Outside the Cycle

As I promised in my conspiracy thread, I wrote a story of the Ancient War and its potential outcome. I know I'm going to receive some criticism for the choices I made in the plot, so I'll explain them before I actually start.

Why did I use a Hero I'd created as the main character? Part of it was to avoid favouritism - if I picked a certain Hero I would imagine a number of people would criticise me for not picking another. Hence, I used one I had created, and besides, he fits the concept really well. Another reason was that I couldn't think of a way to connect a specific Hero to the plot - none of them, save perhaps Invoker or Skywrath Mage fit what I was looking for in my protagonist, and a story with Skywrath lead would be all about Venge which obviously would detract from the plot, and having Invoker as the main character would probably be unpleasant to read based on personality. However, both of these will make a major appearance.

So many kills o:o
I had to narrow down the 107-odd Heroes in Dota to a cast I could work with, which means killing a lot of them. Readers may see their favourite Hero be killed in a way that even George R. R. Martin would think was overly casual - I'm not writing a story with over 100 important characters because I don't have a long enough lifespan to adequately tell everyone's part in the War. As such I picked a core cast of 5 to start with, which may increase in time. A lot of the Heroes don't even make it on-set, and are just referred to as having died previously.

How long will it go for? I'm not sure as of yet, I'll have to see. I'll present it one Act at a time, hopefully putting out an Act a week. It will be at least five Acts, quite probably more. I find it difficult to write anything with a plot to less than 10000 words these days.

Without further ado, may I present Outside the Cycle! Violence warnings, occasional language warnings and dark themes warning.

Act One: Along Fading Lines

The two crept with silence through the thick, jungle-like forests of Radiant territory. To an observer, they would seem as a part of the scenery, so perfectly did they mesh with the green leaves and shaded underbrush of the vibrant terrain. Such was as they wished, for the duo were hunting.

Traxex frowned, peering at the markings that showed where her prey had gone. The fading sunlight of late afternoon revealed signs that most others would miss - but then, the Drow Ranger was not your average hunter.

She gestured to her compatriot, and Lyralei nodded, gliding softly through the trees - Windrunner indeed. They were drawing close. Traxex smelt blood in the air, a sure sign their prey was slaughtering.

The man they hunted was, like them, one of the elite few oft referred to as a 'hero'. The Ancient War had called many like them to the battle. Some, like Lyralei and Traxex herself, found themselves drawn to the Radiant Ancient. He who they hunted had gone to the Dire side.

Her ears pricked up at the sound of combat in the clearing up ahead. It was followed by the howl of a dying Hellbear and the thud as the corpse hit the ground.

Traxex moved into position in utter silence, her piercing blue eyes looking out from her skin, pale and slightly blue-tinged from years amongst the Drow. Then, she slipped behind her target, nocking an arrow aimed straight at his heart.

"One move," she announced, "and we'll be cleaning your viscera from the ground."

The other didn't even flinch. She took the opportunity to study him - tall, thin, clad in a long black coat underneath which was a light suit of grey-hued plate. His hair was somewhat unkempt, and shadowy black in colour. Upon his left hand was a kind of gauntlet, but instead of fingers it bore razor-edged talons at least fifteen centimetres in length.

"And to what do I owe this interruption?" he said calmly, and Traxex shivered slightly, for his voice hummed with an edge that hinted at a mind clearly insane, yet at a level of clarity far beyond an ordinary mortal. Whoever he was, this 'hero' was dangerous.

"You're in Radiant territory," she intoned. "You can come with me, or you can die here and I'll just take your head."

He paused. "I don't like either of those options."

Suddenly, he burst into a flurry of motion, pirouetting on his heels. Traxex's arrow sailed, but she was too slow. The taloned gauntlet slashed at her leg, the blow blocked by her armour but still enough to send her toppling to the ground. Her bow fell from her hand, and at her throat appeared a talon.

