A tale of Vykor's reckless foray into Baldur's Gate 3.
_________
Will there be more of this? Maybe, maybe not, we'll see, I just wanted to make a fun little short of how Vykor got nabbed in the first place for his run in BG3. If there's demand, I might write another short.
Prologue: "Fuckin' Worms."
A great construct, crafted of flesh and sinew, soared ominously through the skies of Faerûn. The tentacles of it's bow flailed aimlessly as it crossed over mountains and fields alike while it's fin-like oars rowed through the thin air of the higher stratosphere. It's crew, eldritch, alien to this very plane, wordlessly tended to their vessel like the cells of a body caring for it's organs. Aboard the bridge, one spotted an incoming storm. They would be unable to clear it in time and would be forced to endure it briefly before ascending the clouds. A warning was sent out psychically and the crew braced as their mighty ship crossed the threshold. Torrential rain and gales of wind hammered against the hull but it held fast. Though, these conditions were considerably harsh, even for the storms of this world. Lightning crackled in the distance, it's light flashing through the clouds and thunder reverberating throughout the fleshy halls of the ship. It's echoes would be indistinguishable from the thunder of artillery. Just as suddenly as the storm itself had hit, so too did a barrage of lightning bolts hit the ship. Electricity surged and crackled through the flesh of the craft, overloading and confusing the rudimentary nervous system that controlled the mighty thing. Sphincters in corridors rapidly opened and closed in confusion. The ship tilted left and right as it lost it's sense of balance.
Then, as it's crew were conveniently preoccupied with damage control, a bolt of lightning entered through minute crack in the shell of the hull and slipped through an open sphincter. From it came a tall human in loose robes that barely covered his bulk. He smirked to himself as he examined the empty hallways. Ashen mist flowed down his body and spread throughout the halls, scouting for danger. After but a moment, it located his quarry. The intruder leisurely strolled towards his target without a care in the world. He passed through more of the fleshy halls until reaching a circular chamber lined with pods of a sort, all empty. In the center sat a fat bulb that looked like a grotesque flower. A bitter smell of vinegar and rancid bile wafted from the cracks between the petals that enclosed and protected the indescribably precious cargo within. The Man stifled a grunt of disgust as he approached. Not wanting to get his hands dirty, his ash crept up to the petals and, as delicately as possible, pried them open to reveal what dwelled within. A pool of caustic liquid that fizzed and hissed in the open air. Within, worm-like creatures writhed and swam about this haven created for them. The Man's repulsed scowl grew back into a smirk as the ash crept into the pool and quickly snatched one of the worms from it's sanctuary. The ash formed into claws as it held the struggling worm in front of it's master's face.
"Hello, you beautiful, hideous thing."
His voice, like the rumble of thunder and the growl of a predator, dripped with ill contained glee. He ogled his prize for a few more seconds before sensing something wrong. Static electricity crackled through his ash and the image of something's nervous system flashed through his head as it gently hovered over the edge of the ashen mist. The Man gritted his teeth as he spun around and swung his right hand which had shifted into a set of bestial claws. His effort was wasted though. The being had a single hand outstretched, thought not touching the Man himself, held his arm in place. His foe, squid-like and with eyes that burned with a cold and calculating malice, wordlessly, but not effortlessly, kept the Man's attack at bay. The Man snarled and bared his monstrous fangs as a glow rose within his throat. Before the Illithid could react, a torrent of searing blue fire erupted from the his maw and into the alien's face. It's rubbery skin charred and melted, killing it almost instantaneously as it fell to the floor trying to grasp at it's quickly disintegrating face. The Man chuckled to himself as he looked at the burning corpse. It's smell was almost... delicious. And the sizzling... Had he had time and a bit less self control he may have dropped to his knees and sampled some of the eldritch calamari then and there. The Ash sensed something again. He looked up and saw three more sets of eyes approaching from the dark hall ahead. Only one set glowed an otherworldly violet. As they emerged, the violet-eyed Illithid revealed it's considerably grander appearance. It's clothing was far more extravangant, with a giant frill. Agh, the Man knew the name of such a frill, but it eluded him.
It mattered not though, he thought. He'd kill them and be home in time to celebrate with a small snack of vintage- Aaand he couldn't move. The collective psychic might of the Illithids fought against his willpower for control of his motricity.
