Ashengar

Ashengar the cursed, Ashengar the dark, Ashengar the destroyer. He has many names, but few know the tragic history of the immortal Ashengar. Listen well, for now I shall recount the life of the mortal Ashengar and why his name is still cursed by many.

Ashengar was born in a remote elven village deep in the wooded valleys of Kyderria. He was a strong child, and was taught the ways of the woods and the art of hunting at an early age. Within time, he grew to be the greatest hunter and warrior in the village, but he was also gentle and kind. When he was accepted into the village council he proved to be wise as well as strong and became a highly respected administrator. When the council chief stepped down, he named Ashengar as his successor for he had proven himself wise and just. The village rejoiced. Under Ashengar's guidance the village prospered and grew, and although the great war raged all across the world, the people were content. They believed that they were safe in their seclusion. They were wrong.

One dark night, shortly after the harvest, a band of shades descended upon the sleeping village. The hungry shades fell upon the elves, and though many fought bravely, they were overwhelmed and their souls devoured. Ashengar managed to defeat several of the undead creatures, but even his mighty strength was not enough and a shade took him. Though his life drained away with every second, Ashengar struck out with the last of his strength and slew the beast. Blackness engulfed him. Who knows how long he lay there, in the midst of his shattered home, or what darkness had touched his soul when the shade had drained his life, but when he finally stood again, he was not the man he had once been.

His once blue eyes where as black as midnight and his tanned skin as pale as death itself. He began to search the ruins of his village, picking his way through the devastation, desperately looking for survivors. There were none. Most lay dead in their homes, too terrified to put up any resistance, Ashengar's family was among them. Ashengar wept, agony rose within him, his people were gone, he was alone, he had never felt such isolation. All that he cared about, all he had worked for was gone, swept away in a single night of carnage, Ashengar stood and bellowed in rage, shaking his fists at the uncaring sky and cursing the names of the Gods. Now insane with rage and hatred, Ashengar took up his mighty sword once again and set out to wreak terrible revenge upon the world that had taken everything from him.

For seven, long, bloody years Ashengar rampaged across Kyderria, slaying all in his path. Shades were his hated enemy, but many innocent creatures also fell before him, Ashengar no longer cared. He would drown the world in a sea of blood if it would slake his thirst for revenge. Soon the name of Ashengar struck fear into the hearts of men, innkeepers barred their doors at night, afraid of the mad elf that stalked the darkness. It was at one of these inns that Ashengar was to find his salvation.

Late one dark winter night, a particularly stubborn innkeeper was waiting for the last of his customers to finish his ale. The man was a stranger, whose face was hidden by a hooded cloak, the barkeep had not seen him arrive and he didn't seem inclined to leave. Just as he was about to send the stranger on his way, the still night was shattered by an inhuman cry of rage and despair. A second later the door shattered and an elven warrior strode into the room. His eyes were as black as pitch and his face as pale as death. The barkeep stood frozen in terror as a living nightmare advanced on him, sword in hand. Then, to his astonishment, the stranger who had been sitting at the bar all evening stood and calmly turned to confront the raging warrior. As the elf brought his sword up to strike the man down, he cast back his hood revealing not the features of a man, but of a beautiful woman. "CEASE" she commanded in a voice that shook like thunder, the elf toppled to the ground as if struck by a mighty blow. The warrior struggled to get to his feet, but an invisible force held him firmly. Eventually, he submitted and in a voice filled with rage and defiance asked, "Who are you?" The woman knelt beside the defeated warrior and declared "I am Athyra". With that, she passed her hand over the face of the elf.

"See Ashengar" she said "see what you have done". When she withdrew her hand, Ashengar's face held rage no longer, instead, he wept. "What have I become?" he cried "what have I become?" For a long time Ashengar wept tears of bitter remorse and anguish. Finally he stood, no longer restrained and asked, "what is to become of me? How may I atone for the evil I have wrought?"

"Dear Ashengar, you were once a great man, a good man and you will be so again" with that, Ashengar was granted immortality. "You will champion the just and protect the defenseless, this is your task and your penance for your deeds". With that, Athyra vanished.

Since that day, Ashengar has carried out his sworn duty with new-found vigour. He dyed his armour black, in mourning of the innocents he has killed and his great sword is said to drip with the blood of the fallen, a constant reminder of the unjustly slain. However, despite his sinister appearance, when the good are threatened and in need of protection he will appear in all his fury, for although he is redeemed, the darkness in his eyes still betrays the rage in his heart.