The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica, a Warhammer Online Destruction Regiment, Al'Hazim

( Just moving this over from the old site, most of you have read it but for those of you who didnt enjoy.)

Soul Eater: Now, Alhazim, my friend. Tell me... What makes you think you have what it takes to become a true warrior in this, our Unholy Legion? We have many such as yourself. Tell me why you are one of the best, and tell me... How can you serve? Modesty is not a token in this place. Be bold. Tell me of yourself. Open your mind, spill your soul to me... Or i shall take it.

Al'Hazim: If Lord Tzeentch wanted you to know, do you not think that he would possess you of that particular knowledge? ...or perhaps he wants me to tell you...

Alas, I shall start from the beginning.

My birth name is Jared Beckenhoff. I was born of nobility in Salzenmund; capital of Nordland. My father Dolf Beckenhoff III, was a State Offical to the current Elector Count of Middenland, Boris Todbringer.

At a young age, I was considered a "trouble-maker" though it was infact, a blessing in disguise. Often times I would manipulate young servants of my father's home. My words would be filled with empty promises, deceitful half-truths/lies, and both blatant and cunning tactics to get these young children in trouble. I vividly remember crushing a flask and putting tiny, jagged pieces into the brew of a respectable local judge. In order to implicate the boy, I gave him a few pieces of silver and a gold coin. As the judge gurgled and screamed his death throes, the boy was searched and begin crying hysterically that it was mine. Originally, my instincts told me that I was going to be caught, and though guilt was written all over my face, I hysterically cried my innocents and the boy was taken away...his screams and cries reverberated throughout the halls. To this day, I do not know what happened to the young servant, but the adrenaline, power, and overall feelings I felt were undescribable.

A few years later I was shown signs of magic (I believe this is now the work of Tzeentch) and as a young man was sent to the Colleges of Magic in Altdorf. Due to my father's status and both his political affluence and influences, I studied under the tutelage of non other than Balthasar Gelt - The Supreme Patriarch (though I never directly met him)- and his alcolytes. I was completely fascinated in alchemy and the powers of Metals. The thought of transmuting mere metals into gold drove me to succeed and would surely bring me unimaginable power.

Unfortunately, my lack of authority often times got me into trouble and I was extremely behind on my studies. Truth be told, I was on the verge of being expelled, but I believe my father's reasonable bargaining kept it from happening.

One night, we were taught a concotion on how to transmute metal into pure gold for a respectable amount of time. Unfortunetly, in order for the transmutation to work, we had to learn the proper command and gestures for the magics to take affect. It was an impossible task, one simply to amuse my scholars and teachers. Franticly, I searched, for I was completely obsessed and lusting over the power of such words. I locked my door and for days, plunged into every known tome, parchment, and scrap of information for clues. By the ninth consectutive night, I practically gave up and passed out on my desk, oblivious to the deadly storm that was raging outside.

A raven flew in and with a deafening caw, I awoke from my slumber. Immediately a flash of lightning and roaring of thunder shook the cobwebs off me and I looked at the bird. I remember this moment, cllear as day...

...our eyes met - mine and the birds - and immediately, my soul became calm, my focus like an intense beam of energy, and my mind craming and craving informaton. The bird hopped onto an open book and pecked down nine times. As if it was instinct, I automatically flipped to a certain page...the bird cawed. I knew what he meant, and the pattern became clear. With renewed vigor, I stared at the bird and quickly found another book. Frantically going through the pages, I stopped when I heard the caw and found another clue. After around nine minutes of this hypnotic clue of riddles, the answer was right in front of me. I gazed at the bird, as if to worship it, and distinctively kneeled before him....or her? The bird turned to the window and without another word, flew away. A feather fell from it's body and I quickly and carefully took the feather. To this day, it has never left my presence.

The day came when I was to stand in front of my scholars and entertain them with my failure. No doubt did they assume that I was going to chant some hocus-pokus and frantically waved my arms around like a small boy trying to stay afloat in water. By the grins of several of the teachers’ faces, it appeared that the trials and failures of hopeful magic-users were quite entertaining.

