Chapter One
In the beginning of his slavery, Wulfgar had fought his captor, and he had screamed in resistance. He had struggled, cursed, and fought. He had tried to resist, to fight to his hardest, yet the torture at the hands of the Balor Errtu cared not one bit for his resistance. Now, in the depths of the abyss, Wulfgar was an almost broken man who barely resisted. It had taken years, but he had been broken down little by little, piece by piece. Be it from the pincers of the Glabrezu, the countless different blades that rent his skin, the illusions and psychic torture, or the hundreds of tiny centipedes that would burrow underneath his skin and tickle his nerves in a way that would be pure unending agony as they injected their burning venom from within him.
Perhaps it was the Succubi that had drained his resistance the most with their cold kiss that stole his life, hope, and memories from him, stealing his very will to live. Those vile kisses brought him to the dark cold painful depths of his mind where he could barely remember his purpose. He was on the brink of complete destruction, yet as he was tortured for yet another time he could not even count, a familiar power filled his body, and the light returned to his darkened blue eyes. His God Tempus was granting him strength, giving him a chance to free himself.
"I will take this no longer!" He shouted, his bulging muscles straining against the razor edged chains that contained him. They dug into his flesh, nearly hitting the bone, but he continued to fight, pushing the limits of his newfound power. The chains tensed to their limit, creaking and slipping in the blood, yet Wulfgar continued fighting, he had to fight for his freedom, as he felt this chance would not come again.
"FOR TEMPUS!" Wulfgar roared a roar of hope, and with his deafening shout, he broke the chains with a loud crack and snapping of metal, bursting forth through the ashy smog of his prison. He ran, and he did not care where he went, in his mind the images flashed in and out giving him the determination, the purpose to move further just one more step. One more yard. One more mile.
His tribe. His father. Breunor Battlehammer. Catti Brie. Even Drizzt Do' Urden. They gave him strength, and even after the power of Tempus had left him, he ran. Demons appeared through the smog attempting to stop him, to kill him, but with powerful kicks and punches he fought them off. He felt the crushing of bone, and the acidic and poisonous blood splashing across his body and face, burning and stinging him, yet he still ran through the pain. He could not lose his freedom again. Never again. This could not be all for naught.
Natasha Hellflame, the succubus that had tortured him the most appeared before him raking at his body with her claws, and attempted to use her curses and draining magic on him. Resisting her mental attempts at enthralling him, he grabbed her face with his blood covered hand, and with a sickening crunch, he crushed her skull before tearing her body in half, tossing it dozens of yards away, where her two halves landed with a sickening splat. He could not compromise, he could not falter, even after his body burned from his constant running and countless wounds, he still ran.
He ran for what seemed like days, days of fighting, running, and then more fighting. He ran through the hordes of demons up to where he had seen once before when he arrived in this hellish vile dimension. His one chance of getting out of this horrid dimension, away from the claws of Errtu. Away from the pain.
Beneath a mountain of Sulphur and fire lay a transport hub that Errtu had used to move his slaves and victims through the planes. Wulfgar knew little about magic, but it was his only chance at escape. Arriving at the long hall of obsidian, he ripped and tore through the demons guarding the dimensional gates, their armor little more than tissue paper, and their weapons little more than beestings to the Barbarian that tore through them in his rage and desperation.
As the only surviving demons fled through portals of their making, Wulfgar knew there was only a short amount of time before he was recaptured, and Errtu would certainly return. This was his only chance at escape. Walking up to a large dark iron portal, the one he had been dragged through by the mighty Balor, Wulfgar punched the dark red crystal at the base that powered it, and it shook violently before it shattered. Then, right when the portal spun wildly and violently, Wulfgar jumped through the swirling magic that exploded mere moments after, leaving no trace of where he went.
He tumbled through darkness as his body expanded and contracted, the tides of time and space threatening to tear him apart as he tumbled and fell through darkness, then flashing prismatic colors surrounded him before he touched the stability of solid ground.
He had escaped his hell, but where he went, he knew not. However, anywhere was better than the hell he left behind him. Of that he was sure.
Landing through the other side of the portal with a rolling stop against a stone and dirt wall, Wulfgar grunted as the lacerations and burns stung and bit him. However, it was nothing compared to the torture he had faced for the past five years. In fact, it barely registered in his mind.