"Damnit!" He thought. "Can't do shit in this form!" The Man snarled and the Illithids recoiled in what approximated as shock for them as his form twisted and grew in size. His skin turned from the light bronze of a human's to that of dull, smoky grey scales. The Man's head and face elongated, curled horns jutted from his cheekbones and the back of his skull and his teeth shifted into trident shaped fangs. What stood before them now was an especially large and angry Dragonborn who had electricity crackling across his body. "I'll devour each and every one of you!!" The Dragonborn shot his left arm forward and a bolt of lightning surged into one of the illithids, shooting it back down the corridor and killing it instantly. As the other lesser Illithid lunged forward with it's tentacles, the Grand Illithid hovered backwards. A tactical retreat which would ensure it's survival while it's brethren threw their life away. The other Illithid's tentacles were grabbed and the Dragonborn wrapped them around his wrist. He detested the feeling of them squirming for freedom and a grip on his body. Without hesitation, the Dragonborn pulled the Illithid forward and drove his claws through their neck. With the flick of his wrist, their head was torn from their body which fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing. Milky, silver blood gushed from the neck stump while the Illithid's head was very much aware, at least for a few more moments. The Dragonborn slammed the Illithid's head onto the ground and crushed it beneath his talons with a splat that sounded as disgusting as it was satisfying.
The Dragonborn snarled as he looked up and his burning sapphire eyes met those of the violet-eyed Illithid. "You... Awfully pragmatic... Staying behind and letting your friends or siblings or whatever those squid-brains were to you do the fighting."
The Illithid stayed silent. It quietly assessed it's foe who stared at it with a hungry gaze. Then it sensed something strange. From the Dragonborn's horns came a familiar sensation that all Illithids knew. A brain. Did this Dragonborn's brain extend into his horns? Perhaps, electricity crackled around them and the Illithid could hear a thousand thoughts racing by for every second that they did. A potential weakness... Suddenly, a wave of psychic energy was blasted towards the Dragonborn who raised his arms in defence. It coursed through his mind but left no marks, mentally or physically. He lowered his arms but the Illithid was nowhere to be found. Before he could react, a surge of pain washed over the Dragonborn's mind. The Illithid had grabbed the horns on the back of his head and was now funnelling pure psychic agony directly into the Dragonborn's head. It elicited another desired effect too, the Dragonborn shapeshifted back into a human as he lost control of his body. His screams of agony filled the halls before the Illithid stopped after several minutes, just to make absolutely sure that the intruder was incapacitated. Released from his opponent's grasp, the Man collapsed to the ground, exhausted and unconscious.*
"Fascinating." It thought. Who was this being? What was this being? It would certainly be fun to experiment with. Would the tadpoling process work on the Intruder? Or would it yield nothing? Either way, his brain was sure to be a feast if it proved incapable of being controlled. Through telekinesis, the Illithid ferried the Man's limp body away to a Pod for tadpoling.
Some time later, only through the familiar bitter smell of vinegar and bile, did the Man awake. Still mentally exhausted, the world seemed distant and dream-like. But in the room, he could see the Illithid again, holding two tadpoles. He approached a green woman with a small nose and large ears and the Man watched in disgust as a Tadpole squirmed onto her face and wormed it's way behind her eyeball, into her brain. The Man's horror grew as the Illithid approached him and held up the other Tadpole which latched onto the Man's face. From his other eye, he locked his gaze with the Illithid. The Man stared pure hatred into his captor, letting it know that he will have his revenge. Darkness finally fell as the Tadpole squirmed it's way into his head, forcing him into a deep and unpleasant slumber.
The Yetis are one of my favourite races that I've been working on in Elkar.
While they fill in a particular fantasy niche, the Yetis are one of my biggest efforts to move away from the average fantasy race always appearing in some pivotal role. In this case, the Yetis are Dwarf stand-ins with a creative but reclusive culture particularly untrustworthy of outsiders.
The Yetis are one of the oldest races in Elkar, and not just due to the fact that they're one of the relatively few left standing after that big War which fucked everything up for everyone.
Yetis come in four breeds and can range from 7 to 12 feet tall across said breeds.
There are the Forest yetis, smaller, brown fur, horns like tree branches.
The Tundra Yetis, the average breed you'd be used to seeing, like in the above picture.
The Mountain Yetis, largest of the breeds. Darker hair like an ashy gorilla and the most physically powerful, they take on the role of Guardians.
Then the Fire Yetis. Red fur and golden eyes which are said to come with a blessing to "see all that can be made by the viewer's hand." (It's true and it basically grants a Yeti "Master Builder vision" from the Lego Movie.) These Yetis tend to be the most creative which is valued culturally, which is also a good segue for the next segment!
_______
Yetis value the sacred act of creation above all else, art is considered the highest aspiration a Yeti can achieve, filling the world with whatever their hands can craft. Alcohol, jewellery, sculptures, machinery, the list goes on.
But the Yetis adopted an extremely negative view on destruction after they inadvertently played a role in the aforementioned War which made them unintentionally complicit in alot of really fucking bad war crimes. Now, this isn't just "malicious destruction" either. The Yetis had begun to see all forms of destruction as bad, even simple acts of disassembling old constructions to make way for new ones. For this, Yeti society is rotting from it's very foundation, literally and figuratively.
This policy also extends to all lives, animal or person. No matter how heinous a Yeti criminal may be, they are never killed or imprisoned. Only banished. You see, after the Yetis learned of their accidental involvement in the war, their God created a never-ending blizzard around their homeland to prevent contact with the outside world so her children may never be used in such a way again.
