Ignavus II

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Evan Kelly

Jennifer Murvin

English 315: Creative Writing: Fiction II

March 2, 2013

Creative Writing II

Ignavus II

Wralgars long, stark white hair danced lazily in the warm morning wind as the young

barbarian looked out over the icy bay below. The sea around the Frozen Fangs should have

been complete ice in the perpetual winter that surrounded the Jarreg kingdom, but the frigid

waters were agitated. The broken sheets of ice crashed and split as the submerged waves

pushed them over one another. Wralgar hand combed the soft strands of his restless hair

behind his ears and sat forward in his dark oaken throne inlaid with the images of men

vanquishing monsters. He placed his head into his hands and a gust of wind freed his hair which

immediately resumed its ballet about his face. The young barbarian drew the warm morning air

through his mouth and deep into his lungs. He exhaled the breath slowly through his nose and

tried to clear his head of thoughts, but it was of no use. He could find no peace this morning.

With an annoyed grunt, Wralgar shifted his deerskin boots beneath him, drew the polar

white fur of the Yorguur around him, rose from the throne and walked across the dirt and stone

ground towards the edge of the cliff. The young king stopped at the precipice and looked out

over the choppy bay with his radiant golden eyes. Unlike his kin, Wralgar was different, unique.


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During his 25th

summer of life, he stopped ageing. While others around him continued to collect

wrinkles and scars, Wralgar remained untarnished, his skin pure and devoid of even the

smallest defects. His absolute white hair was also an abnormality. From birth it had quickly

grown long and now in the wind it caressed around his body like the ghost of a lost love seeking

embracement. Wralgar was also exceptionally tall and strong as the Jarreg were renowned to

be. His chiseled body and prominent jaw gave proof to that testament, but he alone had a

power beyond the physical bounds of the mortal body, a strength that put him above all in his

kingdom. Wralgar wielded the power of voice.

It was a gift that had lain dormant inside him until he faced down the mighty Yorguur, the

white death, the bane of his people. The monstrous yeti had hunted his kin for hundreds of

years and became the nightmare of legend that not even mothers would use to scare their

children to sleep at night. If you saw its polar white fur and coalblack eyes, it meant your

death. Scores of brave warriors had tried to vanquish the beast. All had failed. None could best

the monster by martial means. But Wralgar was different. He wielded no weapons, no armor,

and hardly any clothing to protect himself from the frigid winter of the Frozen Fangs. Using only

his voice, Wralgar sang the beast to death. The feat of slaying the monster with his voice was

beyond the understanding of most of his kin, but when he returned home with the legendary

Yorguurs fur draped around his shoulders, none could deny his claim. The next day he was

proclaimed king of all Jarreg.

The wind played over the Yorguurs fur, sending rippling waves across its white lustrous

length as if it was an ocean. Then the warm breeze once again animated Wralgars hair sending

it to parade in his face as if it was a court jester demanding attention. But he paid it no heed.


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His mind was elsewhere. The Jarreg began to shuffle on his feet as his eyes darted across the

bay looking for something to hold his attention, being careful not to allow them to fall on the

dark water below. Wralgar found nothing. His gaze drifted towards the sun until its radiance

temporarily blinded him, causing his eyes to protectively snap shut. An irritated grunt forced its

way out of his mouth. Where are you priest?

The priest in question was Morzak, a stocky, average height middle aged man that had

just reached his fiftieth summer of life. A black well groomed beard grew about his stoic face

and reached towards trimmed dark unyielding hair, and his kind green eyes could set any

troubled soul at ease. Since his arrival over a year ago, the two had met each day so that he

could teach the young barbarian about the world beyond his frozen realm. The lessons ranged

from the many and varied sciences to the depths and moralities of the soul. It was unheard of

for an outsider to be allowed in the Jarreg kingdom, much less to even survive in the

inhospitable winter of the Frozen Fangs. However, Morzak, a southerner, was the personal

tutor to the king of all the Jarreg and that should have been unbelievable. But like Wralgar,

Morzak was also exceptional.

Morzak hailed from the Kingdom of Cordyere a land far to the south, almost a world away.

