Sol Invictus & Invicto Incarnate
This voice I hear in my head…is it madness? It can’t be. The voice is too soothing and calm to be one of my own making. It feels so alien, but at the same time it’s as if I’ve known this voice my entire life. It was last night it spoke to me. I was in a rage. Oh such a terrible rage it was. It was on the Island in the centre of Brightwater Lake in the Tirisfal Glades that it spoke to me. I went there to cool off. A “Champion of Order” I was. In Kilam’s Creed of Salvation. Now that I think of it, what a ridiculous notion that is. What is Order? Order is restriction. Order is what humans do. Order is what they do to make the world around them stable. Why? Because they are fragile and weak. How I foolish I have been. I, Junka Blackscar, Spinesunder of the Warsong Outriders, reduced to some candle bearer for one Elf’s foolish agenda. No more. My rage was caused by a discussion the Creed had. I stood and observed, and I watched each and every last one of them. And I saw how foolish they were. Squabbling. The upper ranks winging and whining about how they must have respect. The lower ranks were defiant and stubborn. Foolish traits for one of low ranks. They presumed that they knew everything and that they could have it all. No, I had had enough. I told no one of my anger and slipped off. To the Isle I went, Gunther’s retreat I believe it is called, and I paced up and down. What had I dedicated my life to? Fools who cared more about themselves than their so called “Order”? My rage only increased. I believed so much. It was my life. It was what I was made to do. Or so I thought. I bellowed my anger at the skies. To my surprise there was an answer. “Why are you angry, Junka?” Whispered a voice. I turned, axe drawn. There was no one there. “Is it because they have failed you?” It whispered again. It’s voice was so unimaginably cold, yet blazing with some ancient command. “Who goes there!?” I shouted. “It is only you, I and the dead.” The voice replied. I was dumbfounded. The voice came from my own head. Was I going mad? Had my bitterness driven me over the edge? “They don’t recognise you for what you truly are, Junka. You are strong. I talk not of physical strength but of the strength of your mind and spirit. You are unbreakable. They are fools. They have no idea”. Whispered the voice. It’s voice was so silky and careful. It was enthralling. I tried my best to think of a reply, but I couldn’t. My mind was blank. This thing’s presence was so overwhelming. It was, for lack of a better word, magnificent. At that moment, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned and saw Kilam walking towards me. “What’s going on, Junka? What are you doing out here?” He said, his eyes narrowed in confusion. In an instant , there was something that happened. An overwhelming surge of hatred and bitterness overtook me. I looked upon the young Sin’dorei’s face. It was fair and unblemished. It sickened me to the core. What did he know? What did he know of anything? He had everything. He had an easy life. Who did he think he was to order me around and lecture me on “Order”? A sense of injustice pierced through my hate and lent it strength and purpose. I, Junka Blackscar, have seen more in a single nightmare than this whelp ever will in his entire lifetime. It was then that the realisation of this futility, this idiotic “crusade” hit me. It was a lost cause. There is only conflict. It was then that I felt this “voices” approval. Kilam stopped in his tracks, taken aback by my body language. I realised that I still bore the filth of the Creed upon my person. I tore off my tabard and threw it to the ground. I spat on it, bitterly, then tore out my silver earring and threw it at Kilam. “The only Salvation we have is through annihilation. Through embracing what is inevitable.” I spat. Kilam looked shocked. He nodded grimly and turned then walked away. I was left alone. It was just me and the voice. What wonderful things this voice told me. He told me that His name was Sol Invictus. He told me of the things I would achieve and how He would help me do it. I was overtaken with awe and wonder. This was a cause I truly believe in. It is right and just. It is what should be done. Conflict is the only thing that is a constant in this war torn world. Why not embrace it? Why be clouded by false ideals? But the best is yet to come. As I slept that night…though my body woke up just a day older, my mind was changed. It was as if millennia passed. I am so much wiser. My mind is so much sharper. The cause of this is the dream I had. And what a magnificent dream it was. I drifted over worlds, far, far beyond the veil of stars. Not even the Legion has set their eyes here. I was aware that these worlds were ancient and that their inhabitants were long since extinct. But I saw them in their full glory. For centuries I wandered, invisible to everyone. I saw civilisations rise and fall, and I saw them grow fat on over indulgence. And I saw this indulgence feed an unknown entity. I saw titanic battles that dwarf