Nikolas of Green and Crimson's page

It is a cruel world and the Mist hides its cruelties from many eyes. But there are times when it is the job of great men to temper that cruelty when it grows too great.

Gib demanded sacrifice each new moon. When the moon disappeared from the sky and the Roc threatened to turn its hunger on the lands below, Gib demanded his due or the moon would never grow to feed the great raptor again. It was a bargain easily made, for the islands of Mist knew the Roc would fall upon them to feast on cattle, man, and kingdom if the Moon did not return to sate the Roc’s endless cycle of hunger.

Each month, 20 cows, 30 sheep, and 40 goats were set on the Alter of Gib and the hooked knife spilled their blood on the red-stained rock. The dead beasts fed the Roc one last meal till it woke with the brightness of the full moon to feed again.

So it was for times beyond memory, until one new moon a single goatherd became angry when it was his turn to provide meat for the great bird.

“Why must meat be taken from my mouth? Why must milk and cheese be stolen from me to feed a great fat pigeon on a hill?”

In greed and stupidity he plotted to keep his stock and cheat Gib and the Roc of their due. He took a sack of turnips, wrapped it in an old blanket and sewed two branches to its top to simulate horns. He then took his creation to the witchwoman by the shore to glamour it to appear as alive and to walk for a day. Content in his cleverness, he delivered the fake beast with the rest of the livestock to the sacrificial alter at the top of the mountain.

“One goat will make no difference to a animal so large as the Roc. It will never notice its absence.”

It will surprise no one that when the curved knife hooked the throat of the glamoured goat and a stream of turnips flowed instead of blood, Gib was enraged.

“You cheat Me! I am one of the Gods Beyond! I save you from the wrath of the Roc, and this is how I am repaid?!” Gib shouted to the cowering essembled. “Next month I demand a new sacrifice , or I will set the Roc loose and it will feast on all of Mist instead of the moon. Instead of cows, sheep and goats, you will bring 20 men, 30 women, and 40 children to my alter. There you will watch then bleed and the Roc will feast on their bodies. Do not cheat me again!”

With that Gib turned and vanished into the Mist.

The kingdoms of Mist knew that once the Roc tasted the blood of men, the new bargain would stand forever and called out to the heroes of the world to save them from this calamity. One month stood between the people of Mist and the first new feast of the Roc. Nikolas answered this call, but this time he was not the only hero to answer . . .

Nikolas strides the world as a god, but though he bears the blood of his godly father, he is mortal and can die.

The battle of al'Gameer left Nikolas at his knees and vulnerable. Though foes surrounded him in a pile of meat and viscera waist-deep, wounds cut deep in his chest and back. It was then his brother, unnamed, for Nikolas would never dignify his existence, struck a cowardly blow. A rainbow nimbus surrounded him - the sign of communications from the heavens or hells.

Distracted by the wails of the dying, Nikolas answered the call and was frozen by the power of the sending.

"Nikolas! Ha! Father sends his regards." The voice of the Unnamed was joined by his presence. Clad in armor as grey as his soul, a chain clamped on his wrist bound to a rune-carved stone the size of a man's torso. "The chain you gifted to me so long ago will now be yours. With a swing, the stone flew like the head of a flail through the air to land in a spray of blood at Nikolas' side. Nikolas reacted instinctively away from the stone and the Unnamed pressed his hand to Nikolas' forehead. Runes flashed, surrounded and sank into the weary warriors skin.

"The stone is yours! Or it will be! And when you are finally chained, as I have been for so long, it will drag you back to Arden to face Father's justice and," the last delivered in a whisper, "I will be sure your death follows soon behind."

The Unnamed then stood and gloated, "When the last light of this world's setting sun leaves you in darkness, the spell will be complete. You will be bound for three days to suffer torments from me, then the stone steals you to your doom."

Nikolas looked to the last sliver of the sun at the horizon and knew he had but moments of freedom left. "Brother, as always, your bravado is your weakness. If you could only have remained silent, my escape would have been impossible."

With those words he leapt to his feet and sprinted toward the setting sun.

The Unnamed laughed at the heels of his swift brother. "Distance will avail you not. The stone will call you back no matter how far or to what shadow you run!"

Nikolas did not answer and was soon out of sight. Darkness fell, and the Unnamed cackled with glee. But his laughs drew silent as the chain on his wrist did not break and reform around his brothers arm. Confusion marred the brother's already ugly face further. Night passed; day came, and still the spell remained incomplete. The sun reached the western horizon again and was moments from disappearing a second time when Nikolas arrived, this time from the east.

Sweat, poured from his body, his feet bloody from running, but his speed did not slacken. He ran directly toward the stone and as he passed, struck a blow against the Unnamed which tumbled the godling to his back. Nikolas did not stop and disappeared from sight to the west just before the sun delivered its last light.

"How?! The spell is flawless, how is he still free?" fumed the Unnamed.

A second day passed, exactly as the first, and it ended exactly the same way. Nikolas ran in from the east, struck a single blow against his brother and disappeared to the west just before the sun disappeared into darkness.

