Post by Kodaka on Jun 27, 2020 18:39:57 GMT -6
Kodaka, The Defiant One
Part I
Part I
Before we get to Kodaka, we must first learn a little of the Dezamire Nephilim. They are like all Nephilim, a mighty people of both demonic and angelic blood. Kodaka is among the second generation of Dezamire Nephilim born on Earth after his kin were banished from the heavenly plane by the very two gods they served and protected: Krost and Ygmir. His home on the Earth was the city of Dezamire, (loosely translated to ‘Spite’s Rebirth’ in Common) which is located deep in the heart of the desolate wasteland known as the Piercing Tundra.
Dezamire was hidden from most of the world, well known only by its few neighboring territories. The Nephilim only left the city to trade with their neighbors, who would often refer to the Dezamire Nephilim as ‘ice giants’. Despite the harsh climate during most of the year, they were very self-sufficient and used their strength and power of will alone to grow and hunt food. They believed that as long as they lived and prospered, they would forever plague the minds of their old deceitful gods. They did indeed prosper, as Dezamire soon became a sight to behold. The city was carved from the the side of a mountain range and soon touched the sky as if to spite the gods above.
The Dezamire Nephilim worshipped their ancestors as if they were gods. They were revered as heroes who stood up to the tyranny of their deities and paid the ultimate price in doiny so. They lost not only many of their own brothers and sisters in the coup, but the surviving Nephilim lost the privilege of immortality in being banished to the Earth realm. The Dezamire Nephilim erected temples all over the city in their name. These monuments also housed ancient Nephilim-forged weapons and artifacts from the war in the Heavenly plane, though especially today very few of these powerful weapons remain.
Kodaka grew up on countless stories about his ancestors, epic tales of bravery and selflessness as described by his farmer parents. His head swam with the images of his people fighting and winning against impossible odds as the boy went about his daily chores. Fantastical tales of them killing monsters ten times the size of full grown Nephilim, Nephilim warriors fighting the mighty armies of heaven outnumbered three-to-one and still finding victory. The pride and admiration for his ancestors was felt by all Dezamire Nephilim his age and beyond.
Subtlety at first however, the old ways that Koda had grown up around had begun to shift. Just before Kodaka’s prime, when he started his own life deeper in Dezamire, a group Nephilim who called themselves Prophets had emerged seemingly from nowhere and collectively claimed to have had similar revelations, visions from their old gods. They preached that the Heavenly plane realized its error in banishing the Nephilim and that redemption and forgiveness was at hand. All Dezamire had to do was abide by the words of these Prophets, whose orders werebdirectly interpreted from Krost and Ygmir themselves.
At first their sermons fell on deaf ears, but over time more and more of these prophets had preached to the streets below and they attracted small gatherings of Nephilim. As much as it pained Kodaka, soon nearly two-thirds of the city had become indoctrinated and things in the city had changed drastically. Statutes of the old gods began to replace those of his ancestors,children were taught to worship them and forget about the ancestors. It was utter sacrilege. Infuriated by this new religion that went against everything the ancestors had done for his people, Kodaka took to the streets to remind everyone of their core values as Nephilim. He shouted down the prophets followers and claimed that the prophets were setting themselves up as false idols and liars. His words turned over few, if any, of his kindred, though he certainly had gotten the attention of the Prophets’ and followers.
On his way back home on one particular day, he was jumped by a number of fanatics, and though Kodaka defended himself he was eventually apprehended and brought to a temple the Prophets resided in. There he was brought before them and offered a choice: become their right-hand or be silenced. To the defiant Kodaka the choice was obvious, but before he could seal his fate and pointlessly die for what he believed in a voice came to him. A whisper tickled his mind and beckoned him from somewhere within the temple. Before he could react, a sudden surge of strength filled him. What happened was a blur, Kodaka barely thought. He could only act. The young Nephilim found the strength to break his bonds and subdue his startled captors. Kodaka escaped and stormed deeper into the temple toward the source of the voice and to what he assumed the temporary boost in strength.
