Why I Fight - The Origins of Czernabog




(OOC: The entire hope behind this is to continue with the story of Czernabog and those around him as a series of story in a very comic book format. The origin is from the perspective of Czernabog himself and is just a "first issue" introduction of the character. Feedback is more than welcome, it's begged, wheedled, and pleaded for. Thank you and enjoy!)

My name is Nikolas Stravinski Tolstoy, born Nikolas Lukovich. I am a pianist and composer. You may have heard of me... but you do not know me.

I have a twin brother, Piotr, who like myself was born with an incredible gift. We both were blessed with vast reserves of energy within us. Piotr was born with lightning in his fingertips and an uncanny skill with the creation of machines. Myself, I am a nearly bottomless well of pure energy... but I am better known for my gift with music. What many do not know, is that in return for my talents, nature left me without a voice.

I do not fight for peace.

My brother and I excelled in our chosen fields; I taking a stage name and performing in Perez Park before my 18th birthday with such masters as Johann Gruber, my idol. Piotr had gone to work at the Crey Corporation, crafting new inventions for everyday living.

Then, the Rikti War came.

Our parents were among the first victims.

Piotr came to me, begging me to join him. He had built two suits, one for each of us. They would amplify our powers tenfold... and mine would give me a voice. In the name of our mother and father, he begged me to enter the fight with him. I agreed, and The Cannon and The Human Conduit were born.

I do not fight for glory.

We were a sight to behold, laying waste to the invaders that had claimed our neighborhood... until reinforcements arrived. Swarms of Rikti descended upon us. We fought without hesitation but it was no use. The last I saw of Piotr, he was sinking beneath a mob of stinking Rikti Monkeys... I soon followed him to the ground.

When I awoke in a bed in Chiron Hospital, they told me no sign of my brother had been found. Only me.

Bandaged and bloody, I rose from my bed, stuggling to leave, to chase the invaders, to demand back my brother. They sedated me... and I slept.

I do not fight for vengeance.

The unlucky among you may have encountered Herr Kanone. It was the name I took when I worked for the 5th Column. It was purely for the money. I had been left with nothing but the suit that was my voice... and repairs were cheap. The 5th's resources were nearly limitless, and they were eager for new blood... for old blood... for any blood.

I do not fight for truth.

For the 5th, I composed symphonies of explosions. For the 5th, I conducted entire orchestras of screams. For the 5th, I played on, as long as the money was plentiful. For the money, I sold myself.

I do not fight for justice.

I was hunting for my latest prey. A deviant, they said, that needed to be silenced. I was not concerned. I only wanted to know if they had paid my fee.

I do not fight for myself.

I brought my target's entire home down upon his head. I was too greedy to pay attention to whose home it was. Searching through the rubble to confirm my kill, I found him. He had been in his den, composing his latest piece on the piano. I had been sent to silence Johann Gruber, the very man I so idolized.

I do not fight for you.

Nikolas Stravinski Tolstoy attended his funeral and wept like a child. Nikolas Stravinski Tolstoy spent the last of the 5th's blood money organizing a concert in memoriam. And Nikolas Stravinski Tolstoy played Johann Gruber's final piece, unable to see the music through his tears.

I do not fight for the money. Not anymore.

I am Czernabog, death, and I come for those who would silence the world.

I fight for the music.