Giants always were a simple lot", as he speaks, Durin
heads out of the room, continuing to shout back through the doorway, "What in
the hells were ya doin' in the ancient Village anyway?"

Zah's brow creases in deep thought before responding, "Zah seek great
warriors, Zah want be great warrior".

As Durin walks back into the room, carrying with him a large jug of ale and
some bread, Zah notices a faded tattoo on his forearm, the mark of a hammer
and anvil.

"Eat" he commands, "Ya need it."

Wandering over to the other side of the room, Durin takes a seat in
comfortable looking armchair. He takes a swig of ale and watches the Giant,
stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"Great warrior, huh. Maybe, but certainly not tha' brightest warrior! Ya be
goin' to tha' wrong bloody Village." he chuckles into the jug as he takes
another mouthful. "Ya knowin' laddie, there be a lot more to 'em Villagers
than just great warriors. Tell me, wha' do you think o' Magic?"

At the mention of the word 'magic' Zah is suddenly overwhelmed by mixed
emotions, as unbidden memories rise up from the last few days he spent in the
Ancient Village. Only this time it is different.

Once again Zah sees the barbarian warrior, catapulted lifelessly through the
air by the magi's wand. Only this time Zah feels the pain, intimately. This
man was his brother, a comrade in arms. As the warrior falls, Zah's heart
twists in agony.

The giant cleaving away at the slim figure's shield, before clefting the mage
in twain. The angst in Zah's chest fades quickly, replaced with a sense of
elation and triumph. He now relishes in the gore of his fallen foe.

Finally Zah remembers the towering elemental, he feels its heat, but it is
not the only fire that warms him. Anger. Hate. Rage. Overwhelming any other
emotion, these come to the fore.

Still sitting upright in bed, Zah's face darkens, his eyes narrow and he
mutters quietly under his breath "More skulls for the throne of bone"

Watching Zah closely, Durin nods, all humor in his voice now gone "Come,
great warrior, we have much discuss".

Role

Chapter 7

Many years have passed since Zah first left the Ancient Village and in that
time he has grown strong. Now a Champion of the Battlefield, the highest rank
one can acquire within the Warrior's guild and Battlerager Berserker, the
name Zah is known and feared throughout the lands.

Upon joining the Village Zah was forewarned of the awe-inspiring power known
as the Bloodthirst. It granted the wielder enormous strength but came at
great risk.

Initially, Zah was afraid of the power, afraid of losing control. As time
went on however, he gradually learned to how best to use it, to control its
release and its strength. More and more Zah called upon the Bloodthirst, and
before him fell more and more magi skulls.

Soon the Thirst began to call to Zah. The strength, the rush, the sheer
destructive power it provided was intoxicating. Zah found himself looking for
opportunities to call upon it, to succumb to its embrace. Which is exactly
how Zah found himself in Galadon.

The Mummy Cerybis lurked the lands, and as Provost Magistrate, it was never
hard to find. Stepping through the eastern gates, Zah felt a tremor of
excitement flow through his body, the anticipation of calling the Thirst.

Suddenly the world spins, Zah's stomach lurches and he finds himself no
longer at the eastern gates. Instead the Mummy has summoned him deep into the
western battlements.

"Zah is a CRIMINAL! PROTECT THE INNOCENT!!"

The cry erupts from all around Zah. Glancing around, Zah finds himself
completely surrounded. Numerous guards, a pair of lieutenants, an army of
undead and the abomination itself: Cerybis.

Zah calls upon the Bloodthrist, surrenders to it completely, and a cross
between a moan and grunt escapes his lips, as he shudders in ecstasy. The
moment passes quickly and Zah lets out his ferocious warcry, the Cry of
Thunder adding to his high.

"MORE SKULLS FOR THE THRONE OF BONE!!!".

Within a heartbeat the enormous giant transforms into a whirling mass of
death. His flails blur at inhuman speeds, smashing through the ranks that
surround him. The battlements quickly turn red as both Zah's blood and his
victims cover its floors and walls. The sight of this blood only inspires
Zah, as he continues his bloody march through the battlements. Living and
unliving fall before him, until all that remains is Cerybis himself. Lashing
out at his feet, Zah pulls the Mummy to the ground. Looming over the fallen
Provost, Zah swings his flail on final time, delivering a blow of deadly
force and caving the Mummy's rotten face inwards.

As suddenly as it began, the Thirst leaves Zah and he tumbles to the ground.
Grievously wounded and near death, Zah grunts in pain. But it is not the
physical wounds that hurt him, it is the desire, no, the need to call upon
the Thrist again that truly pains him.

Role

Chapter 8

Years have passed since Commander Zergul fell and in that time the Village
has waned. The Drillmaster Quamlu, whilst an excellent Drillmaster, refuses
to step into the role as Commander.

Many speak with Tahren, but few are allowed to pass the massive giant. Of
those who have huts, most have retired from battle or succumb to it. The
Village is quiet, no clash of training, no roar of laughter or drunken
ballards.

Outside the gates, war is brewing and Zah can see it. The Fortress walls
bulge with Magi, a Mummy sits atop the Spire and the Empire's blades
frequently come knocking. War will come and the Village is not ready.

Zah never considered himself a leader. Strong, powerful and willing to die in
his pursuit of the destruction of magic, a soldier not a leader, but
something must be done. Someone must step up.

So it was Zah found himself before the Destructor, with so few left to
participate in the Rites, Zah offered himself as leader. He promised to open
up the Village gates, to embrace the worthy applicants still enduring their
long trial. To fill the empty huts with desperately needed Scouts and
Defenders. To train the men, bring them to best in preparation for the war to
come. Zah too would seek out a Skjald. To bring music and life back to the
Village, to write stories of their heroics and sing of those fallen.

Finally, when the Village was strong once again, Zah would call upon the
Rites and find their true leader, through the rite of blood, as it should be.

DISCLAIMER: I am Australian with limited time to play. Apart from weekends,
it may be unfair for many applicants to find me (I would understand if this
was why you didn't choose me). If you do accept me as Commander I would
please ask your support in inducting those I cannot meet. Thank you.

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