Excerpt taken from the Autobiography of Taonik Stonnok, the First Disruptor and Stormcrafter, in regards to his life's account.
Chapter 3: Rise of the Axe.
Many have claimed that I am an individual of wisdom and knowledge, an exemplar among the Oglodi to be respected and heeded. While it is a fair statement in regards to my current position within the ranks of the reformed Stormcrafters, it does not ring true in my opinion.
Yes, today, I have learn many things of note and understand much more of the world than I did when young, but these came from harsh lessons of youth, growing up in a world dominated by blood and war.
As previously stated, I am a respected individual among the Oglodi tribes, but I do not hold a position of power among the ruling tribal councils. Many an issue that I have been saddled with in my long life has arisen from the Council's choices, but I cannot hold them guilty of any true wrong doing.
Often it is the choice between me and my fellow storm crafters, or greater damage to the people. It is a burden I, and my students, willingly accept.
But I've said much about my earlier life in previous chapters. Here I'd prefer to cover the bloodier years of my past, during the rise and domination of the Bloodmist Army, and their actions within the Steppes of Druud and beyond.
This is an area that many have queried me over the many years, during the days of bloody skin tainting and the proud military conquests, and my concoction to that army. Especially in regards to the Sack of Ogodi, and the rise of Axe.
The tale of out introduction is bloody and violent, the formation of the Bloodmist in those days that seem so far away. At any rate, I feel that, out of the surrounding factors that lead to the rise of Axe, I am the one that must admit responsibility….
Clouds passed across the late day sun, burning light striking through the white vapor as a knife through flesh. The glowing orb sat perfectly still, every spreading rays of strength eclipsing the world held within its grasp.
The plains below basked in the light, hundreds of creatures, many small insects and rodents scurrying among the few desolate scrubs and bushes that grew within the earth.
A raven fluttered to the earth, obsidian feathers folding inwards.
It clawed at the grounds, rough talons scratching the earth, a futile hunt for life. It hopped forward, bouncing this way and that, raking the ground, eyes darting back and forth occasionally.
A low thud, the soil reverberating with the beasts weight, send the raven skyward, screeing at the heavy footfalls of the approaching Thunderhide.
The beast groaned lowly, its titanic form dwarfing the bird, like an Ogre would a Keen child, carrying its ponderous bulk forward. Like its smaller, distant relatives, the fabled Stryders the lived in wild packs among the Steppes, the two legs of the Thunderhide bent easily, holding its heavy body up, numerous ridges dancing with strange electric blue, staining its hide.
Simple eyes shifted back and forth, its miniscule mind taking an age to intake its barren surroundings. Slowly, it lowered its snout, its massive split horn, blunted and nubbed, digging into the earth as it plowed the ground, hunting for roots growing beneath the earth.
The raven cawed, before floating downwards, gently buffeted by the gentle winds that flowed across the steps, landing atop the beast's back.
Dark eyes shrank, watching the dark smoke splutter across the horizon, swirling into the sky, tainting the clouds a terrible black.
In the distance, the great gates of Ogodi split and cracked, terrible fires turning those might gates, centuries old, to ash. The Legion washed over the cracked opening, hundreds of men and women, of all colors and creeds, swarming into the city, sharp knives gleaming.
The Lost Legion of Mystarch had come to the Oglodi, feverous in action and fanatic in their beliefs, ready to purge the land of anything that would stand in the path of their domination.
At the head, a woman stand tall in shining armor, the beauty and strength of Mankind personified in a single being. Tresdin, the Legion Commander.
Raising her arm skyward, she let loose a roar of pure hatred, urging her legionaries forward. The weaker members split away, discipline breaking at the sight of the scarce wealth jealously horded by the Oglodi tribes, each locked away in their sections of the city.
The elite legionaries, each centurion in rank, appearance and ability, marched forward like an armored fist, disregarding the destruction surrounding them. As one, they punched through the sparse warriors, many of them too weak to stand and fight, from age or wounds, before their attackers.
