A Puppet's History
However long he may live, a Morph will never forget anything he's seen. Some may look at this as a blessing. For me, it's proven to be an insufferable curse. While bad luck may have given me that particular burden, however, I have to admit most of the others I carry are of my own making. Looking back on my first memory, I'll admit it wasn't too traumatizing, if somewhat unpleasant.
The first thing I ever felt was the chill, damp air of the musty dungeon in which I was crafted. The first sight I saw was the harsh countenance of my creator passionlessly scrutinizing every inch of his latest construct. And the first sound I heard was his cold voice asking me a question.
"Who is your master?"
The dark magic I was born from gave me the answer to that query, as well as the irresistible urge to answer it.
I bowed low and said, "Lord Nergal."
My master smiled, a callous expression derived more from the pleasure of domination than from any true joy. I was unaware of that detail at the time, of course—a soulless machine such as I was couldn't perceive such emotional subtleties. I am a different man now, however, and in perusing this impeccable memory of mine, I have found I am able to see things presently I was blind to years ago. And my first master's lack of feeling towards me is startlingly obvious as I look back on my past.
"Excellent," my heartless creator rasped. "This one is functioning perfectly. I only wonder what to call it..." He tilted his head for a moment, and then shrugged indifferently. "Why not Aghim? A grating name, perhaps, but adequate for a puppet." He paused for another moment's contemplation, and then, when he was finally satisfied, he called out two names.
"Sonia! Limstella! Come to me!" he cried.
There was a ripple in the air, a sort of distortion. A bright light flashed, and I was forced to shield my eyes. When I could open them again, I saw two women standing next Nergal. They were both tall and slender, possessing jet-black hair framing a finely sculpted face. Their expressions differed dramatically, however, with one's full red lips pursed in an eager smile, while the other's visage betrayed not the smallest hint of any emotion whatsoever. Neither of them noticed me standing behind them, as they were both focused entirely on the commands of our common master. The red-lipped one spoke first.
"You called, Lord Nergal?"
"My wound...needs time" my creator retorted, and I took note of the fresh blood that dribbled down the front of his robes. "It was a deep cut, and my strength was not what it was. The man who did this to me is dead. I'd like his son's death as compensation."
A slight grin spread across his face as he relished the thought of murdering whomever the man I would later be told was Eliwood of Pherae, but soon disappeared as he continued. "Sonia, you will use Brendan to move the Black Fang. I do not need mere underlings now. I need the Four Fangs."
"Hee he," the red-lipped woman smirked pitilessly. "Leave it to me. I'll have them bowing their heads to you, my lord."
"Limstella." My master then said, turning to the expressionless puppet. "I want you to gather me quintessence. For this injury to heal, I will need much. You are the strongest of all my morphs. Kill all those who bear signs of great power."
"As you will."
Both of them turned to leave, before my master called for Sonia to remain.
"What is it, lord Nergal?"
"Sonia, take this morph you see behind me." Nergal said, motioning towards me.
"My lord? Surely you jest!" Sonia cackled, looking over me with contempt. "What use would I have for a wretched puppet like that?"
"Sonia, the greater whole of the Black Fang are nothing but weaklings. I have no use for them, it is only the Four Fangs I need. However, although they may be individually weak, enough of them should provide a good amount of quintessence in addition to Limstella's harvest. This morph will reap the quintessence of the weaker Black Fang members, while you keep Brendan occupied and oblivious to what is going on around him. It should be easy to placate that pathetic fool, you have nothing to worry about."
"Of course I don't, my lord!" Sonia exclaimed. "I have that soft-hearted oaf completely under my sway. I am capable of purging the Black Fang of its weaker members for you, my lord. Brendan is so utterly infatuated with me I could slaughter his entire organization in front of him with nary a word of protest! Is there really any reason for me to associate with this...creature?"
"It is better to take precautions, Sonia." Nergal replied. "If Brendan even begins to suspect you, our entire plan may fall apart. If you take this morph along to do the bloody work, Brendan will remain as complacent as always."
"As you wish, my lord." Sonia groaned sullenly, and she turned towards me. "What is your name, puppet?" she asked.
"Aghim." I answered without hesitation. "I await your command, as my master has ordered."
"Aghim?" the woman spat in disgust. "Such an unsightly name...but I suppose it is adequate for a worthless dummy like you. Come, then. We have much work to do."
She closed her eyes and began to chant, an incantation I recognized as one of teleportation. The air around us shimmered, and with a bright flash of light, I found myself in a place miles and miles away.
I stood on the grounds of an ancient stone fortress nestled deep within the impassable mountains of what I would later learn was the country of Bern. I gazed around myself and nearly stumbled on my own feet as I desperately tried to regain my bearings. I was unsteady enough after having been created only a few moments ago, and the sun's dazzling light reflecting off the snow and ice all around me was blinding. I failed to keep my balance and fell face-first onto the ground.
