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Previously...

Nisnav walked through the smoking ruins of Mare’s Creek in much the same way he walked through the gilded art emporiums of Blairville. In leisurely fashion he inspected the torched body of a woman hanging from a rope off the precipice of a roof; further, he admired the smooth bone of a child’s leg and it’s jarring termination in a sharp break which protruded from its blackened skin. He picked up the dislodged eye of a dog and placed it in his pocket. He scooped a pile of human ash and rubbed it between his gloved thumb and forefinger. 

Behind him, his ruffians clubbed the last few survivors. Nisnav considered their final screams with a practiced ear. 

“Master, see what I have found.” an orc croaked at him. The wizard turned his half-scarred face toward the greenskin’s plunder: a young man with mottled skin and a brutal shelf of a brow. This unconscious prisoner wore the plain clothes of a villager, yet Nisnav knew immediately why the orc had brought the unconscious man to him. He was of mixed blood, between orc and human. 

“Ah. Well done. Leave him with me.” 

The orc obeyed, for Nisnav had long ago invaded its mind and reworked it into a state of total obedience. The wizard had done this to many, many orcs and it had resulted in a certain familiarity with the greenskin mind. 

Nisnav kneeled next to the half-orc’s inert body and placed his gloved hand on the creature’s bony temple. 

“Zanzarog.” He whispered, as he pulled the name forth. 

“Now, you are mine.” 

@Better Than Gore

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Presently...

Zanzarog was on his way outside of town with a wheelbarrow, his and Mythandriel's house had finally been built, all that was lacking was flare. Something that made it stand out in comparison to all the others. Today's task was outside decor, more specifically, rocks. Zan wanted to border Mythandriel's garden with all sorts of unique rocks that he hand picked, hence the wheelbarrow. It was going to take quite a few rocks judging by the size of the garden, he'd likely be out all afternoon and late into the evening, but the end result would be more than worth it. Mythandriel had an idea of what he was doing, but he left out a majority of the details, he wanted it to be somewhat of a surprise.

So he departed with a kiss and a smile, happily walking along the path leading outside of town and into the wilderness. There were many spots he would stop and gather, but he was very picky about the rocks he chose. If they weren't unique or bared a resemblance to any he had seen outside of other people's houses, he cast them aside and moved on. An hour or so in, he only had a small percentage of the wheelbarrow filled, each rock vastly different than the others. All sorts of colors, shapes and sizes. His favorite so far was one that looked like a heart, it was even partially red. “She'll love that one!” He exclaimed as he picked it up and dusted off the dirt and grime, carefully placing it inside the handcart.

@Vansin

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From behind a tree, the illusion of a man emerged. This phantom man appeared to be a swarthy Cothite sort, past his prime and leather-skinned from the sun. He had poisonous green eyes dulled by the passage of time, and wore patched and faded clothes. 

Behind the phantom, concealed by it, was the wizard Nisnav. 

“Hello there,” he said, waving an illusory arm which the wizard himself lacked. 

“Rock picking, is it? Making some sort of rock garden?” The false voice was friendly. Cothites were a warm folk. 

And with a false smile, Nisnav approached. He reached behind himself and, out of the half-orc’s sight, conjured a magnificent stone, smooth but chipped to reveal flecks of emerald beneath. 

“I found this on my walk, would you like it?”

@Better Than Gore

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"Greetings," Zanzarog's tone was friendly, despite being caught off guard by the man's presence. Looking over his shoulder, at first glance the man didn't seem too out of place. He fit in with the rest of the townsfolk, so Zan didn't think too much of it. "Aye, something like that." He laughed. His assumption was correct, Zan was gathering rocks for that exact reason. Turning to address the man, he would close what distance they had between one another in due time.

Then the stranger offered him a rock, it shined a brilliant green when the sun hit it just right. "That would go nicely with my collection, yes." Zanzarog smiled as he extended his hand to accept the mans offer. 

@Vansin

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Nisnav flipped his hand and let the heavy stone fall into Zanzarog’s waiting palm. At once, the stone pulsed with magic power and released an overwhelming light. The world faded from view, and Zanzarog found himself floating in a sea of purple and pink clouds, stars glittering all around. 

What could this half orc have known about such a place? A realm between space and time which stretched into infinity. Even Nisnav, a wizard of surpassing wisdom and power, had only begun to unlock its secrets. 

Here, beside Zanzarog in this strange space, Nisnav was revealed to mortal sight. The mage wore a gorgeous azure robe covered in a thousand wispy white letters and symbols which wove together in mazelike patterns. He had one arm, and the bottom left half of his face was stripped of all skin and most muscle, giving him the appearance of being half-dead. 

Nisnav winked at the half orc, and then with another flash of blinding light the pair were transferred again, no longer floating in the arcane infinity of the astral dimension, but instead standing together in a black walled room. 

Nisnav offered an apologetic smile and flicked his fingers at the likely disoriented Zanzarog. As though by some occult hand, the half orc was tossed across the room and slammed against the stone wall. The power of Nisnav’s magic held the man’s muscular body against the wall in magical restraint and Nisnav considered him from his spot in the center of the room.