Foul energy filled the air, similar to that of the abyss he had been enslaved in. It pulled at his mind, filling him with a cold darkness. This was yet another result of his years of torture. Even after his escape, he still felt the vile energies that tormented him so. What was real and what was fantasy, he did not know, lost in a delusion of demonic making.
Demons were more than good at that, they were sublime masters of the mind and illusions, and he did not doubt that even after many years, the visions and illusions would still haunt him, yet there was hope in the darkness, as he had done it. He had finally gained his freedom.
He righted himself and flipped upward in a dexterous movement that would have put many rogues to shame. His long blonde hair coated with blood and ash, and his blue eyes still full of pain and anguish. Blood and soot coated his exposed chest where his scars and wounds bled freely. His seven foot tall form was hunched and broken. He looked around himself in a cautious fashion, and he heard the howling of hounds from all around him. The walls echoed the sounds of the howls and barking of vicious dogs.
Just for a second he was back in the torture chambers, where hellhounds tore chunks out of his body, tearing his intestines apart as they feasted on his flesh. He felt their poisonous fangs tearing at his arms, legs, and body. He felt as his eyes were torn out, and blackness consumed him.
"NO" he roared, pulling himself out of the illusion, the trauma receding to a controllable level. Mustering his anger, his vigor returned to him for the moment and strength once more filled his body.
"Fight on Wulfgar" he growled, gaining resolve.
Letting out a vicious war cry, worthy of the mightiest Barbarian, rage flowed through Wulfgar, pushing his damage aside, and he ran through the dark tunnels around him, seeking out the dogs to enact his violent trauma riddled retribution.
Running down a nearby hall, Wulfgar came across several large hounds the size of small horses which had dark black fur and red glowing eyes, their teeth were bared and they growled before bounding towards what they saw as a weakened target.
They were wrong. Very wrong.
Wulfgar, now in a full rage, roared in fury and barged towards the hounds, grabbing the beasts by the throats in a speed that they couldn't even comprehend and smashing their skulls together with overwhelming violence before throwing their corpses at the hounds behind them. The unlucky hounds were smashed and sent rolling down the dirt and stone hallway before with sharp yelps, where they shattered into black smoke, dropping small purple crystals on the ground.
It seemed other hounds in the area had heard the commotion and came charging towards the Barbarian with a relentless fervor. Merely a hair's breadth later, the sound of people screaming and running towards him and the ecstatic barks and growls of the following hounds, fresh on the trail of their prey.
"People?" Wulfgar grunted out, barely believing his ears. Was this another trick of Errtu? Was he still in the abyss, dreaming of his escape? Was this some diabolical illusion, designed to give him hope, then crush his will right as he was gaining his will back? He faltered for a moment, then he denied the demon effecting his mind. He could not falter. He could not question himself now.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, he somewhat calmed himself before turning to receive the people, be they illusory or real. He would figure this out one way or another. He had no other choice. He hoped in his heart of hearts that these people were real, as they would be proof of his freedom.
Sure enough three people ran towards him through the natural hallway, the first was a diminutive boy with a thin build that had white hair that was darkened with soot, and blood trickled down his face, behind him was a taller young man with sharp red hair and a sharp face, and even behind him was a tiny girl barely up to the shoulders of the white haired boy carrying a large bag full of unknown material. This had to be some sick illusion.
There was no way that children like this would be here in the abyss. This was still yet another part of the torture. How foolish he was to think he had escaped. The darkness fell back into his eyes as the hope began leaving him.
Seeing the giant of a man in front of him that was coated in blood and gore, the white haired boy let out a shriek and attempted to stop himself while the man behind him readied his weapon, charging towards the large man that they seemed to mistake for a monster.
"FOR TEMPUS!" Letting out a bone rattling roar, The creature charged forwards at incredible speed and slammed right through the small party sending the would be illusory attackers flying and smashing into the walls unconscious. Hastily grabbing the first hound that chased them, he then tore it's jaw from it's mouth and with a sickening crack, then he pulled it's head from it's body with a crunching of bones and the squelch of offal and blood.
Two other hounds leapt at him, and he ducked low as they sailed over him, before he spun around with a wide kick bisecting the hounds in half and sending their bodies crashing into the wall where they exploded in a black smoke.
With a growl and a bark three other hounds jumped at him, two from the back, and one from his front, attempting to tear out his neck.
Sticking his hand into the wall and tearing out a boulder from the wall, his hands sinking into the solid stone. Wulfgar then spun with a fiery fury, slamming the boulder into the two hounds that had sailed towards him, their mouths wide, ready to clamp down on his flesh. Instead, with a thunderous boom like the hammer of an angry god, the hounds were completely destroyed, bursting into black smoke the second they were hit.
