Prelude
The castle stood erect on the lands, reminding all in the area of the curse. For many years the mighty lich Horlash had controlled the lands. He reigned over the lands with both powerful magics of death and an iron fist. Pure ecstasy overcame him when he witness the death of an innocent, their screams and cries of pain soothing his black heart. Bring a smile to the face of the tyrant he leaned back, and thought about how he would torment the new corpse that was before him. The simple half elf had wandered into his castle blinded, now dead and a lifeless corpse. Today was the exact day 10 years hence that he destroyed every paladin in all of the lands, each falling with the raising of a finger.
When Horlash invaded the many decades ago, and made his new home out of the castle of the old human tenants, he enslaved the orc's and gobliniod tribes. Brining their mass numbers into the castle and around doing his bidding, they would go of and conquer cities in his name. Races like Orc's respected a power, if you had it then the masses would follow. The door squeaked and cracked as it open and with it the head of an Orc popping through; Horlash narrowed his eyes piercing into those of the pitiful Orc. He walked over slowly and towards the Lich, ever so trembling. The Orc came right up to Horlash and whispered for a few minutes into the ear of the lich.
“What do you mean!” bellowed the newly upset Lich, causing him to rise from his throne and forgetting about his enjoyment lying on the floor in a bloody heap. He had walked this pathetic realm for with out a doubt thousands of years, he ruled as supreme ruler for much of that. All who opposed him died a painful death, something that would come to the Orc quite soon. This news did not sit with the lich well at all; it only enraged him even more. How could his elite troops, the best of the best in his army and most loyal, be dead. The pitiful Orc, Grurag, had dared comforted him, his power nothing compared to the all-powerful lich that stood before him. His pathetic existence matter not to the lich. Fumes of rage emitting from his body, growling a deep noise that are only heard in the deepest of abysses. His eye darkened into a deeper red, the color of hate and blood. Looking straight upon the being whimpering in front of his might he demanded in a deep voice “Who!”
“..g..human..” the Orc barely being able to say the words, shaken in full fear.
The lich move closer to the cowardly Orc, ever so slightly consuming his urges to incinerate the Orc right where he stood at that moment. The lich turned and glided over to the side of the disgusting piece of flesh that stood before him. Calming his voice a few levels down he said directly to his servant “Did you just say a .. Human?”
The nervous Orc nodded quickly thinking he was a little safer but not completely he blurted out quickly and without thinking “ah, yes sir, a Paladin sir!”
The rage escaped him, pure and utter rage. The very mention of the word Paladin always did. Screaming a primal rage he opened his palm and pointed it towards the scared Orc, petrified in fear and biting his tongue. A puff of smoke emitted from the lich covering the frozen Orc, covering him in a green sizzling substance. The very flesh was beginning to sizzle on the Orc, burning and disintegrating into nothing. The dying screams of the Orc echoing though-out the chamber of pure death. The skeletal remains dumping and tumbling all over the floor, the flesh reduced to a liquid state, forming a large puddle. The lich turned and glided past the wretched remains and towards his precious magical artifact. The very item that made him the most powerful in all of the lands, the clear crystal ball was perfect in every detail. Smooth all around and not a single imperfection, its importance second only to his powerful spell book.
“Fool how dares he,” growling as he came upon the artifact. Putting his hands over the crystal ball chanting an old chant to activate the powers of the crystal. “Show me the Paladin that dares to defy me!”. With a flash radiating from the ball and brightening the entire room of death, responding to its master’s command. The ball radiated another flash, causing the room to return to its darkness, its death. The ball displayed a picture of a young man wearing a suit of pure white armor.
The Orc had not been lying for the truth was before him, “So, there really is a Paladin. Let me see how powerful this servant of good is”. Reaching into his black cloak, he withdrew a large black book. It’s very smell of that of a hundred of newborn elves burning into ashes, inside a pit of pure evil. How many people when he was younger did he sacrifice to retrieve this book? How many souls did he consume just to fill his lust for death? Smirking with delight as he always did when thinking of the thousands that had, and the many thousands more that will. Returning to the thought at hand he utters the strange words, “Gathnogwal lato gineshiin”. Finishing the incantation and moving to his ball to observe what will happen. Goodbye my little rodent, was the last thought in his head before he began the incantation to activate the crystal ball.
