Chronicles of Morag Lithosa: Part I

This is the life story of Morag Lithosa, a character whom you may have heard of in Ragnarok. One would not call this a biography, but not a fictional story either. It is the truth, and a dangerous one at that...

Prologue
Morag Lithosa was born on a very dark night. Not that there was any other kind of night across the border of the Wilderness. In fact, this was one of the brightest nights so far in the year, but it was still pitch black. As soon as he was born, his mother, an Elf, wrapped him in a dark cloth and placed him on the small cot that served as a bed in her small, dark campsite. The infant's father, a humanlike Demon, sat farther off, keeping watch over the camp. One could never be too careful in the Wilderness, with all of the PKers and high-leveled warriors all over the place. And that wasn't even counting the other monsters that roamed these barren wastes, searching desparately for their prey.

The unlikely couple was camped in the middle of a blackened lava plain, not five miles from the Wilderness Volcano. They had long since run out of firewood and were forced to use a small lava flow for light and heat. Far off to the north, a pack of Hellhounds howled. To the northeast, about ten miles away, sat the Demonic Ruins in which Morag's father had been born. However, he had been exiled from that tribe due to his... decidedly unwarlike nature. Of course, being a Demon, he was still prone to violence at times. Morag's mother was born in the Elf lands across the mountains from the Human kingdom of Kandarin. Her past, though, is not an openly disclosed matter.

The only reason for the couple's camping in the deep Wilderness was the Humans' domination of the entire rest of the known world. As soon as Morag's father had set foot in Human territory, he was thrown into the souther Ardougne prison, where he met Morag's mother. She had helped him to escape through a secret passage. Then the two had fled from city to city, kingdom to kingdom, until they had no choice but to hide in the Wilderness, where they now remained. They had had a difficult time, to say the least. They first set up camp in the southeastern area of the Wilderness, only to find it a battlefield full of Green dragons and adventurers slaughtering each other. They had sought refuge at the Wilderness Volcano, but the only other resident, a man named Mandrith, had tried to kill the Demon and marry the Elf. Finally, they had settled here, just northeast of the Volcano, but out of the way of any large groups of monsters or adventurers. Now, they had their first child. He was a very odd-looking baby, seeming to have the features of both parents. But then, Morag's life took a very sharp turn for the worst...

Chapter 1
Suddenly, a series of flashes of light marked the arrival of a group of beings in various armours and carrying lethal-looking weapons. They began to wander in the direction of the camp, spamming all the way. Then one of them spotted the Demon.

"H3Y L00K 4 D3M0N! 1M4 G37 7074LLY 1337 DR0P5!!!" He shouted, and ran at him, brandishing a whip.

Morag's father looked up just in time to see the adventurer reach him and lash out with the whip. But that was long enough. He grabbed the whip and swung it around, throwing the helpless adventurer into a group of his friends.

"N008 700K MY 488Y WH1P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He screamed, now hefting a Godsword. Then, all of the adventurers let loose with every weapon in their arsenal, shooting their Dark Bows, swinging their whips, swords, and axes, and firing off various spells. Morag's father was dead before he hit the ground. His mother was next, falling in a hail of enchanted crossbow bolts. Only Morag was left alive. He lay there, crying faintly.

After almost thrity minutes of silence, something stepped through the campsite. It was a semitransparent, white figure, and it moved with as much stealth as was possible on an open lava plain. It glanced around and moved inside the tent. As soon as it saw the baby it gave a start. After glancing around again, it reached down and picked up the infant. Then it hurried away.

The Revenant had not expected to find a young living being in the campsite. Nor had it expected to feel any compassion at the site of it. It had been running from a group of Revenant Hunters who had marched forth into its home during one of the Pay to PK riots after the omnipresent entity Mod Mark Gerhard had forbidden PKing in the Wildeness. However, something left in its tormented mind simply had to help the child. The Revenant had seen Morag's parents lying in the ash, dead. It had thought that nobody had been left alive. But, now that it had been proven wrong, it decided to bring the child back to its lair where he would be safe from the hated adventurers.