One hound remained, and it realized it's futile mission, landing early, then turned and fled, but Wulfgar would not let it go so easily, winding back his arm, he hurled the boulder at the hound which was completely and utterly annihilated by the merciless projectile.
Turning to the adventurers that were only now stirring, he knelt down before the read haired young man and shook him in what he thought was gently, as it seemed that he was the most durable. Seeing and feeling real people for the first time in five years, Wulfgar's rage dwindled. This wasn't an illusion, these were real people, and he had truly escaped.
A smile broke out on his face, and he cried aloud in joy, almost breaking out in a song of his people. The shaking seemed to do the trick as the red haired young man slowly awoke. Upon seeing the Barbarian in front of him, the young man reached for a dagger on his waist, however the Barbarian was faster, holding his arm firmly in his steel like grip.
"Easy there young man, I am not your enemy" Wulfgar spoke in common, hoping that this young man could understand his language. It would make things easier if they could understand him. A language barrier would be unfortunate. Thankfully, it seemed that the young man understood him.
The young man's suspicion stayed on his face, before realizing that he didn't have much of a choice, relaxing his arm and forgoing his dagger.
Progress. This was good.
Letting go of the young man's hand and stepping back, Wulfgar rose to his full height and shook the other two awake. Getting a yelp from the white haired boy and a repeat of the situation with the dagger with the young girl, the small party met on a short truce. After a moment of making sure there were no more hounds, the small group sat down and rested albeit keeping some healthy distance from Wulfgar, not that he minded. He was long past caring about manners or nuances. Not that he cared much for them even before his years of torture in the Abyss. Now whatever semblance of manners or sociability was utterly gone.
"Do any of you know where this cursed place is?" Wulfgar went directly to the point. He wasn't like Drizzt or Artemis Enteri, and the subtleties of conversation was a weak point for him.
The three looked at each other with worrisome glances before Bell answered Wulfgar.
"This is the dungeon" He responded incredulously, but didn't dare go any further. This crazed giant of a man looked like he could easily crush all three them with his bare hands if he tried, best not get on his bad side.
"Dungeon?" So this was another torture facility? Yet why were the hounds so weak? The hellhounds he was tortured by could tear him apart like warm butter, yet these hounds were so painfully slow, and fell apart so easily.
"You know, in the middle of Orario?" Welf chimed in from his silence, unsure if this large man was screwing with him.
"No, I have not heard of this Orario you speak of, tell me, how far is it from Luskan, or Waterdeep?" Wulfgar grunted out as fatigue began washing over him. His energy was diminishing, and he didn't want to sleep in this vile place.
The three looked at each other for a moment, wondering if this man had gone insane. Surely he knew where he was right now, but it didn't seem like a trap, and they weren't hostages.
"I don't know where any of those places are" Liliruca spoke up looking to her partners for help, yet they remained silent and looked at the Barbarian oddly. They weere wasting time that they needed to be using escaping.
"Very well, help me get out of this 'Dungeon' then we will talk further. How about it? I haven't eaten human food in five years, and I want to drink and forget the hell that is behind me" Wulfgar spoke, his voice dark and empty, the trauma remerging.
"Behind you?" Do you mean the deeper floors?" Bell couldn't help but ask. He knew the deeper floors were dangerous, but if what this strange man was saying was true, the deeper floors must be horrifying, and it was clear to Bell that this man was at least a level three or higher.
"No" Wulfgar simply answered, not wanting to think about his torture in the abyss any further, lest he go crazy again.
"Well, let's not question this fellow further, there are more important things like getting out of here alive" Welf answered before looking to Bell for his input.
"What do you think, Bell?" Welf asked, and seeing Liliruca's hesitation, he couldn't help but be suspicious, but Bell Gave a tired smile as he wiped a bloodstain from his lips.
"Yeah, I trust him" Bell said, getting up and walking over to Wulfgar with a new feeling of peace to his steps. He reached out to the giant man, his tiny hand smaller than the man's bicep by multiple times, yet the good faith was rewarded.
"Let's work together to get out of here" Bell smiled, his genuine smile and offer of help caused a tiny bit of Wulfgar's trauma to recede.
"Very well. I am Wulfgar, Son of Boernegar, Let us leave this vile place" Wulfgar spoke, and gripped the small boy's hand in a bear like handshake.