* * * *
The very darkness overtaking the lands, it gave an eerie feel just walking outside it. The wind was cold and threatening, unforgiving to a man such like himself. The town he was in looked deserted hundreds of fresh graves was here. The last corpse was ready to be covered with dirt, “May you rest in peace, good woman” he whispered pouring the dirt overtop. This was the last of the villagers’ corpse’s he could find. “You shall die by my hand Horlash”, was the only whisper and comforting thing he could say amongst the many bodies of the recently killed people. Looking straight in the sky, hoping to see a bright light that he knew would never been. Sheathing his long sword across his back, and taking his helmet of. The young warrior let his flowing hair dangle in the wind, his eyes shifting staring start into the sky. Just like the Gods clashing in an epic war a sudden roar comes from within the paladin.
“I am truly sorry Melania, my true love”. Looking past himself and towards the home of the evil lich “How many shall die, die from your evil, die in your quest for power demon!” the screaming rage echoing throughout the dead village that was recently burnt. A few tears penetrating the eyes of the strong warrior forcing him to bring his delicate hands up to help hold them back. “I am sorry Melania, I’m sorry for not being there to protect you … ”
5 Years ago, a traveling merchant dark and mysterious came to a small temple town, it was Horlash in disguise search for more souls to add to his power. What he found he disliked in this humble temple town, he found a mighty Paladin in training, with potential to threaten him. Over the next day the demon infiltrating into the town, stole the one true love of this mighty warrior. Slaying her brutality without compassion in front of the pleading warrior in hopes to break his mind. Instead of falling into a clumped up form of tears he charged straight on berserk and ready to die.
“My name is Syrus the holy knight, and I will send you back to the depths of hell demon.”
“You have no idea what you are getting into boy, I am Horlash, just sit down and die like the preferable dog you are!” This triggering a further rage inside the heart broken paladin sent him charging blindly into battle, his fatal mistake. The mistake resulting in the lich dodging the attack and sticking a knife deep into the paladin, plunging it deeper and causing the wounded holy man to fall to the ground and to die. Horlash knelt down and whispered into the ear of the soon to be dead star-crossed lover. “I will leave you to die, but I shall let you see your life, all the innocents and love the children and everything else burn. Burn to the ground before your very last bit of life, so you shall feel the guilt of not being able to saved your loved ones.”
* * * *
“Father Rakwell, Father Rakwell!!!”, the young priest Tatora quickly woke the head priest who was sound asleep, praying to the gods in his mind in perfect harmony. “Wake up, we must flee. We are under attack!” A drop of blood splattering on the head priests face awakening him from his slumber.
“What the.., Tatora what happened” saying in a half sleepy state.
“Its an undead attack sir!” responding quickly but with a bit of rasp in his voice. Rakwell sat up quickly and look at the wound emitting blood quickly damming his robes and staining them red.
“What happened…”
“A vial demon wielding great magic of pure evil attack us” his breath coming harder and with a few coughs. Rakwell knowing what soon will happen helped the bloody Tatora up and onto his bed, pulling the covers over him begging him to rest. Rakwell motioning his finger over the mouth of Tatora to be quiet put his hands up over Tatora and began to chant a soft prayer.
Tatora pushed Rakwell’s hands away “stop it Syrus was stabbed and is dying, us your power to save his life. He may be the only one to avenge all the lives that were taken today. Please…” drifting further into the black abyss in his mind “plea…” reaching up to touch the shoulder of the high priest. “pl..” and with that his eyes shutting and arm falling back to a resting position beside on the bed, all signs of life leaving him his soul beginning its ascent into the heavens.
Rakwell closed his eyes and gave him a final goodbye prayer, one that would help souls of a departed victum in their journey for peace in the heavens. “Rest well my friend, your wish shall be fulfilled. You sacrifice here shall be avenged!”. The high priest got up from the side of the bed and rushed out of the room quickly to save the paladins life.
* * * *
Blood dripping from his mouth, coughing with pain, “I’m sorry, …. Ugh …. Melania”. Syrus’s eyes started to get heavy like the weight of 30 storm giants pulling down on his eyelids. I the distance above him he saw a light a bright one of pure holiness. Syrus knew at this moment it was his time, his time to leave. Ascending up towards the bright light he noticed a flicker of to the left, turning to see this greenish light. This light powerful calling to him beckoning him stronger its pull was then that of this holy light, it drew him away from the white light path and towards the green light. Then we he came closer to the light pure darkness overcame the area. There was nothing an endless plane of darkness, when he opened his eyes he saw hiss mentor Rakwell towering over him chanting many prayers of healing. The only salutation he could give was a few coughs, and a gurgling grown.
“Rest young paladin we have had a long day today, rest”.