Cordyere was known as a beautiful realm, a hearth of two seasons, summer and autumn. Here,

old forests grew untamed and tall; rivers flowed through lush valleys with fertile land that

produced bountiful harvests. Small homely villages dotted the countryside and castles as

stalwart as they were beautiful protected all from the many threats of the outside world. Its

people never hungered or met strife. Morzak left this majestic realm for the Frozen Fangs, and

he did so by choice.


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He was not the first priest from Cordyere to be tasked with gaining entrance into the

secluded frozen kingdom. Five from the Order of the Phoenix came before him, and all five had

either been killed outright or slaved to their deaths in cold mines. But Morzak wasnt a simple

priest. He was a Philbellic, a military scholar that specialized in war. Upon arriving at the gates

of the kingdom, he immediately called out a challenge to any that could hear him, daring any to

try to deny him entry. The one attribute the barbarians valued upon all others was strength, so

they could not refuse his challenge lest they wish to forfeit their honor. Using his red full plate

armor, matching kite shield, long war mace, and superior fighting techniques, Morzak crushed

ten of the Jarregs strongest warriors as if they were children first learning to wield a weapon.

When all ten laid dead at his feat he was granted entry and acceptance into the kingdom. Since

that day, none had challenged Morzak. To the Jarreg people, Morzaks strength was without

question.

Today however was not a day for fighting, and from Wralgars perspective it was becoming a

day filled with nothing. It had been a week since their last meeting on Wralgars personal

balcony, where Morzak began the tale of the scholar and the knight. Since that night they had

failed to meet again. Never before had Morzak relented in his teachings. Each morning he

would rise, awaken Wralgar, and the two would begin a new lesson as they had from the day of

the priests arrival. They never missed a lesson and that made the current situation even

stranger.

From the very next day after the night on the balcony, Wralgar began to witness a change

quickly coming over the priest. His bright green eyes fell tired and empty while dark circles

began to form under them. The strength is his poise had also abandoned him. Morzak


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shambled about like an exhausted old man straining to make even his basic daily rounds. To

Wralgar, it was as if a dark cloud was looming over the priest, sucking his soul of life, turning

him into an empty husk. And every subsequent day it had grown worse. Each morning Morzak

had met him exhausted as if he had endured a sleepless night, and Wralgar reluctantly had to

turn the man away. Wralgar loved and needed each lesson he was taught, but he wasnt willing

to make the priests health suffer for it. The young Jarreg was sure that with a little rest the

priest would be ready to continue the lessons the next morning. Today however Morzak had

not even risen to greet him, and now Wralgar continued to stand alone on the cliff, his radiant

eyes overlooking the bay as the bright sun shone down from above.

Abruptly, a fierce cold breeze crept up from the dark waters below and blew back the young

kings hair and polar fur cloak. Bumps like gooseflesh quickly rose across Wralgars exposed

chest and arms as he wrestled to bring the white fur back around him. Unable to avert it

anymore, his golden eyes fell on the dark, cold waters below.

At first glance, he saw nothing but the broken ice and restless sea, and he breathed a sigh of

relief. But to his horror, something crawled forth from between the ice. Two swollen, rotted

hands grasped onto the frozen surface and a drowned corpse pulled itself from the frigid

waters. Wralgars heart leapt in his chest and his paced quickened as the dead man lifted

himself from the ice. The cadaver moved slowly, the bones and rotted muscles inside it creaked

and snapped as the husk jerked itself into a standing position. Long heaps of black hair stiff with

mud and other refuse clung to the body and showed the emaciated curves and crevasses of

the carcass. Slowly, the dead body turned and faced towards Wralgar, it hollow pits where eyes

once rested gazing directly at the barbarian. Much wasnt left of the corpses half eaten face,


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the eyes and nose were gone and nearly all of the teeth had fallen out but it was enough,

enough for Wralgar to know beyond a doubt.

No! Youre dead! No!Wralgar retreated on his heels and tripped on the loose edge of one

of the worked stones in the earth. The young king scrambled backwards on all fours and threw

himself into the oak throne. He pressed himself as far back as he could in the chair and grabbed

the arm rests as his limbs flexed as he tried to bury himself further into the wood, moaning no

repeatedly. The hairs on his body stood on edge and not even the warmth of the Yorguur fur

could still the dagger of fierce chill creeping up his body. His arms and legs stiffened as if they

were stone.