Criminal Yetis are banished into this ferocious blizzard with only an ember from their God's Forge to stave off the cold and light their way. Unfortunately, all too often they become turned around and end up freezing to death. Worse still, even the simple act of disassembling a great number of jewellery or slaughtering livestock for a starving family can be punishable by this banishment.
Before the blizzard was created, there was a great schism between the Yetis. Half wanted to journey south and fight in the War, believing it was now their duty right their wrongs after supplying the growing aggressor empire with materials to build their diabolical weaponry. The other half subscribed to the pacifistic philosophy described above. So, half of the Yetis journeyed south to aid in the War while the other half were left behind, all but forgotten by the world for centuries...
_______
Yetis are still banished well into the modern day, the only ones left outside of the Silver Veil (blizzard) are either criminals or the descendants of said criminals or even those who fought in the War. (Yetis can also live upwards of 1000 years so it's actually not entirely impossible that there's still a bunch of super old Yetis still kicking about.) These Yetis are generally reclusive. The majority of their number live far North, in the tundra of Ghostym blocked by mountains impassable to all but their own.
Yetis were suspicious of the Outworlders who first came to colonise their homeland but they were generally unprepared for Ghostym's climate so the Yetis took pity on them and showed them the great city of Layra-Ruu, a tower of a city originally built for the refugees of the War, now vacant save for it's Yeti caretakers. Because of this, the Yetis had a great say in the politics of Layra-Ruu for the longest time. After all, they were the ones maintaining the gigantic heat generating tower that the City was built upon and you don't wanna argue with the woman in charge of your AC in midwinter.
This leads into a Yeti of note.
Farsaang, Chief Engineer of Layra-Ruu.
A Mountain Yeti who was believed to be banished due to heavily heretical ideals on engineering going against the pacifism of her people.
Whatever the circumstances, Farsaang was a well respected individual in Layra-Ruu with a significant say in local politics due to her position.
However, things changed after Ghostym's failed rebellion. Farsaang and her Yetis were orded by the 11th King of Ghostym to produce gear for the uprising but Farsaang refused, knowing full well that they were outmatched in every possible way. In a bold move to ensure that the Volsakai would not try them for complicity, the Yetis fled under Farsaang's lead and narrowly avoided the Volsakai's counter-invasion of Layra-Ruu.
While this certainly saved the Yetis, many citizens of Ghostym felt beyrayed by this act and began to hold Yetis in contempt. This boiled into an outright lynch mob making an attempt on Farsaang's life. Word of advice though, if you're taking on an 11 foot tall primate with enough strength to cave in your rib cage with a single punch and claws like knives then you better be packing a fucking anti-tank rifle. This mob did not and Farsaang walked away with her life, the same could not be said for the mob.
This radicalised Farsaang into an Outworlder hating Bandit Queen who united several of the southern Yeti clans under her rule, regardless if they were bandits or not. They already had deep respect for her and now they felt as if she was a hero for rightfully standing up to the Outworlders.
However, a younger Yeti would eventually find himself banished and be taken under Farsaang's wing briefly before he continued south, against her protests.
Lohur, Founder of The Frostflame Order.
Lohur's past is even more mysterious than Farsaang's which has led to many myths about the cause of his banishment to swirl around him.
Lohur was content to start over with an elf he married after finding a small village in the pine forests further north of Layra-Ruu's countryside. But tragedy struck when his village was attacked by an ice monster, a Loshak. "Bringers of Grief" the Yetis call them. Creatures spawned from the same blizzard that surrounds their homeland, filled with an otherworldly grief and a need to inflict it upon all they encounter.
Lohur managed to kill the Loshak but not before it took the life of his spouse. Lohur fell into a deep depression and took it upon himself to become a hunter of these creatures, a vigilante protecting other relatively undefended settlements. Others sharing similar sentiments or stories would join Lohur and become a band of honourable mercenaries. Though they became noteworthy, they weren't given much thought by those who lived further South.
It was only after the 15th King foolishly tried to capture and display a Loshak for some grand event did Lohur enter the spotlight. Predictably, the creature escaped, wreaked havoc, tore an arm from the Crown Prince and had to be put down by a rightfully paranoid Lohur who had snuck into the event to make sure nothing would happen.
Lohur's heroic actions made the King extremely thankful and offered official support to Lohur and his mercenaries, thus giving them the boost they needed to properly conduct their operations. With a diminished policing force and a non-existent military, Ghostym had no way to defend itself from Bandit Yetis, Loshak or any other threat against it's people but the new Frostflame Order would become Ghostym's de-facto peacekeeping force.
Officially, they were not an army so the Volsakai couldn't charge Ghostym with a breach of their treaty but unofficially they were being funnelled a significant amount of supplies as "payment" despite their relative self-sufficiency.
