Origin

(3rd Person POV)

- 267 AC -

In the world of ASOIAF or Planetos, a change occurred that no one would ever realise. The fate of the world and many people would be changed. 

Amidst the thundering hooves and chaotic cries of warrior people, there emerged a child unlike any other. His name was Ra's al Ghul, son of the mighty Khal, destined to inherit a legacy of blood and conquest. On that day, two boys, two Khalakka were born who were meant to meet in the future.

From the moment Ra's drew his first breath beneath the hot sun of Essos, it was evident that he was different from the usual children born to the Khal. For while his lineage and birth proclaimed him heir to the might of a Khalasar, he was a pure and gentle soul never seen among the fierce horse lords of the plains.

His father, Khal Pharno, sought to shape him in the image of a warrior, to teach him the ways of conquest and dominance, and to turn him into a Khal. But within Ra's heart beat the rhythm of compassion, a melody at odds with the harsh reality of the Dothraki existence. He was like Yoriichi Tsugikuni in a world filled with Demons. 

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The Dothraki people are a culture of nomadic warriors in Essos who range across the vast grasslands of the Dothraki sea in hordes known as Khalasars. Their chieftains are called Khals, while the wife of a Khal is known as a Khaleesi. The heir of a Khal is named the Khalakka. A 'ko' is one of the Khal's commanders within a horde. A 'khas' consists of the personal guard of important individuals, such as a Khaleesi or a ko.

The Dothraki consider riding a horse as a basic marker of social status. A Khal who cannot ride cannot rule. Custom decrees that the Khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of her place by the side of the Khal. A man who does not ride is considered the lowest of the low. He is not even seen as a man and is considered to be without honour or pride.

Although some are respected, women have a lower social status than men. For example, the Bloodriders of a Khal will not allow themselves to be commanded by his Khaleesi. Nonetheless, even the mightiest Khal will bow to the wisdom and authority of the dosh khaleen, the widowed Khaleesi who resides at Vaes Dothrak.

Most of all, the Dothraki follow strength. Should a Khal die without an adult heir, his kos might fight among themselves to take the place of the fallen Khal. In the case that the khal has a khalakka who is still a child, this heir might be killed so as not to be a rival.

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Pharno was a ruthless and strong Khal, who had no patience for weakness. Especially not from his own kin. So when his son, Ra's, who was 5 name days old at the time, turned out to be a gentle heart and refused to kill the slave, the Khalasar had taken, he became furious. There could be no weakness, no mercy. For the first time, the Khal was confronted with a problem, he couldn't just kill. 

He could kill his son of course, but he didn't really want to. Letting his son be, would show weakness in front of the entire Khalasar and killing him would be similar. So Pharno opted for the next best thing ... violence. 

Constantly, day in, and day out, Ra's was beaten black and blue under the name of training. The Khal was not gentle while conducting his teachings. When Ra's refused to kill a slave, his father would beat him black and blue and then make him run through the desert, carry heavy luggage like a mule and travel among the slaves and eunuchs. 

However, no matter what Bharbo did or how he punished Ra's, the boy simply took it. He didn't speak, he didn't cry, he observed, listened and obeyed. 

But there is only so much a soul can take before it gets damaged. Only so much until the young and gentle boy, is forced to adapt ... or die.

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Khal Pharno was standing facing Ra's, while most of the Khalasar surrounded them and watched the spectacle. In his hands were two arakhs which were his personal ones, he only used if he wanted to kill someone. It had been years since Pharno had taken it upon himself to make the young Khalakka al Ghul into a Khal. 

So the 13-name-day-old Ra's was standing in front of his father and knew that today, he might die. 

"Yeri hash been a disgrace to anna ha neak lekhaan. Anna is kashi ki kisha nakho jinak. Kisha will fight ma yeri che win ma survive, che yeri die." (You have been a disgrace to me for long enough. It is time that we end this. We will fight and you either win and survive, or you die.)

Khal Pharno swung his arakhs at Ra's. He was a fierce and strong warrior. He along with the newly emerged Khal Drogo, were both undefeated in their lives. But Pharno and Drogo will surely meet sooner or later and then one of them would die. 

*SWING*

*SWING*

The blades cut through the air and aimed to incapacitate the young Khalakka. This was a show just as it was an execution. The Khal was much stronger than the boy and smacked him around like a rag doll.

*Bang*

*Boom*

*SHING*

Ra's tried to dodge as good as he could, but while his talent was enormous, his strength was not yet at a stage, where he could contend against his father. The wounds accumulated and the Khal was unimpressed with his son's performance. The crowd cheered at the spectacle of the Khal seemingly killing his son and teaching him his last life lesson. 

"Yeri jif hash avvos been yol. Anha jif hash made yeri to the slaves at yeri athyolar.", his father told him and spat on the ground.

(You should have never been born. I should have made you to the slaves at your birth.)

The Khal had an angry look on his face. With a final swing, he brought both of his arakhs down and slashed Ra's diagonally, creating a cross-shaped wound. 

*SWING*

"AAARRHHH!", Ra's screamed in pain. 

The wound was deep. The blades penetrated his skin and muscles, cleaved through his sternum and cut his heart and parts of his lungs. 

"EEEEEHHHHHHHH", the crowd cheered when they saw the blood flowing out of Ra's' body. The boy, who was considered a man at this age, fell to the ground. His father the Khal looked down at him, as the life drained out of him, together with his blood. 

