| rdfs:comment
| - A scream of agony wailed throughout the simple house. The voice of the midwife, gentle yet firm echoed, "Just one more push, lassie, one more." Another scream was followed by a cry, dainty and sweet. The midwife held up the crying newborn, chanting in some long forgotten tongue. She presented the newborn son to the mother. The red haired mother, smiled through her tears and drops of sweat, murmuring softly, "My Azudim... My Azudim Imaviel" One night, during one of his excursions into the Library, a strange being came to Azudim. The enigmatic stranger stood beside him, watching him read...
|
| abstract
| - A scream of agony wailed throughout the simple house. The voice of the midwife, gentle yet firm echoed, "Just one more push, lassie, one more." Another scream was followed by a cry, dainty and sweet. The midwife held up the crying newborn, chanting in some long forgotten tongue. She presented the newborn son to the mother. The red haired mother, smiled through her tears and drops of sweat, murmuring softly, "My Azudim... My Azudim Imaviel" Thus, started the existence of Azudim. His childhood was filled with joy, love and songs of praise. The fiery red hair, a gift from his mother, grew to be long, full with soft curls. His body, though small, grew strong and athletic, with wiry muscles defining his legs, arms and torso. The radiant auburn eyes of his father shone bright upon all that he gazed. Then disaster struck. After only eight years of childhood, a clan of renegade bandits raided his village. His parents and all his friends were slain, but he was captured and sold into slavery. His master was a man who accepted him in return for a mule. He was but merchandise. He was treated as such from the moment he walked into the stranger's home. Of course, Jawan appeared to be kind and generous at the auctioneer's block... But when Azudim was brought to Jawan's opulent home in Ashtan, that faade quickly changed to one of cruelty. For 10 years, he toiled for Jawan. In return for his drudgery, he received lashings, beatings and sexual abuse. Each time his flesh was flayed, each time his innocence was savagely ripped from him, each time his skin was lashed, was a time which taught him to protect his soul. That was something Jawan could never touch, have or defile. Azudim saved his soul for knowledge. A welcome visitor to the City Library, Azudim immersed himself in books. He learned all he could from the huge treasure trove of books. He would study tomes upon tomes of occultism, necromancy, demonology and religion. Soon, he became a master of the "common" folklore. He relished these times. One night, during one of his excursions into the Library, a strange being came to Azudim. The enigmatic stranger stood beside him, watching him read... His only words: "They say people who study the Demons, have two endeavors; to become one or to fight them. Which is yours Mr. Imaviel?" Surprised only to be interrupted from his studies, Azudim looked up to the stranger and answered quite simply, "Neither. I wish to control them." The last thing Azudim saw was the stranger's dark smile...
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)