Flash forward, 10 years later.
A large, armored figure dashed across the barren lava plain that had once been a dark forest. As he ran, he reached into his backpack and withdrew a small stone tablet with markings etched in it. the figure panted under his breath, "Gotta get to lvl 20 wildy, gotta get to 20 wildy!" Behind him, a shimmering white being glided along, pursuing and firing blasts of magic at long range. the figure dashed around a rocky outcrop and froze. Standing before him in a black tunic, was what appeared to be a young Demon.

He tried to sidestep the child, but the Demon moved to block him. He tried again and again, but the young Demon would not let him pass. The armored man was about to raise his red sword when the Demon spoke in an eerily calm voice: "Wherever you may end up now, know that you deserve to be in that place. You brought this upon yourself." Then the white being caught up with the man and, with a snarl, tore him to pieces. It beckoned toward the boy and said one word, "Morag." The boy obeyed, following the white figure over the horizon until both disappeared from view.

The white figure led Morag to what had been home for the two of them for the past ten years. It was nothing more than an abandoned underground temple from hundreds of years before, but it had a subterranean stream for water and a great shelter from the biting wind-- and prowling beasts. A pile of rags lay in one corner -Morag's bed- and a centuries-old coffin lay open in the center of four stone columns close to the middle of the room. A small passageway led off to the side, and a trapdoor lay behind the coffin.

The white figure sat down on a stone slab. It appeared to be a semitransparent, hooded man with long, sharp talons for fingers. It tossed some strips of dried meat to Morag, who happily devoured them. Then it made a long, mournful moaning sound.

Morag turned and replied, "But it's not even sunset yet!" The being made more sound. Morag gestured at the low sun over the far-off forest. The being shrugged and made what almost sounded like a long, low laugh. Morag jumped up, hugged the being, and ran happily outside. The white figure turned and glided to the coffin and was preparing to lay down in it when it heard a peculiar cling-clanging sound from outside. It silently moved toward the doorway.

Outside Morag was wielding the red sword that the armored man had been holding. He spun and slashed, beheading trees and striking sparks off of rocks. He ducked, stabbing an imaginary enemy, then jumped into the air- a good five feet- and landed, cleaving another in two. He wheeled around, holding the sword poised for another strike, then saw the white being.

The Revenant made an inquisitive sound. Morag showed him the sword. "I thought that I could grow up to be a mighty warrior like you were," he said. The Revenant said nothing and turned back toward the door. Then it paused and whirled around holding a glistening white sword.

It sneakily approached Morag, who had resumed butchering the air around him. As he turned the it lashed out at Morag with the blade. Morag, without even realizing what had happened, followed through on his previous action and ended up parrying the strike. The Revenant made another attempt, and Morag blocked it, looking confused. the Revenant made several quick, agressive attacks, and Morag defended himself each time. Then, seeing an opportunity, he lunged forward himself. The Revenant sidestepped and counterattacked, but Morag had already jumped over its head and parried. He swung the sword in a mighty arc right through the Revenant's trunk, and the blade shattered. Morag, carried by the force of the swing, fell off balance and landed sprawled a yard away. The Revenant grabbed Morag's hand and helped him to the doorway with an enigmatic expression on its face.

Chapter 2
It was five years later, and Morag was hunting a Hellhound. Some other Revenants had told Morag the location of the pack, and Morag's guardian had suggested that he try to hunt them himself. If this hunt was successful, he would officially be a full-grown Demon/Elf. He was now up to his Revenant guardian's shoulder height, and he wore a worn-out black chainmail vest over a grey tunic. He carried a red short-sword in one hand and a net in the other. The Hellhound in question, a relatively small beast but still almost ten feet long, sniffed the air suspiciously. It snorted smoke and continued ambling down a faint trail.

