DJORN - The Vile Goddess

Dionysus is the god of wine. He is one known for good will, luck, love, passion for the arts and the tranquility of all things. Though this god, atop the greatest mountain of Oreium, represents that which he loves, below exist the monsters of the planet. These are vile amalgamations that were either created by the gods, or manufactured by beings almost as powerful as them. Some say these creatures are said to even be able to kill a god. Despite this, Dionysus didn’t mind. He stays on his mountain, drunk and jovial to the souls who die and joined him in his eternal celebration. Yet, Dionysus was always thankful that he was never one who had to deal with the malicious nature of the creatures below, who some called gods.

Djorn walked the hot and barren wasteland, cloaked in a black woolen sheet and with his broadsword attached to the leather hilt that lied upon his back. His cloak did little to lighten the awful heat of the planet’s three suns; each one, a ball of flame and fury that beat down like a scolding lantern of hellfire. His thirst only added to the displeasure of having been stranded without sustenance for what seemed like the last ninety nine days, and as he thought to himself, Djorn knew his one-hundredth day would be his last, but only if he could not find water soon.

He strolled on, weighed down by his blade, his clothing and the bitter air. Rocks and formations of ground structured like great monoliths of misshapen hills branched over his head. The ground was cracked and desolate, with clay and stone forming waves of solid rock that froze like petrified liquid. 

From the distance there came a glowing light, like a fire in mid-day, and Djorn set his sights upon this flame of hope, heading to it, steady and strong. Between the formation of two ribbed cliffs, he saw the source of the green glowing mass. Before him lied a shrine of relics and a table made from the surrounding rocks. Sticks and dead wood made up legs that kept the main rock steady, and held up small tikis and figurines, molded from clay.

As Djorn advanced upon the shrine, goblins in brown cloaks and totem poles, decorated to look like vicious imps, all rose from the surrounding rocks and cracks from all around. Djorn readied his sword and killed three of the pouncing creatures with a backstroke that pulled the sword from it’s sheath. Six more moved in, each holding a dagger with the ends dipped in a visible greenish poison.

Djorn knew he could not win this fight. There were six of them, weak, but quick, deadly, unpredictable. And it was at that moment he realized that full-on contact was no way to escape unharmed. Djorn put away his sword, sitting upon the ground and taking up a position to mediate. He sat, humming to himself as the goblins appeared confused. In a second they took advantage of Djorn’s hesitation to attack, and in a second they ran at him, poison daggers in tow.

As the imps pulled back their arms to strike, an invisible force suddenly stopped them. Djorn opened his eyes to reveal them to be white and emanating a mystical glow. The white mist which poured from Djorn’s eyes brushed upon the wrists of the goblins. One by one the goblins drove their poison daggers into their own throats, all at the will of Djorn.

The goblins writhed and gargled for a while until succumbing to the poison. Djorn closed and opened his eyes again, revealing their original green color. He stood up once again, made his way over to the shrine and took a few minutes to loot the goblins and the totems. He made his way past a series of cliffs before coming across the ruined remains of a fort, abandoned long ago. He approached the outer wall and ran his fingers along strange texts which were scrolled about the keep’s surface.

Djorn followed the wall until stumbling upon a group of goblins, poking at a fairy with a broken wing that lied weeping on the floor. Djorn advanced on the goblins, summoning up a burst of fire and turning the closest one to ash. As the other goblins fled in horror, Djorn came to kneel at the sight of the crying female fairy.

He extended his hand to the creature and it spat in his eye, pixie-dust flying about at it flew off, laughing spitefully. Djorn rubbed his face and stood up once more, this time, looking for the entrance to the fortress. He followed the wall around a bend and came to a large arch constructed of rocks, unseen so far by the surrounding environment, and he made haste to move inside.

Through the arch he came across two large wooden doors that towered above him. He kicked through the right one and it swung open in ease. From behind the door Djorn heard music and felt the heat of jovial festivities on the other side of the fort’s entrance. Now, he could only see barren stones, coupled up against one another to form broken tables and seats where it appeared as if death had swept through.