And so the legendary city of the Oglodi, the carved mesa Ogodi, was sacked, centuries of knowledge lost to roving hands.
Deep in the dens of the cliffs, the Legion Commander raged.
Her actions were for nought.
The Oglodi knew of no way to return Tresdin to her people, her world.
It was to this sight, the destruction of their once proud city, that the Bloodmist, bloodied by constant wars with the Southern Kingdoms and the Centaur tribes to the West, returned.
Hundreds had died, crimson ichor staining their skin redder than the sacred ochre tattooed into their flesh.
Along the lip of a low valley, they lined up, a horde of men, once proud warriors in blackened steel and mighty weapons, now reduced to a ragged horde by attrition.
The Legion reformed, ranks taking place, weapons lowered, bows drawn, each regiment locked into position along the valley rim.
With a wordless roar, the Khan charged forward, the Bllod mist army following him down the sloping vale.
Such an action was unknown of the Bloodmist. They prided themselves on rank, on discipline. When they fought, it was through unbreakable lines, towering shield-walls of stone, long halberds cutting down those that were crushed against the wall.
Behind them, mounted on great Thunderhides, were the thundering drums, each beating in time to the march of the Bloodmist, crushing foes neath its mighty tread.
From the sides, regimented groups of soldiers mounted upon stryders struck, massive hammers crushing steel and mounts tearing apart men with massive jaws.
All this was lost in a terrible rage.
Tresdin stepped forward, cloak billowing in the wind. She turned, features invisible beneath her helmet, shining gold of her helm marking her as Commander. Silently, she slowly turned, slashing downward, sending the Legion forward.
Calvary sweep down from the city, charging down the hill slope, riding bloody ruin among the charging Bloodmist. They were dragged down, each cursing and fighting, hacked to shreds in a bloody harvest, the warriors skin stained crimson.
A boy, unbloodied, swung his axe, and killed his first man, a sergeant in shining steel coated with muck. Caught him across the back with a heavy swing, taking him to the ground, cracking his neck upon landing.
Tresdin swept her sword forward again, letting loose the Legion.
Cheering, the Legionaries marched forward, each moving in step, swords ready. At their head, Tresdin moved forward, elites surrounding her, red cloak fluttering in the dying winds.
Above, the sun was swallowed by tainted clouds, each heavy with rain.
In a single crack, a bolt of lightning striking the earth, a downpour of rain beginning.
The Legion collided with the Bloodmist.
The Oglodi were slaughtered. The Legion reaped a terrible harvest, regiments cutting down the Oglodi warriors as they charged into their lines, shattering many legendary companies beneath their power.
At the head, Tresdin cut a bloody swath, her armored elites killing wherever they went. Amid the madness, the swirling rain and terrible storm, the Khan let loose a mighty bellow, and charged Tresdin.
They spun and clashed, each fighting to the death in a bloody duel.
Moments later, the Khan misstepped, and Tresdin ran him through, her sword cutting through the blackened plate and bursting from his back in a shower of blood.
Pulling her sword free, she spat at his corpse, before moving forward.
Excerpt from Disruptors speech to the Magnus Colleges, reign of Grand Magnus Rubick.
It was amid that terrible melee that I first found the tenants of Storm-crafting, the lost creed of our people.
Life is Chaos.
A man rides out the storm in hopes that he might end peacefully, luck guiding him.
A master directs the spinning winds, the crackling lightning. Not control, for that leads to death, but directs. A conduit for the storms power.
The wind whipped at the soldiers flesh, spinning and pulling at them battling warriors. Men and women locked in a fierce melee, each consumed by killing their enemy.
An Oglodi bought down by a halberd piercing his chest, only to crush the skull of a man with his death throws. The mighty Tunderhide crushing enemies wherever it stomped, an unfortunate soul swallowed alive by its tremendous jaws.
Within the raging clouds, bolts of electric blue tore apart the heavens, shattering the earth and killing many. Rain thunder down, muddying the field and making in neigh impossible to move, let alone see.
