Part X: Death takes a vacation
Chapter 4: Gwar Calling
Timeline: AO 300
Emerging from the Temple of Shadows, I felt the weight of the dead pressing down on me like a shroud, their whispers still echoing in my mind. The clues I had gained about Dagaal were maddeningly vague, but they were more than I had before. My thoughts churned as I stepped out into the night, the heavy air of the jungle wrapping around me like a living thing. It was a full moon tonight, casting a silver sheen over the dense foliage and turning the jungle into a landscape of shadow and light.
I needed time to clear my head, to let the remnants of those ancient spirits dissipate from my thoughts. So I wandered. The jungle at night was alive with sounds—the rustling of leaves, the distant cries of animals, the occasional growl that would have sent any mortal scurrying for cover. But I wasn’t mortal. I was the god of death. The very thought made me smile, a cold, skeletal grin that might have chilled the blood of anything that saw it.
The moonlight filtered through the canopy above, casting long shadows that seemed to twist and writhe as I passed. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting vegetation, punctuated by the sweet perfume of night-blooming flowers. The jungle was alive, vibrant with life, yet I felt a strange sort of kinship with it. This was a place of predators and prey, of the strong devouring the weak—a place where I felt at home.
“I can understand the allure of this place.” I smiled, pulling a deadly serpent down from a vine and wrapping it around my neck. “Perhaps I can find a way to make use of you, my little pretty?”
Suddenly, the night went silent. The jungle, which had been teeming with life just moments ago, seemed to hold its breath. I halted, my senses on high alert, scanning the darkness for what had caused this change. And then I saw him—a massive figure stepping out from the shadows, towering over the jungle’s undergrowth. Gwar.
“What are you doing in Ramos, little brother?” Gwar’s voice boomed, as if the jungle itself were speaking through him. He was a colossal figure, the massive muscles of his upper body ripply through the leather vest he wore. His eyes glowed with a malevolent fire, and his smile was a jagged line of malice.
“I could ask you the same thing, Gwar,” I replied, tossing the asp away and keeping my tone calm despite the unease creeping up my spine. What was Gwar doing here, so far from his island of Kagor? I wondered to myself. It was unlike him to stray from his domain unless there was something he wanted—something that involved war, bloodshed, or power.
“Vacationing, are we?” Gwar laughed, a sound like rolling thunder. “Quite the place for a holiday, isn’t it? Or are you trying to find something? Perhaps… Dagaal?”
My eyes narrowed beneath the hood of my robes. How much did Gwar know? How did he even know at all?!?
Yet I knew his presence here was not coincidental so I played along. “What would you know about Dagaal?”
“Enough to know you won’t find it here,” he sneered, his hand moving to the massive sword at his side. “And even if you did, do you really think you could wield it before it destroyed you?”
Gwar’s taunting was grating on my nerves. He was always like this—brash, arrogant, and dismissive of anything that wasn’t brute strength. I knew I couldn’t match him in raw power, but I had something he didn’t. Magic. Cunning. Wit. “You should be careful, Gwar,” I warned, “Dagaal is said to be a weapon of ultimate destruction. It might even be able to kill you.”
“Kill me? Hardly” Gwar laughed again, a sound that shook the very trees. “That dirk is meant for you alone, brother. You know it and I can see it terrifies you. But then you’ve always been a coward, Azazel. Afraid of shadows, afraid of myths. Maybe that’s why you hide under those robes. Pathetic.”
Gwar’s eyes flicked to the talisman I had taken from the Temple of Shadows, barely hidden beneath my cloak. Moving closer he hissed, “What’s that you’re hiding, skull man? Another trinket you think will save you?”
My grip tightened on the talisman, a surge of anger rising within me. Gwar was getting too close. He reached out, his massive hand aiming to snatch it from me, but I was quicker. With a swift motion, I vanished into the shadows, reappearing behind him.
“Too slow,” I hissed, weaving a spell that sent tendrils of darkness curling around his limbs, binding him in place. But Gwar was too strong, too furious. With a roar, he broke free, his sword slashing through the air where I had stood moments before.
“You always run, Azazel!” he bellowed, charging at me like a juggernaut. But I wasn’t running. I was baiting him, leading him deeper into the jungle where the terrain would slow him down, where my magic would be stronger.
Gwar kept swinging, his frustration growing with each missed strike. His insults turned to roars of rage as he crashed through the undergrowth, trying to catch me. But I was always one step ahead, my form shifting in and out of the shadows, taunting him.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I decided to end the game. With a final spell, I summoned a wall of thorns that shot up from the ground, encircling Gwar and cutting off his path. He swung his sword at them, hacking them apart, but it was too late—I had already slipped away into the night.
Gwar’s enraged screams echoed through the jungle as I fled. He had lost, and he knew it. I didn’t get the answers I wanted about Dagaal, but neither did he get what he wanted from me. It was a stalemate, but in the end, I had escaped his wrath, and that was victory enough – for the moment.
By the time I reached the northern edge of the jungle, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. I could have portaled myself there instantly but the run through the trees did me good. And yet, I know my vacation in Ramos was now over – ruined by Gwar’s meddling, my mood had soured.
As I prepared to portal back to the Cauldron, I vowed that I would take out my frustration on the Drokka and their pitiful War of the Ghast. I would make it the bloodiest war of all time, a true testament to MY power as The God of Death.
With a final glance back at the jungle, I whispered a curse into the wind. Gwar had ruined my vacation, but I would make sure he paid for it in blood. He’d soon have his hands full with the creatures of the night – and that brought me a smile.
And as for Dagaal… the search would continue…
The Apocrypha of Azazel 