__________
Lohur is part of the main cast of Elkar. He's deeply concerned with Ghostym's safety but he has to wrestle with his mental health and the fact that he can only do so much before the Volsakai start getting twitchy. And ultimately, he will have to cross that line to save his home.
He's actually one of the first characters I made for Elkar but way back when, he was actually a Wampa from Star Wars called "Snowy". You can still see the resemblance in his design and the other Yetis as a result.
Alright, since the vote for the next Elkar lore post was split 50/50, I'll just write the both of them. My favourite Elkarian race and the War which fucked up pretty much everything for everyone.
I've explained Vykor, but what about his followers? His army? I will now show you the Orcs that live under Vykor. (Do take note, these Orcs are from the Shadow of Mordor game series so they're all ripped straight from that. These were actual Orcs I've encountered and recruited in those games.)
P.S. And for reference, Stuvotar is Vykor's territory, jsyk if I mention it.
Mâku, the Nightmare.
Mâku is the Warchief of the Terror tribe. He and his Tribe specialise in terrorising their foes through torture both physical and psychological and displays of sadistic brutality on the battlefield. Once, Mâku was an extremely sadistic warlord who attempted to usurp Vykor with his Tribe. He failed and for his insolence his mind was broken as Vykor channelled his lightning through the poor Orc's brain until it was thoroughly fried. This left Mâku insane, childish, now more masochistic than sadistic. He sees pain as a gift, an experience to share the same way a child would a toy with their friends. But make no mistake, he is still a fearsome foe.
Ur-Kalmar Metal-Beard.
The Olog-Hai Warchief of the Machine tribe. Ur-Kalmar's people are efficient and brutal, their cruel contraptions and ruthless engineering has carried Vykor's army throughout the Multiverse. Ologs are oft considered dimwitted due to their bulk and preference for more typical brutish roles in Vykor's army. Ur-Kalmar's very existence disproves these stereotypes. A cunning, ruthless engineer, Ur-Kalmar is the inventor of many powerful machines that the Orcs have used to even more terrible effect. Some may whisper and snarl behind his back, but nobody dares question him, for without him and his tribe, Stuvotar would be left without most of it's strongest weapons and even some of it's basic infrastructure.
Krímp the Swordmaster.
Warchief of the Marauders. Orcs who value treasure and glory above all else, in any way, shape or form. Krímp is the undefeated Champion of his tribe. His skills with his dual, serrated swords are unmatched, even some of Vykor's deadlier foes. The only thing that can match Krímp's skill with a blade is his own temper. No other Orc bursts into a berserker frenzy quite so easily and viciously as Krímp. Krímp and his men are often the first to charge into battle, for the glory of it all, softening up the enemy before far more capable Orcs arrive.
Skûn Dead-Eye.
Krímp's twin brother, Warchief of the Feral tribe. Skûn is the butt of many jokes, considered to be the weakest of the Warchiefs. Mind you, while Skûn is still 6 feet tall, every other Warchief is still taller than him, even if just by a few inches. Krímp himself is around 7 feet tall. However, what Skûn lacks in sheer brute power, he makes up for in his adept tracking abilities and his unnaturally skilled marksmanship, owed to the defect in his right eye that he was born with. Skûn and his tribe are in charge of the beasts of Stuvotar, supplying the Orcs with food, pelts and mounts. They are frowned upon by most but their essential nature to Stuvotar is never doubted.
Tûka the Surgeon.
Warchief of the Slaughter Tribe. Almost indistinguishable from the Terror tribe, what sets the Slaughters apart from the Terrors is their inherent bloodlust. Not that of a warrior but more of a murderer. They delight in bloodshed, gore and viscera. But ironically, Tûka does not. No, Tûka is a perfectionist. While he does have martial experience in targeting and disabling his foes' weakest body parts, his goal is not slaughter but to improve the Orcs themselves. Strengthen them with what he can find from the bodies of his enemies on the battlefield. Vykor supports him wholeheartedly and they regularly collaborate as a result.
Ar-Gul the Harbinger.
The Olog Warchief of the Outlaws. Ar-Gul is a devout follower of Vykor, regarding him with zealotry and religious reverence. Ar-Gul once believed Vykor a liar about his powers and intended to betray him. But after witnessing Vykor transform into a dragon for the first time, he became enraptured and devoted himself to serving Vykor loyally. The Outlaw Orcs were once made of radicalised Orcs who despised all who were not an Orc or even those who were simply not as zealous as them. But now, they are misfits, rejects and criminals from various Tribes radicalised into zealots in Vykor's name. Ar-Gul is extremely charismatic and will stop at nothing to convert more in the name of his God-Emperor.
Zâthra the Jaded.
