Marrakt

The Genesis of Ansolera (Guardian Angel Haruki / Marrakt)

Merrill shook his head, holding onto her.

"There's nothing to apologise for Callie. Nothing at all. It'll all be ok."

He hadn't ever had to comfort anyone before, and so Merrill was a little unsure about whether he was doing it properly. Eventually he settled for just patting her back awkwardly. The night was drawing on, and it had been a long night indeed..... In the distance the fire became nothing more than a damp smoulder.

Still holding Callie to him, Merrill lay his head on hers.

"You'll make it, I promise," he whispered to her.

***

The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming down into the small grotto. Its light reflected off the surface of the water which ran next to him. His eyes flickered open slightly, taking in the small sliver of light that illuminated their surroundings. The feeling of a small weight on his chest drew his attention. Glancing down, Merrill saw Callie's head, still laying on him, her eyes closed. They must have both fallen asleep from their exertions the night before.

Wincing inwardly, Merrill stood, gently moving Callie off him and withdrawing his arm from around her.

That was inexcusable, an inner voice hissed at him. You were supposed to stand watch over her as she slept. The demon could have come back....or your sister, or worse. You could have lost your charge because of your incompetence.

Sighing softly, Merrill walked over to the river. Sitting down there on the riverbank, he crossed his legs, and he watched the river as it flowed eastwards.

And as he did, he reflected on the fact that that was the first night he could remember for a long long time that he didn't have any nightmares.

The Darkness Within

Pressing the button, the world around them became a blur. The stars shot by them as they tore their own way through the multiverse. And as they did so, little did they realise that they were heading towards destiny.

The planet they were heading towards had only been seen in passing by the Galacticus's sensors. Noone had been to it, and as far as Morgan knew, they were about to be the first of humanity to set foot on it.

He should have been excited.....but he was not. All he felt inside of him was a barren, nothingness, and it was the nothingness that had consumed him slowly from within. The drink was a balm.....when he was drunk, it numbed the grief that he felt inside of him. But what it could not take away was her face. Her face, her eyes as she looked at him.....looked at him as she fell, begging him to help. That, inasmuch as he tried.....he was too late. It ate away at him, his dreams.....nightmares. The same one every single night, and each night he watched the same terrible vision. He was too slow. He was always too slow.

There was nothing he could do that night.....or was there? Was it his own failure that Vanna was dead? Her corpse nothing but empty vacuum now as it had been shot out into space, the way that she wanted.

Those women.....the women that he took to his bed. They all wore her face. They all had her eyes. And they all looked at him in that same accusing way.

You couldn't save me. You were too slow, and I am dead because of it.

Morgan should have been excited, yet like all things, like his bravado and his manner, it was an empty fake thing. Deep down, he hoped, as he hoped every time, that this mission would be his last.

And every time, every single morning he was disappointed. And every single day, the ghosts continued to follow him. They....she watched him.....and she waited for him to die.

All the sounds becoming distant,
Breathing easy,
As I melt in to the ground,
There is calmness on the water,
Moving slowly,
No darkness hiding here,
A strange kind of comfort,
Maybe this time it's good for me,
Took a while to get there,
So many days of falling apart,

There was a strange kind of comfort.....here in oblivion.

The red flash shook Morgan from his reverie. Eyes blinking in alarm, Morgan glanced over to the console, to the red blinking light warning of an object that had come into close proximity to them.....

"Wha.....an asteroid.....how did it get past your charts.....?"

He moved his hand to the flight stick, trying to twist the pod of its way, out of the collision path that it was on...... But he was too late.

Too late once again Morgan. You're always too late. You couldn't save me, and you couldn't save yourself or your partner.....

The asteroid smashed into the side of the pod. The impact caused an explosion from behind. Morgan's head jerks forwards, slamming straight into the console. All of a sudden as pain ripped through him, his vision turns red as blood pours from where his head had split open...... Gasping, as white lights suddenly flashed across his eyes, mixed with the blood that dripped over the sparking console, he reaches out, punching buttons into the damaged console desperately.

The pod was spinning, round and round and round and round and round and........

"Beatrice......we have to land......nearest planet......NOW!"

His vision suddenly blacked for the briefest of seconds as he closed his hand on the stick again, trying to pull the Falcon back under control as it went spinning out of control.....