”Welcome home, Mr. Zanzarog.”

@Better Than Gore

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A blinding light emanated from the rock, forcing Zanzarog to wince and drop the stone. Too little; too late, before he even had a chance to react to the trickery, the two of them were transported into the vast and unknown. Zan had heard of interdimensional travel, but never believed it truly existed. Then again, he didn't believe in an act of God either, yet he experienced one within the first day of being in Coth. The man's trickery came as a surprise, as did the end result, but Zanzarog's facial expression hadn't shown an ounce of it. His brow furrowed as he studied the newfound image of the eldery man, his very appearance changed, as did his attire. “Why?” And then the man winked at him, his demeanor forced the Orc to smirk without reasoning.

Another flash of light and they were no longer in the void, but instead, a room deprived of all light. Zanzarog could barely make out the Wizard, the brilliance of the embroidery on his robe illuminated his face. With a motion of his fingers, the Orc was pushed backwards and towards the very walls confining them. Crashing hard against it, no matter how hard he struggled, he was unable to move. Forced to stare at his kidnapper, despite the situation, that smirk he had prior to their travel still stained his face, as if he knew something the Wizard didn't. But in reality it was Zan's coping mechanism, a poker-face so to speak. “How do you know my name?” His inquiry may have surprised Nisnav, the Orc didn't seem concerned with his whereabouts or how exactly they got there.

Deep down, he was very concerned. Concerned about his well being, concerned about his mate and how she would react when he didn't make it home for dinner. Then anger reared its ugly face. “I swear, I'll rip that other arm of yours off and beat you to death with it, old man.” Zanzarog was a rollercoaster of emotions, maybe their travels had something to do with it, or maybe the Orc was showing his real side.

@Vansin

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"'Zanzarog?' I know it because I gave it to you." the wizard said holding his hand between them as he closed in on his captive. 

"And how nicely you've developed. New clothes, a Cothite lover, the trust you've engendered. All very, very good." Nisnav was close now, close enough for the half-orc to realize how wet the raw muscles of his ravaged face seemed. Yet above his ruinous jawline, the wizard's eyes were calm and even friendly. 

"I have gifts for you, think of them as from a father." 

He turned away, and let his hand fall to his side as he did so. Whatever magic held Zanzarog against the wall vanished, allowing the half-orc to land safely on his feet. 

"You're very important. And I want to make sure you find success in your new life. But it's good to know where you came from too." 

Nisnav aimed his hand toward the floor and gestured upward, and from the blank stone beneath and between them, a table rose as though surfacing from water. Upon it were three items: a handsome black-shafted glaive, an ornate bone helmet, and a tiny scroll wrapped in a black ribbon. 

Nisnav looked up at the orc whose life and destiny he had forever corrupted, and smiled serenely. 

"These are yours now, as they were once mine, when I was new." 

@Better Than Gore

Edited by Vansin

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Gave it to him? Was Zanzarog not his true name? "What do you mean, gave it to me?" Zan inquired. He witnessed for himself the very moment he had lost his memory, each minute leading up to his villages destruction. Relived the unprovoked slaughter of his tribe, his family, his friends. All by God's will, whether it was intentional or not, Ioreth's encounter with their God allowed him to recapture his memories leading up to the point of which they were taken. Was that all a lie? It couldn't have been, it was all so vivid. Did this Sorcerer have something to do with what he saw? Did he play a part in the destruction of his home? 

"Don't you dare speak her name." Zanzarog's smirk quickly faded as the man spoke of Mythandriel, his fists clenched and he gritted his teeth. Nisnav's appearance surprisingly hadn't bothered him, the Orc had seen and done far worse to people. His gaze is what frightened him, he was seemingly unfazed by Zan's threat, this man, or whatever he was, wasn't the slightest bit intimidated by him. He reminded him of Ioreth to a certain degree, except she encouraged his threat and even offered him the opportunity to attempt it.

Now he offered him gifts? What kind of captor was he? "Father?" Was this a joke to him? Before he could inquire further, whatever devices kept him from moving faded away into nothingness and he landed onto the floor with a soft thud. It took every fiber of his being to not outright rush the Wizard, but in the back of his conscience, he knew it would have ended badly. "What do you want with me?" Zanzarog had so many questions, it was to be expected. This man spoke of things that he, himself, had no recollection of. "I know where I come from." Did he really? Or did he just know whatever memory was planted by Coth's so called deity? 

Zanzarog watched as the Wizard's gifts were brought into existence, presented to him atop a table. From what he could make of the objects, there laid a weapon, armor and a piece of parchment. "And at what cost are these gifts?" Everything had a price, something told the Orc that this price wasn't a matter of coin, but of malice. As he spoke, Zan inched closer to the table until he looked down upon the items. It wasn't until he was within an arms length of them that an urge arose. They called to him, scratching at the back of his mind, they begged and pleaded to be adorned. And they were winning.

@Vansin

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