The cadaver began to move again and what seemed with great effort. In short spastic

motions the dead man raised his rotted and swollen right arm until it was level with his ruined

head. The only remaining finger on his hand, the index finger, pointed off into the distance,

farther out into the dark broken bay. Wralgar followed the corpses line of direction which led a

solitary island at the very edge of the harbor.

The small pointed outcropping was covered in ice and seemed nothing more than a collection

of large boulders heaped upon one another by the waves. But to Wralgars people, it was

known as the Crypt of the Ancients. As the young king continued to stare at the crypt, shrill

voices drifted in on the arctic air until the he could hear them clearly as if the orators were

whispering into his ears. He could feel their festering breath on his skin.

ComeCome to ussss.Comeit is time..Comeyoung kingCome.The voices

continued the mantra until it built into a loud cacophony that filled Wralgars mind and invaded


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his soul. He screamed and shook his head, covering his eyes from the horror. The spirits cackled

sadistically for what seemed an eternity and then abruptly stopped.

Wralgar hesitantly peered between the cracks in his fingers looking for his assailants. The

drowned man on the ice was gone, and the voices were as well. All that remained was the

agitated harbor and the ice breaking within it.

The young king pulled his cloak around him and tried to vainly to warm his chilled

extremities. His fingers and toes felt frostbitten and his arms and legs were still stiff from the

unnatural cold. It would have been easier to start a fire in a blizzard.

Wralgar worriedly eyed about, looking for some sort of salvation in the now frigid morning.

Where are you priest!? All traces of anger had been replaced with fear.

Morzak stood in utter darkness as the world above him continuously thundered. In the

blackness of the room, the storm sounded like the end of the world. The booms shook the walls

and ceiling and sent dust and dirt raining about. The particles fell on Morzaks head and some

on the bits dropped into his eyes forcing them to shut.

The priest moved his right hand to wipe his eyes clean but the chain cuff at his wrist stopped

his motion short. The cuff bit into the raw skin around his forearm and pain shot up the limb, so

Morzak relaxed his hand and it resumed its dangle about his side. The dark room smelled of

freshly spilled blood and excrement. The sour stench made his nose burn.

The roar above exploded again, the loudest it had yet. The floor beneath him rumbled as if

an earthquake were about to bring his prison crashing down upon him. Morzak could feel his


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pulse building as his heart and body began to fill with adrenaline. The priests limbs began to

shake as his breathing quickened. The thunder above him ceased.

In the silence left by uproar, Morzak could hear the scuttling of little feet and what sounded

like the dragging of metal. The noise came from behind him and even though he couldnt see

clearly in the dark, he could still see movement. Morzak swiveled his head and looked while the

chains at his hands clinked and kept him from fully turning. The priest had to squint and blink

repeatedly until the dirt was dislodged from his eyes, and then he could only make out motions.

Whatever the creatures were, they were short, as small as a child. Each appeared to be

dragging something behind that from the sound could possibly be metal.

Morzak heard a finger snap in front of him and a small but bright light filled the immediate

area. The dazzling glow flooded his eyes and he had to squint momentarily as they adjusted.

When he could see clearly, one of the tiny creatures was standing in front of him and the light it

summoned was drifting directly above it. From his knowledge it appeared to be an imp, one of

the smaller types of demons.

The critter was red and extremely thin, like a stick figure. Its spindly hands and feet were

clawed and its wicked little head was a cross between bat and a human. The imps spine ran

down it back like a set of small spikes until it ended at with a pointed diamond shaped tail. The

imp looked directly at Morzak with its beady red eyes, and then it checked the priests

restraints. After a small tug on each chain the fiend snapped its fingers again and the rest of the

company came into the light.


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As the imps stepped into the glow, Morzak noted that each was a different color. There were

eight little monsters and their collective pigments spanned the length of the rainbow. Every imp

laboriously dragged with it a piece of plate armor that appeared to be of exceptional quality.

The hue of the steel was incredibly silver, and obviously not natural. Every piece was

trimmed in gold and the bands glistened as the light reflected off them. In the center of the

breastplate was an embossed emblem of a blazing sun, silver in the middle with golden flames

reaching from it. The critters pulled the armor directly to Morzak and then a few skipped off

into the darkness and returned with stools. The red imp, clearly the leader, snapped his fingers

again and the fiends started placing each piece of armor upon its corresponding part on

Morzaks body.