And as he did, he looked up to see her face, looking back at him once more.

The Genesis of Ansolera (Guardian Angel Haruki / Marrakt)

My name is Merrill Anwin. Once, long ago, I was just like you.

He wakes, to the sound of horses and the motion of wheels moving. Opening his eyes, the first thing he sees is the sight of a raven haired beauty looking to him with an expression of concern on her features. She was wearing a long, flowing dress of multi colours, a garment that framed her beautiful, lithe form to perfection. Hanging from her neck was a beautiful emerald set within a golden pendant. She had worn the amulet for as long as Merrill had known her.

Dulcimae. Sister. The Dark of the Moon.

Sitting up slowly, Merrill winces at the sudden shooting sensation of agony that knifed its way through his gut. Dulcimae stood, laying a hand on his chest to settle him, pressing him down gently.

"Not this way. It should not be this way. You took a nasty wound from the sword."

Dark eyes looked down at his bare chest as worry flickered across them. Glancing down, Merrill saw the bloodstained bandage wrapped around his bare torso as she continued.

"It could have been worse though. Despite the fact that the man struck from the shadows, you managed to react just in time to avoid the worst of the blow. Either you have cat-like reflexes, or you were born with the gift. Except we know that that is impossible of course."

Laughing softly, the expression not lessening the worry in her eyes, Dulcimae stood. She missed the brief, pained expression crossing Merrill's features as he grimaced, and not from the pain. In all the years of their people, there had only been one recorded instance of a male child born with the sight that had lived to adulthood, and that man had been hunted down and killed. Legend told of a prophecy that a male born child with the sight would bring about the doom of their kind.

Dukkar, or Darklings as they were called, often showed their abilities early, and such children were killed before they grew to adulthood, and old enough to be a threat.

Merrill tried to rose again, but Dulcimae shook her head, pressing him down gently once more. "Rest, brother. Please, for me. Mother and Father have things in hand. We will cross the border tonight. We are clear of the bandits."

Dulcimae's eyes reflected her worry. Since childhood, the siblings had been inseparable. Their bond was one of blood, and it was one that the dark land they lived in could not break. From an early age, the troublesome siblings had inflicted all sorts of mischief on their long-suffering kin. And yet, despite their mischievous antics, the twins were regarded with much fondness and love from their tight-knit community. The others saw the twins as a lucky omen. Merrill was the light of the sun to Dulcimae's dark of the moon. And in the dark land they lived in, there was little enough good left to hold on to.

Tonight, they would look to cross the border, to escape from the tyrannical, lord who hated them and their kind. They would leave this place where their kind were hunted down and butchered on the whim of the mad lord, to make a new life for themselves. Tonight, their lives would change forevermore.

And as he lay down, as he looked his sister in the eye, Merrill nodded, and simply replied, "Aye."

For him, his own reckoning would come soon. Merrill knew, deep down, that he could not hide his "condition" from the others much longer. Already, there were mutterings in the camp. There were whispers that Merrill possessed some strange power that they could not comprehend. Sighing sadly, he closed his eyes. He would miss them....especially his twin, whom he had never been apart from. Once he was gone, he would carry a hole in his heart.

Yet, he knew no other way.

The door closed softly behind her. Opening his eyes, Merrill looked towards the door, where she had stood only moments before. A soft whisper escaped his lips.

"Goodbye, my sister."

***

He wakes to the sound of her crying. As his eyes flicker open, he feels a strange weariness overtake him. The last thing he remembered was the fire. The fire.....and burning. Bringing his hands up to touch his face, Merrill looks to the sky. Tracing his fingers across his skin, he is almost surprised to find that it, and he, is still whole.....

But how could that be? I died.....I remember dying in fire.....

Sitting up slowly, holding his head in his hands, he blinks once....twice. This didn't make any sense. There wasn't even any pain, just the memory of it.....burning away at him. Moving his hands away, he blinks again, looking over to see Callie there, on her knees, crying.

"Callie," he whispers, as he moves over to her.

He places his arms around her, drawing her into him as he holds her tight. Squeezing his eyes tight, he holds her.

"Its ok Callie. Its ok.....its all going to be ok. I promise." Tears formed in his eyes, spilling as they fell.