Warchief of the Dark tribe. These Orcs are not above betrayal and underhanded tactics against their own kind to advance in the ranks, speaking nothing of what they do to the enemies of Vykor. Zâthra is an old and very experienced assassin. He has seen so much and sought evermore difficult challenges that it jaded him long before he ever met Vykor. He is now quiet, barely interested in the local politics. He is little more than a weapon, a knife in the dark to assassinate those out of reach and sow terror.
Ar-Baruk the War-Hulk.
Warchief of the fearsome Warmongers. No tribe holds war itself in such high regard as the Warmongers do. They are the fiercest warriors of Stuvotar and claim many veterans march under their banner. Ar-Baruk is the largest Olog in Stuvotar, closing in at nearly 20 feet tall. Ar-Baruk rules his tribe with his younger, scrappier brother at his side. Where his brother, Ur-Edin, excels in reckless but deadly combat, Ar-Baruk is the epitome of a calm and composed warrior. With skin as tough as stone, the strength to throw a Columbian Mammoth and a warrior god's focus, Ar-Baruk decimates all in his path.
And finally...
Zûgor the Warlock.
Warchief of the Mystic Tribe and Overlord of the entirety of the Tribes, Zûgor is unrivalled with his dark sorceries. The Mystic tribe hoards spells and employs various dark magicks and curses, making them untrustworthy but sought-after warriors. Zûgor himself was not a Mystic but rather a Warmonger under Ar-Baruk's command. Eventually, he was slain in battle but his corpse was taken and resurrected by a powerful necromancer. Zûgor learned much from him and his ruthlessness grew as he believed himself abandoned to die by Ar-Baruk. The two Necromancers ended up trying to kill one another but ultimately failed, both escaping their duel. Zûgor's skill as a Warmonger never faded and his knowledge of dark magicks made him a perfect candidate for the ruler of the Orcs. He is feared and despised but few could genuinely challenge him.
______
And those are the Warchiefs! All of them are genuinely Orcs I've encountered in the Shadow of Mordor games so I thought "why not use them for Vykor?" And it's worked a treat. I like these bastards alot.
A response to the Vykor lore post: What about his milf?
For those not in the know: In a semi-canon Roleplay I have been engaging in for the past 4-5 years, Vykor has married to an aztec woman who happens to be the daughter of the Aztec God Tezcatlipoca.
She has extremely powerful reality manipulation powers which terrifies Vykor because she's objectively more powerful than him in a meaningful way. It also doesn't help that she has a strong desire for revenge at the "elite" of society and regularly attends masquerades where she can watch them get murdered which has left her quite bloodthirsty.
The time has come for me to finally explain Vykor, the main character of my Kynigós fics. In this post, I'll give a basic breakdown of who he is, what he does, yadda yadda, whatever, go my Mary Sue self insert.
Behold, the man himself, Vykor.
So, who is he? What's his whole deal?
Well, Vykor is a Kynigós, a human who was taken by Eldritch Gods and transformed into a new, more powerful version of themselves. This power varies wildly between individuals though. Vykor's job is to travel across the multiverse and hunt down beings who have become too powerful and are disrupting their homeworld in some way. Vykor is tasked with ensuring these targets, these Nemeses, are defeated in such a way that they can never return to power. This could be as simple as removing them from their position of power through blackmail or whatnot but Vykor prefers to simply kill his opponents.
But what's his deal? What sets Vykor apart from the other infinite number of Kynigós out there? Simply put "beware the old man working the job where they die young." And Vykor is very, very old. Definitely not the oldest, far from it, but he's experienced enough to make mince meat out of any foe if he puts enough effort into it. Plus, when you've been turned into a Demon Dragon Storm God, anything not on your level tends to fold quickly.
Vykor's long life has allowed him to raise an army sworn to serve him, claim a fortified territory the size of France and amass an indescribable wealth of treasure and weaponry that make him obnoxiously powerful in several ways.
But despite this seemingly perfect life, things are far from it. Vykor's biology is wildly unstable. When he was transformed, his full power was split into three crystals. So far, he's only found two and the incomplete power has had nightmarish side-effects for his body. Cancers, inefficient metabolism, chronic pains and even some mental issues. He drowns out the pain and his own thoughts with a specially bred herb that he smokes but the illnesses have forced Vykor to repair his own DNA, one strand at a time, usually by stealing it from other powerful beings, all in the hope of stabilising himself long enough to find the final crystal.
And when he's not worrying about his body falling apart beneath him? Vykor has to wrestle with the fact that he's become a monster who commits every war crime under the Sun in the name of his "job" out of the fear that if he refuses, he'll die and go somewhere truly horrible or be stranded in a world far from his own.
Vykor cannot die permanently due to phylactery bullshittery but it emphasises his true fear: Dying somewhere far from home, where he'll probably go to some equivalent of Hell for all he's done and nobody will have cared about him.
Personality-wise though, I'd say he's a mix of Netflix Castlevania Dracula, God of War Thor and Big D from Hunter the Parenting. A tired, self-sabotaging old man who uses his whimsy and almost childish playfulness to shield himself from the world and his own mind.
