Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Ishvaar the Twisted, fluff

I was bored in class today and wrote a little bit of background fluff for a Chaos sorcerer, Ishvaar the Twisted. I'll keep trying to do little pieces like this as the mood strikes me. I really want to paint up something chaotic now...

Ishvaar was born into a small village in the Kislev border regions. As an infant he was cast out to die because he bore the mark of the dark gods upon him, twisted limbs and a crooked spine. His gods had other plans for Ishvaar; despite the harsh elements he managed to survive for 9 days in the snow, the sacred number of Tzeentch. On the ninth day he was discovered by barbarian horsemen who were devoted to the dark gods. They saw the mark of their gods upon the infant and took him back to their village.

As a child it was obvious that Ishvaar had the favor of the gods. He was quickly more advanced in the dark arts than the village shaman. By the time he was a young man he was ready to journey into the Chaos wastes on his own. Though the warriors of the tribe knew that Ishvaar was marked by the gods they did not believe he could survive a solo trek to the Eye of Chaos. After three years in the wastes Ishvaar returned to his village a changed man; to this day he still will not discuss the things he saw and experienced.

Upon his return Ishvaar spoke much less and became short-tempered and taciturn. He had a dark aura about him. His twisted limbs became even more twisted. His arms in particular seemed to be constantly shifting and changing shapes. Those who looked upon them too long soon lost their minds, it was said that to look upon the arms of Ishvaar the Twisted was to look into the insanity of Chaos itself.

Within days of returning to the tribe Ishvaar gathered up a band of warriors and horsemen and marched through the snow towards the Empire. The first village that the band came across was the very one from which Ishvaar had been cast out as an infant. His warriors roughly herded all of the inhabitants of the village into the town square and looked on as their dark master decided what to do with them. With a flick of his twisted arm Ishvaar immolated the townsfolk in a pyre that reached thousands of feet into the sky. This act cemented Ishvaar in the legend of the northmen and earned him an even larger band of followers.

So begins the tale of the horrors wrought by Ishvaar the Twisted...