"We survived.....it doesn't matter how, but we did it....." Bringing a trembling hand up, he runs it through her hair as he holds her head into his shoulder.

"We survived....." he whispers again.

In the distance, the fire still burned, but the rain was dampening it. Soon it would be nothing but smoke on the wind.

The War of the Shadow

Looking forward to seeing what you come up with.

No heads required :P

The Genesis of Ansolera (Guardian Angel Haruki / Marrakt)

When it comes down to it and you stand here, at the very edge of the world, and the end comes for you.....can you look in the eye and say that you’ve done everything that you wished to do.

He burns. He feels the pain, the searing sensation of agony across his back from the flames. Yet even as he burns, Merrill shields Callie from the worst of it. He holds her as he pushes through the inferno, covering her from the fire, using his body to shield her. Feeling his arms burn, his legs burn, his face burn, Merrill doesn’t flinch as he presses onwards.

Lying in the arms of night,
In the shadows of the firelight,
Suspended by this feeling of fading away,
I want to run away with you,
So meet me by the cut through,
Together we'll make our sweet escape,

For the second time tonight, the forest turns into fiery death as Callie’s magic takes spark. Trees burn. Bushes burn. Grass burn. The animals, those too slow....they were caught fast in the tendrils of burning doom.

Despite it, despite all of it, Merrill pushes through. Scooping Callie up, his body now a shroud of fire, he holds her into him......ignoring the terrible pain and ignoring his fading strength as he continues on, one foot in front of the other.

The vision won’t come true.....not this time. The end comes for me.

The flames eat away at him, and the thought pushes away the dark void inside of him. He was dying, that he knew. Yet, that was immaterial.

”I am expendable,” he gasps, his features twisted, burned beyond recognition.

”But you must live.”

One foot, another one. Carrying on, because that was all that there was.

Under a canopy of stars,
Where thought and truth divorce,
In that latticework of dreams we are shameless,
I want to run away with you,
Somewhere they cannot undo,
Together we'll make our sweet escape,

Through the tops of the trees, the canopy of stars shone down on the burning man and the girl he was trying so hard, so desperately hard to protect. Even though it cost him his own life....

And then finally he was free. Free of the fire around him. Free of the smoke. Here, once more at the brook, he fell to his knees, letting Callie go. Falling forwards, hiding his burned face from her, holding his hands up to hide it, feeling his life fade from him.....dissipating into the ether like the ghosts that had chased him now for so long.....he gasps.

”Callie....” his voice is no more than a faint echo.....a ghost on the wind. ”The world is yours to change.”

Then his world fades into the blackness of oblivion.....

***

”Your magic is powerful, but uncontrollable,” the woman steps out of the shadows, as she had stepped out only minutes before to confront Merrill.

Her dark eyes gleam as they fixated on Callie, standing as she was there with the fallen Merrill. The colours of her clothing were in sharp contrast to the darkness of the grotto, outlined by the orange fire in the distance. Walking slowly over to where Merrill lay, her dark expression was unreadable.

”I came here to kill him. I did not expect him to die at the hand of the girl he was trying to protect.”

A small smile crosses the face of the stranger as she looks at Merrill’s ravaged body. She reaches out, her own perfect hand touching burned skin.

”Not this way. It should not be this way.”

Her eyes spark for a moment. Dark irises become white, and her hand begins to glow. Before Callie’s eyes, Merrill’s burned skin begins to fade.....becoming whole and pink once more. His body glows, and the wounds close, the burns all across his body fade. She gently turns his body round to face the stars. His chest rises and falls gently.

”His life has a price. It is one I will come to claim from my brother in time, as was pre-ordained.”

Standing, she looks to Callie. The strange woman’s voice begins to fade as her form begins to dissipate. She looks to Callie as she does, and she smiles softly.

”Remember girl, despite what you may have been told, and despite what history would have you believe.......not all of us bring death.”

And then she was gone.

The Genesis of Ansolera (Guardian Angel Haruki / Marrakt)

The scream pierced the clearing. Merrill glanced back towards the source of the sound.

”Callie,” he called out.

The figure stepped forwards into the light. The girls skin was tanned, and her brown curly locks fell to her shoulders. She wore a bright shawl of different colours, of purples, reds, yellows and oranges. Dark brown breeches and black boots completed the travellers unusual garb.