He rounded a corner, dimly aware of the sounds of several footfalls a distance behind him. There, in the middle of a circular chamber, was the source. It was a great warscythe, its blade a sharp crescent moon that shimmered like silver. It was elegant from the tip of the blade to the butt of the midnight-black shaft. As the young Nephilim approached the ancient artifact of war, he could better make out the words written in his tongue, etched into the flat of the blade. Koveris Morthic or ‘Curvaceous Death’. The lettering glowed blue in even the faintest of shadow, Kodaka could feel the weapon’s power from yards away as he approached it. As mesmerizing as it was, Kodaka stopped as he heard the door behind him slam shut, snapped out of his daze and wondering why it did that. A ghostly figure appeared beside the warscythe and spoke to him.
'I am Ata Nakuma', she told him. Kodaka recognized her and her name as one of the most powerful of the ancient Nephilim warriors among his ancestors. Her warscythe was a direct reflection of her deadly beauty. 'And I have been watching your plight against the heathen prophets. I wish to aid, you, Koda… I have deemed you worthy of carrying my great scythe to strike down these foes and all that stand in your way, but you will not unlock its full potential until you have further proved yourself. To do this, you must forge your own warrior’s path and return to Dezamire when you are ready… Can you do this?'
Kodaka hesitated for only a moment. He considered the weight of such a task and wondered how much of a coward he would seem like for running away. Then the realization that he would have the blessing of his ancestors however helped him make up his mind. He accepted the scythe gingerly and it dematerialized in his grasp. It was gone from view in a flash yet somehow he felt a presence with him in the back of his head. The lingering voice of Atah continued as her form had also faded. 'Do not fear, I will be with you every step of the way. You will grow to be the strongest of us all, Koda.'
With this powerful weapon in-toe and the blessings of his ancestors, he thought he could easily destroy the Prophets and deaden the grip they had on his people. Yet Ata’s words echoed in his head. The Nephilim would have to prove himself worthy, even now he was too weak to get through all the zealots to even be able to touch the prophets. Kodaka made a difficult choice; he had to leave, he had to get stronger.
So he fled.
Dezamire was hidden from most of the world, well known only by its few neighboring territories. The Nephilim only left the city to trade with their neighbors, who would often refer to the Dezamire Nephilim as ‘ice giants’. Despite the harsh climate during most of the year, they were very self-sufficient and used their strength and power of will alone to grow and hunt food. They believed that as long as they lived and prospered, they would forever plague the minds of their old deceitful gods. They did indeed prosper, as Dezamire soon became a sight to behold. The city was carved from the the side of a mountain range and soon touched the sky as if to spite the gods above.
The Dezamire Nephilim worshipped their ancestors as if they were gods. They were revered as heroes who stood up to the tyranny of their deities and paid the ultimate price in doiny so. They lost not only many of their own brothers and sisters in the coup, but the surviving Nephilim lost the privilege of immortality in being banished to the Earth realm. The Dezamire Nephilim erected temples all over the city in their name. These monuments also housed ancient Nephilim-forged weapons and artifacts from the war in the Heavenly plane, though especially today very few of these powerful weapons remain.
Kodaka grew up on countless stories about his ancestors, epic tales of bravery and selflessness as described by his farmer parents. His head swam with the images of his people fighting and winning against impossible odds as the boy went about his daily chores. Fantastical tales of them killing monsters ten times the size of full grown Nephilim, Nephilim warriors fighting the mighty armies of heaven outnumbered three-to-one and still finding victory. The pride and admiration for his ancestors was felt by all Dezamire Nephilim his age and beyond.
Subtlety at first however, the old ways that Koda had grown up around had begun to shift. Just before Kodaka’s prime, when he started his own life deeper in Dezamire, a group Nephilim who called themselves Prophets had emerged seemingly from nowhere and collectively claimed to have had similar revelations, visions from their old gods. They preached that the Heavenly plane realized its error in banishing the Nephilim and that redemption and forgiveness was at hand. All Dezamire had to do was abide by the words of these Prophets, whose orders werebdirectly interpreted from Krost and Ygmir themselves.
