My Story

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My Story

This tale begins seventeen years past, on the clashing cubes of the plane called Acheron. A place of harsh winters, savage natives, and unending war. Small settlements of humans, demihumans, and humanoids dot the iron faces of the cubes, trying to eke out a pitiful existence on the unforgiving lands.

It was within one of these miserable hamlets, that a man named Malachi Zane had taken refuge. A fiend, cornugon status, defector of the Baatorian armies. After abandoning his company in a failed march into enemy land, he found his way to Acheron, knowing none would come to follow here. With him, he brought a slave from that final conflict. One of celestial blood, a sword archon woman, named Lucretia. Setting them up as brother and sister, Malachi managed to hide from his brethren, and live in a semblance of peace.

However, for poor Lucretia, life was far from good. All but helpless at the cornugon's command, she was subjected to the violent appetites of the fiend. Rape was a near daily occurrence, and when she tried to fight, she was beaten brutally. But, Malachi always made sure she would survive. Finally, she stopped fighting, and succumbed to the vile creature.

After a year of this the archon fell ill. Lucretia's worst nightmare had come true. Within her belly, grew a babe from Malachi's seed. A child mixed of fiendish and angelic blood. A child that would, no doubt, come to no good end.

Lucretia bore this evil secret, not even Malachi knowing the dark of it, for ten long months. In the midst of one of those frigid winters, the archon gave birth to a male child. Though the child appeared normal, she could see the wicked gleam in it's eyes, the fiendish blood that coursed through its veins. Not long after, Lucretia finally gave up, and perished minutes after the birth. But, not before naming the child. Fallon.

Malachi walked in on this, hearing her whisper the babe's name. When she died, he flew into a rage, destroying most of the meager possessions they had. When the fit past, he was left alone, with the babe, and Lucretia's corpse. He lifted the child in his hands, his mind seething with hatred. The first impulse, was to break the child's neck, and devour him whole. And it nearly came to pass, as his hands slipped around Fallon's neck. But, a thought broke through the maddening rage. No, death was too easy, he thought. This boy will pay for what has happened!

So, Malachi raised Fallon. Even as just a toddler, the boys life was a violent cycle of abuse and beatings. He was driven hard, forced to do tasks unreasonable for any normal child. Thanks to his supernatural blood, Fallon grew much quicker than any normal child. By the age of three, he was already four feet tall, and doing heavy menial labor at his father's command. Every year, when his birthday came, Malachi would beat him with a razor strap, stopping only when the boy's whimpers and twitching ceased. He then left the bloodied, mutilated child to regenerate himself, which took the whole of the day, and the better half of the next.

This brutality continued for five years. On the morn of his fifth birthday, he was awakened by a sharp kick to the ribs: "Wake up boy! I got a real nice present for you today!" Dragged to his feet and outside, Fallon was tossed at the feet of three strangers. Another kick to the ribs sends more needles of pain through his body. When they began to haggle over a price, Fallon knew he had been sold. As he was dragged away, he heard his father's harsh laugh. "Happy birthday, ya little bastard!"


	Fallon Zane \| home My Story This tale begins seventeen years past, on the clashing cubes of the plane called Acheron. A place of harsh winters, savage natives, and unending war. Small settlements of humans, demihumans, and humanoids dot the iron faces of the cubes, trying to eke out a pitiful existence on the unforgiving lands. It was within one of these miserable hamlets, that a man named Malachi Zane had taken refuge. A fiend, cornugon status, defector of the Baatorian armies. After abandoning his company in a failed march into enemy land, he found his way to Acheron, knowing none would come to follow here. With him, he brought a slave from that final conflict. One of celestial blood, a sword archon woman, named Lucretia. Setting them up as brother and sister, Malachi managed to hide from his brethren, and live in a semblance of peace. However, for poor Lucretia, life was far from good. All but helpless at the cornugon's command, she was subjected to the violent appetites of the fiend. Rape was a near daily occurrence, and when she tried to fight, she was beaten brutally. But, Malachi always made sure she would survive. Finally, she stopped fighting, and succumbed to the vile creature. After a year of this the archon fell ill. Lucretia's worst nightmare had come true. Within her belly, grew a babe from Malachi's seed. A child mixed of fiendish and angelic blood. A child that would, no doubt, come to no good end. Lucretia bore this evil secret, not even Malachi knowing the dark of it, for ten long months. In the midst of one of those frigid winters, the archon gave birth to a male child. Though the child appeared normal, she could see the wicked gleam in it's eyes, the fiendish blood that coursed through its veins. Not long after, Lucretia finally gave up, and perished minutes after the birth. But, not before naming the child. Fallon. Malachi walked in on this, hearing her whisper the babe's name. When she died, he flew into a rage, destroying most of the meager possessions they had. When the fit past, he was left alone, with the babe, and Lucretia's corpse. He lifted the child in his hands, his mind seething with hatred. The first impulse, was to break the child's neck, and devour him whole. And it nearly came to pass, as his hands slipped around Fallon's neck. But, a thought broke through the maddening rage. No, death was too easy, he thought. This boy will pay for what has happened! So, Malachi raised Fallon. Even as just a toddler, the boys life was a violent cycle of abuse and beatings. He was driven hard, forced to do tasks unreasonable for any normal child. Thanks to his supernatural blood, Fallon grew much quicker than any normal child. By the age of three, he was already four feet tall, and doing heavy menial labor at his father's command. Every year, when his birthday came, Malachi would beat him with a razor strap, stopping only when the boy's whimpers and twitching ceased. He then left the bloodied, mutilated child to regenerate himself, which took the whole of the day, and the better half of the next. This brutality continued for five years. On the morn of his fifth birthday, he was awakened by a sharp kick to the ribs: "Wake up boy! I got a real nice present for you today!" Dragged to his feet and outside, Fallon was tossed at the feet of three strangers. Another kick to the ribs sends more needles of pain through his body. When they began to haggle over a price, Fallon knew he had been sold. As he was dragged away, he heard his father's harsh laugh. "Happy birthday, ya little bastard!"