Within the fort lied a sort of grey coloring in the air, and the ruins of this place looked to have been deserted for some time. As Djorn stepped forward, there came a sound from beneath the courtyard of the fort. Suddenly, from beneath him, a cyclops, towering at the height of ten men or more, rose from the ground before Djorn. It snarled and swung it’s giant arms. It’s bulging lower fangs centered it’s waving tongue.

The cyclops raised it’s foot to step down at Djorn, but he rolled to dodge each strike, and with each dodge, he hacked away at the cyclops’ hooves. The creature fell, in pain, and that was when Djorn leaped up, onto the cyclops’ shoulder. The beast swatted at Djorn, but it was no use. Using one of the monster’s earrings, Djorn swung from one side of the creature’s shoulder, past it’s neck and onto the other, slicing it’s throat in the process.

Djorn took hold of the cyclops’ horns as it’s dying body fell to the ground of the courtyard. Once grounded, Djorn took his sword and pierced the cyclops’ heart. He cut off the creature’s horns and wrapped them in ropes that he had under his black cape. Then suddenly, there came a cracking roar of thunder. For the first time in a while there was finally rainfall upon the desert lands. And after ninety nine days Djorn finally drank from the sky, collecting handfuls of heavy rain. 

For many miles through the desert Djorn carried the horns of the cyclops upon his back, and through the deserts and valleys he walked again until coming upon the Palace of King Hygod. Djorn stepped through the lines of knights and paladins that rested about the king’s chambers. Djorn dragged the horns through the throne room and rested them at the feet of his majesty, King Hygod.

The king was pleased beyond compare. What followed that night was a fantastic festival in Djorn’s honor. There was food, and wine, and women from across Hygod’s wealthy kingdom. And as nightfall approached all the drunkards, and those who’d basked in the pleasures of the evening, fell into a deep sleep. But not Djorn. He awoke, just before the coming of dawn. Djorn approached the jovial king and requested his pay from Hygod.

It was pay for the service of ridding Hygod’s kingdom from the presence of a vicious fiend; A creature known to the locals as the Horned-Cyclops. Hygod presented Djorn with a bag of two hundred golden pieces, and Djorn bowed to the king, taking his leave before the sun would rise. As Djorn was leaving the kingdom a woman rushed up to him in a frantic plea and took hold of his arm, begging him to stay. 

Djorn held her close and whispered in her ear, things only spoken from the lips of the deities of love. Overcome with ecstasy, she fainted in Djorn’s arms. He sat her down beside a pile of potato sacks and took his leave of the kingdom. When the woman came to, Djorn was gone. Off on another magnificent venture before the sun had even risen that day. Djorn would then take his ventures farther to the East, and there he would find his next quest.

Soon after, upon the dunes of Arabia, Djorn found himself before a great palace and responding to a worried sultan’s pleas for help. Ten days ago Djorn sat on the shores of Tartarus, resting from a mission to retrieve a lost jewel from within the depths of the Seventh Circle of the underworld.

After admiring the beauty of the gem, and reflecting on the demon lords he had struck down to achieve it, Dandelion received a messenger bird upon his shoulder, beaconing him to Arabia. So, it was in the Palace of Sultan Nomah. Entering the sultan’s chambers, Djorn was recognized immediately.

The sultan showered Djorn in riches, praising him for his arrival and telling him the reason for him being there. Sultan Nomah revealed that he’d received a vision from the god, Eptuhk, that a meteorite, carrying the sentience of a great demonic space creature, was to land atop the dunes of Arabia, in three days time, and desolate the sultan’s palace. 

Djorn was asked, in all the vastness of his resilient and powerful brilliance, to stop the meteor known as Kashfahr. Djorn spoke no words, turned and walked out to where the sultan predicted Kashfahr would land, and waited. Three days passed and the meteor was finally in sight. The people of the palace fled to cover, as retreating into the desert would be a more cruel death, burning amidst the dunes.