At first their sermons fell on deaf ears, but over time more and more of these prophets had preached to the streets below and they attracted small gatherings of Nephilim. As much as it pained Kodaka, soon nearly two-thirds of the city had become indoctrinated and things in the city had changed drastically. Statutes of the old gods began to replace those of his ancestors,children were taught to worship them and forget about the ancestors. It was utter sacrilege. Infuriated by this new religion that went against everything the ancestors had done for his people, Kodaka took to the streets to remind everyone of their core values as Nephilim. He shouted down the prophets followers and claimed that the prophets were setting themselves up as false idols and liars. His words turned over few, if any, of his kindred, though he certainly had gotten the attention of the Prophets’ and followers.
On his way back home on one particular day, he was jumped by a number of fanatics, and though Kodaka defended himself he was eventually apprehended and brought to a temple the Prophets resided in. There he was brought before them and offered a choice: become their right-hand or be silenced. To the defiant Kodaka the choice was obvious, but before he could seal his fate and pointlessly die for what he believed in a voice came to him. A whisper tickled his mind and beckoned him from somewhere within the temple. Before he could react, a sudden surge of strength filled him. What happened was a blur, Kodaka barely thought. He could only act. The young Nephilim found the strength to break his bonds and subdue his startled captors. Kodaka escaped and stormed deeper into the temple toward the source of the voice and to what he assumed the temporary boost in strength.
He rounded a corner, dimly aware of the sounds of several footfalls a distance behind him. There, in the middle of a circular chamber, was the source. It was a great warscythe, its blade a sharp crescent moon that shimmered like silver. It was elegant from the tip of the blade to the butt of the midnight-black shaft. As the young Nephilim approached the ancient artifact of war, he could better make out the words written in his tongue, etched into the flat of the blade. Koveris Morthic or ‘Curvaceous Death’. The lettering glowed blue in even the faintest of shadow, Kodaka could feel the weapon’s power from yards away as he approached it. As mesmerizing as it was, Kodaka stopped as he heard the door behind him slam shut, snapped out of his daze and wondering why it did that. A ghostly figure appeared beside the warscythe and spoke to him.
'I am Ata Nakuma', she told him. Kodaka recognized her and her name as one of the most powerful of the ancient Nephilim warriors among his ancestors. Her warscythe was a direct reflection of her deadly beauty. 'And I have been watching your plight against the heathen prophets. I wish to aid, you, Koda… I have deemed you worthy of carrying my great scythe to strike down these foes and all that stand in your way, but you will not unlock its full potential until you have further proved yourself. To do this, you must forge your own warrior’s path and return to Dezamire when you are ready… Can you do this?'
Kodaka hesitated for only a moment. He considered the weight of such a task and wondered how much of a coward he would seem like for running away. Then the realization that he would have the blessing of his ancestors however helped him make up his mind. He accepted the scythe gingerly and it dematerialized in his grasp. It was gone from view in a flash yet somehow he felt a presence with him in the back of his head. The lingering voice of Atah continued as her form had also faded. 'Do not fear, I will be with you every step of the way. You will grow to be the strongest of us all, Koda.'
With this powerful weapon in-toe and the blessings of his ancestors, he thought he could easily destroy the Prophets and deaden the grip they had on his people. Yet Ata’s words echoed in his head. The Nephilim would have to prove himself worthy, even now he was too weak to get through all the zealots to even be able to touch the prophets. Kodaka made a difficult choice; he had to leave, he had to get stronger.
So he fled.
Part II
Kodaka crashed through the gates of this only home with nothing but the clothes on his back and a vow that he would return. Though he would pause for a moment at the city’s threshold as the frenzied of cries of Koda’ka Sifok, or Koda, Dishonored Exile, could be heard from within the walls. It brought his blood to a boil and right then and there he silently decreed that he would prove them all wrong one day. He would return to destroy the prophets and their heretical religion, bringing his people to a new age on the earth plane.
His new goal in mind, Kodaka traveled the barren tundra on an empty stomach and a heart full of strife. The Dezamire Nephilim knew very little of the outside but his determination was the driving force that kept him moving forward.
The young Nephilim traveled for days with no food, water and barely any sleep. He feared the Prophets would be on his trail so he dared not stay in one place for too long. It was on the horizon early one morning a few days later that he could see the telltale signs of a human settlement, plumes of smoke floating steadily toward the sky. Kodaka quickened his pace as much as he could, and soon his feet trudged from brittle earth to a dirt road that undoubtedly led to the town.