"Get up, you fool!" Sonia hissed viciously, kicking me in the side as I lay sprawled over the great mountain's rocky face. "Your clumsiness might get you discovered, and that would derail my entire plan! Get up!" I scrambled back to my feet as quickly as I could, and mumbled a quick apology. Sonia responded to this by spitting in my face.
"Listen well, puppet." She snarled. "I must treat with Brendan Reed and his Four Fangs. During that time, I wish for you to remain unseen, understand? Find someplace to hide and do not leave until nightfall! Wait until you hear my voice inside your head, then come to me. You will begin your duty then. Now begone!"
I quietly nodded my assent, and Sonia turned her back to me and strode off towards one of the stone garrisons of the complex I was situated in. I could not get a good view of them, but I saw a pair of swordsmen, an assassin, a Valkyrie, and a sturdy looking warrior coming to greet Sonia. If I stayed put much longer, I would likely have been discovered, so I opted to get as far away as possible. Navigating the treacherous mountain face on my still-unsteady legs proved no easy task, but after repeated tries, I managed to get myself into a cave near a ledge that overlooked the Black Fang fortress. It was little more than an innocuous niche in the side of the mountain, and certainly quite inhospitable, I suppose. It was tiny, dark, and provided no protection whatsoever from the harsh winds that blew across the peaks of Bern. To a morph, however, such caveats were of little import—so long as it concealed me, that small hole in the face of the mountain would suffice. I chose a spot on the hard rock, sat down, and crossed my legs.
It would be hours before the bright sun fell below the horizon to be replaced by the moon and the stars, and for that span of time, I did nothing but sit and wait for the call of my mistress, stoically accepting the freezing winds that buffeted my body. I suppose a normal human would not have been able to endure the boredom, much less the temperature, given the fact I was clad in nothing more than light black robes. But then again, a normal human likely wouldn't have tolerated the cruelty my mistress showed me; much less the brutality she would treat me with throughout all the time we knew one another. Some would say my stoicism in the face of such adversity was truly inhuman, and I would agree with them. I was merely a drone, and the only thing I was capable of doing was carrying out my orders. The sadism and hardship I experienced were irrelevant to an automaton such as I was. I did not know what I would do after night fell, nor could I have known. And even though I was little more than a machine at the time, I still feel guilty for discharging the duty given to me that fateful night.
However long he may live, a Morph will never forget anything he's seen. Some may look at this as a blessing. For me, it's proven to be an insufferable curse. While bad luck may have given me that particular burden, however, I have to admit most of the others I carry are of my own making. Looking back on my first memory, I'll admit it wasn't too traumatizing, if somewhat unpleasant.
The first thing I ever felt was the chill, damp air of the musty dungeon in which I was crafted. The first sight I saw was the harsh countenance of my creator passionlessly scrutinizing every inch of his latest construct. And the first sound I heard was his cold voice asking me a question.
"Who is your master?"
The dark magic I was born from gave me the answer to that query, as well as the irresistible urge to answer it.
I bowed low and said, "Lord Nergal."
My master smiled, a callous expression derived more from the pleasure of domination than from any true joy. I was unaware of that detail at the time, of course—a soulless machine such as I was couldn't perceive such emotional subtleties. I am a different man now, however, and in perusing this impeccable memory of mine, I have found I am able to see things presently I was blind to years ago. And my first master's lack of feeling towards me is startlingly obvious as I look back on my past.
"Excellent," my heartless creator rasped. "This one is functioning perfectly. I only wonder what to call it..." He tilted his head for a moment, and then shrugged indifferently. "Why not Aghim? A grating name, perhaps, but adequate for a puppet." He paused for another moment's contemplation, and then, when he was finally satisfied, he called out two names.
"Sonia! Limstella! Come to me!" he cried.
There was a ripple in the air, a sort of distortion. A bright light flashed, and I was forced to shield my eyes. When I could open them again, I saw two women standing next Nergal. They were both tall and slender, possessing jet-black hair framing a finely sculpted face. Their expressions differed dramatically, however, with one's full red lips pursed in an eager smile, while the other's visage betrayed not the smallest hint of any emotion whatsoever. Neither of them noticed me standing behind them, as they were both focused entirely on the commands of our common master. The red-lipped one spoke first.
"You called, Lord Nergal?"
"My wound...needs time" my creator retorted, and I took note of the fresh blood that dribbled down the front of his robes. "It was a deep cut, and my strength was not what it was. The man who did this to me is dead. I'd like his son's death as compensation."
A slight grin spread across his face as he relished the thought of murdering whomever the man I would later be told was Eliwood of Pherae, but soon disappeared as he continued. "Sonia, you will use Brendan to move the Black Fang. I do not need mere underlings now. I need the Four Fangs."
