Passages of the Deaths Hand
Takkerus’ white cloaks danced in the breeze, as the secret passage opened at his feet. The hallway was dark and musty, rarely used anymore except for the few times that Takkerus made visits to the surface. His grasp fell to his side, letting go of the spider web that hung from the ceiling. A grin passed across his face, one that sent shivers down the spine of his fellow dark ones.
Dannon greeted his master at the door. He was young, barely past his sixth year of life and already dawning the black robes of the followers of the Queen of Death, Hel. He was the only one in almost constant company of the powerful priest. Takkerus had taken him into his open arms while he was but a baby, telling him of the great powers that would come if joining the awesome force of The Deaths Hand.
It was a long walk down the spiraling staircase, no light passed through here and it only grew darker and, colder. No one knew much of the temple except that Takkerus was the head Priest of the order. They called the temple, “The temple of Dark Light” as only the worshippers of Hel would dare walk around amongst the terrible things that wandered the ever terrifying darkness. The catacombs were enormous in size, but only Takkerus knew all the passages. It spread all the way underneath the entire city of Timberline or so it was told.
They came into the temple at last. Takkerus, Dannon in tow, approached the massive alter for of the discolored woman, riding her three legged wraith horse. A row of dark ones sat on either side of the path to the shrine. Takkerus acknowledged each one of them, Dannon nodding after he passed. After their greetings, they all turned away quickly, scared of the tall man, and his apprentice.
Dannon was told by Takkerus that his powers were far greater then any he had ever seen. That he would take Dannon on as his personal disciple, teaching him the powers that were greatest only to Takkerus himself. He was young and did not gain the entirety of the comment, but took it as a great honor and already was feared by the others in the order.
The two reached the structure that was Hel, as Takkerus reached into the darkness causing a creak from behind. A rush of air entered the room and the Dark Ones grasped the air into their foul lungs, before it passed. The apprentice and master disappeared behind the statue, once again leaving the room.
Another set of steps lay before the pair. Four years ago these steps had been passed by only one, Takkerus, until the recent past. Takkerus was becoming obsessed with his work and his training’s of Dannon. At one point in time, Takkerus had been an actual priest, praising to Zeus and was up and coming. But then he found the dark ways or they had found him. Some had said that Hel was in direct contact with Takkerus after he had found this deep dungeon. He began to gain members quietly but still they were coming. And now he had found what he believed to be his greatest gift of all, Dannon!
The room they came into now, was the darkest of all. A constant drip pinged off of the stone walls and the extreme amount of books in the cellar. A large granite slab sat in the middle of the room, bumpy, and course, except for a single spot in front of the widdled oak chair. A black cloak hung limply over the backing, glimmering in the dark. The only other furniture in the room were another smaller slab of granite made in the same fashion, as the other and a pathetic looking stool sitting in front of it. Bookshelves, stacked full of black bound books, cramped the large room into merely, two seats, and two tables.
Takkerus reached down and picked up his black robes, throwing his white ones down into the corner. For too long he had posed as a rightful cleric of Odin, but his numbers were growing, and he would soon be able to vanquish the goodhearted God’s and their minions.
Dannon took a seat at the smaller table on the stool already dawning his black robes, as he lived in the dark dungeon. A book was rested open at his table, neat handwriting composing the inside. He read silently, picking up where he and his master had left off that morning when Takkerus had to perform a few holy duties. He read quietly flipping another page with his bony fingers every so often. Takkerus took his seat at his own slab of granite. Picking up a quill and dipping it in the jar of blood to his right. A few drops splashed down on the blank page as he rested his hand on his gnarled chin looking to the stone roof. His pen was soon set in motion, tearing through page after page. A good while later he stopped his writing and closed the book, resting the quill inside of the page he had just finished, stood up and walking over to one of the numerous isles then far to the back of it, carefully choosing a book. He approached his desk, as the silver runes flashed in the darkness raising Dannon’s gaze.
His face was dark, and mysterious, making you question yourself about who he was, every time you looked at him. Dannon’s bones were clear upon his face as if nothing was between his skull and skin. He had never known his parents, but Takkerus was not blunt in telling him of how he had came into the order. Takkerus had felt a great power come to this earth not to far away from where he was now, a few towns over in Durance. Then Dannon was found. On one of Takkerus’ preaching journeys he had sensed the power very clear and on the next day passing through the town, Takkerus had told his friends he would catch up and for them to go on. He had found Dannon quite quickly nestled in a baby pen in a shamble of a house near the center of town. Dannon was not disgruntled to hear the next part of the story as Takkerus told him how he had brutally murdered his parents and left them there in a pool of their mingled blood. The next day the town was destroyed.