His salvation was at hand, but days of fatigue and lack of nourishment had finally caught up with him. His pace slowed until his body screamed for him to stop. The last thing he remembered was a figure approaching him. Koda stopped and and so had the stranger. A question reached his ears but he did not answer. Instead, the Nephilim collapsed into the road and everything went dark.
Kodaka awoke in a warm candle-lit room, a stark difference from the cold roadside he went fell unconscious on.The Nephilim sat up to find himself in a soft-padded bed as well. A thought came to mind that he was back in Dezamire, but the look and feel of the place told him they would’ve never been so hospitable. The door to his room opened and he locked eyes with a middle-aged human man holding a tray of steaming food.
After the initial surprise the man told Kodaka when he collapsed, the man along with several other villagers were quick to get him out of the road and inside. Koda eyed the food inquisitively then eyed the man, asking him ‘why?’
The man, Gorm, admitted to him that he and the village knew what Kodaka was. He explained that very rarely did the Nephilim venture outside their city limits, so the townspeople assumed whatever Kodaka was out was of utmost importance. Gorm of course then proceeded to question why Kodaka was in the state that he was, and it was then that Kodaka had realized just how bad of shape he was really in.
The Nephilim almost shrugged off the question entirely, but something about Gorm’s kindly demeanor egged him on to simply stating he wished to leave Dezamire in a journey to become the strongest of the Nephilim. Gorm seemed to know there was more to his story than that, but the man seemed either content enough with the Nephilim’s answer or too afraid to pry further. Instead the man asked how Kodaka intended to become stronger, to which the Nephilim paused before fully answering, seemingly caught off-guard.
Kodaka then thought back to the stories his parents told him as a child. He wanted to fight nightmarish monsters, legions of soldiers in unfathomable number, and destroy anything that stood in his way to his ultimate goal. Gorm seemed to see the sparkle in Kodaka’s eyes and simply suggested he try mercenary work. Intrigued, the Nephilim listened as Gorm explained mercenaries were always needed somewhere in the world, as there were always wars to be fought, convoys to protect, and if you’re a good enough warrior bodyguard work could pay quite well. Kodaka just needed two things: he needed to know how to fight and he needed a weapon.
The Nephilim knew how to fight well enough thanks to the warrior culture he grew up around, but the only weapon he possessed seemed locked away by Ata in the back of his mind somehow. Gorm nodded as Kodaka explained this, though he skipped over the warscythe part, and Gorm revealed that he was once a mercenary himself. With such a career, Gorm explained, you have to learn to fight with more than just your blade or your fists. Kodaka hesitated as his worries from a few days ago about the prophets dragging him back to Dezamire resurfaced. His thoughts darkened in grim realization that he was an exile, why would they risk braving wilds to finish him off when the Piercing Tundra would have done so by itself? With renewed vigor, Kodaka accepted Gorm’s apprenticeship.
The Nihilim spent weeks training with Gorm, learning the use of dozens of different weapons Kodaka had never even held in his hands before. From bows to swords and beyond, Gorm even taught him how to properly use a shield. When they weren’t training hand-to-hand combat, Gorm even took the time to teach Koda of the world and her continents, as well as a general history of its peoples and places. The Nephilim absorbed everything Gorm taught him, his studies keeping his mind from the dark place he felt at the gates of Dezamire.
Over a month had passed since Gorm found Kodaka lying on the side of the road and taken him in. During a spar between the two, Kodaka had managed to best Gorm in such a way that the man would fix the Niphilim with a fierce smile and a knowing gaze. “That’s about all I can teach you, lad. Congratulations, you’re a merc.”
Though saddened by this, Koda knew he had to move on. It was true that he felt like a much more capable warrior, there was so much more out there for him to learn and do. He expressed his gratitude toward Gorm, truly thankful that a total stranger, a human no less, would go out of his way to help him. Koda parted with the promise that he would return someday, grinning at the thought of an astonished-looking Gorm staring agape at the warrior Koda would return as.
