Prologue
"Ark-Ir, what do you have to say for yourself my son." The mastiff gnoll bent over his son's body, axe smeared with blood. The chieftain of the Ark'ark'araou tribe gazed spitefully on the beaten corpse at his feet. He looked down on his son's mangy fur and yellow eyes. The once brown and black fur was matted by blood, sweat, and spittle. His six and a half foot tall body curled into a ball at the chieftain's feet.
Memories rushed into Ark-Ir's now hemorrhaging brain; beautiful memories of a wonderful life. The chief had saved Ark-Ir from being an orphan after his clan had been destroyed and he was left for dead as a pup. Raised here, he knew this place to be his home. Many landmark experiences surfaced. He recalled his chilled body and excited appetite as his father took him hunting for the first time in his life. Ice sickles cracked at the base of his snout as he took a whiff of the bodily oils spilled out in the snow from the human he had just slain. The proud expression on his father's face was all the satisfaction he needed that day. He remembered vividly when he had been named the Ark'ark'araou tribe's Head Executor. Yet another moment when his father's proud radiance poured out from every orifice of his body into Ark-Ir's heart.
A reconnaissance mission had the Executor and his underlings traveling to a village of gnomes in order to find out if they were mobilizing for expansion. They were not. But nevertheless the chieftain changed his orders to a hunt and kill operation. Ark-Ir stood his ground and fought of every gnoll who tried to pass him. Even being raised by the savage chieftain and being promoted to Head Executor, he still had gained the morality to know that killing innocents was wrong. This brought him to where he was on the floor.
His heart was not warm that day.
"Well Ark-Ir, are you going to redeem yourself? Grovel for forgiveness?" coaxed the leader of the gnoll pack.
Fading in and out of consciousness Ark-Ir managed to spit out words that would be his last.
"You'll just have to sing my dirge..."
As he managed to spit the last word his father brought the axe down onto his neck, in a vital spot, severing brainstem from body. A spark jolted his body one last time, and the leader's pup lay slain on the ground of the hut. White light closed in, and Ark-Ir knew it was over.
Ark-Ir thought. That was quite odd, considering he was sure he must be dead. Yet he thought of why he had said those words. '...sing my dirge...'. It was a word in the language of common, so it should have had no meaning to him. He thought of the definition of a dirge quite clearly nonetheless. A dirge is a somber song expressing mourning or grief, such as would be appropriate for performance at a funeral. He indeed believed he was dead, but he could see no dirge sung for him within the walls of his village. Considering his betrayal, this was no surprise.
A sudden flare of life rooted mind to body as he awoke with a jolt. Ark-Ir jarred his head from side to side to see where he was, and immediately realized that was a bad idea. Pain and fear accelerated his blood flow; this made the wounds on his neck, wrapped by bandages, reopen. He settled back into the patchwork bed realizing that moving wouldn't work to his advantage. So many thoughts raced as his mind tried to comprehend what was happening. He knew that his neck had been practically severed because he had felt the sickening pop of his spine dislodging itself. There couldn't be any way to survive that.
A small gnome with cropped black hair and a purple bow tie entered the room and Ark-Ir turned his head slowly to face the small creature.
"Ah, wonderful, you're awake master. It's good to see you've recovered well. We had no choice but to use our magic to restore your body to it's former power." the gnome spoke eloquently with a nasally tone and awaited Ark-Ir's response.
"We?" Ark-Ir said shakily, he did not use common often.
"Why yes master, the other gnomes. It took over twenty of us to restore your life force, which was fading quickly." said the gnome very matter-of-factly.
"But...why? Why go so far for me? I do not know you, nor do you owe me allegiance for anything."Ark-Ir retorted. The gnome seemed surprised. Ark-Ir could understand, not many beings would consider a gnoll to be of even average intelligence or wit.
"Oh, but do owe you allegiance. Believe it or not we did see what you had done in regards to attacking your own pack to stop them from bringing harm to us. You have the ethics of a hero, not of your villainous tribe. Your tribe has abandoned you for dead and we have taken you in." said the gnome, leaning in to tend to Ark-Ir's neck wound with his wand.
"I thank you, but I'm afraid I have disgraced myself and my village. I have no place on this world without the tribe. We are born of the tribe, we feed from the tribe, we fight for the tribe, we love for the tribe...a gnoll is nothing without his family. I am nothing without my family." Ark-Ir recited the lines given to him by his teachers within the tribe.
A new voice then arose in the direction of the door. Ark-Ir turned to see a very old gnome leaning on a cane with very long white hair tied back into a ponytail. He had a long beard parted into four different sections and eyes of obsidian that shown in them years of experience.
"Actually, what we're getting at by saving you is having you stay with us for a while. My name is Gnarl, pleasure to meet you master 'Dirge'. I know your true name for I have seen it in my dreams and heard it on the wind. It speaks to me of your great destiny. We were meant to save you so that your life could serve a great purpose. I believe that purpose begins here, by learning our ways. If you can complete training with us, you will be ready for the future that awaits you." said the crone, leaning back against the wall and looking to the thatch roof of the cottage.
"I cannot deny your patronage, but all I have ever known is within that clan." 'Dirge' pleaded in confusion. Trying to comprehend his 'new name'.
"I understand my son, and that is why you were given a new name. A name of death. You know well what the word dirge means. That somber song was not sung for you. Nobody mourns your death or cares that you live now. You are dead to them and the rest of the world. Now is the time for rebirth. You are new, and I can think of no better name for you than the one your destiny claimed on the floor of that hut."