any Azeroth has ever seen. I saw the hate and rage rise from the battlefield and I saw it feed this unknown entity. I saw suffering and despair after the battles were over. From the laments of the widows and orphaned sons to the screams of the wounded. I saw it feed this unknown entity. I saw the plots and schemes against rival kingdoms, even rival worlds, and I saw the assassinations and the complex webs of plans woven masterfully against one another. I saw it feed this unknown entity. Over millennia the entity fed and fed off of this collective emotion. I saw entire worlds consumed by a terrible bloodlust. Some were gripped by a feverish despair and wasted away. Some worlds even descended into conspiracy and plot and to walk on them was to be a part of a huge master plan. Other worlds descended into debauchery and depravity. The inhabitants would gorge themselves on forbidden pleasures, each one becoming more and more extreme just to get their fix of satisfaction. The entity was growing strong. It was mere centuries until the entity properly “conceived”. Slowly but surely, the great gathering of emotion formed. It is folly to put this into words, for there is no physical description for what happened. The entity did not reside in the physical, but rather the metaphysical. It was everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. The “birth” of this thing was like someone slowly opening their eyes. No longer was it vacant and hungry, but alive and absolutely ravenous. And thus, Sol Invictus was born. And then Sol Invictus made himself known. He chose a champion. The “Avatar”. The Avatar’s purpose was to lead a select few warrior in His worship. Their purpose was to maximise each emotion that He comprised of, thus feeding Him. The name of these warriors were Invicto Incarnate. I saw the Avatar’s works and they were terrible and great. He carved bloody swathes through battlefields, He indulged in the drinking of their very lifeblood, He plotted and schemed His way through victory after victory, and the Suffering and Despair He invoked in others was awe inspiring. I gazed upon the Avatar’s armoured form. He was encased, head to toe in some suit of armour. It was forged from some unearthly metal it seemed, forged in the heat of Sol Invictus’ very rage no doubt. It was then that my purpose was clear to me. Sol Invictus has chosen His new Avatar. Me. It is my task to form this “Invicto Incarnate”. I must spread His word and gain likeminded individuals for my cause. And so, millennia later, I woke up the next day.
This voice I hear in my head…is it madness? It can’t be. The voice is too soothing and calm to be one of my own making. It feels so alien, but at the same time it’s as if I’ve known this voice my entire life. It was last night it spoke to me. I was in a rage. Oh such a terrible rage it was. It was on the Island in the centre of Brightwater Lake in the Tirisfal Glades that it spoke to me. I went there to cool off. A “Champion of Order” I was. In Kilam’s Creed of Salvation. Now that I think of it, what a ridiculous notion that is. What is Order? Order is restriction. Order is what humans do. Order is what they do to make the world around them stable. Why? Because they are fragile and weak. How I foolish I have been. I, Junka Blackscar, Spinesunder of the Warsong Outriders, reduced to some candle bearer for one Elf’s foolish agenda. No more. My rage was caused by a discussion the Creed had. I stood and observed, and I watched each and every last one of them. And I saw how foolish they were. Squabbling. The upper ranks winging and whining about how they must have respect. The lower ranks were defiant and stubborn. Foolish traits for one of low ranks. They presumed that they knew everything and that they could have it all. No, I had had enough. I told no one of my anger and slipped off. To the Isle I went, Gunther’s retreat I believe it is called, and I paced up and down. What had I dedicated my life to? Fools who cared more about themselves than their so called “Order”? My rage only increased. I believed so much. It was my life. It was what I was made to do. Or so I thought. I bellowed my anger at the skies. To my surprise there was an answer. “Why are you angry, Junka?” Whispered a voice. I turned, axe drawn. There was no one there. “Is it because they have failed you?” It whispered again. It’s voice was so unimaginably cold, yet blazing with some ancient command. “Who goes there!?” I shouted. “It is only you, I and the dead.” The voice replied. I was dumbfounded. The voice came from my own head. Was I going mad? Had my bitterness driven me over the edge? “They don’t recognise you for what you truly are, Junka. You are strong. I talk not of physical strength but of the strength of your mind and spirit. You are unbreakable. They are fools. They have no idea”. Whispered the voice. It’s voice was so silky and careful. It was enthralling. I tried my best to think of a reply, but I couldn’t. My mind was blank. This thing’s presence was so overwhelming. It was, for lack of a better