"Hee he," the red-lipped woman smirked pitilessly. "Leave it to me. I'll have them bowing their heads to you, my lord."
"Limstella." My master then said, turning to the expressionless puppet. "I want you to gather me quintessence. For this injury to heal, I will need much. You are the strongest of all my morphs. Kill all those who bear signs of great power."
"As you will."
Both of them turned to leave, before my master called for Sonia to remain.
"What is it, lord Nergal?"
"Sonia, take this morph you see behind me." Nergal said, motioning towards me.
"My lord? Surely you jest!" Sonia cackled, looking over me with contempt. "What use would I have for a wretched puppet like that?"
"Sonia, the greater whole of the Black Fang are nothing but weaklings. I have no use for them, it is only the Four Fangs I need. However, although they may be individually weak, enough of them should provide a good amount of quintessence in addition to Limstella's harvest. This morph will reap the quintessence of the weaker Black Fang members, while you keep Brendan occupied and oblivious to what is going on around him. It should be easy to placate that pathetic fool, you have nothing to worry about."
"Of course I don't, my lord!" Sonia exclaimed. "I have that soft-hearted oaf completely under my sway. I am capable of purging the Black Fang of its weaker members for you, my lord. Brendan is so utterly infatuated with me I could slaughter his entire organization in front of him with nary a word of protest! Is there really any reason for me to associate with this...creature?"
"It is better to take precautions, Sonia." Nergal replied. "If Brendan even begins to suspect you, our entire plan may fall apart. If you take this morph along to do the bloody work, Brendan will remain as complacent as always."
"As you wish, my lord." Sonia groaned sullenly, and she turned towards me. "What is your name, puppet?" she asked.
"Aghim." I answered without hesitation. "I await your command, as my master has ordered."
"Aghim?" the woman spat in disgust. "Such an unsightly name...but I suppose it is adequate for a worthless dummy like you. Come, then. We have much work to do."
She closed her eyes and began to chant, an incantation I recognized as one of teleportation. The air around us shimmered, and with a bright flash of light, I found myself in a place miles and miles away.
I stood on the grounds of an ancient stone fortress nestled deep within the impassable mountains of what I would later learn was the country of Bern. I gazed around myself and nearly stumbled on my own feet as I desperately tried to regain my bearings. I was unsteady enough after having been created only a few moments ago, and the sun's dazzling light reflecting off the snow and ice all around me was blinding. I failed to keep my balance and fell face-first onto the ground.
"Get up, you fool!" Sonia hissed viciously, kicking me in the side as I lay sprawled over the great mountain's rocky face. "Your clumsiness might get you discovered, and that would derail my entire plan! Get up!" I scrambled back to my feet as quickly as I could, and mumbled a quick apology. Sonia responded to this by spitting in my face.
"Listen well, puppet." She snarled. "I must treat with Brendan Reed and his Four Fangs. During that time, I wish for you to remain unseen, understand? Find someplace to hide and do not leave until nightfall! Wait until you hear my voice inside your head, then come to me. You will begin your duty then. Now begone!"
I quietly nodded my assent, and Sonia turned her back to me and strode off towards one of the stone garrisons of the complex I was situated in. I could not get a good view of them, but I saw a pair of swordsmen, an assassin, a Valkyrie, and a sturdy looking warrior coming to greet Sonia. If I stayed put much longer, I would likely have been discovered, so I opted to get as far away as possible. Navigating the treacherous mountain face on my still-unsteady legs proved no easy task, but after repeated tries, I managed to get myself into a cave near a ledge that overlooked the Black Fang fortress. It was little more than an innocuous niche in the side of the mountain, and certainly quite inhospitable, I suppose. It was tiny, dark, and provided no protection whatsoever from the harsh winds that blew across the peaks of Bern. To a morph, however, such caveats were of little import—so long as it concealed me, that small hole in the face of the mountain would suffice. I chose a spot on the hard rock, sat down, and crossed my legs.
It would be hours before the bright sun fell below the horizon to be replaced by the moon and the stars, and for that span of time, I did nothing but sit and wait for the call of my mistress, stoically accepting the freezing winds that buffeted my body. I suppose a normal human would not have been able to endure the boredom, much less the temperature, given the fact I was clad in nothing more than light black robes. But then again, a normal human likely wouldn't have tolerated the cruelty my mistress showed me; much less the brutality she would treat me with throughout all the time we knew one another. Some would say my stoicism in the face of such adversity was truly inhuman, and I would agree with them. I was merely a drone, and the only thing I was capable of doing was carrying out my orders. The sadism and hardship I experienced were irrelevant to an automaton such as I was. I did not know what I would do after night fell, nor could I have known. And even though I was little more than a machine at the time, I still feel guilty for discharging the duty given to me that fateful night.