___________
Personally, I've always found it hard to write fan-fics, I've always been unsure of how to write characters that aren't mine, even when I feel like I have a pretty good grasp I can't shake the feeling that they're wildly out of character. Plus, I never really knew what kind of situations to throw them into to get a story going, ya know?
Vykor is the answer to that. A self insert who causes enough conflict from his mere existence to get a story going, whether he's the protagonist or antagonist. This is why he'll tend to pop up in various other IP fics, he likes going to other dimensions in his free time and just trying to have fun, which can range from finding the best grilled cheese place to hunting someone through a forest for sport as a Utahraptor.
He's a shameless, mary sue power fantasy self insert but ya know what? I still like writing this sad bastard, he sometimes offers reflections into my own problems so that's fine by me.
I will post more on Vykor and his followers, let me know what else ya wanna know about this cunt!
All of my Vykor fics are so disgustingly self indulgent with the power fantasy that usually entails the big lizard bastard beating up everything that comes his way.
Honestly, it makes me half ashamed that I'm willingly showing you guys these shameless self-insert fics.
The people have voted and today we shall learn about the religious zealots who call Elkar home and rule a tyrannical, multidimensional empire.
The Volsakai.
In this post, we'll delve into their history. How they came to be, their governance, their beliefs and why they're such a threat.
The Beginning.
A thousand years ago or so, rifts leading to other dimensions opened up all across the heartlands of Elkar. One such dimension was a bronze age Earth. Humans came through in large swathes, delighted to see beautiful, bountiful land as far as the eye could see. Unfortunately for them though, they'd quickly find out that humans were not the only people to come through these other portals. Races of contemporary fantasy, Elves, Dwarves, you name it and even some extraterrestrial species made their way into Elkar, all equally tempted by the potential bounty of this new world.
Things did not improve at all when the Natives of Elkar stumbled across these Outworlders, arriving in such numbers that they threatened the overwhelm some of the local inhabitants. The paranoia felt by each side culminated in Human superstition and fear driving them to genocide what few people were left of an already dying Native race. Why? Their traditional garb made them look Cyclopses of Greek Myth.
This could have gotten infinitely worse as now each side was preparing to slaughter each other. Until divine intervention came.
The Star-Spawn.
Beings of pure plasma, housed in custom crafted, eldritch formed carapaces to protect their vulnerable form. Descending from the northern mountains of Suurha, they acted as mediators for both sides. The Outworlders were enraptured by the Star-Spawn, interpreting them as messengers of their deities. The Natives reluctantly backed off while the Star-Spawn led those they deemed the strongest in their faith back to their temples in the eastern peaks.
It was from the highest mountain where the Outworlder acolytes were granted an audience. There, they beheld a manifestation of the Sun God himself, Cetos. Cetos praised their bravery in blazing ahead into Elkar and offered his patronage to the most loyal of these alien people. In return, undying loyalty and to spread his religion far and wide. And in due time... another much greater task he was yet to reveal.
From that temple descended the first Volsakai.
Over the next few decades, Cetos instructed the Volsakai to seek out the smartest beings in all of Elkar to aid in their endeavours.
The Dragons.
Now, lemme tell ya something about Elkarian dragons real quick. They are smart. Crazy smart. They share a gestalt consciousness that allows them to tap into the knowledge of other dragons. Because of this, every dragon is capable of creating stupidly powerful inventions, making them the technologically dominant faction in all of Elkar. They're also extremely proud beings. They love nothing more than having their ego stroked for providing a small but massively beneficial service to the other races who will then sing their praises.
This is how the Volsakai convinced a significant number of dragons to begin study and construction of technology that only they would possess. It would be the ultimate ego stroke for the Dragons, to lay the foundations for an Empire of unparalleled strength. But Dragon technology would only get them so far. They would need a final gift from Cetos himself.
The Volsakai were bestowed special crystals, a fusion of the Sun God's blood and pure void energy. Used as fuel, these crystals would power energy "cannons" designed with sole purpose of tearing open reality and opening a gateway into the next. "Borers" as they would later be dubbed.
This secured the Volsakai's power without question. For centuries, they would rule over Elkar and a billion other worlds, an Empire without equal, threatening to swallow the Multiverse in the name of Cetos himself. Seemingly nothing could stop them.
And that's how the Volsakai became powerful. Next, we move on to look at their governance and beliefs.
"And now, "Sun Crazed Space Fascists: A Memoir" by [REDACTED BY THE ORDER OF THE SUPREME COUNCIL.]
Okay, no more beating around the bush. The Volsakai are religious, zealous imperialists who have countless dimensions in a strangle hold, Elkar included.
The Volsakai rule supreme over the planet. There's been no other life recorded in the Elkarian galaxy, none that's been found anyways. And the other factions of Elkar? Good fucking luck trying to fight the Volsakai. One tried. They got "Seven Hour War from Half Life"d and they're not allowed to have a military anymore nor a decently funded law enforcement or else their homeland would be annexed immediately.