The flash of a knife reflected off the moon....

Merrill caught her wrist as she plunged the knife down. Holding her gaze, Merrill held her hand above his chest, the edge of the blade threatening to come down.

”You have hunted me.....all this time. Why?”

Dulcimae shook her head.

”Because of what you are. What you will become.....brother.”

He could see it in her eyes.

”You’re not committed to this course. Your heart isn’t in it. You, of all people should know better than to believe in prophecy Dulcimae.”

The knife fell from nerveless fingers, striking the ground. Looking to her, Merrill shook his head.

”I don’t have time for this Dulcimae.”

He raced back the way he came...

***

Flames erupted around Callie. The creature, whatever it was, went up in fire. The next thing that Callie felt was pain as it sank its fangs into her leg. Slithering back down, it wriggled and raced back into the shadows at the edge of the clearing as it burst into flame.

”Callie, hang on!”

Merrill’s cry came from the distance. Bursting into the clearing, he was shocked to see it in flame, and in the center of the fiery inferno was Callie.....

Trying to get to her, Merrill weaved around the flames......

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. As he did so, the flames caught the back of his breeches, setting him on fire.....

The Darkness Within

As his finger hovered over the ignition, Morgan looked back to her. His eyebrow raised slightly at her comment.

”Science Officer Briarwood...” he began as he pressed the button.

Behind them the jets came to life with a loud roar as the Falcon started to inch forwards slowly.

”You’re about to be the first of the human race to set foot on a planet in the Epsilon System.”

The officer waved them forwards. Twisting the flight stick, Morgan maneuvered the ship to the left. In the distance, the hangar bay doors began to open.

”Your siblings and your parents, for all their achievements haven’t done what you’re about to do. Congratulations Miss Briarwood,” he turned his head to her with a small smile. ”...you’re about to join the list of people that have accomplished something.”

Grinning, Morgan pressed the throttle forward softly, moving the pod forwards. Beyond, the open expanse of space beckoned. A veritable carpet of black punctuated by white glittering stars. The officer outside nodded his head and moved out of the way. On the metal walkway, standing at its head, Major Carver looked over. He held his hand up, signalling to the two of them.

Three days. Don’t be late

Heading towards the end of the hangar, the pod gradually increased pace. The exit came closer, leading to the cavernous, never ending abyss of space beyond.....

Then it was free, and the Falcon was heading out into the great unknown. On either side the blackness of the universe could be seen. There were other aircraft, both heading towards and away from the Galacticus on their own individual missions.

A waystation was hovering near the Galacticus, flashing red and green lights to mark the position of the ship. Several patrol ships circled the perimeter, keeping an eye out for any threats.

Turning his head back to Beatrice, Morgan grinned again.

”Are you ready to make your mark on the universe officer?”

He pressed the button to engage warp speed.

Marrakts Repository

Name: Garem Vursk

Appearance

With a smile and a wink, Garem is nothing if not ruggedly handsome, with a charming, charismatic aura that pervades the smoothness and charm that the man's aura pervades. From his wild, black hair, to his black goatee, Garem's appearance is one of wild charisma.

Indeed, Garem's appearance is all part of the package and appearance that he wishes people to see. Everything has its place, and everything has its purpose, and for him, he would not have it any other way.

His dark eyes are full of light and promise. When one looks into them, they see the promise of adventure and a life they could not possibly imagine. They see a doorway leading into another world, a world that while, perhaps wild and dangerous, is one of excitement and infinite possibilities. His smile steals both hearts and souls, and many a fawning lady would die just to see it for only a few seconds.

His leather jerkin and black tunic looks on the surface like it offers little protection from an incoming blade, yet it is possessed of some strange enchantment that renders it more effective than normal. This, combined with his breeches, simply emphasises the fact that here is a man that lives life on the edge..

Personality

Garem looks like he lives life on the edge, and his actions fully back that image. He is a wild thrillseeker who looks to live life to its fullest. In doing so, Garem doesn't give a damn who he annoys. All those stuffy, fuddy-daddy boring muppets stand in the way of him and his fun. Rafting down a waterfall on a boat split down the middle? Check. Playing chicken with a hill giant? Check. Jousting with dragons? He's got it covered.

