A Darkhammer and a Demon. A Story By Eylk Inor.

Obviously I'm writing this under my alias, and if I get it published it shall be published under my alias as well.

Well, here it is. The first of many stories I plan to make, about my Roleplaying Character, Mo'lar Darkhammer.

this shall, obviously, be about his early years, and about when he first meets Il'Yun.

Here ya go.



“Isn’t he beautiful, Alexia?” Durgrim asked his wife. His human wife.
The only reason that was strange was because Durgrim wasn’t human. He was an Orc. He had taken a great risk by deserting the Orcish Horde to run away with his wife, Alexia, whom he had married after the first war ended.
Their son’s name was Mo’lar Darkhammer, taking his mother’s name, rather than his father’s.
Mo’lar had a pinkish-green skin, and shorter fangs than most orcs. He also seemed small for an orc, but at his age that could change. Other than that he seemed exactly like his father.
Durgrim was a high ranking Blademaster in the Orcish Horde, he led many troops into many battles. But at heart, he was more of a shamanic orc than the now more common brutes.
Alexia Darkhammer was the daughter of a very powerful, well know mage. He had been so against Alexia falling in love with an orc, never mind marrying him. But in the end, he accepted it, as did her whole family. She herself was a powerful sorceress, specializing in fire magic.
Together Alexia and Durgrim had decided that their son would learn both of their ways. He’d learn to fight with a blade, as well as bend magic to his will.
“Mo’lar Darkhammer,” Alexia said in her sweet voice, “He looks so much like you, Dur.”
“Yeah, he does, Alex,” Durgrim agreed, “But look, he’s got your eyes, and he’s clearly going to turn out with your brain.”
The two parents stared at their child, wondering how his life would turn out. They were completely unaware of just how terrible it would become, but as of yet, it was a good one. They had a nice home, in the forest, and were never short of food, or wood.
But that life was left behind by Mo’lar.





Mo’lar had started training with his mother in the ways of magic at age 6, showing great aptitude. He started learning the art of war from his father at age 7.
His mother always pushed him to get better, and his father never let up in their training. He would always go to bed tired, and bruised. Through it all he still loved his life, and loved his parents.
However, when he reached age 11, he was given a blade, and a shield. They were very decorated, made of Gold and Ebony. The same day, an Orcish Chieftain dispatched a Task Force to ‘Rid the Orcish blood of impurity.’
A few days after Mo’lar had received his weapons, the task force arrived at his home. He was picked up by the throat by the party’s leader, and held over a cliff. The last words the Party Leader thought Mo’lar would ever hear were, ‘See you in Hell, Mutt. Say hello to your parents.’



Mo’lar screamed as the Cruel-faced orc dropped him. He screamed louder than he thought he could. Louder than he thought anyone could have ever screamed.
I don’t want to die, Mo’lar thought, Not yet.


All Mo’lar felt when he hit the ground was a thud and a few cracks in his ribcase.
He felt his insides bleeding. He felt his outsides bleeding. He felt like he wanted to cry, but couldn’t. Most of all, he felt so overcome by sadness, realizing he’d never see his parents again.
“Someone...” Mo’lar gasped, quietly, trying to be as loud as he could, “Someone...help me...please”





Claire heard something, kind of like a growl, that sounded like a hurt animal.
“Hello...?” Claire called out,”Is someone there?”
Claire started looking around, hoping to find whatever it was that she was sure needed help. She looked through bushes, and trees.
“Is something here?” Claire asked, wondering if she was hearing things, “H-hello...?”
She started to think it was a thief or a bandit, but then she saw him.
An...orc? Claire thought, seeing the thing, No, it’s not green enough...whatever it is, I’ll help it.
Claire went toward the thing on the ground, and noticed a pool of blood around it.
“Help...me...” The thing managed to say.
Claire Took one of her empty baskets, and filled it with grass, and lifted the poor creature into it. She dragged the basket back to her cottage, where she lived with her father.
“Father! Father!” Claire called, speaking Elvish, “I found something in the forest! It’s hurt!”
“What is it?” Claire’s father asked. He looked into the basket. “Claire! It’s an Orc!”
Claire’s father started to move towards his blade, hanging from the wall, but stopped mid-stride, noticing his skin was somewhat pink, and his fangs short.
“Wait...no. It’s not orc...” Claire’s father said, “Not full atleast. Come, put it in the Guest bed. We’ll try to heal it.”

is it me or it's just eylk the only person rping in the forum ?

Uh uh, Soggeh

This isn't roleplaying...this is a story...about the character I usually use in roleplaying...

*facepalm*

Bleh go publish a book Xpp

That's...actually the plan... :p

I'm going to right a few novellas about Mo'lar.

This is, obviously, the first.