Ruling from Suurha's gigantic metropolises, the Volsakai openly display their power and beliefs with no backlash. After all, what can you do? Better people have tried to fight back, somewhere out in the multiverse and they're probably working away on a planet sized salt mine for their insurrection.
Here's a few important things about how the Volsakai govern themselves.
1. Not all Volsakai are religious, but a strong loyalty must be held for some part of the empire.
2. The King's Way, Cetos' religion, has only one commandment. Improve everything you can, no matter the cost, most importantly yourself. This is what fuels their drive to invade and conquer, they think they can improve everything if you fervently follow their religion.
3. Volsakai, would you believe it, are surprisingly against racism and bigotry of any kind. Volsakai will not tolerate any sort of X-phobic behaviour in their ranks. Unfortunately though, this is not for the right reasons. The Volsakai see discord in the ranks as a blow towards their cohesion. Lack of cohesion means that their empire will eventually fracture and fall apart. So what do they do to these phobes? Easy. Execution, sometimes public. Again, they're not doing it for you, they're doing it as a show of force, that they won't tolerate insurrection of any kind or a lack of harmony with fellow Volsakai who contain countless species and gender expressions/sexualities.
They're ruled by a Council of 6 members.
Kânthu Teressk, Supreme General.
Drem "Death-Knock" Detnok, Supreme Magistrate.
Zaouh Nymo, Supreme Chancellor of Sciences.
Pylirius Sesnathay VII, Supreme Cardinal of The King's Way.
Augustus Char, Supreme Ambassador.
And finally, Geran Theerada, Supreme Representative of The People.
These six Councillors rule undisputed and potentially eternally as they have been given many rejuvenation treatments.
The Volsakai don't have a large presence outaide of Suurha. The other countries are largely left alone, outside of small outposts or teams sent out for clandestine missions.
Their laws are undisputed in Suurha. Valsek relies Suurha for most of it's supplies thus are largely indifferent but thankful to the Volsakai. Ghostym was the aforementioned "Army abolished" guys and they reluctantly keep to themselves, still reliant on trade with Suurha. Kayran though? They hate the Volsakai and there's zero presence of the latter in their lands.
Also here's a sad fact. There is almost no presence of Native Elkarians in the Volsakai. The Volsakai were formed of solely Outworlder races in the beginning and the Elkarians were far too preoccupied with securing themselves to do anything about the upstart cult. Long story short, Elkar was actually in a shit situation due to the aftermath of a horrific war when we arrived so nobody really had the energy to fight anymore and just wanted to rebuild their homes. We took advantage of the now "free neighbourhood" and it's as shitty as it sounds.
Now, we finally come to why the Volsakai are such monsters to fight against.
"Let 'em try so siege us again! We repelled 'em once, we can do it again!" - Unknown Soldier's final words before their planet collapsed in on itself.
Your basic Volsakai soldier is outfitted with an Energy shield, a Gamma Blaster and small melee weapon of choice.
Volsakai shields repel and even burn physical objects that make contact but can uniquely absorb any energy that makes contact, refuelling itself. So by shooting them with a lser, you're topping up their shield. Good luck trying to mag-dump into them. Only exceptionally powerful explosions or sustained fire from multiple heavy weapons can crack their shield.
Gamma Blasters are energy rifles that utilise a special technology to literally birth a star within the weapon. Parts of this star are then fired out in flaming blasts or a continuous laser at enemies.
And finally, Hell-Borers. So, here's a thing about Borers. They use a stabilisation field when creating "tunnels" into other dimensions. This means when a portal is closed, the "tunnel" can slowly collapse in on itself without issue. Without it though? Reality crashes together with such ferocity that it creates massive explosions that utterly annihilate all in their path. (If you've seen Invincible, imagine the Space Racer's gun combined with the explosions Omni-Man caused while flying at super high speeds on the Flaxan homeworld.) This is why Ghostym surrendered to the Volsakai.
Aaand... I think that's it. Sorry for the long post, it's alot of info, but thank you if you've read all the way through, feel free to ask me questions and again, thank you!
Please ignore the last lore post, it was meant to be saved to my drafts but something fucked up and it got posted anyways before I got even halfway done completing it. The full and complete lore post will be coming soon! Stay tuned!
A, very, short story utilising the lyrics of "Kitchen Fork." Hope you guys enjoy!
Wake from a dream where I was stuck losing my teeth.
Vykor's eyes shot open and he bolted upright in his bed. He pulled his revolver from the nightstand and aimed it around his room for a foe that did not exist. His heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he swung his arm left and right.
Lucky for me, it was all fake, not what it seemed.
The rush subsided and he turned to look at his tanks of Blank-Leaf mixture. Reading the gauge... Empty. Of course... Vykor laid back down and rubbed at his eyes, groaning. A long day waited ahead.