The little monsters worked quickly and to the priests surprise, exceptionally well. Their small

hands expertly buckled and strapped the armor in place. The imps started with his boots then

legs and thighs and when those plates were snug and fit comfortably, they moved up to his belt

and breastplate and then the rest of his body. In short order and most likely better than he

could have done it himself, the fiends completed dressing Morzak in the steel.

The red imp skipped back in front of Morzak and snapped his spindly fingers. The chains at

the priests hands went slack and the shackles fell off his wrists. Morzak immediately began

rubbing each sore appendage. The red critter bounced into the blackness and then returned

with a helmet which it offered up to the priest. Thank you, he said to the imp, although he

wasnt even sure if the fiend would understand him.

The open faced helm was as brilliant as the plate which he was now wearing. Like the armor,

it was trimmed in gold and was of the purest silver. A golden ridge ran up the back of them


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helm and came to a blunted point above the crown. Morzak lifted the armor and fashioned it

on his head. The priest wasnt surprised when it fit perfectly, as if it was made for him.

Morzaksown armor, while expertly crafted, wasnt even comparable to the masterworkedset he now wore. Each section of his body was covered with plate and when he swiveled at his

hips and rolled his shoulders he found that the armor moved with him, the multiple layers slid

over one another with ease. He twirled his fingers in the gauntlets expecting resistance in the

joints, but they too moved without effort. UnbelievableMorzak didnt believe in perfection,

but as he stood and inspected the steel he couldnt help but wonder if he was right now

wearing its very meaning.

The red fiend in front of him snapped its fingers again, but this time it was at Morzak. The

critter did so several times until the priest was forced to stop inspecting his incredible armor

and see what it wanted. The little monster pointed off into the dark and then stamped its foot

and snorted while emphasizing the direction when it realized the priest wasnt getting the

message.

Morzak wasnt sure ifhe wanted to follow the imps instructions, but so far it hadnt done

anything to harm him, in fact it had greatly improved his position. Before he was nearly naked

and now he was wearing the greatest armor he had ever worn. The priest didnt make a habit

of trusting demons but he figured that maybe this time it wouldnt be such a bad decision.

Besides, he had nowhere else to go and he still couldnt see past the little area the imp had

illuminated, which showed him nothing other than the cracked stone floor and the shackles

bolted into it.


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I guess Ill just have to trust you on this one, little demon, Morzak said hesitantly as he

began walking in the imps pointed direction. As soon as he left the aura of light, the fiend

snapped its fingers again and the glow disappeared. Morzak listened as the critter scampered

off into the dark, and then his eyes adjusted and he continued onward. The priest noticed that

as he walked in the darkness his armor made very little noise. Usually plate as encompassing as

what he was now wearing creaked and popped when in motion, but the fine silver steel acted

as if it was leather and made only the slightest of whispers.

A faint trace of broken light shone through the twilight near what appeared to be a long

flight of steps. After his long imprisonment in the blackness, the light seemed a like a godsend,

as if it was divine itself. Morzak smiled and then walked forward with a renewed vigor in his

step. As the priest began his ascension upwards towards the glow the thunder returned.

It began as a quiet rumbling, like an ocean tide crashing upon a distant shore and receding.

As Morzak climbed, the rumbles rose like a storm growing towards a crescendo. When half of

the steps were beneath him, the floor began to shake. The echoes of thunder became faster

and more powerful and took on a rhythm as if they were repeating a mantra. When he finally

reached the pinnacle of the stairs the world outside sounded as if the gods themselves were

marching in unison and trying to flatten the earth beneath their feet. Each blast washed over

him and completely filled his mind, he could feel the energy rising, waiting to be unleashed.

Morzak hesitated as fear began to grip him. He considered turning around and escaping

back into the darkness, away from the terrible roar just ahead of him. With a mighty bellow, he

quickly banished the moment of fear and strode forward proudly. As Morzak conquered the

distance between himself and the light he noticed that the glow reflected off the blade of a two


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handed sword leaning on the wall ahead. With his confidence building, the knight snatched the

sword and hoisted it in front of him. Morzak marched forward and the gate ahead clinked and

groaned as it was raised, the intense sunlight blinded him, he didnt even shield his eyes. The

world exploded in one singular mass of trumpeting horns and roaring voices. Morzak charged

into the coliseum.