A third day passed, and after spitting a tooth into the now maggotty corpses surrounding him, the Unnamed grew worried, because the next sunset would call the stone to Arden and it was still bound to his wrist instead of Nikolas'. He spent the day entire examining the spell, which should have bound his brother three times over, but still stubbornly clung to him. He found no flaw and as the day came to an end, fear gripped the Unnamed's heart, for he knew his father tolerated failure poorly.

The sun was a sliver at the edge of the world, and the Unnamed began to fade as the stone slowly dragged him to the high heavens. Nikolas appeared once again from the east, blood and sweat leaving a damp trail behind him. He collapsed in exhaustion at the Unnamed feet just as the rainbow light poured from the stone to surround the bound brother.

The Unnamed shouted in anger and fear as he disappeared. "How?! The spell should have taken you!"

Nikolas raised his head to the spot where his brother once stood. "Foolish brother, this world is round. I ran beneath the sun as it traveled around Mist, so that's its final rays never left me. Three days I ran, long enough for the stone to take you before your spell could take me." then he lay his head on the battlefield and slept, for even Nikolas can grow tired.

It is known that Nikolas, by virtue of his Father’s blood can travel beyond the realms of mortals to the hells and heavens of the gods. At times, when he chooses to do so, he allows his mortal companions to join him on even more wondrous quests.

One day while travelling the Mist Between, Nikolas’ ship sailed into a great storm. The wind formed waves which turned the Shadowcharger sideways. The canvas tore from the masts and the masts tore from the deck. Nikolas knew he would survive the deadly storm; even if the ship was sent to the below the surface of the sea, he would swim to shore. But he knew his crew had no such luxury. He steered the vessel from the Mist entirely, and sailed to a calm sea in the realm of the gods.

But here he was wary. Nikolas knew that among the heavens and hells dwelled men and beast who might challenge even he. And so luck, or perhaps fate steered Nikolas as he steered the Shadowcharger.

Two hours did they sail the sea beyond mortal realms, but each time Nikolas turned the keel back toward Mist, the deadly storm arose around them again and he was forced to turn back or choose to sacrifice his crew.

His frustration grew, then anger, then understanding. After the seventh retreat he knew some godly or demonic hand was preventing his passage.

Nikolas stood at the prow of the ship and ripped the wheel from its mooring. With a mighty throw he hurled it into the sea. ”Your fun is over!” he shouted into the calm surf, “We will not sail at your beckoning! If you wish to challenge me, show your face!”

A full throated laugh surrounded the ship, and the crew cowered in fear that Nikolas would goad a god. The water began to roil below the Shadowcharger, and the boat began to spin. Rocks clamped to the hull and an island grew around them. The ship rose high into the air. Surrounding the isle, its scales scraped across the rocks, loops of flesh as wide as a man, appeared a serpent. The face of a woman birthed from one end of its coils and taunted Nikolas, who stood stoic as the crew fled to the bowels of the ship.

“Child of Amber,” Nikolas’ birthland, the highest heaven, “you are far from home. It was foolish of you to stray this far into chaos alone.”

Nikolas’ face changed. He chose his words carefully for this being was unknown to him. “What is your game? You know me, but I do not know you. I have no quarrel and our houses are at peace since the Black Road joined our land.”

“No game, child, a test. You have been loud in Shadow, ripples of you are spreading far beyond your chosen demesne. Some of us take loud as a challenge. There is a contest among us to see if you can be silenced.”

“A test then. What is your contest?”

The serpent responded with a sibilant chuckle, “An easy task. You are free to go at any time, but you can only escape with what you can carry.” With the last word, the serpent’s coils gripped and jerked Nikolas’ ship from under him and he fell to the rocky beach below. With a quick roll he regained his feet, and watched as the Shadowcharger rose high above the island’s surface, cradled in the serpents scales.

Nikolas felt the eyes of other demons around him and knew that to slay the serpent would call more, unknowable, and likely more powerful demons on him. He looked the serpent in the eye, then turned to take a long look at the vessel holding his crew, well out of reach. With a nod he turned to the beach and leapt into the surf.

His crew cried out in fear and horror, “Do not abandon us! Nikolas, save us from the demon’s grasp!”

Only silence returned their cries. The serpent’s face took on a blissful contentment. “I knew the temper of this one was wanting. He flees. We have won.”

Then a shiver went through the demon’s scales, and the water around the island boiled again. The rocks shifted and some fell into the surrounding sea. The island rose higher, serpent, ship and all. The edge of the beach pulled free of the water and the isle abandoned the embrace of the surf. Below, with kicks that sent spray and foam in all direction Nikolas swam beneath the island, its base firmly in his grasp.

“I am returning, as was our deal, with all I can carry. Your Isle is mine, and only out of courtesy do I give you the opportunity to leave it before I claim you in service for the rest of your demonic life. And we both know that will be a very long life”

The serpent snarled, and lifted its coils as if to strike, but recoiled back as the sky and sea rung with a new voice. “That was the bargain, You will honor it. It is your own damn fault for trying to be clever.”