Dandelion stood firm and looked up at Kashfahr, watching as chunks of rock flew off the meteorite as it entered the atmosphere. Djorn readied the magic of his iron will and his eyes went white. Djorn used his mind, from miles away, the grab the chunks of space rock that fell off of the meteor. Djorn knew that if he could press the rocks deep enough into the meteor’s core, he could shatter it.

Djorn hurled the rocks backward at the descending Kashfahr, penetrating his core. Throughout the fall Kashfahr’s cries of pain echoed across the skies, all while Djorn telekinetically pressed the rocks deeper and deeper into Kashfahr. Final, the sentient meteor cried out no longer. The space rock had been shattered and Kashfahr was now a series of rocks, raining down upon the dunes. 

The sultan coward, fearing that even more falling rocks would spell the end of his land. Djorn then sat, meditating, and creating a kinetic barrier so large, it stretched across the skies of the dunes, catching the rocks mid-fall. Sultan Nomah was astonished. Djorn swirled the barrier, collecting up the space rocks and shattered pieces of Kashfahr, setting them a far distance away from the palace.

Djorn returned to the sultan, and as the people of his palace welcomed the warrior with open arms, Djorn fell, unconscious, and into a coma-like sleep for a long while. The sultan’s doctors believed it was from the stain of using his telepathic abilities, that the amount of force needed to generate the barrier Djorn had created, was too much pressure on his body and mind. So, within the Palace of Sultan Nomah, Djorn was given a hidden resting chamber.

Here, he could remain hidden from the world and all those who would wish him harm. Here, Djorn would stay till the day that the magnificent warrior would rise again, once more reining righteousness upon the world and the worlds beyond. When the day finally came that Djorn’s wounds had healed, the sultan believed him to be dead and had his body displayed in a grand burial chamber, within a glass coffin, surrounded by the treasures he’d left behind.

On the day that Djorn awoke, it was said that he glowed as bright as the angels, and that the sultan’s people believed Djorn to be divine. Djorn thanked the sultan and took his leave of the Arabian Dunes. This began Djorn’s month-long travel back to the Kingdoms of the West. Somewhere on his journeys he had stopped in a small village surrounded by forests.

The town was composed entirely of women, and little did Djorn know that he had stumbled upon the hiding place of the evil deity, Empusa, daughter of the evil sky-god, Typhon. One night, while in the midst of a feast, in the honor of the legendary warrior, the maidens who worshipped Empusa had given Djorn drugged wine. Once asleep, Empusa’s followers engraved a seal onto Djorn’s chest, bounding him to the will of the malicious deity.

Djorn awoke to the scene and began to slice out the seal from his flesh with his own dagger! But, it was no use. His flesh regenerated as a side effect of Empusa’s power over his being. Djorn was commanded, by Empusa, to travel across the sea and kill her father, Typhon, as he’d refused to ever grant her godship, no matter what divine task she’d preform to prove herself.

Djorn had never been asked to kill a god before, and this mission proposal strangely intrigued him. But, Empusa had one last condition. Djorn was told that if he did not cross the sea, past the Sackcloth Valley, through the Eastern Pass and up unto Mount Latmus to kill Typhon, all within thirteen days, the seal upon Djorn’s chest would implode, killing him. This was to ensure Djorn’s undying determination in the endeavor.

Empusa also added that when traveling through the Eastern Pass that Djorn was forbidden from slaying her siblings, Charybdis and Scylla. These were the deformed creatures who lurked within the caverns and waters of he pass. Empusa made it clear that her rage was only directed at her father and not her younger brother and sister. In a fit of rage, at the discovery of this condition, Djorn slaughtered Empusa’s followers and damned the deity.

Djorn left for Mount Latmus the very next day. He took advantage of old dues and borrowed a ship from King Hygod, whom Djorn had once served under. Now, just himself and a lone ship, Djorn sailed East. Djorn had effortlessly passed over the Sackcloth Valley in one day. This was due to the aid of the angel, Gabriel, who had granted Djorn a pegasus to help him reach his destination.

