All the World Needs is Zack

[Lollercide]

--- Insanity ---

A lanky figure pushed through the brush and brambles of the Viridale forest. Escaping through the rough of it, he stumbled into a clearing -- The tops of the trees spaced out so that the noon's sun could peek to the forest's floor to shed light and warmth onto his features. Dark sienna skin, clad in black scaled armor, and then most noticeable feature; long horns that protruded from his skull, shooting up two inches before meeting a sharp bend that pointed them forward.

A fiendling. Born a monster to live as a monster. He was no stranger to the cruelty of sentient beings, and by far no stranger to surviving on his own. They came hand in hand for one born as he was. But that made him strong. It taught him how to be resourceful and to only rely on himself. Others were merely tools that try to project their beliefs and psychology on him in hopes of understanding. No. In hopes of changing him. In hopes of using him.

The fiendling reached for right his horn like he always would when thinking; twisting his index finger and thumb of his right around the pointed tip of his horn while he gazed to the skies, letting the warmth of the sun wash over his tired and anemic appearance. His recent return left him with a lot of questions -- or rather -- answers to his questions, which brooded a lot more questions in turn.

Why was he alive? Why did he exist? The Druids of the Glade had told him that he had no place in the balance. That he was product of an unnatural occurrence; the mating of an outsider with a mortal from the Material Plane. This made him unnatural ... inconsequential. Something he refused to believe. Whether it was the ego from his human half crying out to him or if there was truth to his significance, it could not be measured, weighed, or proven.

Such is perception and reality; forever damned to never bear any form or manner of determining the discrepancy between the two. Popular belief and the most common projection reigning as truth and reality. Even when understanding this, the fiendling demanded answers. And for that he would look to the only person in the world that he could trust -- Himself.

The tiefling dropped down on the soft forest floor, folding his legs together as he rocked side to side in another thoughtful habit.

"Zack has faced a lot of dangers. Being drowned, lynched, pushed into fires, stabbed, had magics cast at him, and has even come face to face with menacing dragons. Each time Zack has escaped with his life," he said to himself while furrowing his brows.

"... was it luck? No. No. The world is keeping Zack alive. It must be. The world needs Zack. It has to be the world that allowed Zack to exist. It had to be the world that has kept Zack alive for all these years and it's keeping him alive for ..."

"... for something. Something that puts Zack in an objective state of being that attracts those that inhabit the world. A center of gravity for all sentient beings' malice and hate. But why make Zack so hard to kill ...?"

"... especially when it's so easy for Zack to take their life, so maybe ..."

"... just maybe that's the point and ..."

"... All the world needs is Zack."

That was it. All the world needed was Zack, and that his existence spent in exile and all alone since birth was part of the entire purpose. But Zack hated the world for that. He hated the world for creating him to exist that way and then turn around and taunt him by giving him human blood that demanded him to socialize, wish for companionship, and to try and fit in -- When that, in this world and its current state, was impossible. As he was not part of its balance.

That only meant one thing: he would have to change the world. Create it into a place he can enjoy. One that has a place for him in the balance; the new balance he would create so Zack could exist peacefully. That was his purpose.

The others were wrong the whole time. His existence was never inconsequential.

Their existence was ... is.

He was sure of it.

[Lollercide]

--- Solace ---

Zack made his way to the crater known Shar's Abandon. The earth still ravaged by the explosion from months ago and with the entirety of the blast radius still remaining shrouded in absolute darkness; a veil that even the light from Selune's moon, eerily enough, could not penetrate. As if the darkness itself was forged as an impenetrable barrier against her light.

It didn't matter, though. Zack never intended on entering the crater and merely wanted to stake out near it so he could keep his somewhat renown sharp ears out, for he was certain that the Moth Oira were up to something. They have been neglected by everyone for far too long, and after the encounter Zack had earlier that day with one of their members? He was damn near positive. Now all he had to do was figure out what.

Zack found the nearest tree outside the crater's rim and climbed with the ease of a limber acrobat and that of a skilled climber. The fact that the tree itself was partially uprooted and tilted back away from the crater didn't hurt much, either. Zack pressed his back into the tree, the bark facing the crater having been blasted off exposed the tree's soft core and made it unexpectedly comfortable for the tiefling.

It was on that tree Zack would lay in absolute silence for hours -- Not even the buzz of insects or wildlife could be heard as no living creatures were daring enough to approach the rim of this crater. Only rarely did a gust of wind whistle through the void crater to break the still silence and each time it sent shivers up Zack's spine. It really wasn't so hard to feel the evil emanating from it. From the shadow weave and this place's odd connection with the shadow plane, but for Zack? It felt right. Comfortable.

Idle thoughts began to slip into his mind as some form of entertainment during his wait. One even managed to stretch a grin across his face; realizing how 'Good' never becomes better by exaggerating it, and 'Evil' only becomes greater by neglecting it. He thought if you turned it around? Neglecting 'Good' and exaggerating 'Evil'? That would get people to attempt greater goodly deeds for recognition while striking more fiercely at evil before it takes root. More productive indeed, he thought, but that was not the way the world worked. He guessed it was something that would have to change when he established his 'new' balance.

The new balance will be great -- no, perfect -- he thought while slipping an ebony horn from behind the calf of his leg, holding it up and examining it with fascination. The horn was not too different than his, or any teifling's horn for that matter. It was at dagger's length and with a seemingly polished surface that left it to gleam miraculously, even in the faintest of lights. A gift from 'Spikes' before he departed.