Garem lives life solely for the moment. He tends to not get bogged down in inconsequential matters like possible long-term consequences of his actions. Life is for living and damned if he is not going to enjoy every goddam moment that he possibly can. And if he goes down, fine, but damn if he isn't going to take everyone else down with him and still come out of the other side unscathed.

Garem is a man of many admirable traits, but he is also a man of many vices, an unfortunate gambling addiction being one of them. Carrying around a set of loaded dice with him, Garem simply cannot help but challenge any random passers-by to games of chance. Being a thrillseeker, Garem is not beyond letting the dice decide his next actions for him, introducing a level of randomness and chaos that is his calling card. In addition to this, Garem is fond of taverns, booze, and wenching, but not necessarily in that order.

He is a wild, primordial force of chaos, one that cannot be tamed.

Background

Garem was born with the luck of all the gods on his side. Garem was destined for so, so much from an early age. And the young Garem had a fierceness, strength of will and sheer stubbornness to cheat fate and make his life so much better than anything that they could imagine

Garem Vursk was the youngest of two brothers. In the city of Alhaster, his family was a well-known and wealthy one. "Was" being the operative word. The Vursk family, with the exception of Garem, is no more. They had been marked by a dark and powerful family. On one dark night, the Vursk manor ran red with blood and burned with flames brought forth from the power of darkness. Assassins targeted Garem's home, murdering his father and mother in cold blood.

Garem never knew who ordered the attack, he only knew that the assassins were not as thorough in their task as they believed. The last remaining scion of the Mortliasta family, Garem escaped the attack, fleeing into the shadows that consumed his home beneath a tidal wave of destruction.

He fled to Greyhawk, with nary more than the clothes on his back, and a desire for vengeance. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on which way you looked at it, Garem did not walk the streets of Greyhawk alone for long. He drew the attention of certain individuals in the city, in this case a shadowy guild known as "The Sewer Rats". Taken in by this collection of nefarious people, they fell under the watchful eye of the guildmaster, an enigmatic individual known only as the Red Hand. What he saw in the boy was never explained. It was enough that he was, and he spared no expense in training him in the ways of the shadow. He was to stalk the night like a ghostly wraith, targetting the rich and the well-to-do. From those people Garem would steal indiscriminately, relieving them of their riches and valuables. It was in the guild that Garem met his beloved, the beautiful and gracious thief Vanna, and the two fell in love, a whirlwind romance that would end in tragedy.

Perhaps that was what the mysterious Red Hand saw - an extremely talented individual who would serve his cause well. This continued for a number of years, Garem and Vanna working together, until perhaps inevitably, the duo stole off the wrong individual. In this case a man called Zelkyr, a necromancer of not inconsiderable might. As they tailed the man, Garem felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. Fear. It was something he had not felt before. He should have noticed the colour of the robes that the man wore - black robes that, had Garem been paying more attention, would have identified the man..... Stopping his beloved in his tracks, Garem spoke to Vanna, imploring her to give this heist up and leave the prey alone. Vanna was stubborn and impetuous though, and refused to let any target go. Staying back as she walked the night, stalking silently up to her prey, Garem clenched his fist in fear. Vanna reached into Zelkyr's pocket and withdrew a large gem. A circular stone of darkest night. At that precise moment though, something happened. Something that would burn itself in Garem's memory indelibly for all eternity.

The necromancer stopped and turned to face Vanna, sensing her presence. He hissed, shaking a clenched fist.

"You have escaped! And you try to steal that which you have not earned little thief!"

Vanna turned to Garem, shouting at him, "Flee!"

Yet she was too late, a dark beam shooting out from the necromancer's outstretched hand, striking Vanna squarely in the back. Her eyes widened in pain as her mouth opened to scream. A scream that never came forth as she turned into a pile of dust, the gem falling and bouncing on the floor.

Garem escaped that night, but his soul was twisted and darkened by what he had witnessed and been through. He left Greyhawk, travelling to the port city of Sasserine, fearful of any repercussions from the necromancer, or the guild he had left without a word. And there he dwelt, nursing thoughts of vengeance. Vengeance against the ones who had destroyed his family, and vengeance in particular against the man who had struck down his beloved Vanna.