Deubus, a powerful cleric, on his continental journey to oversee the churches made a stop in Timberline. Takkerus had been assigned to be his guide that day, which he had accepted curtly with a smile and no words. Deubos was one of the heads of the church to Odin and most would have taken this as quite an honor, maybe hoping to gain strength or become closer to God when being around him. But Takkerus in his cold, dark ways, couldn’t have felt more otherwise.
The highly praised cleric was greeted early by Takkerus at the gates to the temple. As Deubos was led inside, they walked through a most beautiful garden outside. Takkerus glared at all the flowers and the sun as he passed back in his prime at the church, he would have smiled along with Deubos, but now he was disgusted at the prettiness of them.
Once inside Deubos stopped Takkerus. A few moments passed as Deubos thought in deep concentration, then Takkerus broke his thought asking what the problem was. “Strange, strange yes very strange,” Deubos barely muttered as he broke from thought. “What is Heavenly One,” Takkerus said, addressing him by his church name. “I sense a great power in you, but you are still fairly low in church rankings. Indeed this puzzles me. Your name has not come to me in tales of some great heavenly act or of your Sainthood.”
Takkerus was caught off guard by the remark thinking somehow Deubos knew about him, “Maybe, I have just not tuned into my powers yet.” The Cleric looked up from his glimmering white robes, and stared contently into Takkerus’ eyes. “Hmmm. Maybe so, maybe so,” he repeated, “Your name, well your name is...” “Evil?” questioned Takkerus. “Yes but I feared putting it to you,” Deubos said regretfully. “It sounds of great evil.” “A man should not be judged merely by his name.” His voice of constant loveliness. “If you my friend, were named after the god of death herself, would you be blamed for such hideous acts of unkindness, as her?” “I am sorry Takkerus, I did not mean to offend thee. I see your point brother, you will be in my prayers tonight,” he said astonished, “As for now, I will take my own tour from here. I hope you do not mind.” Takkerus shook his head, happy to be able to return to the darkness. He watched Deubos leave, but only those with the greatest of vision would have seen his blue lips speak softly.
He walked deep into the Church then past his own quarters, which he dreaded having to sleep in, and to the long forgotten hallway. He caught his fingers on the webbing, and slowly descended the steps. Takkerus walked into the greater hall, where he found Dannon praying silently with the other Dark Ones. He called his apprentice to his side as he wandered to the side of the room. There was a heavy wooden door, bound by heavy steel plates, that held the massive boards together. Takkerus swung it open, without making a sound on the aging hinges, and entered the only room in the dungeon with torches.
A group of Ogres, sitting at a table of pine, drinking ale, didn’t look up as the mighty man walked into the room. Takkerus motioned for Dannon to stay, at the door, as he walked to the table and rested his hand down, in front of the largest, drunken Ogre. They all wore black leather armor, some studded, some hard but all leather, and various weapons were strewn across the floor. The Ogre lifted his disgusting face to meet that of Takkerus’. Takkerus, slapped the beer out of his face as it only added to the mess on his clothes. “When do your cousins come Targ?” Takkerus questioned of the gigantic beast. “Soon, f-f-friend. Cous..ins.. come soon.” with that he took another drink of ale, and passed out on the table. The other drunken Ogres pounded their hands in enjoyment, shaking the walls. Takkerus shook his head in disgust. He wished he did not need to keep the troublesome Ogres, but they added to his strength and the upcoming war that he planned would be much easier.
Dannon and Takkerus went to their study to read the writings of their dark ancestors, and make some of their own. They studied late into the night, before Takkerus took Dannon to the sleeping quarters, and then went to his own. He passed a few Clerics in the main hallway before approaching his room. He kneeled down beside his bed saying his prayers to Hel, while he knew others were praying to Zeus.
The next morning, he heard a mad screaming that awoke him from a great dream of death’s and tortures. He peeked his head outside the door of his room, and to his amusement, he saw the highly praised cleric, Deubos frothing, twitching on the hard floors. He went back to his dreams with the screams of others in his mind.