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Aaren Lanek
The Prophet of Apoc
Aaren Lanek was born to the nomadic tribes of the planet Haruun Kal. Aaren belonged to the small Ghôsh Lanek, taking the name of his tribe as his surname as both his parents had died before his naming day. They had been infected with the deadly Wasp Fever; a wicked disease in which the Fever Wasp implants larvae into the body and the larvae feed on the brain cells of their host until they matured. The Prophet of Apoc
Aaren had been meant for the same fate too, as the family had been attacked by a Wasp Swarm. When the hunting party happened upon the three, they were horrified at the extent of damage done by the swarm. Both Aaren’s parents were maimed almost beyond recognition, numerous wasps having implanted their larva within the skin.
Having lived with the brutal disease for generations, there was no doubt on what to do. The bodies had to be burned, killing the larvae feeding on the braindead bodies of Aaren and his parents. They swiftly built a funeral pyre for the three, and picking up the bodies of the three and placing them on top the pyre. The flames were quick to engulf the pyre, and the hunting party stood there solemnly, paying their last respects to their dôshallai.
It was to their utmost horror that they saw from within the flames a writhing bundle that cried out in pain. Aaren, seven months old, and thought to be dead from the number of Fever Wasp stings on his body, was alive and burning. Disregarding their own safety, the hunting party burst into action, diving into the intense flames to retrieve the child.
When Aaren was rescued from the body, they looked at a drastically different child. When before he had a bronzed skin with long, uncut locks of hair and an angelic face; Now he was a scarred, alien thing. His skin was blackened from the fire, his features warped from the flames. His eyelids were gone, melted away in the heat. His lips had all but disappeared, and a gaping maw was left in it’s wake. His eyes were melted away. All that was left of his ears were holes where they used to sit.
The party starred at the crying baby in absolute horror, and rushed back to the tribe to bring the baby to their shaman. It was the only chance the young babe had at living. The Shaman was horrified at Aaren’s condition, and took the child. She had ordered for the party to return to the Chieftain and await her there. The Shaman knew the only way to save Aaren was through very dark use of the Pelekotan.
For eighteen hours, strange howls and eery green light emanated from the Shaman’s tent. Aaren was saved, but irreversibly changed. His body was scarred beyond repair, and the Shaman had to fashion a new skin for him. The rituals bonded a suit called the Ghôul-mark, or death-skin, to Aaren’s skin, and connected his badly injured body to the life-giving skin the Shaman had fashioned. His eyes remained the last puzzle. The Shaman had discovered that Aaren was immune to the Fever Wasps larva. They had died due to some perversion of his brain. She discovered an ancient, dark well of power within him, and reluctantly, released some of it, giving him the ability to see. His eyes had been removed, and green gems were placed within the sockets. The gems radiated with light so powerful none could tell that it were gems that did this, and not his eyes.
She left the tent, and appeared to have aged nearly ten years from her pains. Aaren was given the name of the Ghôsh, Lanek. The Shaman was to be the new guardian of Aaren, for he would need constant treatment for many years until the bonding between his Ghôul-mark and his scarred body was finished. He would become Ghôsh Lanek’s secret. The ritual that the Shaman had performed on Aaren was not illegal, but incredibly dangerous and they did not wish to have the wrath of the other Ghôsh aimed at them.
Aaren was raised separate from the rest of the clan. His body was altered with the Ghôul-mark, and his appearance was very unsettling to most. His eyes gleamed with brilliance, two white marks on his face, giving a skull like visage. This was due to Aaren’s disdain for those who avoided him, those who pitied him, and those who mocked him warping his Ghôul-mark to best display his beliefs and life. As such, it took on the absolute blackness of his heart, and displayed the white skeleton of death.
His disdain for his fellow dôshallai grew into hate, and his violence grew as well. The Ghôul-mark seemed to thrive on his negative energies, and grew more powerful. It aided itself to Aaren as he was trained like all men to be hunters and warriors for his Ghôsh. It moulded his body to be the perfect machine. At sixteen years of age, when one was considered a man on Haruun Kal, Aaren towered over most of his peers. He stood at five feet eleven inches, and weighed near two hundred and forty pounds, his body corded with muscle.