Dirge truly considered what the old gnome was saying; it meant abandoning everything he had grown up knowing. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that at all. The pack was all he had ever known...but the ancient gnome was right, they had indeed left him for dead. And was he wrong in what he did to protect the innocent gnomes? …No. He was not wrong. He had acted on an impulse of good in his heart and been punished for it with death. Years of 'love' from his father simply breeding him to be a war machine for their bloodthirsty tribe. He would not be the cause of cruel nonsense bloodshed anymore. He would become new.
"When do we begin?" Dirge asked, his canine mouth curling into a smile.
"As soon as Irk is done sewing you up and you get some good rest...Dirge." Gnarl sighed with relief.
"Actually I'm all done sir! Just finished in fact. He should be ready to go after a good nights rest." Irk said in a chipper voice.
"Good. Then I'll see you tomorrow morning Dirge. You begin your new life at dawn. Be ready." Gnarl stated and turned to exit; but not before turning to give Dirge a goodbye smile and nod.
The next morning Dirge awoke with a start and got out of the patchwork bed. He popped his neck and limbs, testing to make sure everything was in working order, and headed outside. The gnome village of Cael was loud, for it being so early. Gnomes buying and trading, getting ready to forage and gather, or just having a pleasant conversation off to the side. Several of them looked up as the large gnoll lumbered out of the smaller shack. Dirge observed the small town and noted the slightly gothic but downsized charms of the gnome village. The sky seemed exceptionally blue and the buildings took it well with their bright white stone and light brown thatch roofing. Irk was there smiling and pointed up to the top of a hill. The hill was adorned with two small cottages that seemed to fit naturally with the landscape.
"That's where Gnarl is, master!" He grinned and held that position until Dirge was well on his way up the hill.
What awaited him at the top was not what he had expected. Gnarl wore the black and white robes, a cowl concealing all his features, save his now enraged looking obsidian eyes. An enrapturing voice of dark seduction, nothing like the voice of the kind old priest from before, seethed out of the robes.
"Now you learn your first lesson. I will teach you all you need to know about how to confront magic, and what to do when it touches you. Gnolls are naturally earth based creatures, so your natural magic is that of earth. Catch this." As Gnarl finished his hand snaked out from the robe and discharged a ball of fiery energy at Dirge's chest.
Dirge barely had time to lift his hand and, as it struck, he was sent reeling backwards. He let out a cry of anger and anguish as the spectral flames lapped at his hand and burned him further. He sprung up from the ground and in a fit of rage raised his fist to smash the gnome. His burly gnoll fist met with an unseen force as Gnarl raised his hand; the cataclysm that resulted was awe-inspiring. A pulsation of great power was released, and the two cottages nearby were demolished as a torrent of wind whipped past and through the village streets. Gnarl muttered harsh guttural tones under his breath and made eye contact with Dirge. As the words left his lips, Gnarl waved his hand through the air and images began to spin through Dirge's mind with violent speed. Dirge could see faces he didn't know, and one he had just recently come to recognize, Gnarl. Nauseated and slightly off balance, Dirge regained his footing as the world spun. He made no move and stared down the gnome in front of him, adrenaline pumping.
"You had to see that to understand exactly what I am...The time for masks has ended. You may think this is all coming too fast...your death, resurrection, and now this. I assure you that I did not lie when I said your destiny begins here." The gnome spoke with a heinous elegance.
"But...why? Why is everyone out to kill me?" Dirge spat, voice filled with tension.
"I am the only one who will kill you. But I wanted to fight you at your full current strength. Because there is something special within you. Something I want to witness with my own eyes. And it will only come out in times of extreme stress." Gnarl spoke and lashed out with a ceremonial dagger. Dirge launched himself onto a rock ten feet away from the gnome and began prepping for the fight. He moved to a quadrupedal state and began salivating at the mouth. His pupils dilated and his animal brain began to take over.
The gnome snapped his hand up sharply and drew in elemental energy that then rocketed out at it's target. Dirge jerked to his right as the energy demolished the stone he had been perched on. Hurtling forward, Dirge put all of his body weight into a swipe at the gnome's head, and tore a bit of the fabric as the gnome ducked. Gnarl's dagger dug into Dirge's side wherein it expelled a push of energy that pitched the gnoll into a tree on the far side of the hill. He could not fathom how the gnome could have this much power. He had never fought anyone like this.
A bolt of atmospheric electricity seemed to slash time in its wake as it coursed from the gnome's eyes to Dirge's body. As it reached Dirge he lifted his hand, dreading what had happed before with the gnome's magic. This time though repulsive energy harnessed the bolt and thrust it back at the user. Unprepared for this, Gnarl was sent soaring into one of the cottages below.
"Hahahahaha! You are good! I knew you were destined for greatness. But so am I! I will allow your power to flourish for now, someday we will fight again." The silver-tongued gnome purred malevolently and dissipated into the breeze. Dirge regained his footing and looked around at the village. Devastation was everywhere. Gnomes began to come out from behind houses to see what was happening, so he explained it. He even went so far as to tell them about the vision he had; but nobody seemed to believe him, not even Irk.
"You're a fool, Gnarl should never have taken you in. Now he's gone. He was our one hope for this village. What if he doesn't come back? Get out!" Irk squawked at Dirge. None of the gnomes made a move to attack or make him 'get out'. Nevertheless, Dirge knew what had to be done.
"Fine, I will leave. But heed my word's, misfortune will come to this village as long as you accept Gnarl. I know what I saw, and I am not lying." With that Dirge turned his back on the gnomes who took him in, and began another new chapter in his life.