There was no hesitation in my entrance. My posture was firm and my stride, resolute. I was not there to lose, I was not there to entertain and ridicule myself for their benefit. No…I was there to shock and awe all those who looked down upon me and to show them the unearthly powers of the Great Manipulator.

In the middle of the Hall, was a small metal table and sitting on the table a large, chunk of metal. With inquisitive eyes staring at me, I calmly walked up to the table and with nothing but a gesture, a few words of power, a golden light surrounded my hands and upon touching the large metal chunk, it began to transmute….

The silent Hall began to stir immediately. Whispers, murmurs, and gasps could be heard all around me. The electricity was in the air and the chaos began to brew…I grinned maniacally and felt the adrenaline – or was it magic? – course through my veins and decided to take it another step further.

I slapped my hands onto the metallic table. Gasps erupted all around and then silence. As I began mumbling a few words, all eyes – once more – were fixated on me. My hands began to glow once more, my head hung over, as I pushed my entire weight onto the table. People began to shout and yell, as they bore witness to another transmutation: the table began to turn into pure gold!

With an heir of arrogance, I smirked and calmly walked out of the Hall before the transmutation finished. I ignored the deafening uproar and locked the door of my private dormitory. Placing the black feather in my hair, I laugh quietly to myself, and paid homage to The Changer of the Ways. I believe at this point the transmutation took a great toll on my body, for I passed out almost immediately and had great visions that were both blessings and horrors.

Images flickered of me greeting my father only to be captured by witch hunters and sent to inquisitors to be interrogated and tortured for being a heretic. I vividly remember hearing my screams as my broken body burned at the stake in my home capital of Salzenmund. The townsfolk jeering and cursing me as I burned alive…then silence. The last thing I remember is seeing my ashes on the ground, and a foot of Tzeentchian Magus – covered in armor and robes - crushing the remains of the once Jared Beckenhoff. And though this magus was wearing a helmet, a ponytail was visible that stuck up on top of his helmet…and in that hair was a black feather.

I awoke immediately and stared wide eyed for a moment as I deciphered what the dream meant. The cold wind blew into my window, though I never opened it and I noticed an old tome resting on my desk. Taking the book and placing it within my robes, I took what little possessions I could carry and hastily left the Colleges of Magic in the middle of the night.

In all honesty, I did not know where I was headed or what I was doing. My mind was racing, along with my heart, as I frantically tried to think of a clever escape. I noticed a young man about my age with his knees tucked into his body as he tried to keep warm covering himself with his tattered robe. I approached the startled man and offered him a bag of gold. The young man began to cry, praising Sigmar, and willing to do anything for it. I gave him specific instructions and without a moment of hesitation he agreed.

We exchanged clothing and I gave him a letter. My instructions were simple: Travel to my father’s house and give him the letter (fortunately, the young lad was uneducated), use the gold that is given to you for food, shelter, and entertainment. Your name is now Jared Beckenhoff. Please, do not flaunt and keep your features well-hidden. The horse, along with these clothes and gold are now yours.

Amazingly, the young man did not question anything, for in his watery eyes were filled with a fairy-tale future filled with wealth, peace, and serenity. I pulled the tattered hood over my head, and with the few coins in my hand, and the old tome held firmly under my robes, I went north…always north.

During my nights of seclusion I would read from this book. Thankfully, it was loosely translated from it’s origins of Araby and told of great Necromancers, Necropolises, and the powers of the dark arts. And though my new life came into fruition on that one, stormy night, my name was created from within these pages: Al’Hazim which is roughly translated to mean “he who lies.”

I continued to travel north whether on foot, on horse, or even caravan. I eventually got word of my death: Jared Beckenhoff was burned alive, along with his father, and faithful servants for being servants of Chaos. Oh well. My father’s usefulness expired and his service was no longer needed. My dreams were filled with directions as the Great Conspirator guided to my destination…The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica.

So that is the tale of who I am and who I was. But I must ask you: Is it true?