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PostPosted: Jan 13th, '08, 21:15 
Twilight Council
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Joined: Nov 13th, '06, 13:41
Posts: 1249
Location: In ur base killin ur doods.
Eons ago, before the eldest of todays men can remember, there lived a man so bitter and twisted, that it was rumoured that hell itself sent him back. The man lived in a snowy kingdom, in lands that have since been built over many a time, ruling with iron fist over any who should walk into his kingdom, slaughtering anyone who did not meet his likings, anyone who opposed him and all who spoke ill of him, by method of hanging, drowning or simply cutting off a part and allowing them to bleed to death.

The man lived on to the ripe old age of sixty three, at which point he died in his bed at peace, but his soul did not pass over. Instead it forced its way from the old frail corpse and entered the world of the living to continue the mans evil doings. It was not long before this spectral wraith learnt of its taste for the life force of the living, and at that point it set about slaughtering everything in its sight. Before night became day, the city lay dead, destroyed by the very man who once ruled it.

Millenia past and the wraith continued its slaughter on the living, growing in power with every kill. All knew of its existance now, and all feared it, and those that didnt were insane, or fools... But they were fools with a plan, for five heros got together in a woodland grove in wait of the wraiths coming.

Few of them were anything special. A silver dragon and his disciple perhaps the most exotic of the group. With them stood a woodsman, a keep and brave tracker and ranger, defender of innocence, his axe as keen as his eye, a man of discipline, who chose not to fight with weapons, but with his own body, and finally, a king, a noble man with a good heart. They stood and combined one vial of blood form each person, and scattered it in a rough circle around their camp and waited.

Deep into the nights embrace, there was a russling in the trees. The woodsman knocked an arrow, sat high amongst the trees branches. He knew it was there before any of the others, a small child, female, lost and alone, asking for food and water from the five warriors.

The moment the girl stepped into the circle, the arrow was loosed, striking her between the eyes. She fell dead on the leaves, and sure enough from within came the wraith, a cunning plan, but not enough to trick these five warriors. The king becan to chant a locking spell, sealing everyone and thing that was already within the circle of blood in, and that which was out, out. Desperate, the wraith flew at the dragon, knowing it would be enough to kill the others combined, but before he could reach his desired vessle, the dragons disciple cast a spell, planeshifting those withing the circle to another plane.

All fell silent, and all that once lived within the circle had died, the heros gone, as if they didn't exist. The plane of choice was hostile to all that lived a mistake on the young elfs behalf, for, though they could not survive this plane... the wraith could, and by his hatred, swore he would return and exact his revenge on the world.

Time passesd... the wraith grew weak with its lack of food, but found the fortitude to survive. As the years go by, we grow closer to his rise.

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Never under estimate the power that language imparts. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can break hearts.

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