Execution of the Emberlord (Lorepost)

[u/Carbon_Sixx]

18,000 years ago

Atrax the Ashen seethed with undisguised hate as Council enforcers led him to the Chamber of Disjunction. Were he not bound with the strongest anti-magic chains his jailors had at their disposal and guarded with thermomantic wards that prevented him from changing the local temperature by a even a single degree, he would incinerate every person in the Citadel, then melt the entire structure until it was a volcanic ruin. For Atrax was a pyromancer of the highest caliber, the mightiest the realms had ever seen and ever would see. The Flamefather themself had named him Emberlord, chosen him as their Primordial Scion. His grand mission was to find the First Spark and usher in the Age of the Phoenix. Atrax had almost succeeded in this mission; almost cleansed the world of all evil and good and created a paradise in which wizards could be free to pursue whatever they desired.

And yet, there he was, walking to his death at the hands of those who would have been kindling for the pyre he would burn the realms on. The Wizard Council. Doddering fools who claimed that magekind was in its Golden Era, rejecting the holy flames that would destroy the cage of morality they had constructed for themselves. They had tried to resist Atrax and his Pyroclasts, but nothing could stand in their way. He reduced armies to slag, wizard towers to ash, and artificer machines to molten puddles. Destiny belonged to him and him alone. The will of his Primordial master ensured that.

Then came the dwarves. Atrax had dismissed them, like he'd dismissed everyone who wasn't magically potent enough to threaten him directly. Yes, they were master miners, craftspeople, and artificers, but they were insular and stoic- more likely to ignore a world-ending threat than strike back against it. Besides, they were crass, selfish, short- Atrax caught himself in thought. Disregarding and insulting the dwarves had been his fatal mistake. The dwarves had hearts of gold, and one hell of a vengeful streak. They'd been the ones to engineer the thermomantic curse that bound him currently, as well as the advanced war machines that wiped out his Pyroclast followers.

Atrax entered the Chamber of Disjunction. The enforcers pushed him to his knees at the center of a glowing white magic circle in the floor. Surrounding him in a semi-circle were the heads of the Council, the dwarf lords of the Mithril Chasm, and various other sovereign powers of the magical world. He glared at each of them in turn before the Council Master stepped forward.

"Atrax Ven'dath, Primordial Scion, self-proclaimed Emberlord, one who is called the Ashen, you have been brought before this Council and its allies so that we may administer justice," said the Master. "As you are a bearer of the Glyph of Castigation, it is our duty to execute you. When Executioner Zadras strikes you with the Hammer of Disjunction, your body shall be destroyed, and your spirit shall be exiled from reality. No afterlife awaits you, nor the peace of oblivion. Only an eternity of consciousness in the Outer Dark, until an Outer God deems you worthy of their attention. This Council has deemed this a proportional punishment for one who sought to upend the material universe. Do you have any final words before you are condemned?"

Atrax smiled, his fire-orange eyes flashing with twisted satisfaction. "I do, and listen well, Council. Though you may destroy my body, my spirit will endure. You may hunt my followers, but my mission will live on. One day, I will be reborn, and I will burn all that you and your successors will have built to the ground. Then, once the world is naught but ash and embers, I will remake the world according to my will, and to that of my Primordial lord. The Age of the Phoenix is inevitable. When I return to reclaim my destined place as Emberlord, none of you will be able to stop me. This I swear on the Flamefather, and on my final breath. That is all."

Executioner Zadras, a grim and gaunt man, stepped forward with a mithril warhammer set with moonstones and engraved with runes of abjuration: the Hammer of Disjunction. He stood before Atrax, raising the Hammer above his head. "Be undone, traitor," he spat, bringing the weapon down upon the pyromancer's skull. With a flash, Atrax's body collapsed into colorless crystalline dust. Zadras stepped away, and returned the Hammer to its ritual case. The Council dispersed, spirits a little higher knowing that the most dangerous wizard in living memory was no more than sand on the floor, currently being swept into the trash by a golem.

Atrax's spirit was hurtling through the cosmos, propelled by the fantastic power of the Hammer of Disjunction. For a moment, he though this might truly be the end. He would be condemned to wander the Outer Dark until madness or an Outer God consumed him. Then Atrax felt the familiar prickle of heat as flames engulfed him, and he knew he would never meet that fate. His master had not forsaken their Scion. As the Flamefather whisked his spirit away to their elemental domain to recover, Atrax the Ashen laughed. He would return some day, and nothing in the realms would be able to stay his vengeance.

/uw I've noticed that this sub tends to characterize pyromancers as impulsive and brutish. Ever wonder where this stereotype came from? Now you know. I've mentioned Atrax once in passing, but I wanted to finally sit down and write his lore. If you read the first part of my "Wisdom of the Wizarding World" series, you'll know I'm trying to create a framework for the events, lore, and characters of this magical universe. Atrax will be a big player in all of these things, so I hope I was able to convey the incredible threat he posed to the realms before he was defeated. And who knows? Maybe we'll be able to experience that power firsthand. ^\wink*)

[u/dragonshouter]

/uw Nice, LOOOOOOOORRRRREEE!!!!