Orakt

A mighty warrior and respected commander who led mercenaries against Trchkithin, wounding her in melee before being killed himself.

Major favour: Military upkeep is at least 25% of your income
Minor favour: Participated in at least 2 wars this turn
Negative favour: Participated in 0 wars
Favour bonus: 5% reduced recruitment costs
Dislikes: Trchkithin
Hates: Alki

Grand objective: Invade
Divine intervention: For 1 hour per follower, fire and brimstone rain from the sky over a city-sized area


Backstory: Many heroes and villains secured their places in history during the Trchig wars, committing great crimes and great acts of kindness to their fellows. One such individual was Orakt, a mighty warrior, unparalleled in the arts of combat even by his fellow First Ones, and both terror and saviour to hundreds, if not thousands.
     In the early days, few nations, regardless of their race and creed, was without a First One to lead them. Despite having once had a loyal country of followers, Orakt lost his people; whether he dismissed them wilfully or having had them taken from him by force, no one is sure, though the latter seems absurd.
     When the great war came to Arl's world, Orakt had re-established himself with a loyal army of mercenaries, some ten thousand men all skilled at arms and proficient in magicks, drawn from every land and background, and trained under the First One's own supervision.
     Orakt and his men were late to join in the great alliance, Trchkithin and her armies making headway on every front. He was eventually persuaded to assist after a shadowy meeting with Jaegis, the captive First One guilty at his many deeds. They fought their first battle breaking the siege of a Cayim Amiy fortress, a tactical point commanding a strategically important pass leading deep into allied territory.
     His force smashed into the Trchig's supply line, destroying the reinforcements and turning their supplies and siege weapons to a higher cause. The catapults broke the besiegers' picket lines, ceasing long enough for Orakt's horsemen to break through, knocking a hole through the hastily formed infantry line. When the mercenary footmen arrived, the Trchig armies were routed almost immediately, and the siege was broken.
     They won a long string of victories over every commander Trchkithin threw at him, whether they met on solid ground, shifting sands, or on rocking ship decks, breaking their foes on any terrain that they were forced to fight upon. Despite their resilience, the Trchig kept advancing, finding that the mercenaries were unable to hold the lines on all fronts, using their superior numbers to choose their battle wisely, breaking allied lines where Orakt was unable to bring his strength to bear.
     After a particularly devastating defeat off the coasts of Cardia, an allied kingdom slowly losing to the Trchig and their thralls, the mercenary fleet burning hundreds of Trchkithin's ships. Infuriated at the losses Orakt kept inflicting upon her men, the great First One turned her attention to the young warrior.
     The two First Ones met at the very same fortress where Orakt had originally made a name for himself, breaking the Trchig lines. Finding the Cayim Amiy defenders once again besieged, the mercenaries marched night and day for many miles, their flags and banners coming into sight with the dawn, sending the attackers fleeing at the thought of facing them.
     News quickly reached Trchkithin of her foe's location, and she summoned her guards to herself, a dozen mighty daemons, and walked the paths of sorcery to hunt him down.
     As the allies retreated, outnumbered vastly, the mercenaries mounted a rearguard, halting raiders and skirmishers in their tracks; that is, until Trchkithin herself arrived. She broke the mercenary lines with a maul in hand, shields bending and armour rending under her onslaught while those who moved to oppose her were decimated under waves of sorcery. Despite the ferocity of the First One and her daemonic cohorts, no man or woman of any ethnicity fled, each giving their lives and blood in the defence of their allies.
     Crying out at the news of his comrades' deaths, Orakt called for his spear, grasping it on both gauntleted hands, and set out to deal with Trchkithin himself.
     His first thrust struck a mighty daemon, a lord in its own realm, splashing inhuman blood over his red tabard as he pulled the spear out again, a high slash opening its throat. Pressing on, he disposed of two more of the creatures before meeting Trchkithin. Mercenary and beast alike fled from the encounter as sorceries erupted, the many wards upon Orakt's armour deflecting the attack as they closed, spear and maul dancing, sparks flying as the two weapons came to life in their owners' hands.
     The spear splintered in Orakt's hands against one mighty swing, but a pair of shortsword quickly appear in his hands, taking them from his fallen followers. In a flash, blood spurted from Trchkithin, a blade opening up her pauldron, digging deep. Her retaliatory strike was somewhat more effective.
     Flames erupted from the ground, stunning the brave mercenary as the ground shook and opened, dropping him into a chasm, snapping a leg with an unlevel landing. Throwing up every defence he could muster, Trchkithin unleashed her many sorceries, exhausting herself breaking through his shielding before launching a final spell in his direction.
     Orakt died as his heart ruptured and his skin peeled, but this was not the end of his tale.
     Arl had watched Trchkithin's armies suffered dozens of setbacks at this young First One's hands, and so drew upon the many souls unleashed by Orakt's swordarm, thousands of spirits that had followed this avatar of death that he used to power the mighty rituals he now weaved.
     Lifted by his creator as reward for his many deeds, Orakt ascended.

Written by Strife