Wralgar could no longer sit and wait for Morzak. With the premonition still fresh in his mind,

the young king abandoned the cliff side throne and beat a hasty path towards where he knew

the priest to be. Morzak slept in only one place, the feared tower of the dead necromancer

Tragul.

Wralgars superstitious people shunned the dark spire, so of course to emphasize his bravery

and masculinity, Morzak chose the cursed placed as his new home. As the young king walked

towards the dark tower overlooking the harbor he cursed and wished that the priest would

have stayed in the castle. Even though Tragul had been slain generations ago, the fear of him

was still very much alive.

Tragul was a terrible sorcerer, and his keep emphasized that point. The ground around the

spire was a dull gray and permanently blighted. The stronghold itself appeared to be made of a

single seamless ebony stone, as if it was grown straight out of the earth from some foul hell.

The walls of the tower curved in until they reached the top where they expanded outwards

forming a broad roof with a spike parapet. Tragul feared no one, so his tower had no windows.

The only entrance into the dark redoubt was a single decrepit double doorway at its base.


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As the barbarian neared the blighted structure every stride became more difficult. When his

feet stepped onto the corrupted earth his body cried out in anguish and his stomach turned as

if he ate something sour. Old fears and tales swirled in his head and bit as his resolve like a pack

of wolves trying to corner its prey. But in the young kings mind he had no choice, he couldnt

turn and run now. After the horror he had seen this morning he had to have the priests

council. Only Morzak would be able to make sense of it.

When Wralgar finally stood in the long shadow of the tower he began to visibly shake. A

surreal chill seemed to flow from the stone of the keep and fall upon the barbarian, as if it was

welcoming him to the hells still inside, giving him a taste of the cold death that would surely

come upon his entry. Wralgar pulled the Yorguurs fur around him and released a breath ofair

that turned to fog as he tried to calm his shaking nerves.Tragul is deadTragul is deadTragul

is deadHe repeated the mantra several times, willing himself to believe it, but even saying

aloud that Tragul was dead did nothing to strengthen his faltering resolve. In fact, Wralgar

believed that he was cursing himself by damning the dead sorcerer beneath his own tower.

The young king turned in defeat and began to walk away. He stepped once and looked

towards the path back to his throne and the castle. The dead man was waiting for him on the

frozen trail, its limbs twitching as it slowly shambled towards him. The barbarians face twisted

in horror. Without thinking, Wralgar spun, grasped the rotted wooden doors and pushed them

open. He scrambled into the gloom of the tower.

Steal clanged on claw as Morzak spun to parry the low strike. The war priest immediately

riposte and drove the blade hilt deep into the carapace of the crustacean monster. With a


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crack, the tip of the sword burst out its back spattering the sand behind it in a gory green mess.

In one motion Morzak spun, jerked the bloody weapon free of the twitching carcass, and used

the momentum to slash open the stomach of the demon leaping towards him. The rust colored

hairy ape-like fiend stopped in its tracks as its guts and organs spilled and plopped onto the

arena floor. The priest didnt wait for the stunned creature to respond. He lifted the perfectly

balanced blade into the air and roared as he smashed the sword into the devils head. Its skull

and brains exploded like a grapefruit being pulverized by a hammer. The endless demonic

crowd roared in approval and the ground shook under their exuberance.

Morzaks final foe, a man sized, blue scaled, twin headed snake monster nervously slithered

backwards from him leaving a series of S depressions in the sand. The serpent snapped its fangs

towards Morzak and raised itself trying to appear larger than it actually was. The war priest

grinned and stalked towards his victim.

When Morzak cleared a quarter of the distance between him and the snake he stutter

stepped and broke into a sprint. Once again, the perfect armor surprised him. It was already

incredibly light but now it felt like the steel was aiding his speed as he bolted forward. Lumps

rose in the vipers twin necks and sparks jumped across its scales as the demon cocked its heads

backwards. Morzak responded by darting unpredictably left and right. Each of the vipers heads

snapped towards the priest unleashing dazzling lightning bolts.

The first bolt flew wide to the right and exploded in a thunderclap sending sand flying as the

snake wrongly tried to anticipate his movement. The serpent corrected its aim and the second

missile streaked directly towards Morzak. He dodged back towards the right and the projectile

vaporized the space he had just lunged from turning the granules into glass.