"I like how that sounds" Bell said, smiling feebly as his legs quivered in exhaustion.
With that handshake between the most unlikely of allies, a temporary party was founded.
"So, Down or up?" Wulfgar asked, unsure of the exit. In the abyss, down and up were relative, and changed frequently with the chaotic plane of existence, and Wulfgar had to question this in this 'dungeon'.
"Up, we're going up" Welf replied, and Wulfgar nodded before walking next to Bell at the front.
Two and a half hours later, thanks mostly to the Barbarian Wulfgar and his martial prowess, the four made it out of the dungeon, stepping out into the streets of Orario.
They had made it out alive from the eighth floor, and lived to tell the tale. It was a long trek, and everyone was exhausted, but they were safe.
Upon exiting, Wulfgar got quite a few looks of disgust and some of fear, but nobody decided to question him or pick a fight, deciding to live and let be.
Stopping on one of the side streets, Wulfgar asked the group a question.
"I have told you my name, now, adventurers, tell me yours so that I may remember the first few I have met upon gaining my freedom, and where the nearest river is, so that I may wash off" Wulfgar said, looking at the three who had escorted him out of the 'dungeon'.
The small young man spoke up first.
"I am Bell, Level two adventurer, and this is Welf, and Liliruca. Thank you for saving us. There is a public washhouse three streets down to your left, you don't need to find a river" Bell bowed, but Welf said nothing and turned away, still not trusting this goliath of a man further than he could throw him.
Liliruca also stayed silent, but reached out her hand to the large man, who knelt down slightly and shook hers gently.
"Well, perhaps I will see all of you again, if the Gods will it" Wulfgar said, letting go of the small girl's hand and turning away from the adventurers. Then he began walking towards where Bell said the bathhouse was. It would be nice to be clean again. Five years of blood, grime, and torture would not wash away easily, but anything was better than how he looked.
A lesser man would of been shocked to be back in functional society, But Wulfgar's mind worked very simply at the time, and he only focused on one thing, cleaning off. He passed by dozens of adventurers and civilians, and all who he passed crinkled up their noses, but said nothing more. Adventurers would clearly smell after their delves into the dungeons, and clearly this man had gone deep.
He wasn't one to be trifled with, be it via his massive stature, or his clearly battle hardened body. Not to mention the countless scars on his body.
Approaching the bathhouse, he noted adventurers with no clothes entering stalls and the sounds of running water from within spoke to him more than anything else.
Seeing an empty stall with the door open, Wulfgar abandoned any sense of pace and bounded over, his steps forming tiny craters in the dirt. He didn't even bother to close the stall behind him. He cared not if someone saw him.
Turning the handle, water rushed down from a spigot no more than half a foot above him.
He felt the warm water begin to wash off the soot, blood and offal. It was heavenly, just the water itself brought some of the spark back into his eyes. As the water fell over him, he noticed various powders in bowls nearby on the stall walls.
He was familiar with them. They were soaps, something only the higher echelons of Luskan could afford.
Dumping the entire bowl upon himself, he began washing himself off, it stung as the water and suds touched his slashed and lacerated body, but he barely noticed, lost in the elation. He spent such a time that he did not notice the time pass, yet when he stepped out in only his torn and slashed wolfskin shorts, he was a new man in a way. His light skin was visible, and was the palest he had ever been, due to five years in the darkness.
Long scars and healing wounds littered his body, yet he did not even notice. As he walked through the streets, he had gotten many mortified glances, and a few strange women seemed to be aroused by his visage, yet he did not even pay them heed. The pleasures of the body and lust had been drilled out of him by the constant stimulation by the Succubi, and he wanted nothing to do with such pleasures. Right now he wanted to find somewhere to sleep. Even though it was only the afternoon, he would not stay awake much longer, and he needed to stay somewhere safe enough that he could close his eyes without worry of daggers in the dark.
He knew all to well how lethal and frighteningly effective an assassin could be with the right preparation. Artemis Enteri was a prime example, along with the crafty Drow and Illithid mind flayers.
There was only one job open to him right now, an underground fighter. He could work as an smith's apprentice, or a craftsman's aid due to the experience he had with the dwarven forges under Breunor Battlehammer, but that would not suit him. He could not focus on that, his mind would drift back to the abyss, and he would surely fail his craft. No, fighting was his only option, and that was what he would do.
All he had to do was find a paying ring, and the rest would be history.