word, magnificent. At that moment, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned and saw Kilam walking towards me. “What’s going on, Junka? What are you doing out here?” He said, his eyes narrowed in confusion. In an instant , there was something that happened. An overwhelming surge of hatred and bitterness overtook me. I looked upon the young Sin’dorei’s face. It was fair and unblemished. It sickened me to the core. What did he know? What did he know of anything? He had everything. He had an easy life. Who did he think he was to order me around and lecture me on “Order”? A sense of injustice pierced through my hate and lent it strength and purpose. I, Junka Blackscar, have seen more in a single nightmare than this whelp ever will in his entire lifetime. It was then that the realisation of this futility, this idiotic “crusade” hit me. It was a lost cause. There is only conflict. It was then that I felt this “voices” approval. Kilam stopped in his tracks, taken aback by my body language. I realised that I still bore the filth of the Creed upon my person. I tore off my tabard and threw it to the ground. I spat on it, bitterly, then tore out my silver earring and threw it at Kilam. “The only Salvation we have is through annihilation. Through embracing what is inevitable.” I spat. Kilam looked shocked. He nodded grimly and turned then walked away. I was left alone. It was just me and the voice. What wonderful things this voice told me. He told me that His name was Sol Invictus. He told me of the things I would achieve and how He would help me do it. I was overtaken with awe and wonder. This was a cause I truly believe in. It is right and just. It is what should be done. Conflict is the only thing that is a constant in this war torn world. Why not embrace it? Why be clouded by false ideals? But the best is yet to come. As I slept that night…though my body woke up just a day older, my mind was changed. It was as if millennia passed. I am so much wiser. My mind is so much sharper. The cause of this is the dream I had. And what a magnificent dream it was. I drifted over worlds, far, far beyond the veil of stars. Not even the Legion has set their eyes here. I was aware that these worlds were ancient and that their inhabitants were long since extinct. But I saw them in their full glory. For centuries I wandered, invisible to everyone. I saw civilisations rise and fall, and I saw them grow fat on over indulgence. And I saw this indulgence feed an unknown entity. I saw titanic battles that dwarf any Azeroth has ever seen. I saw the hate and rage rise from the battlefield and I saw it feed this unknown entity. I saw suffering and despair after the battles were over. From the laments of the widows and orphaned sons to the screams of the wounded. I saw it feed this unknown entity. I saw the plots and schemes against rival kingdoms, even rival worlds, and I saw the assassinations and the complex webs of plans woven masterfully against one another. I saw it feed this unknown entity. Over millennia the entity fed and fed off of this collective emotion. I saw entire worlds consumed by a terrible bloodlust. Some were gripped by a feverish despair and wasted away. Some worlds even descended into conspiracy and plot and to walk on them was to be a part of a huge master plan. Other worlds descended into debauchery and depravity. The inhabitants would gorge themselves on forbidden pleasures, each one becoming more and more extreme just to get their fix of satisfaction. The entity was growing strong. It was mere centuries until the entity properly “conceived”. Slowly but surely, the great gathering of emotion formed. It is folly to put this into words, for there is no physical description for what happened. The entity did not reside in the physical, but rather the metaphysical. It was everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. The “birth” of this thing was like someone slowly opening their eyes. No longer was it vacant and hungry, but alive and absolutely ravenous. And thus, Sol Invictus was born. And then Sol Invictus made himself known. He chose a champion. The “Avatar”. The Avatar’s purpose was to lead a select few warrior in His worship. Their purpose was to maximise each emotion that He comprised of, thus feeding Him. The name of these warriors were Invicto Incarnate. I saw the Avatar’s works and they were terrible and great. He carved bloody swathes through battlefields, He indulged in the drinking of their very lifeblood, He plotted and schemed His way through victory after victory, and the Suffering and Despair He invoked in others was awe inspiring. I gazed upon the Avatar’s armoured form. He was encased, head to toe in some suit of armour. It was forged from some unearthly metal it seemed, forged in the heat of Sol Invictus’ very rage no doubt. It was then that my purpose was clear to me. Sol Invictus has chosen His new Avatar. Me. It is my task to form this “Invicto Incarnate”. I must spread His word and gain likeminded individuals for my cause. And so, millennia later, I woke up the next day.