With twelve days left, Djorn took to the vicious ocean and reached the Eastern Pass within three days. Djorn had nine days left. The eyes of Empusa lingered through the engraving upon Djorn’s chest. She could see every move and sat quietly as Djorn carried out this most awful venture, and with much distain for divine monstrosities who hold a cruel and unparalleled dominion over humankind.

Djorn knew that soon he would have to face the horrors of the Pass before moving unto the mountain where his target awaited him. With each day time was running out and, for the first time, Djorn feared for his life. Suddenly, in the distance, there came his destination and Djorn headed forward without fear or mercy for any monster who wished to get in his way, vowing to slay all who blocked his path.

He sailed through the Pass for a time, and for a while it seemed that no threats in the form of mythical beasts, spoken of in the books of myth and legend, were present. As Djorn came to the center of the eastern Pass, he began to notice the water giving off ripples of a most unsettling pattern. He heard noises, like a hissing, coming from far down the rocky cliffs of the watery caves.

He readied his sword as the ship worked it’s way around a bend, turning before a large open portion of the cave, with islands of rock; one of which housed the most feared creatures in all of known oceanic lore. Scylla, Serpent of the Eastern Pass, stood before Djorn’s ship. She towered over his vessel, standing upon a collapsing rock and viciously eager to sink her fangs into the foolish traveler.

Djorn summoned up the mythical energies of his will. His eyes turned white and emanated their glow as he readied to face off against Scylla. Before engaging her, Djorn looked around to notice the walls and islands of this section of the cavern were littered with ships from all across history. They lied broken, smashed and covered in stale blood, petrified to the walls and watery puddles of Scylla’s cave.

Djorn stayed the corse, slashing back at the she-beast with every swipe she made at him; and praying that he not meet the fate of the million sunken sailors before him. Scylla stood two ships tall, with razor teeth and six heads. The once thieving-obsessed nymph was punished by the gods, and was reduced to a vile beast who haunts the caves and watery caverns of the Eastern Pass.

As the ship moved upon her, Scylla summoned up great whirlpools which battered Djorn’s ship left and right, tearing away at it’s structure. And as his ship passed, Scylla did try to take swipes at Djorn, nearly missing the chance to gobble him up in one bite. Djorn lead his ship through the whirling cavern, dodging rocks with the help of his magic. 

He meditated and attempted to stay conscious at the same time; fending off Scylla with his sword and taking control of the entire ship to ensure it wasn’t lost to the depths of the sea caves. The Eastern Pass was rearing it’s end and as Scylla stood upon a rock, Djorn let go of his influence over the ship, letting the battered wreck steer itself safely out of the cavern. The whirlpools died down as Scylla was left behind, clinging to a rock as it still tried to snap at the escaping Djorn.

Once free of the cavern, Djorn fell, exhausted. As he rested he could feel a great presence beneath him. Charybdis sprung from under the ship, ripping a singular hole straight up from it’s underbelly. Djorn fell back as the massive beast flew from the air and landed on the front of his ship. Djorn peered at the massive blobbing mass of shells and queer sea life. Charybdis’ eyes were black and his teeth were dripping aquatic ooze.

The years of dwelling beneath the caverns had chipped away it’s once beautiful appearance, turning it into a ruling mass of oceanic horrors. As the ship sunk around Djorn he attempted to kill Charybdis quickly, knowing that if he was left in the ocean with the creature, it would surely drag him under. Djorn jumped across the hole in his ship and slashed away at Charybdis; each shot missing as the monster’s shelled exterior deflected the blade.

The ship was going down fast and soon Charybdis fled to the ocean, now in his own element. Djorn had no choice but to steer the ship back to the caverns. At least there he could find his footing on land and work out a way to kill Charybdis. But, even if he could kill the beast at the end of the Pass, there was no guarantee that Djorn would find a way off of the Eastern Island, as the surface of the caverns were said to be just as deadly as their underside.

Djorn decided to solve this issue later and forced the ship to crash up against the side of the rock shores of the cavern, landing him atop the caves where he had fought Scylla. Charybdis had disappeared into the sea and Djorn was stranded atop the long island caverns of the Eastern Pass with no ship, no food and no escape as time was running out.