Cindarr Darkstorm. The Coming of Madness

This is the beginning of a tail that is not all together good. Not in the way that you will grow bored, or will generally dislike it. But in the way that the events that happen within are not happy, and are, in fact, events of a tragedy. If you wish to continue, then you are free to do so. But if you do, and the tail brings you to shed a tear by the end, and feel remorse for those within, then do not say I did not warn you.

Crayvix Blackhand was a Tiefling from a small village where a great Tower of the Arcane been erected, there teaching young and upcoming Sorcerers, and like the rest of his family, this was the course that young Crayvix sought to follow. But fate, cruel cruel fate, had other plans for Crayvix Blackhand, plans that should not be wished upon anyone, for it saw his end.

Whilst on a casual fly with his grandfather, a powerful Sorcerer known as Ectar Stormbringer, the two came under attack from a swarm of Skin Bats, so many that the sky was darkened and the sun was eclipsed by their thousands and thousands of wings. Sent by the Demon Lord, Camazotz, the two Tieflings were outmanned. Ectar did his best to defend them both, but for every five Skin Bats taken down, twenty more took their place. For every Lightning Bolt and Fire Ball cast by the Stormbringer, resulted only in their numbers being replaced until the numbers could not even be imagined, let alone counted. Ectar was consumed whilst an evil laughter filled the air about them, and Crayvix fled, pursued for miles by the relentless Demon Spawn of the Demon Lord of Bats and Fire.

Eventually, he too, was brought down, though he was not ripped asunder as his grandfather had been. Left to bleed to death upon the grassy hills he had landed on, Crayvix slipped into unconsciousness, and had a strange dream that he could never describe. But I shall try.

Before him stood a great complex, a building of some sort, looking like a chaotic mass of twisting pillars, carvings of eyes twisted faces in agony, black moss pulsating on every wall, as if breathing with a life of its own. Crazed laughter could be heard all about him, from countless voices. Mutterings of mad men and women mixed with the mad cry of some insane being, deep within the complex. From the pitch black portal that was the door, a figure, blacker then black, darker then dark, emerged and stood before him. A burning laughter sounded in his mind as the figure pointed to him and spoke four words that haunted Crayvix in every dream from then on. "You will be mine."

Crayvix awoke in his own bed, his mother leaning over him. He had been found several miles from the village, his body battered and bruised, cut and gashed. His mother had been nursing him for the next four days while he stirred in his bed, a fever taking him. It had broken now, and he opened his eyes for the first time since the Skin Bat attack. He ached all over, but it was a dull ache compared to the memory of the dream. But was it a dream?

Several weeks later, and Crayvix found himself out of bed and alone inside the great library within the Arcane Tower. He decided now would be the time to begin his studies before beginning his training to become a Sorcerer, to make his grandfather proud of him. It was whilst there that he came across a tome, the title faded on both cover and spine, the pages brittle, and most the text smeared and smudged. Most of the writing that could be read was the ranting of a mad man, but he could make out several words quite clearly. Eldritch. Gan-Bo. Warlock. The Great Old Ones. The dream returned every night after he found that book, and insanity began to worm it's way into the mind of Crayvix Blackhand.

Over the next few weeks, Crayvix began to get lost in his own mind. He saw faces where there was only blank walls, heard laughter where there was only bird song. And always was the mad chuckle that held power. Crayvix began to change physically also. His blood red skin began to darken, eventually becoming a deep purple. He researched what he could of the Eldritch, eventually learning of the power of a Warlock, deciding that this was the path he would take from this day forwards. Gone now were the red robes he had bought to signify his sorcerer future, replaced by black hooded robes with a skull belt and shoulder pads. But something else had changed about him. His obsession lead to him writing a score of random notes, not one making sense to anyone, not even himself. He forgot simple conversations he had with family, and he was randomly seen talking with himself, laughing at nothing and dancing as if music played, but there was nothing. But one day, he was seen sitting at a table, looking at his finger intently.

"Umm, Crayvix?" his mother said to him. "What are you doing?"

"Shh," Crayvix replied. "I am contemplating the meaning of my finger."

There was a long silence between them until he eventually stood, flipped the table and shouted at her in complete gibberish.

"What is wrong with you Crayvix?" she said, fear etched into her red features.