Pharno spat on the ground and kicked up sand on Ra's body. Then he turned around and walked away. 

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The young al Ghul lay in the sand, looking at the retreating figure of his father, the Khal. He understood that this was as much his fault as it was the world's. He was never meant to be here, in this dog-eats-dog world. He was never made for this and it showed. Unable to reach his full potential, he was bleeding out in the dirt. 

And at that moment, the brightness of his character, the goodness in his heart and the perceived weakness, was getting locked into the furthest parts of Ra's being. Locked away, until for a long time. At the moment of his death, his mentality changed. The kindness was locked away, leaving only the extraordinary genius. But it was too late now, or was it?

As the darkness was starting to whisper its sweet promises into his ear, another voice seemingly appeared out of nowhere and spoke to him, with an authoritarian but still gentle voice.

¦Ra's al Ghul, son of Khal Pharno it is not time for you yet. I have seen your situation. But worry not, I will leave you with a gift. A gift that will make you a true Warlord. Apart from that, there are a few special boons as well. You may want to spread your legacy after all. Take it and bend the world to your will...¦

The voice left him, never to be heard again. But as the voice stopped talking, Ra's suddenly felt something. He gained knowledge about something. He was gifted a Spark ... an Essence. The Essence of the Warlord.

Information shot through his mind as the Essence rejuvenized him and healed his body, leaving only the two nasty large scars on his chest. A constant reminder of his weakness and death, which gave birth to a new Ra's al Ghul. 

_

Essence of the Warlord

By consuming the essence of the Warlord you are granted several boons.

- A body above the peak of your species in ability, one sculpted to your tastes.

- Infinite willpower to tackle any foe, even bloody and broken you will not stop.

- Endless endurance, stamina, and immunity to pain.

- You possess potent regenerative abilities, otherwise fatal wounds like getting impaled through the heart or having your intestines torn out are a minor inconvenience. Organs will right themselves and heal back as they were, severed limbs will come back and reattach themselves, and any unwanted or hostile foreign contaminants will be expelled with extreme prejudice. Even decapitation is not the end as long as your brain or body is relatively intact. Anything too damaged or completely destroyed will otherwise simply spring forth anew where it should be.

- Supernatural mastery of many weapons and unarmed styles, even just plain old brawling.

- Immense skill in conducting war on a strategic and tactical level.

- Good handle on logistics and how to raise and train a force from a small band of soldiers to entire armies.

- Charisma to lead and inspire said armies even at your darkest hour.

- The ability to call forth homunculi troops that are trained and equipped (including mounts, beasts, or vehicles up to a certain size) to at the very least the standard of whatever world you find yourself in. Should you have different tastes or the requisite skills these forces may be called forth with equipment that is produced by yourself such as enchanted weapons and armor for your elite troops.

-> Your power determines the number of homunculi you can call forth, the stronger you are the more homunculi can be called forth. These homunculi are absolutely loyal and cannot be turned on you. The upkeep and Logistics of these homunculi are taken into account when the necessary support is summoned with them.

Special Bonus: - Your welcome

- Unmatched in the realm of sexual activities, even the most ennui-stricken succubus or goddess of lurid passions could be left a mewling mess. This bypasses any passive or active resistances and immunities that might stop it, your hands are the doom of any sapient creature you might care to lewd.

- You have perfect control over your fertility/virility, and your line will never suffer from any issues of inbreeding or unwelcome mutation.

_

Ra's was confused about the last part. He didn't understand a few words he was reading, but he understood their meaning. Sex was an important part of Dothraki culture as after pillaging, the Khalasar could take anything they wanted and that included women. Ra's was never really included there, as he was treated more like a slave than a human being. 

But that wasn't important. He was healed and he felt strength in his body. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. He rose to his feet and the loud cheering and shouting suddenly stopped. Everyone was looking at the young boy, that had just 'died'. 

The Khal stopped walking and looked back. His eyes widened at what he saw, his son whom he was sure he had just killed, standing back up and all healed. The only proof of the fight was the large scar on his chest. The Khal was not only confused because of the wounds though. Ra's entire aura had changed. Gone was the gentle-hearted and 'weak' boy. Only a dangerous predator stood before him. 

Khal Pharon shook his head at such thoughts. He grabbed his arakhs again and approached Ra's. He swung his blades at the boy. But he didn't hear the usual pained cry and wasn't even met with resistance. Ra's dodged all of the Khal's attacks and moved like a river around him. 

*BOOOM*

A fist impacted Pharon's face and smashed his cheekbones. 

*BOOOM*

Another punch hit him in the liver.

*BOOOM*

And another in the kidney. 

*BOOOM* *BOOOM* *BOOOM*

Ra's danced around his father and punched him all over, hurting him greatly. The Khal, the mightiest of the Khalasar warriors, was bleeding as his son beat him to death. 

*BOOM*

*BAM BAM BAM BAM*

The entire Khalasar watched as the 13 name day old young man, punched the Khal over and over and over again until nothing of his face was recognisable. It was a pathetic meat paste, causing his blood to flow out of his neck and paint the sand red. 

After a full 5 minutes of continuous punching, Ra's stopped and stood up. He looked around. His hands were bloody, his face full of blood and gore, but he had an impassive and unimpressed look. 

The boy was dead, he died in the sand ... and the Warlord was born.