Ezelberoth : Daemon King Snicker entered the town of Drune from the east with much relief. For the last hour he had battled his way in the fading light of the setting sun, through a horrific sandstorm in the Barrens, that had sprung up, seemingly out of nowhere. Sand seemed to have lodged itself in every crevice of his armour, making walking uncomfortable. Although he was safe within the small desert town, the storm continued to rage, forcing him to take refuge in the Emerald Forest Tavern nearby. After he'd managed to close the door, despite the resistance provided by the wind outside, Snicker turned to survey the scene inside. There were at least twenty people within. Some were seated at tables, others at the bar itself. But all paid Snicker no heed as he entered. They were all focused on the small group seated by the fire place. The dominant member of the group was a figure Snicker recognised well. It was the old story teller he'd met on two occasions in the past. Seated around him were a small group of children. And the old man was telling a tale he'd heard before. Snicker wasn't surprised to see the children listening wide eyed to the old man's tale, but even the adults left their ales untouched, and hung on every word he said. Finding a seat at the bar, Snicker ordered an ale from Dark Jana, the tavern's owner, and settled down to listen. The current tale was coming to an end. "...and even now he remains deep within the caves known as the Morgue, ready to trap any foolish enough to wander in there." With that, the old man leant back and took a large swallow from a tankard sitting nearby, while the children talked excitedly amongst themselves. One of the children, an elf judging by the small pointy ears jutting from his unruly hair, shyly went up to the old man and whispered in his ear. The old man roared with laughter, when the youngster had finished. "So you want something scary this time? Old Naktos wasn't frightening enough for you? Very well then listen close and I'll tell you the tale of the greatest evil to be found in the Barrens, or just about anywhere else in the Realm." The children all grew silent once more, as the old man leant forward, his face grave. "Long ago, before daemons were a common sight in the barrens, daemon-kind knew not of our lands, and lived far away, in a land so unlike our own, that we would surely perish were we to set foot there. Their ruler was the mighty daemon Ezelberoth. Few were foolish enough to trifle with such as he, and he ruled the daemons with an iron fist. Little took place in the harsh world that the daemons lived in without his knowledge, and none dared to oppose him. That is until Duach took an interest in their world and more importantly, the daemons themselves." At the mention of Duach's name, the door to the tavern flew open, and slammed against the wall. Dark Jana, quickly ran and shut the door, closing the tavern off to the storm that raged outside. Many in the tavern crossed themselves, and mumbled a blessing to Enid. And even the old man paused a moment, a frown on his face, before he continued his tale. "Duach could see how useful these creatures could be to him, if they were under his command. So he began to capture the daemons, in groups at a time, and transported them to the Realm. Once here they were enslaved by the dark god, and made to do his bidding." "Didn't the king do anything to stop him?" one of the youngsters asked hesitantly. The old man shook his head. "What could he do against a god such as Duach? He could no more fight the dark god, than he could travel between the worlds. But he knew what was happening. And he knew of the gods of old, and of Duach himself. Instead he silently raged against the disappearance of his people, and plotted dark vengeance on Duach. But as time went by, more and more daemons were taken, and he was left to fume. It was obvious Duach would not take the king of the daemons himself, and so Ezelberoth came up with a plan to change this. He used what magic he had at his command, and other more mundane methods to disguise himself as an ordinary daemon, and waited patiently for Duach to take him." The same youngster, grown bold from his last question, spoke again, although he was careful not to invoke the dark god's name as his elders had taught him. "Wouldn't the dark one have seen through this trick?" The old man smiled. "Perhaps he did. The mind of a god is difficult to understand. Maybe he knew of the deception and had his own plans for the daemon king, or maybe his mind was on other things. But whether he did or not, he did as Ezelberoth had hoped. And before long he was taken along with more of his people. He was taken before Duach along with the others, and the dark god bent his considerable will to enslave their minds to serving him. All except for Ezelberoth. He was not king of the daemons by chance. He didn't fight Duach, for he could see that only death, or worse, would result from that. Instead he did what few have done