By the time he hit his early twenties,The Dezamire Nephilim traveled south where the climate, population, and diversity of its people changed exponentially. While he traveled through the wild, Koda stumbled into territories belonging to tribes of orcs. Instead of being driven away when they confronted him, they were cautiously curious as to what Koda even was, and challenged him instead. After all, what better way in finding out the capabilities of someone than mud wrestling? Though Koda was young and smaller than most of his adversaries, he put up enough of a good enough fight to become quite chummy with many of the tribes. Koda admired their warrior spirit and noted that they weren’t unlike his own people.
Having picked up more fighting styles from the orcs, Kodaka continued to some of the largest human settlements he’d ever seen and immediately began trying to sell himself as a mercenary. Admittedly though, business was incredibly lackluster at first. Many folks found his appearance intimidating, believing him a demon or devil of some sort. Because of this, he was even barred from entering a lot of the larger cities. He did however score a few jobs escorting convoys from city to city, his appearance alone actually deterring quite a few bandits. When Koda voiced this the mercs accompanying him under the same payroll, they suggested a change of attire would probably help.
So now with a hood thrown over his head, concealing his horns and a scarf covering much of his face, Kodaka just looked like a very tall and rather pale man. He found himself taking job after job, his assignments taking him from one continent to another. Koda fought alongside others as a sellsword, and even took up monster-slaying. Every day he felt his prowess grow as vast as his arsenal of swords and daggers he openly carried. After a few years into his work the Nephilim had made a name for himself amongst mercenaries and bounty hunters alike, especially when he would summon forth his mighty warscythe, with an arm out-stretched to the sky and a mighty roar of “Koveris Morthic!”
Even with Curvaceous Death now in his grasp Koda knew his quest was far from over.
Kodaka crashed through the gates of this only home with nothing but the clothes on his back and a vow that he would return. Though he would pause for a moment at the city’s threshold as the frenzied of cries of Koda’ka Sifok, or Koda, Dishonored Exile, could be heard from within the walls. It brought his blood to a boil and right then and there he silently decreed that he would prove them all wrong one day. He would return to destroy the prophets and their heretical religion, bringing his people to a new age on the earth plane.
His new goal in mind, Kodaka traveled the barren tundra on an empty stomach and a heart full of strife. The Dezamire Nephilim knew very little of the outside but his determination was the driving force that kept him moving forward.
The young Nephilim traveled for days with no food, water and barely any sleep. He feared the Prophets would be on his trail so he dared not stay in one place for too long. It was on the horizon early one morning a few days later that he could see the telltale signs of a human settlement, plumes of smoke floating steadily toward the sky. Kodaka quickened his pace as much as he could, and soon his feet trudged from brittle earth to a dirt road that undoubtedly led to the town.
His salvation was at hand, but days of fatigue and lack of nourishment had finally caught up with him. His pace slowed until his body screamed for him to stop. The last thing he remembered was a figure approaching him. Koda stopped and and so had the stranger. A question reached his ears but he did not answer. Instead, the Nephilim collapsed into the road and everything went dark.
Kodaka awoke in a warm candle-lit room, a stark difference from the cold roadside he went fell unconscious on.The Nephilim sat up to find himself in a soft-padded bed as well. A thought came to mind that he was back in Dezamire, but the look and feel of the place told him they would’ve never been so hospitable. The door to his room opened and he locked eyes with a middle-aged human man holding a tray of steaming food.
After the initial surprise the man told Kodaka when he collapsed, the man along with several other villagers were quick to get him out of the road and inside. Koda eyed the food inquisitively then eyed the man, asking him ‘why?’
The man, Gorm, admitted to him that he and the village knew what Kodaka was. He explained that very rarely did the Nephilim venture outside their city limits, so the townspeople assumed whatever Kodaka was out was of utmost importance. Gorm of course then proceeded to question why Kodaka was in the state that he was, and it was then that Kodaka had realized just how bad of shape he was really in.
The Nephilim almost shrugged off the question entirely, but something about Gorm’s kindly demeanor egged him on to simply stating he wished to leave Dezamire in a journey to become the strongest of the Nephilim. Gorm seemed to know there was more to his story than that, but the man seemed either content enough with the Nephilim’s answer or too afraid to pry further. Instead the man asked how Kodaka intended to become stronger, to which the Nephilim paused before fully answering, seemingly caught off-guard.