The War of the Shadow

Far, far to the north, in the frozen bowels at the spine of the world, a white tower rose up into the night sky. Outside, the sky shone with different colours. Purple, pink, blue, orange set against the glittering canopy that lay over the world of Aryth. There was very little that was pretty left, but this, the aurora borealis, was one of the few things of genuine beauty in this shattered world.

Inside this pale, marble tower of purest white, on the very top floor, a figure sat. Hunched over a wooden oak table, the figure pored over an ancient tome. Behind him, a fire crackled in the background, its light casting a flickering dark silhouette through the window. If the figure was affected or moved by the beautiful tapestry painted over the night sky behind him, he did not show it. Because for Aldherin, Sorceror of Shadow and one of the four Night Kings, there was little room left in his heart for beauty or warmth. All those things he had left behind him long, long ago. Back when the Shadow took him.

Flicker.

The pale face of an elven maiden looked back at him as he lay on the grass. Overhead in the sky, the sun shone brightly. There was a cool breeze blowing through the clearing. Sighing lazily, Aldherin looked to the sky as he snaked an arm around the maiden's shoulder, drawing her into him and holding her close.

"Would it be that this day could last forever, my love," he sighed again as he closed his eyes, feeling her head lay snugly into his breast.

Alas it could not, and as much as he wished it would, he knew all too well that reality would soon come crashing into his daydream. Already, rumours spoke of dark things stirring in the north, within the Spine of the World. Elven spies had spoken of strange activity amidst the frozen wasteland. The orcs were gathering and forming what seemed to be a unified force. Such a thing was unheard of. Traditionally the tribes of the northern lands spent so much bickering and fighting amongst each other that they were of no threat to anyone else. Yet now they moved en masse. Had something, some unknown force unified them under one banner? It was hard to believe, yet a troubling force nonetheless.

A small yawn next to him banished his fears, even if only temporarily. Looking down with a small smile to the elven lass curled up near him, Aldherin put his concerns to one side. How could he not when his childhood sweetheart lay next to him?

"Are you tired? You'd better take this time to rest up. Its your coronation soon, and you won't have any time left at all to enjoy these moments."

Almond-shaped, blue eyes opened as the girl balled her fist and punched him playfully. "You're such a dour-faced bore Aldherin. Do you have to put a downer on everything?"

Chuckling, Aldherin laid his head on the ground. "Somebody's got to be the serious one of the two of us Aradil."

Flicker.

The distant memory was one of the very few ones that Aldherin still held onto. As he sat, looking at ancient texts, he made a small gesture with his hand. The air in front of him flickered, gradually taking shape as it formed into the image of that pale, elven lass from so many years ago. Looking at it, Aldherin sighed as he whispered, "Everything that I have done, everything that has happened it is all because of you Aradil. You may deny me, but you cannot deny to yourself the truth that you desperately keep hidden inside of you."

Flicker.

The armies poured out from all sides. Meeting them, the elven forces stood firm. Standing away from then, Aldherin tried to block out the screaming and the clash of sword upon sword. His people were dying. Back in the great forest of Erethor, Queen Aradil was trying desperately to weave her magics, to cast the spell that he knew would save the dying remnants of the elves. This was not a battle they could win. And yet, as the armies of orcs boiled forth, ceaseless and neverending in their numbers, Aldherin knew that everything that he was doing, everything that his army was doing was nothing more than a delaying tactic. They could not win this fight. As he marched forth that day, Aldherin knew he was going forth to die.

And die he would, with pride, keeping his love safe.

There was a reason he was standing here, at this point, even as the rest of his people died in the ground below, the grass stained with their blood. Aldherin knew this would be the focal point of the conflict. This was where *he* would show.

Guttural snarling told the elf that he was not alone. Lips curled up in a slight smile as two orcs approached, clutching their vardatches tightly in their gnarled fists. Raising his arms to either side, Aldherin beckoned the orcs to approach. And approach they did, both of them springing into action, charging forwards as they attacked. But Aldherin was ready.