As soon as its back was turned, Morag stood and moved up behind the animal. He stepped on a dry twig. The Hellhound growled and lunged, its razor sharp teeth bared at Morag's chest. As it came, Morag shifted his weight and hacked downwards with the sword. It etched a black gash on the infernal dog's skull but did little else. The dog bounded past and wheeled about, snarling. Morag twisted the net around his right hand twice and raised the sword as a distraction. The hound glanced up for a brief instant had its legs pulled out from under it. Morag set to work on the tangled mass of black fur, shaggy legs, teeth, and smoke, but one great clawed paw smacked him across the face. Another stabbed into his arm. Both wounds bled black blood but sealed almost instantly. Morag held the beast down with all of his strength and hacked with his sword at the nearest part of Hellhound he could find. Eventually, the dog, overcome by its injuries, collapsed into a pile of charcoal. Morag Lithosa had just come of age.

Morag returned home with high spirits and pockets full of charcoal and ashes, but when he reached the abandoned temple, nobody came out to grret him. He ran inside and froze with horror. His Revenant guardian, the closest thing he had to a family, was being held against the wall by an adventurer. Morag gave a yell and the man turned. "And just who might you be, Demon?" he asked with a sneer.

"You're the demonic one," said Morag. "Now put my godfather down and leave."

"This is your godfather?" the man chuckled with a sneer. "Your godfather happens to be a Revenant. And everyone knows that Revenants must die."

Morag knew that the man was obviously beyond reason, so he turned to the Revenant instead. "What's going on?" he asked. The Revenant made a frantic moaning sound and struggled to escape, but the man held him by the throat against a wall. Morag paused for a moment, then replied with a similar sound. The adventurer was dumbfounded. Then he turned back toward the Revenant, now hefting a large sword. Morag screamed, but the man ran the Revenant through with one cruel yet graceful motion. The only friend that Morag had ever known collapsed to the cold stone floor.

The man turned to face Morag. "I suppose I would have to kill you now, too," he said casually, lifting his sword again. Morag took a step back, readying his own sword. The adventurer laughed. "Do you really think that a mere Dragon sword is a match for a Bandos Godsword?" With that, he swung the mighty blade and clove Morag's weapon in two.

Morag seethed with anger. He wanted to avenge his godfather. He wanted to survive. But above all, he wanted to kill this man the likes of which every decent Revenant had been brought up to hate. The man stepped forward again, bringing the huge sword back for the death blow. Suddenly Morag heard a moaning sound coming from his fallen friend. A thin whisp of white smoke was curling from the Revenant's hand towards his. It made contact, and suddenly he was in another place. He was floating in a sea of black, connected to the world of reality by the Revenant. The Revenant spoke. "Morag Lithosa, My time here is almost complete. You have been a good godson and a good friend. I hope that someday we could see each other again. But for now, I must go. Accept this as a parting gift." Suddenly Morag's mind felt alert, his body felt energized, and his blood seemed as hot as a Dragon's fiery breath.

Morag returned to the physical world. The Revenant had disappeared. The man was still there, but he looked puzzled, like something was out of place. Morag stood suddenly and the man faltered. Morag felt a vast, raging current of energy coursing through him, and his hands, seemingly of their own accord, rose from his sides to point at the man. "YOU KILLED MY DEAREST FRIEND, AND NOW YOU TOO SHALL FEEL THE HANDS OF DEATH UPON YOUR COLD HEART!" Morag was shocked at what he was saying. The man, now certain that Morag was a threat, began to lunge forward with the Godsword.

The energy in Morag was too great to bear, and with a scream of rage he let it out through his hand. A red-gold bolt of fiery light, like a bolt of lightning, shot from Morag's hand and lanced toward the man. Morag had just enough time to see fear take hold of the man's face before the spell hit the man, searing away skin, flesh, and muscle, leaving only a pile of black bone dust in his place. Morag slumped against the wall. He felt drained, like he had just taken on a hundred-mile run in full armor. Then he started to sob, mourning the loss of the Revenant who had once been his godfather.

Outside, it began to rain.