Hunting and killing came naturally to Aaren. It was soon his mentors discovered his immense strength and skill, and began taking special interest in his development. This was never beyond curiosity and usefulness. They saw him as a tool for the Ghôsh to use to better their position on their planet. Aaren grew to hate his mentors as well.
When he was nineteen years old, it appeared Aaren was fully matured. He stood at six feet four inches and weighed two hundred and ninety pounds. He was at that time the Ghôsh’s lead hunter, and most valuable warrior. Aaren discovered through the aid of the old Shaman who had saved him that he also possessed much more dangerous power. One of a spiritual nature. The Shaman, hoping to liberate Aaren of the evil that had grown within him, had begun teaching him to harness the dark energies that sat within him. Her reasoning was to expel this energy and leave a cleansed soul.
This did not go, and for four years the Shaman taught Aaren all she knew of this power. Over the years, Aaren had seemed to become kinder, a more human person. However, this wasn’t the case. He had known from the start why the Shaman had decided to teach him about this power he had, and he knew the only way to continue gaining more control over this power, he would have to make it look like her plan was working. At the age of twenty three, the Shaman had decided that her job was done, and told Aaren that she could teach him no more. This angered Aaren, and he swiftly attacked the old woman, grabbing her by her frail throat and hurled her across the room, impaling her on an old spear that sat on a pedestal in the corner of the hut.
Aaren was shocked at his sudden outcry, and although not remorseful in the least, second guessed his actions. He moved over to the Shaman and picked her up, her blood running along the spear. Then the living skin of his acted strangely, it seemed to grab at the blood of the woman, and soaked it in. Aaren began to scream, the memories and experiences of the woman were flooding his head. An entire life was now his, all the moments, no matter how intimate, were his now. And with that came a wealth of knowledge, and even more importantly, power.
He had tasted blood for the first time, and he forever would be changed. His eyes gleamed with the insatiable thirst he now possessed, and he knew it needed to be satiated. As such, he decided to take his revenge on all those who had beaten him, avoided him, treated him like someone lesser then themselves. He slaughtered Ghôsh Lanek in a single night, raising the village they established in flames. By the end of the night, five hundred souls resided within his Ghôul-mark.
He found his anger did not end, and he turned his attention to the planet itself. Using ancient magiks the old woman had taught him, he warped the ground, blasting it, burning it. In the end, the great plateau that Ghôsh Lanek resided on was burnt to a crisp, all life on it being extinguished. Revenge for the damage it had done to him so many years ago. By the end of the week, he had moulded a home for his new life. A solitary wasteland, molten rock lakes, skeletons of the few permanent settlements on the plateau, and a great castle of scorched rock.
Aaren made sure that none would ever come here again. He raised the gas sea over the plateau, doming the sky over his new kingdom, hiding the remnant of Ghôsh Lanek and their former home. Then, he brooded, sitting on his throne, looking out at the scarred plane. Yes, this was fitting to him. For ten years, he travelled about his plateau, moulding temples, towers, forts, great stone buildings that pierced the sky. He delved into the ground, discovering great lakes of water beneath the surface.
His kingdom now ripened, he began to travel to the other plateaus and mountains of his Ghôsh’s enemies. He travelled at night, killing any who saw him. He searched for young children with the same power he had. They were easy to sense, and even easier to take. If it took him to do so, he would slaughter the rest of the Ghôsh, if it proved to dangerous to leave them alone. A child’s mind proved easy to manipulate, and over the years he had a following of fifty devout minds to shape. He relished in those he commanded, and began to see them as his children.
At the age of forty eight, he had managed to solidify a little society of dark followers, who delved into the powers of this mysterious power that had awoken within Aaren. It was only recently he had begun leaving Haruun Kal to gather followers, travelling the world in a guise, having gained the ability to morph his Ghôul-mark into a more pleasant, human looking identity. He has set out to solidify his following, and to bring about his teachings to the rest of the galaxy.
(((To be continued)))
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