Where, oh, where do we go next? Haunted pillow beneath my head.
Vykor approached the temple alone. He hissed as he entered and stalked through it's ancient halls like a predator searching for prey. His large form barely fit within the hallways but he could manage, for now...
Where does it go?
Where does it go?
Where does it go?
*He finally spotted her. The Assassin that had been plaguing him for the past year. She had turned this temple into a personal refuge. But now, she was cornered in a ritual chamber. The terror, it showed in her face, like an animal with nowhere to run. Vykor took stepped forward and she brandished her barbed shortsword. Time seemed to stop for a moment. The only thing they could hear were their own heartbeats. Then Vykor lunged.*
Pick out her heart with a kitchen fork.
Pin down her arms.
The Assassin yelled and slashed at Vykor wildly as he bounded to and fro on all fours like a beast, his body contorting to shift his form to suit such a tactic. He waited for an opening... There. He pounced again, pinning the Assassin by the arms to the cold, stone floor. She gasped, winded by the impact. Without the slightest hesitation, Vykor clamped his jaws across her throat and, with one swift movement, tore.
Wake from the scar, still feelin' sick.
Where did it get started?
Everything became a blur. It took hours until Vykor came to. When he did, he stood in the middle of a massacre. Bodies of soldiers, mauled and torn to shreds as far as he could see through what seemed to be a town's road. Vykor looked down at his hands. Claws, soaked in the blood of a hundred men. Suddenly he felt very ill. He didn't remember doing this. What reason had he? Surely it was a good one... Maybe they were carrying out an unjust law or persecution, or maybe they... The more he looked, the more bodies he saw... and he could feel as if something... two somethings, were looking through his own eyes.
Where, oh, where did this come from?
Oh my God, my head's a gun.
Vykor slammed his head against the corridor wall. He clawed at it and shook it violently, crying for the voices to silence. Two, one of undying rage and hatred. The other of selfish survival and insatiable hunger. He dropped to his knees in the pool of blood that had formed from the men these voices had killed. They wanted more. More blood. More death. Vykor must pay his penance.
I let myself go.
The head of a king rolled down the steps to his throne with a quick swing from the Stormlord's axe.
I let myself go.
His great hordes of Orcs swarmed the defenceless city of refugees in search of royal spymaster. Vykor watched from afar, hovering within the clouds of his storm.
I let myself go.
Blood drained from the Cain girl. Vykor paced back and forth, waiting for the blood bag to fill. He knew it was wrong to kidnap her... But he'd let her go. His life was at stake. He needed her just for the moment. Just for the moment.
I let myself go.
Red flames bloomed on the horizon. The planet was slowly engulfed by the fires of Coral, some of it even blossoming into space and reaching other planets in the star system. Hyndrassyr veered away from the fires as they started to blaze towards her. Vykor looked back at the planet and growled in grim satisfaction as he watched the capital become engulfed within seconds.
Who's that-
KID WHO WAKES EACH NIGHT??
TAKES ME ON THESE WRETCHED RIDES???
Memories came flooding back. The cheering of the Kotrosians as he returned from another quest to pulverise the Suth. The praise from the Queen, Dreyfus' constant self-righteous scowl and judgement. Vykor clutched his head, breathing rapidly and trying to block them out. But they kept going, further and further back. Soon he was back in his old room. Back home. With his friends. With the person he swore he'd love with all his heart, forever and always. He couldn't do much of anything to stop these memories. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to sob.
𝙾𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚠 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝
𝙸 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘
𝙸 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘
Vykor ascended beyond the cloud layer. His wings stretched far and wide, static crackling from them as he hovered in place. The Moon and stars wheeled overhead. He stared into vast nothingness above, the light of stars raging from afar and the ghost light of those that had long sinced burned out staring back. Save for the wind, it was quiet up here. He didn't want to go back down.
Vykor panted and he struggled to maintain his balance. Spears and arrows jutted from his body. His large drake form was durable but even this was taking a toll. His own blood filled his vision as he looked at his adversaries. Soldiers of the Vampire Lord and their Lord himself. They raised their spears as Vykor tried to draw closer. Suddenly, his shoulders and neck was wracked with pain. Vykor howled and screamed in agony as the skin began to split and two skulls forced their way out. Muscle and skin quickly formed over their bare bones, revealing their true forms. One of a split-jawed Viper with jagged teeth. Another like a Ram but draconic and with brilliant red fire burning within it's maw. They snarled and berated and begged. They so desired for the blood of their enemies. But only Vykor could give it to them. Only he could make it right. Avenge them. Briefly Vykor, remembered their deaths... and he lunged and the slaughter began.
𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐔𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒!!
𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓?!
Vykor's cries of rage and grief echoed into the night, drowning out the screams of terror amd pain from his foes being slaughtered like the filthy cattle that they were...