Her adversary appeared over her, and she saw his face, lean, pallid and with utterly void eyes glinting with undisguised malevolence. He smiled at her, yet there was nothing pleasant in the expression.

Was he even human?

"And now we come to the crux of the matter," he announced. "Maybe it is that I'll take your head."

Lyralei's arrow missed him, but the ropes trailing behind it did not. They wrapped around the dark warrior, immobilising him and allowing Traxex to rise to her feet.

"You're coming with us," the Windrunner said.
__________

His black eyes looked at them quizzically. Having been brought back to the Radiant base, he had been placed in an empty building which passed for a gaol in the absence of anything better. Traxex had intended to interrogate him and discover the plans of the Dire, but he knew that many of the others at the gathering - the priest-warrior known as Chen most vocal on the matter - wanted only to see his head atop a spike as a warning to the Dire.

"He could prove useful," Dragonus, the Skywrath Mage, asked from his perch atop a beam on the ceiling. The birdlike sorcerer looked distinctly uncomfortable at the discussion.

"What have you extracted from him? Not even a name," Chen snarled. "He is useless. Kill him."

"I could study the corpse for science," Boush suggested. The Keen Tinker had been subtly alluding to a dissection for the past half hour but only now had plainly announced his intention.

Traxex grimaced. "That may not be the best idea… I'm not sure he's mortal, let alone human."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm human," he said. "Somewhat."

Chen glared at him for daring to speak about his own fate. Well, **** him.

"Then surely you see our predicament," Dragonus interjected, preventing another outburst from the fanatic. "Will you answer our questions?"

"If it's between that, or a dissection by a midget, I'll choose to talk," he said.

"Excellent… what was your name?"

"Most know me as the Psychomancer," he declared, "but that's merely a title. My name is Arash. You, Skywrath, already know me which no doubt will disappoint you greatly."

Dragonus sighed, realising who he spoke to. "I warned you that your quest for vengeance could cost you dear. What price did you pay?"

"My mind. To some extent, my soul," Arash replied. "A whole lot of other minds, too."

"What do you mean?" Xin asked. The Ember Spirit blazed with an inner heat that even the jaded Arash found comfortingly warm.

"Let's not go there," he muttered, eyes narrowing in hatred at the mere thought. "Next question."

Chen stormed out in disgust, the tinker following, looking extremely disappointed.

The next question was provided by the one hero present who had not yet spoken. Arash did not know her name.

"I will assume that you cannot answer questions about the Dire strategy due to some arcane bond I sense upon you," she began.

"That is correct."

"Then I wish to know what we are facing."

Arash smiled. "From what I've seen of both sides, you don't stand a chance. Aside from the planes-walkers, most notably the Spirit Breaker and a violent energy being I hear is called the Spectre, you're up against the largest force from Hell that's ever been seen. Demons pour in through the Shadow Demon's portal daily, and even the Doom Bringer has deigned to notice this war."

She frowned. "What else?"

"When I left, we'd just been joined by a renegade Weaver and he was closely followed by Darkterror, a visitor from the timeless realm of Claszureme."

There was silence, and then a quiet "**** me," from Traxex. Arash raised an eyebrow.

"We'll need to figure out how to deal with this," Xin said. "Let's leave the Psychomancer here for now. Lanaya, are you able to watch over him?"

The woman who had interrogated him nodded. "I can do that." Arash filed away her name for the future.

With the exception of his new guard, the Radiant left the building. He sensed their concern over the nature of their foes. Good - it would intimidate them. As for his own plans, he was right where he wanted to be.

"Now what?" he asked Lanaya. She turned to him and shrugged.

"You stay here, I make sure you don't try anything… stupid," she said.

"Little chance of that."

She shrugged. Obviously not one for conversation. This suited Arash, who never could feel comfortable around other people anyway. Only alone did he feel as if he could think past the cacophony in his head.

Lanaya moved over to the table where Arash's armour was. She reached down and picked up his taloned gauntlet, turning it and inspecting.

