Wars of the Black Alliance
Malavack the Pitiful
Malavack the Pitiful of Hedrun Ferr
Malavack was once Malavack Deathfire, a mighty guardian of an ancient relic called the Obelisk of Tortured Souls. He did not know why or how he came to be the guardian of the Obelisk, only that he was supposed to guard it. C’est la vie, as the dragons say.
For centuries Malavack would happily defeat one questing knight after the other, using their bones to pick out the leftovers of other knights from his teeth. It was a good time for all.
Ah, Délicieux! Everybody’s having fun!
Alas, all this happiness changed one fateful day. While Malavack was cheerfully munching on yet another crisp questing knight, a mysterious figure snuck into its lair and drained the Obelisk of Tortured Souls. When Malavack came strutting back, knight bits in his teeth, he discovered to his horror that the Obelisk sat empty, silent. Someone had drained all the tortured souls. He had failed in his sacred duty.
Malavack rushed outside, wings flapping in panic, as only a dragon can do when it panics. But there was nobody there. Oh, there was the usual pile of knightly corpses, Malavack’s pride, but he could care less about them now. Something inside Malavack broke. A dragon was not supposed to lose its ward. Not without dying in glorious combat. “Par tous les dieux!” He cried, as he flapped his wings some more and considered his options. “Mort alors!” – Death it must be, he decided, and attempted to impale himself on one of the discarded lances. In this he failed as well. He just couldn’t do it.
In despair the defeated dragon crept back into his lair. There it stayed for a century, wailing every night, and telling off every knight. “Alas, but there is nothing for ye yonder…” it would say to the startled knight, who would take a sad fright at the miserable sight.
Eventually, a village was settled at the feet of the dragon’s mountain, and the citizens would eventually be fed up with the wailing dragon. They signed a petition and sent the mayor up the mountain with an eviction notice. Malavack read it, despaired some more, ate the mayor, and flew off. “There ye humans…” it bellowed “…behold ye the flight of thy tormentor. I go into the night, there to find my fate. Au revoir!"
But no fate other than misery was to find Malavack. Every lair and relic it came across already had a guardian monster. There were simply no jobs available.
Distraught, Malavack took to drink. The dragon settled near the town of Far Water in Moriban, and raided it for malt liquor every night. Tired of putting out fires, the people soon learned to provide an appropriate beer-offering outside the walls, thereby depriving Malavack of any reason to visit the town.
No longer having to endure the shameful stares of the good citizenry, the dragon accepted this arrangement with pitiful gratitude, and so changed its soul name to Malavack the Pitiful. Thus it has been for decades.
Though no one have seen the dragon for a lifetime, most still believe it is out there, as the offerings are gone every morning. Doubters insist that it is the work of perplexed but thankful pirates, but the true believers disagree. Sometimes at night, when the wind from the coast is quiet, you can hear mysterious inhuman wails coming down from the highland.
As the dragons say: Dieu seul le sait!