a start of lil history for my main - i'll come up with more as I go
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1
Retaw awoke, covered in his enemies blood. He could feel the burn of exertion in his muscles and the drain of energy from the use of dark magics. It was always like this when he let his master Xolti tranform him into an avatar of destruction. He could dimly remember swinging his two-handed sword around, decapitating one of his foes then immediatly igniting the other with a touch of his hand like an ember to dried grass. It was the price these bandits would have to pay for their ill-fated assault on a Herold of Xolti. He ignored the blood covering his face and clothes and quickly wiped his blade in the dead grass. He thought about wiping off his face but thought better of it; the blood would be a good deterance to other would be theives. He would shortly be entering Stygian lands and he had more important things to worry about than bandits sneaking up on him. He was an outcast in his homeland because he denouced Set - Set was weak compared to the powers he had gained from Xolti. He was sure that he would be hunted on sight by those damned snake worshipers. It didn't matter though, he would tear them asunder just like any other foe. He had family to avenge and thats all that mattered - they were the reason he had sought this power. No man should need to fear being fed to a slithering beast at the whim of some loon. The priest that had decided to sacrfice his father and brother would pay most dearly for his mistake. Retaw would make sure that he died a slow and painful death as they had in the belly of that snake. But first he needed to get there and crossing the expanisve desert that lay before him was the first of many challenges that lay before him.
He had little memory of his life before his transformation - it was a clouded haze of pain and grief. He barely recalled crossing this expanse 7 years earlier in his grief stricken state. The delirium of dehydration had left that part of this journey muddled and confused. In stark contrast to the haze of his past was that of a voice that had whispered in his mind. At first it was but a feeling, like a high pitched sound to high to hear but that can be felt. It was uncomfortable but at the same time it filled the void that threatened to consume him. It had guided him when there were no paths, protected him against harm and provided for him when he needed it. It had of course been his master, but in his delirium then he only knew to follow it. Now seven years later his master had rewarded him for his efforts and sacrifices with powers that would send even the most fearless of men cowering. The heat of the Sun and the thirst in his throat as he plodded through the desert were nothing compared to the trials of his master and his followers. They had taken him to the cusp of insanity, to the very point where life and death mingle and had left him there for days. In the insanity, the voice of Xolti became clearer, it was there the true training began. It was a never ending cycle of torture with small periods of respite to allow the body time to recover. Now he was thankful for that hell, it would allow him to endure what he must to get his vengeance. It would still be days till he reached the other side of the barren expanse. This was a journey that was normally accomplished by a well stocked caravan. Had he been the same person he had been seven years ago he would die without a caravan. Now with his enhanced strength he could carry enough supplies for his journey as well as endure the hardships of the desert with out breaking his stride.
He grinned as he imagined what he must look like now. A lone figure running through a desert, cape billowing behind him, moving at a speed through the expanse that would be impossible for any normal human. His cloths gray, streaked with crimson red of blood and muted greens were filled out with well muscled form that threatened to break the seams in spots. If they could get close enough and lived to tell their tale they would see a man whose bulk seem to be filled with some kind of unnatural strength. Truly a fearsome sight to behold he thought. He couldn't wait to stand before this priest of Set and to see the shock on his face of the inevitable outcome. With that thought in his mind he further quickened his pace, the sooner he got there the sooner he could exact his vengeance.