With that, the serpent escaped into the surrounding waters and Nikolas carried his new island back to the mortal realms. The serpent returned to retrieve it many years later, but that is another tale – for another time.

It was after the walls of DelPhin fell and Sultan Diemodes was carried back through the Mists to face the punishment of the Gods Between. Nikolas the Great held a great feast of victory for the freed men of DelPhin. Here they would celebrate their victory and meet their new king, Menaleus, finally returned to his crown after exile by the usurper so long ago.

The wine flowed, and fully a tenth the stocks were emptied for meat. Nikolas and his band roared and fought with gusto, but a pall was plain over the hall. The men of DelPhin drank, but like the wine was bitter. They ate, but as if the beef was spoiled. Nikolas watched and reveled, but after a time his joy grew as grey as the stone of the hall.

After a time he leapt to his feet. “Why do you not sing! Diemodes is taken; your daughters and wives are safe from his predation! Your sons are free of his pits! I and mine have torn down your walls and sundered your chains! Why do you eat and drink as though we failed!”

The men of the hall shrank back from his bellows, for all knew the future of those who raised Nikolas to anger – fodder for the earth of Mist to drink and grow. One grew brave and showed himself worthy of Nikolas’ attention.

“Great Nikolas, grateful are we to have the yoke of Diemodes wrest from our backs. But we know you are a wanderer, and your largess is fleeting. With our walls foundered, the Juggernaut is as free to enter DelPhin as we are free to leave. In your absence we know that our lives will soon be paste beneath its mighty hooves. None can stand in its path and hope to live”

Nikolas’ brow furrowed. The green in his eyes flashed. “None, you say.” His cup was dropped with no ceremony, and the wine soaked like blood into the rugs beneath his feet. He held out his now empty palm and Thamos placed Godsblood, the mighty spear, into Nikolas’s grasp. With speed lent of his deific blood, the spear flew from his hand to impale the largest cow spit over the central flame and carry it to tack like an ill-chosen tapestry at the end of the hall.

“No one may touch this meat! Before the cow rots and falls to the floor, I will return with the blood of the Juggernaut staining the skin beneath my nails. I will ‘stand in its path’ and the beast will die.”

With those words Nikolas strode unarmed from the hall through the streets of DelPhin, past the crumbled gates and to the cleft of Jamber Mount from where the Juggernaut always emerged.

A day’s walk into the Cleft found Nikolas with sheer walls of stone to his right and left. The passage forward was but ten men wide. He stopped and held his cupped hands to his sun-blackened face. “Beast, the walls of DelPhin are destroyed! The only thing that’s stands before it and you is Me!” then let his arms fall to his side and waited. The sun fell and rose three times and Nikolas did not move from his place, his stare unbroken.

As the third day’s sun sank again, a faint thunder rumbled the sky above, but no clouds blocked the fading light of the day. A smile creased Nikolas’ jaw. “It comes.”

The thunder grew until the sand beneath Nikolas’ feet began to ripple like the surface of a stream. A cloud of dust billowed at the edge of vision. And then it appeared. It was the size of ship with two masts, filling the cleft, its sides brushing each wall and showering sparks with each powerful step. It was as tall as it was wide and covered in a thatch seemingly made of iron. It ran with the speed of a hawk with the wind at its back and its belly swept the evidence of its prints from the sand as it moved. One massive horn preceded its gait like a lance carved from the trunk of century old olive tree. There was no escape below, to each side. Only a bird could flee, but Nikolas had no wings. It was the Juggernaut!

It moved as inexorably forward as death, only swifter and with its time of arrival foreknown. Nikolas placed one foot behind him and both hand ahead to meet the beast. The thunder rose until all other sound was vanquished in its presence. The Juggernaut closed the distance, its speed never slackening, until it met Nikolas’ open hands. He gripped and forced the horn to the side then lowered his head to bear the burden of the beast fully.

Nikolas’ foot carved a furrow in the sand below him, then the stone beneath that – like a plow of steel through soft loam. The Juggernaut’s movement appeared to move forward unabated, earth, stone and sand erupting in a cloud of debris around the man. Then gradually, it slowed. 50 yards, then a hundred, Nikolas was pushed back, but the beast’s mighty hooves began to lose purchase on the ground below it. The melding of man and monster slowed to a crawl then stopped. The sound of the beast's futile footsteps alone would burst the ears of normal men. Then, within the cloud arose a tremendous CRACK. And the thunder disappeared like a candle flame between two fingers. The sand and dust settled from the air to see the Juggernaut’s head resting loosely in the sand, its neck snapped and blood flowing from its nostrils. Nikolas climbed from the channel and with a quick movement snapped the Juggernaut’s horn in two and lifted the broken piece to carry back to the city.

So Nikolas freed DelPhin the second time, One more challenge awaited him when he passed again through its broken walls. But that is another tale.