Thinking of Spikes, Zack wondered if he ended up getting himself killed. That would mean Zack had one less to kill himself, leaving him with only Nocte to deal with. And as great as that would be, Zack doubted that was the case. Because like Zack? Spikes was good at what he did. Come to think of it, so was Nocte, despite popular belief.

It was only a shame for Zack because he knew that in the end, only one of the three supposed 'brothers' would be allowed to exist. He secretly wished that it did not have to be that way, but he was also certain that the feeling was only his human blood trying to betray him.

[Lollercide]

--- The Truth ---

Zack's feet padded quickly across the floor of the Viridale Forest as he fled. Giving long leap over an ancient root protruding four feet from the ground followed by a smooth slide under a low branch to gain distance; never missing a beat as he recovered from the slide and continued his sprint. Still, the padding of the hooded people's pursuit was not as far behind him as he would like.

They were fast and well adapted to the woods. Better than Zack would ever be, but unlike Zack they did not have the one thing that guaranteed they would never catch him. His years of experience. His entire life spent running away; from guards to farmers, merchants, wizards, mercenaries, paladins, and religious followers ranging from servants of Bane to servants of Sune. It was simple -- in order to survive, Zack had to run.

So he did. The steps of his pursuers growing dangerously close, Zack span around to cast a well placed Grease spell to ensure a safe escape. It worked as intended -- The hooded figures slipping and some even falling in the large pool of grease. Gaining this opportunity, Zack managed to successfully escape.

...

Zack finally stopped to catch his breath when the border of the Viridale forest became visible. They were long gone, and even if they had decent trackers amongst them, it would be a while before they actually caught up.

He unclenched his fist from around a piece of paper; the entire reason they were chasing him to begin with. On it was crudely scribed letters in charcoal, stating a time and a place. But this was important. Of course it was -- Why else would they be chasing him for it?

No, it was more than just important to them. It was important to Zack as well. He would refuse to admit it 'til the day he died, but this piece of information was probably the single most important thing he carried right now. At least, ever since his precious mandolin was destroyed.

This piece of paper was it. The proof everyone demanded from him in order for them to start believing him. But ... did he really want that?

I mean ... did he truly wish for that? To answer the demands of giving proof to the same people that beat and kidnapped him for a crime they had absolutely no proof of him committing? Who tried to accuse him of murder and after being brutally interrogated by the Legionnaires, he was set free labeled and proven as innocent only to have them laugh at him for having to undergo that torture?

His digits curled around the piece of paper, balling it up into his palm as he started to have second thoughts. No. Zack does not need them -- He never did before, so why would he need them now? He's always been fine on his own. All the world needs is Zack -- Right ...?

And the schisms inside of his mind began to grow visibly now in the form of an unnaturally broad grin that exposed his pointed teeth, dividing his desires from his knowing what's best to what he wished to be.

"It's alright," he reassured himself. "This only results in a minor change of plans. The information is still valuable to the right people. And Zack knows who the right people are."

[Lollercide]

--- Self-Aware ---

The tiefling walked away from the Exigo Syndicate's trade post's fire with anger swelling in his bright-red eyes. Vulnerability. Weakness. Stupidity. He hated it all, and he hated himself even more for having it. Too human to be accepted by fiends and too fiend to be accepted by humans. Just the way that it was and the way that it always will be.

... but he thought he could change. Despite this all, he thought that if all the world loved Zack, then it would only be as easy as becoming Zack. It made so much sense, but ...

"Shit!" he cried out, kicking at the dirt on the crossroad's road. But she was right. If Zack only existed subjectively -- if he was Zack the entire time -- then there was no hope for change. How could there be? Who he wanted to be, what was best for him to be, and what was safest for him to be were three different entities that could not coexist in the world if any of them had a hope for surviving.

So what did that leave? Who -- what -- was he? Zack? No ... that was only a face. That was only what he wanted to be. Just a name he stole from the bard he murdered in Luskan. The alter ego created to give himself comfort and the false hope of having a chance to live his dream in Faerun. His real name...? The name they gave him?

"Sodom," the tiefling muttered, pressing his palms into his face as he continued to pad down the dusty road. The air seemed colder than usual as the name carried with it many memories of Thay. Of all the killing, assassinations, murders in cold blood, and other foul things he was bred and trained to do ... and oh how he loved it.

He could only remember how alive he felt when taking the life of another. The power he had when they were writhing in his arms and gasping for air as he split their throat like smooth silk with the end of his dagger, velvet ribbons streaming out from the perfectly symmetrical incision and down their neck as life slowly bled away from their hollow shell.

Each one had it coming. Each one deserved it as much as the other. As much as Zack -- Sodom -- would deserve it if he should he suffer the same fate. That's what terrified him. That's why he ran away and took the identity of Zack. To escape from his blood and birth to maybe find an existence that wouldn't end up that way.

The crickets began to chirp as the moon settled into the star studded sky. The tiefling sat down beside the burnt stump of his old tree and began to cradle his knees.

"What do I do now?" he asked himself in first-person for the first time in a long time. "I don't want to be hostile. I don't want to be dismal."

He pressed his face into his knees. "But I don't want to live in this apathetic existence."