Within it all, a young boy saw his Khan fall to the earth, and the Legion Commander turn away.
With a scream of rage, he charged forward.
Tresdin turned, sword raised, blocking the attack and catching the axe beneath its blade. She grimaced, twisting her blade and shearing the blade from it shaft, sending the boy sprawling away into the mud.
Stepping forth, she pointed her sword at the boy.
"I had thought the Bloodmist Army of these lands would match my Legion. What do I find? Children and savages, screaming towards their deaths."
Reaching down, she lifted the boy skywards by his pauldron straps, her golden, armored gloves stained red. The burning embers of her eyes meet the blank eyes of the boy.
"You and your people are filth."
The shaking footsteps were her only warning, moments before she could stab the youth through his gut.
A massive hammer, crackling with pure energy, slammed into her back, throwing her off centre, dropping the boy as she staggered.
Riding passed, a man of red skin grabbed the boy roughly, carrying him away from the Legion Commander.
"Dammit boy, this is no place for hesitance. Strike hard and show no mercy, for you shall receive none."
Throwing the boy down, the man twitched his legs, sending his Stryder backwards the Commander. Pulling to a halt before her, he watched as she righted herself.
"My vengeance for this shall be legend, Commander."
Standing straight, Tresdin raised her sword, swinging it against her shield in taunt.
"Come then Oglodi, let us see how you fight."
The two charged one another, both colliding in a thunderous crash. Striking quickly, Tresdin cut away at the Stryder's legs, hamstringing the beast and sending her foe to the earth.
Disruptor rose on one knee, seizing his hammer with two hands and charging toward her again, only to be knocked back with ease by the commander once again, hammer bouncing away from her shield.
Again and again they clashed, each time, Tresdin pushing him away, a thousand cuts covering his form.
"Fall Oglodi!"
In a single lunge, she stepped forward, blade passing beneath the Disruptor's hammer and cutting him across the ribs. As he reacted, she planted her foot into his chest and booted him backwards, sending him flying.
As the man failed to rise, she stalked closer.
Another axe spun from the side, smashing into her shoulder guard.
The boy, the Khan's axe in hand, raged, mind lost to anger.
Blocking once again, she smashed him in the face with her shield, knocking the boy out cold.
A spark of lightning crashed into the earth before her, showering her with dirt.
"The storms gather at my fingertips."
The hammer flew straight, crashing into the commander, electricity coursing through her body, eliciting an agonizing scream.
"And by this storm craft."
The disruptor charged forward, hammer spinning back towards his open palm before shouldering Tresdin backwards, swing his hammer upwards, throwing her shield away.
"I shall lay you low!"
"Never!"
Sword and hammer met, each seeking to outdo the other.
Tresdin struck back, decades of experience giving her the advantage. Again and again they clashed, and she drove the Disruptor back.
Slowly, she backed away, armor smoldering and flesh within melting. The Disruptor rose again, only for a bolt of lightning to strike him from above.
Coursing power flooded through his veins, eyes radiating electric blue.
He raised himself upwards, hammer lifted towards the sky.
Another bolt of lightning smashed straight into him, the clouds churning above him, a terrible storm ready to sweep life from the plains below.
Raising her sword, Tresdin prepared to enter the fray once more, before her guard laid a hand on her shoulder and murmured to her, quickly outlining the state of the battle.
A quick nod, and Tresdin turned away, ignoring the Oglodi that was drawing more and more lightning to his raised hammer.
She ignored the screams of the dying, moving towards the Legion's supply train, mounting her horse and leading her army away. Lightning continued to fall, burning men alive, melting their skin and fusing them with their armor.
The battle was done.
The Legion retreated, many lost to the battle, and more to the thunder above.
The Bloodmist was slain, few left to reform or even lead the remaints. A young boy takes up the Khan's axe, and shows no mercy in his rise to power.
Across the plains, the storm screamed and raged, sun blotted out.
Slowly, the thunder moved south, following the only man that could direct its power, ready to serve his need for vengeance.