Kodaka then thought back to the stories his parents told him as a child. He wanted to fight nightmarish monsters, legions of soldiers in unfathomable number, and destroy anything that stood in his way to his ultimate goal. Gorm seemed to see the sparkle in Kodaka’s eyes and simply suggested he try mercenary work. Intrigued, the Nephilim listened as Gorm explained mercenaries were always needed somewhere in the world, as there were always wars to be fought, convoys to protect, and if you’re a good enough warrior bodyguard work could pay quite well. Kodaka just needed two things: he needed to know how to fight and he needed a weapon.
The Nephilim knew how to fight well enough thanks to the warrior culture he grew up around, but the only weapon he possessed seemed locked away by Ata in the back of his mind somehow. Gorm nodded as Kodaka explained this, though he skipped over the warscythe part, and Gorm revealed that he was once a mercenary himself. With such a career, Gorm explained, you have to learn to fight with more than just your blade or your fists. Kodaka hesitated as his worries from a few days ago about the prophets dragging him back to Dezamire resurfaced. His thoughts darkened in grim realization that he was an exile, why would they risk braving wilds to finish him off when the Piercing Tundra would have done so by itself? With renewed vigor, Kodaka accepted Gorm’s apprenticeship.
The Nihilim spent weeks training with Gorm, learning the use of dozens of different weapons Kodaka had never even held in his hands before. From bows to swords and beyond, Gorm even taught him how to properly use a shield. When they weren’t training hand-to-hand combat, Gorm even took the time to teach Koda of the world and her continents, as well as a general history of its peoples and places. The Nephilim absorbed everything Gorm taught him, his studies keeping his mind from the dark place he felt at the gates of Dezamire.
Over a month had passed since Gorm found Kodaka lying on the side of the road and taken him in. During a spar between the two, Kodaka had managed to best Gorm in such a way that the man would fix the Niphilim with a fierce smile and a knowing gaze. “That’s about all I can teach you, lad. Congratulations, you’re a merc.”
Though saddened by this, Koda knew he had to move on. It was true that he felt like a much more capable warrior, there was so much more out there for him to learn and do. He expressed his gratitude toward Gorm, truly thankful that a total stranger, a human no less, would go out of his way to help him. Koda parted with the promise that he would return someday, grinning at the thought of an astonished-looking Gorm staring agape at the warrior Koda would return as.
By the time he hit his early twenties,The Dezamire Nephilim traveled south where the climate, population, and diversity of its people changed exponentially. While he traveled through the wild, Koda stumbled into territories belonging to tribes of orcs. Instead of being driven away when they confronted him, they were cautiously curious as to what Koda even was, and challenged him instead. After all, what better way in finding out the capabilities of someone than mud wrestling? Though Koda was young and smaller than most of his adversaries, he put up enough of a good enough fight to become quite chummy with many of the tribes. Koda admired their warrior spirit and noted that they weren’t unlike his own people.
Having picked up more fighting styles from the orcs, Kodaka continued to some of the largest human settlements he’d ever seen and immediately began trying to sell himself as a mercenary. Admittedly though, business was incredibly lackluster at first. Many folks found his appearance intimidating, believing him a demon or devil of some sort. Because of this, he was even barred from entering a lot of the larger cities. He did however score a few jobs escorting convoys from city to city, his appearance alone actually deterring quite a few bandits. When Koda voiced this the mercs accompanying him under the same payroll, they suggested a change of attire would probably help.
So now with a hood thrown over his head, concealing his horns and a scarf covering much of his face, Kodaka just looked like a very tall and rather pale man. He found himself taking job after job, his assignments taking him from one continent to another. Koda fought alongside others as a sellsword, and even took up monster-slaying. Every day he felt his prowess grow as vast as his arsenal of swords and daggers he openly carried. After a few years into his work the Nephilim had made a name for himself amongst mercenaries and bounty hunters alike, especially when he would summon forth his mighty warscythe, with an arm out-stretched to the sky and a mighty roar of “Koveris Morthic!”
Even with Curvaceous Death now in his grasp Koda knew his quest was far from over.