"Oh, nothing is wrong with me," he replied, a mad smile playing over his face. "But, I'm not Crayvix. He's here of course, in here." He tapped the side of his head. "But deep, deep inside, where he can't hear you calling to him. No no no, dear mother. I am not your beloved son. No. I am not he. For I am someone else, and not Crayvix." The rant went on for close to an hour, the young Tiefling repeating himself, tapping the side of his head over and over, eventually replacing his finger with his fist, the taps becoming full blows as he pummeled the side of his skull.

"Who... who are you?" his mother final managed to ask, fear replaced with sheer terror as she realised something was seriously wrong with her son.

"I'm glad you asked mother," he replied, standing mere inches from her face. "I am Cindarr Darkstorm." And then he kissed her, wrapping both arms and wings about her as he held her fast.

Eventually, she pushed him off, unable to believe what he had just done as he began to laugh, slinking into the corner and kneeling down. After this, he was exiled from the village and sent away.

Months passed, and Crayvix fell deeper and deeper into insanity. Occasionally, he would introduce himself to people as Crayvix, but as time passed, this stopped, and only Cindarr remained.

Eventually, he came across a strange complex in the mountains, one that seemed very familiar to him. A chaotic mass of twisting pillars, carvings of eyes twisted faces in agony, black moss pulsating on every wall, as if breathing with a life of its own. Crazed laughter could be heard all about him, from countless voices. Mutterings of mad men and women mixed with the mad cry of some insane being, deep within the complex. He entered slowly, and he was greeted by movement. The walls were lined with people who moved towards him, drawing swords, axes and flails as they hissed at him. There were elves, dwarves, orcs and even goliaths amongst their number, but as they neared him, he could see they were not living. Each one was dressed in black robes, like his own, but with subtle differences, and each one sought out his blood.

"Hold thy hands," a voice called from deep within the complex, though none was seen. The dead figures stopped their progress towards him and began to back away. "Welcome Cindarr Darkstorm, to my temple. I am Gan-Bo, God of Madness, and I see you found my Codex, as I hoped you would. Since the attack you suffered from the swarms of Skin Bats, I have manipulated your every action to lead you to this moment."

"Nope. No no no no no no." Cindarr interrupted, wagging his finger in the air. "None of that was me. Nope. That was him." And he tapped the side of his head once more.

"Be it Crayvix Blackhand or Cindarr Darkstorm, it means no difference to me. You are mine, none the less. Behold and look about you and see those Warlocks that once served me in life, now serving me in death. These are the Fext that are mine. And, if you serve me well, they shall be yours. I seek you to become my newest Avatar on this land, my Hand of Madness. My High Priest. And when you achieve this goal, you shall have command over the Fext around you, and countless more in temples that are mine. Seek a tutor in the Eldritch Arts, and remember that in time, Darkness is yours."

Cindarr thought for sometime before he answered, and when he did, it was neither a yes or a no.

"You know, for a mad god, you sound incredibly sane."

His reply came in the sound of crazed laughter, to which Cindarr joined with before leaving and heading for the city of Rose Halls. There, he found his tutor, the feamale Dwarf, Mould-Lice, who sat on the council of the city. She introduced him to the Great Old Ones and began his training. Now, as a servant of Gan-Bo, with the Great Old One as his patron, he strives to achieve that which his Master wants of him, to lead the Fext in his name. And to spread the name of the Mad God to all who he meets.

Now, he ventures with a group adventureers, the Sorcerer Habbuk McWater, the Bard Cassandra (and Cindarr's love interest), the Dwarf Warrior Banar Stonehand, the Monk Jon Xi, the Paladin Theresa Avo, and the Eldritch Knight Jericho Griffonbane. His adventures have lead to the point where Theresa and Jericho have left them, replaced with the troublesome figure, whose name, race and gender has yet to be revealed. From time to time, Crayvix reveals himself, but his name is lost. He believes himself to be Cindarr still, even in these moments of sanity. Other personalities have revealed them selves, including the blood crazed murderer that sought to burn and destroy the entire village of the Chitne that imprisoned them, to the well mannered and sophisticated individual that spoke on their behalf when they were rudely welcomed to the halls of the Demon Worshiping Elf Noble. Who knows how many other personalities lie within his mind, awaiting to be released.

Now the story has come to an end. And if it has not brought you to a tear, then you are probably a stone hearted dwarf. But, even if you are not, and the tail just did not move you as I thought it would. You now know something about the Warlock that is now known, and forever more, as Cindarr Darkstorm.