Spinning to one side, he dodged the first's clumsy attack as the second tried to close in from the other side. Swinging its vardatch, Aldherin brought his hand up, catching it on the wrist and keeping the deadly weapon from connecting with his neck. Balling his fist, he smashed it into the creature's throat, channeling the fire through his hands as he did so. The orc screamed, a sound that was cut off into a gurgle as the flames raced forth, immolating it and turning it into ash on the spot. Turning, he saw just in time as the first orc hurled a javelin at him. Waving his hand, a thin curtain of flame appeared, turning the javelin to ash as it pierced the flames, burning it before it even reached him.

Then, suddenly running forwards towards it, he spread his fingers. The orc, not prepared for the sudden ferocity of the onwards assault, did not react in time. Taken by surprise, it stood there as Aldherin dove forwards, driving his fingers through its eyes. Snarling, Aldherin summoned forth crackling electricity as he snarled, "Die, grak'lokk scum!" The electricity came through his fingers, channeling itself straight into the creature's gaping sockets. It screamed for all of a second before its head exploded in a shower of gore and brains.

Aldherin was alone, for a second, breathing heavily with the bodies of his slain opponents around him.

Then, the sound of clapping echoed throughout the clearing. Facing the sound, Aldherin looked to see a tall, imposing, hulking figure wearing armour made of the blackest ebony. The figure's head was obscured by a black helm with two slits for eyes.

"Jahzir."

Aldherin spat the word out. "What price did you pay, old friend? What price to betray everything you once held dear and turn your back on your own countrymen to make your lot with Izrador?"

Holding a large double-bladed sword on his hand, Jahzir pointed it at Aldherin as he responded. "For once, old friend, I wanted to be on the winning side. There is no sense in supporting a doomed cause, as you will soon find out."

Behind him, the gangly forms of more orcs appeared, flanking the Night King. Aldherin laughed grimly at the sight. This was not a fight he could win. Yet, it wasn't about winning. It was about buying Aradil enough time to complete her spell. And this....this, he could do.

Aldherin spat on the ground. "One more time then, friend. For old times sake."

With a scream, Aldherin charged in to engage his foe one last time, moving forwards to his own death.

Flicker.

But I did not die that day. *He* made sure I did not die.

Aldherin closed the book with a sigh. Reminiscing about the past made little difference. What was done was done now, and in the centuries since his taking, Aldherin's name and legacy had been stained with countless dark deeds. Whereas once he was the saviour of his people, now he was the slayer. Elf, human, dwarf, gnome and halfling alike had fallen under the power of his arcane might. Power that none, not even Aradil herself, could stand against.

"Aradil." The sound was like the harsh scratching of metal claws digging into wood. "You loved me once, long, long ago, as I once did you."

With a wave of his hand, he banished the image, and Aradil faded into nothingness. "Time changes all things, does it not, my love." Laughing, Aldherin walked slowly to the window to look out into the frozen world beyond. "The next time we meet, love, one of us will die. And your power, great as it is, cannot match mine, fuelled as it is by my dark god."

Clenching his fist, Aldherin watched idly as it glimmered with a glowing, white light. A light that burned brightly for a few seconds before fading into nothingness. "It is sad that it has come to this, but there is no way back for either of us now. We can only watch powerless as the path that is laid before us, and the story plays out to its conclusion."

His dark eyes glittered as he stared at the night sky.

"There is so little you know, love. So little that you and my precious god realise. The knowledge that I possess will change the world forevermore."

His voice trailed off, echoing in the wind as he whispered. "I have learned how to pierce the Veil separating our world from the realms beyond. And I need one more thing, one thing only to complete the ritual."

Another image formed in front of his eyes. That of a small, brass cylinder. Aldherin reached towards it, but his hands passed through the ghostly illusion.

"So small, so insignificant looking, yet the power you possess will bring a god to its knees."

The image faded as Aldherin looked away. "Soon, soon I will possess the key, and all the world's mysteries will lay open at my feet."

Smiling, Aldherin walked away from the window to contemplate, not on what once was, but of what could have been.

The War of the Shadow

@Birb the game is freeform but based on a d20 setting. The Heroic Path is a series of abilities that you will get at certain story junctures. For example, from your choice Charismatic, you will start the game with the ability to convince one person to do something they normally wouldn’t do once a day. At a certain point in the game you will get access to the next ability, but I will tell you when that is.

@ZAVAZggg You can play a character who used to serve the dark god and renounced his worship, but you cannot play a character currently serving the dark god.