"This isn't Direstone," she stated. "Did you…"

"Create an alloy of Direstone and Radiant Ore, yes. Was it difficult, yes. Was it worth it? Hell yes."

She nodded, impressed. "I'm surprised it didn't just explode. The only one known to combine the two metals into a single alloy was the demon smith that forged Demon Edge."

Arash adjusted himself in the seat he was tied to uncomfortably. "I have some connections in the Hells that can do things like this."

"And how did you get those connections?" Lanaya asked. That last comment had made her angry - well, he could understand that. People with demonic connections were invariably utter psychopaths, self included. He wondered if she would kill him for that, and also wondered if he'd really object.

He cleared his throat before answering. "My… condition had some unwanted side effects. Actually, most of it was an unwanted side effect."

"Explain."

"You wouldn't understand."

She turned to him, pulled up a chair and sat across from him. "I am a scion of the Hidden Ones, guardian of their temple. There is little I do not understand, and what I don't understand I do not know."

Arash grinned. "Dropping names only works when the person you're talking to has heard of them. Although I guess that they wouldn't be 'Hidden Ones' if they were common knowledge."

"Touché. Still, we have time. I want to hear this story."

He shrugged. Scholars will be scholars. "Do you know of the Soul Collector?"

Lanaya frowned. "That is an old myth - a daemon from the Sixth Hell, who steals souls from mortals for his collection."

"Well, Nevermore is from the Fifth Hell, but the rest is essentially correct."

She leant back and blinked in surprise. "He gave you this power?"

Arash laughed bitterly. "Cursed me with it is more like. After slaying the sorcerer that annihilated my former home, Nevermore offered a deal: my soul, the soul of a new Hero, in exchange for those I once knew."

"Did you not accept the offer?"

"Of course I did!" he snarled. Lanaya recoiled at the sudden ferocity he exhibited.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "Anyway, something went wrong in the ritual - or that piece of **** had planned this all along. Instead of returning them to life and taking mine, their souls were displaced into me, and their minds followed. The outcome was… unpleasant, to say the least."

He sensed her pity and cursed himself. The last thing he needed here was empathy from someone he'd probably end up killing soon anyway.

"You carry them inside your mind?" she asked softly.

"My psychic powers are unrivalled, but you cannot imagine what it is like. A thousand minds apart from my own, each screaming for release. They abhor what I have become, and the pain drives me further from sanity than you would think possible." He wanted to stop, but there was something cathartic about talking. She hadn't tried to kill him, or judged him at all if appearances were to be believed, which was definitely a first. "All that seems to relieve it is inflicting upon others but a fraction of my own agony."

Her eyes met his, and he looked away. Primordials damn it, he'd made a friend. Even worse, a Radiant friend.

"Did you kill him?" she said.

"The Shadow Fiend? Would that I could. He placed a bond upon me which prevents me from harming him and compels me to do his malevolent bidding. That is what you sensed earlier."

Damn her. Damn her to Hells. How dare she hear him, think she could understand the maelstrom of thoughts, the torrential edged agony that poured from minds within a mind not built to contain them. How dare she… care!

Lanaya stood, seemingly sensing his growing ire. She moved to the door. Arash realised without caring it was raining outside, gallons of water bucketing down in a storm ruthless in ferocity.

"You were right," she said.

"About what?" Arash spat back.

"I can't begin to imagine the inside of your head. I probably don't want to. I shouldn't have asked."

He grunted. "You're the first that actually did. Hopefully the last."

She glanced back over her shoulder. "Can I trust you to remain in this building alone?"

"It doesn't look like I'll be going anywhere while this storm rages."

Lanaya came back over and untied him. "Obviously, I can't leave your weapons here," she said, "but this is about as good a shelter as you'll get here. I don't expect we'll see each other again, but it has been… enlightening."

Arash nodded and stood up, flexing cramped muscles. The Templar Assassin left quietly, leaving him alone in a reverie.