and lived to tell about. He fooled a god. To Duach, all was as it should be. The daemons would serve him unto death. But the daemon king, even while baring his mind and his soul to the dark god, and mouthing the words of allegiance, had managed to retain a small amount of his own free will. And that part of him kept him strong. And fed the flames of rage that burned deep within him." The storm outside seemed to increase in fury. Rattling the windows, and threatening to once again blow open the door. More than one of the listeners worried silently that it was Duach himself controlling this storm, and showing his rage at the trick that had been played on him. The old man paid the storm no heed. "Thinking all was well, Duach sent them all into the Realm itself, to cause havoc. Once there, Ezelberoth forgot his rage for a moment and revelled in the environment he'd been placed in. The inhabitants of the Realm that he encountered were weak and foolish, and many fell before him. Eventually however, the fate of his people, and his need for vengeance returned, and he began to gather together the daemons in the Realm. Already a group of them had taken over an underground labyrinth in the Barrens, but none argued when he led his followers down there and claimed his place as their ruler. Once established, he named it Daemon Home, and spent his days and nights down there, plotting his revenge." The old story teller paused for a moment to take another drink from his tankard. "Not much of note passed for many years, until recently, his scouts brought news of an ancient artifact's discovery by some knights of Enid. Knowing that the power of light might aid him in his quest to destroy the dark god, Ezelberoth ordered a group of his most powerful daemons to steal the artifact from the holy knights, before it reached the safety of Enid's temple, where it would be lost to him forever. The daemons quickly did as they were bid and waylaid the knights, killing them all and taking the chest with the artifact inside it. When they returned to Daemon Home, Ezelberoth knew joy at last, but it was an evil, vengeful joy. At last he had the power to confront Duach and make him pay for the crimes committed against his people. When he opened the chest however, the large holy symbol within glowed with a pure, white light, so strong it hurt the king's eyes to even look at it. Not daring to touch the holy artifact himself, he ordered one of his guards to pick it up. To his amazement, the daemon disappeared in a flash of white light, and no trace was left of the unfortunate creature. Ezelberoth's rage knew no bounds at this point. He had before him the power to defeat Duach, yet because of his inherent evil, could not touch it, let alone use it." Snicker reached into a pouch on his belt, and felt the sharp edges of the holy symbol the old man had given him at their last meeting. "Has the artifact been recovered?" he asked. The old looked at him, and winked. "Nay lad, even now it is hidden deep within the bowels of Daemon Home, close to Ezelberoth himself. There isn't a day that goes by when the daemon king doesn't open the chest and endure the holy light long enough to gaze at it. For the artifact was the Holy Symbol of Enid. And there are many small replicas in existence, like the one you have in your pouch." Everyone in the tavern turned to stare at Snicker at this point, and he found himself, looking away uncomfortably, and quickly removing his hand from the pouch. "Has anyone tried to reclaim it from the daemons?" "Aye lad. But all have perished at the hands of Ezelberoth and his daemons. But it is a great prize indeed, and one that the followers of Enid would dearly like returned. But to reclaim it would surely require the death of Ezelberoth, and there are few in the Realm capable of defeating him." There was silence in the tavern once the old man had stopped speaking. It took a moment for all to realise the silence was complete, for the storm outside had ceased, just as suddenly as it had sprung up. Most rose to their feets at this point, and gathered their reluctant children before leaving the tavern. Soon, only Dark Jana, Snicker and the old man remained. The old man walked up to Snicker and handed him an old scroll. "If you're interested in finding Daemon Home, lad, this might help you." Snicker gingerly unrolled the scroll and examined it. It was a map. On one side he could see Drune, with the Barrens to the right of it. Far to the east he could see a small skull and crossbones, and the words 'Daemon Home', scrawled next to it. Although he muttered audibly to himself about the foolishness of seeking out a being such as Ezelberoth, he was already mentally mapping the path one would take to reach the spot marked on the map. Page 1 of 1   Thank you for reading Ezelberoth : Daemon King. If you enjoyed this story, or even if you didn't, please feel free to send me your comments.   Return to Index   This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page