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The vipers heads lashed twice more sending crackling bolts towards the war priest. Morzak

crouched under the first missile and barely slipped it. The lightning passed over him the sparks

made the hairs on his face stand on edge. The dodged bolt exploded behind him and the force

propelled Morzak forward.

The serpent waited for the priest to dodge and when he did it sent the second missile

streaking home squarely into his breastplate. Morzaks limbs seized under the electrical assault

and he stumbled into the dirt. The priest grit his teeth and forced his feet back under him. The

viper cocked its heads to unleash another barrage.

As the debilitating electric effects quickly wore away, Morzak sprang into action. The two

headed monster released the built up lightning bolts at the priest, and at the distance he was

from the snake the missiles shouldnt have missed but they did. Aided by the armors

enchantments, the priest lunged under the parallel missiles and the two beams blackened the

earth spraying electrical tendrils in a large sphere of released energy. Morzak executed his

lunge into a roll which brought him within striking distance of the fiend.

The viper coiled its body and shot forward like a compressed spring. Its twin heads bared

serrated fangs and struck at the priest one after the other. Morzak smacked the first strike

away with the flat of his blade and then slashed the second head from throat to snout, spraying

crimson gore over him and the snakes torso. Screaming, the injured head reeled and tried to

duck behind its large body but the war priest followed up his slash with a quick stab directly to

its lower jaw. The sharp steel punctured through the serpents maw and into its brain silencing

the cries. Morzak jerked the blade free and was rewarded with a cascade of blood running


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down the steel and onto his plate armor. The vipers head fell limp against its body. The

demonic onlookers roared.

The remaining head went into a frenzy and lashed at Morzak so quickly that all he could do

was parry and dodge the lightning fast strikes. Fang rang off blade as the priest shuffled his feet

to keep his weapon between himself and the viper. Morzak backpedaled while the snake circled

him launching attacks from awkward angles. Its slain head dragged behind it leaving a trail of

blood. The priest missed a strike and the serpents fangs clenched onto his left shoulder. Its

teeth ground into the plate with a nasty screech but didnt penetrate his armor. The viper held

on and its iron jaw began to smash Morzaks shoulder.

The war priest roared in pain and dropped his blade, it clanged in the dirt below. Morzak

smashed his right gauntlet into the snakes eye again and again until it was a bloody pulp but

the raging beast only clamped down tighter. Pain exploded through his shoulder. Frustrated

and desperate, the priest plunged his armored fist into the destroyed eye socket. His fingers

groped about and pulled on anything they could grab.

The viper released his shoulder and snapped it head back but not before Morzak could pull a

hunk of viscera from its eye cavity. The priest flung the gore away and reached down and

snatched up his blade. The serpent twisted away in a weird corkscrew motion as its remaining

bloody head curled against its body.

Grunting, Morzak popped the joint in his shoulder back into place. The priest rotated his

bruised appendage to relieve some of the stress then walked after the fiend to finish the job.

The demonic crowd in the rafters howled and shook the coliseum as they anticipated the kill to


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come. An annoyed scowl formed on his usually stoic face as the priest closed the distance with

the mortally injured demon. He just wanted it to die already.

With its one reaming head brutalized the viper didnt even see Morzak coming. The war

priest roared and brought his sword over his helm. He chopped on the demons head like a

woodcutter splitting the last log of the day. The steel parted flesh and bone with ease and

severed the gory maw from its now squirting and squirming neck. Blood sprayed out in long

arcing spurts as the twitching monster collapsed and died, its tail continued to twist and flick

sand around the arena.

Morzak swept his blade over the dozens of torn bodies lying on the arena floor. He had

conquered them all, smashed the cretins like the filth they were. The priest raised his sword in

triumph and bellowed out at the devilish crowd, challenging any to come before him. The

horrific crowd roared. They demanded more.

As Wralgar scrambled up the deteriorated wooden steps the planks groaned and a few

snapped under his mad dash to safety. The terrified king didnt stop to catch his breath until he

had reached the zenith. Panting, Wralgar threw himself against the nearby wall and peered

precariously around the corner and down the steps towards the entrance. He stilled his breath

and froze. Every beat of his heart felt like a lifetime as he waited for the cadaver to appear in

the doorway. But as the minutes passed and the cold of the dead tower crept into his bones,

Wralgar was forced to realize that nothing was chasing him.