Looking up into the star littered sky he closed his eyes again and mumbled softly “I am sorry Melania…. Enough of these weak thoughts, know is not the time to contemplate these horrific matters”. Syrus stood back up wearing the helmet back on his head and looking of towards to giant castle in the horizon. Signing uncomfortably, how many times has that dream haunted him, and how long more will it haunt. “The castle is not far of, soon destiny shall help me end you life”.
* * * *
The sun rose early that day rises high and above the horizon, chasing the evil of darkness into corners and shadows. Syrus though unlike the world was up, preparing for his destiny. He had a mighty long sword strapped against his back and a large holy cross-painted on the front of his armor. He began his epic march towards the dark castle he figured a few hour walk. The area though began to darken and Syrus knew something was up, his body began to dematerialize and begin to glow, and in an instant there was no trace of him.
Materializing in a dark chambre there was no light expecting from what was emitting from himself. He heard a gentle breeze hovering over the ground and turned around to face the evil Horlash himself. His face features were pure bone and there was nothing human about him at all. The pure disgust of the true face of this demon unsettted Syrus’s stomach causing him to stumble backwards a few feet. “Boy, you have no idea what you are getting into” bellowed the angry lich reaching for his dagger, the very one that nearly killed him so long ago. This time though Syrus was prepared and would not jump of into this battle
UN-sheathing his mighty long sword from across his back Syrus took a step back and prepared for the worst. He was more intone with this battle and was ready to clean the trash on his homeland. “Vile Demon you shall not get by me this time, this time I shall send you to hell” was the only words spoken before the battle. Quickly the lich took a few steps forward with a jab, only to be deflected and parried to the side. The long sword seemed to hum a bit with every inch that the lich took towards it. Syrus quickly did a roundhouse, which made the lich puff up in smoke to avoid it and pop up behind him. Syrus quickly spun and landed an overhead chop and the dagger sending the lich back a few steps by the pure strength in the blow.
“You seem to have gotten better with that sword boy!”
Syrus smirked “You haven’t seen nothing old timer” and with those words he came in with a running thrust and a side step to the left avoiding the daggers bite. The lich opened his hand and quickly chanted a spell of fireball, which caused a huge explosion of fire in the palm of the lich’s hand, with a grin he pointed it at the paladin and sent it flying. Cyrus took the full force of the fireball sending in 10 feet away from his opponent. Hitting the side of the wall with a thud he groaned and looked up to see the lich gliding closer towards him. With one fluent motion he rolled to the right and grabbed his sword bring it to a launching position. With a quick spin and a wind up he launched to sword at the surprised lich sending him back and flying. The magical sword humming its loudest and sucking the little bit of life and energy out of the lich causing him to scream. Its very teeth gripping to his insides causing maggots to fall form the body of the lich and making him scream in pain.
“What is this sword, no weapon can harm me, I AM HORLASH!”
“This is a magical sword demon it sucks evil from anything it touches purifying it and cleansing the soul. People like you who are fully evil are destroyed with in minutes. All the innocents who have suffered under you shall be avenged” a large grin overcame the elf, awaiting to lay justice on the demon. Hoping those who were cursed with the touch of death from the evil Horlash were here enjoying the moment of freedom.
“Fool, how dare you, I can not die, you shall pay. I will have the final laugh here boy; you have doomed this pathetic island you call home. I curse it with my final breath the evils shall run rampant, the island will not allow people to come or leave, an endless void, forever and ever. Just like death”. These words angering the Paladin bringing him closer and shoving the sword deeper and deeper into the lich, growling the whole time. The lich feeling the holy powers of the sword started to breathe slowly. “I am not done though boy, there must always be a plague to destroy this place, therefore I curse you. For killing me I change you now this instant and make you a slave of the dark, fearing the light surviving on those you most cherish, never being able to escape through death but by suffering”. The lich only laughed hard and long for a long time until no words came out of him and there was only a pile of dust covering a humming sword. An aura though consumed Syrus bringing a primal scream of pain, making his pure eye's blood red. His skin grew pale and he began to float. The light coming through the windows burning his skin, bubbling and boiling it. Screams of pained echoed through the liberated castle, empty cold like Syrus’s new soul. He quickly went for his sword so he could hide in the safe shadows but when he picked up his sword it began eating his hand, screaming in agony he threw the sword far into the sky. The sword flew high and out of sight for new strength flooded in the blood of the new creature. Tears flowing down his eyes, he was afraid and scared and hurt, but something else came over him, a thirst. A thirst for blood, red warm blood, shaking these desires from his mind he cuddled in the corner of the room and began to cry. A echo rocketed through his mind Syrus Goldentree, feel my wraith”