He was once again alone, but now he was inside Traguls tower. The blackness of the inner

keep haunted his steps and his mind played tricks on him. Shadows scurried at the edges of


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Wralgars vision and ghostly whispers floated in his ears. His breath rose in front of him like a

tortured spirit. He hadnt taken the first step by his own accord, but now he was here, inside

the dreaded sorcerers home. There was no turning back. Wralgar again cursed Morzak for

staying here and then grudgingly ascended the tower.

It would appear, My Lady that you are now out ofchampions and fodder, Clakdrill spoke in

his shrill crackling voice as he looked out over the massive arena. The emaciated, neon-green

skinned demon was an imp of unusually large size. Unlike his miniscule kin, Clakdrill was taller

than even most humans, although this did nothing to better his position among the devils that

now suffered his company. The surrounding fiends turned and waited for the queen to surely

reprimand the lesser demon.

Diadrath scowled at the maggot and considered flogging him on the spot for his impudence.

The queen of the Blood Lands leaned forward in the high backed chair and made motions to

rise and enact her rage but then checked her anger and tried to settle back into the

uncomfortable furniture. It wasnt fitting for a queen to lose her composure in front of such

esteemed guests. Diadrath shifted in the awkward chair and curled her tail over her legs. Its

diamond shaped head came to a rest among her feet.

The queen of the Blood Lands was beautiful by the standards of the gods even though she

was a devil. Her soft, deep red curvaceous body promised of carnal passions and her perfectly

proportioned angular face made sirines weep in jealousy. Even the scowl on her face did

nothing to detract from her elegance. The devil narrowed her brilliant silvery eyes at imp.


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Maggot. You have no champions. You have not even fodder. Slaves will not bend the knee

to you. If I wanted the observations of a rodent then I would ask it, which I never would, as I

smash it beneath my feet.

The hellion regarded his current situation and bowed deeply to the queen. She wasnt

appeased and demanded him to grovel lower. He did so, almost brushing his bat-like face

against the intricately worked stone. She would have bid him again but the queen didnt want

his repulsive face to mar her balcony. When she didnt retort, the critter then scampered out of

her line of site. Diadrath flicked her tail in annoyance.

Damn thatcretin!She would never admit it but she knew the imp was right. Over the

course of the week the grayed knight had bested all of her champions, exhausted her supply of

useless demons and had somehow remained unscathed throughout the battles. That single

insignificant man was now embarrassing her in front of a veryimportant guest, so important

the he, or it, sat on herthrone.

Diadrath stood and decided to address her guests. As she walked to the edge of the balcony

her hips swayed in an entrancing motion that attracted the eyes of all, but not her most

important patron. She inwardly frowned at his lack of interest. The devils, all powerful in their

own rights, ranged in type from hulking beasts to maligned monsters that both disgusted and

amazed her. Diadrath reclined on the banister and pressed her lustrous chest forward as she

smiled devilishly. He still ignored her. She frowned visibly.

I take it then that no one else has any champions they would like to test against this

warrior? When no one spoke up she finished her train of thought.Perhaps it is best. None

here have devils better than I, and if my fiends cant best him then none can. It was an empty


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boast but it was the best the queen had at the moment. She hoped a challenge would spur

someone into action, but as the moments lingered on and her guests began to murmur

amongst themselves she began to doubt her ruse. Diadrath turned away, and scowled at the

knight on the field below. You are ruining me! Why havent you been slaughtered yet?!

I have one. The speakers baritone voice echoed with power and silenced all on the

balcony. Diadrath bit her lip in excitement and slowly but elegantly spun to face the being

sitting on herthrone. A single warrior, your Omnipotence? Surely you would send more

champions than that? You saw how the powerful knight handled some of my best. The queen

curled her tail around her, seductively groping her body and inviting him to do the same. He

made no note of her advance.

Only one, the powerful entity repeated. Omeglar. From the shadows behind him, a

massive form strode forward. The queens other guests visibly reeled from its presence and

moved to make distance from it. The terrible monster said nothing and came to stand next to

its master. The two shared a stare. The demon bowed its head and then disappeared into the

darkness from whence it came. The other patrons visibly relaxed. Diadrath returned to her seat

in both awe and fear. The being spoke again. Omeglar will break him. The statement was said

with finality and none dared to question it.

Morzak finish his roar of victory and let his blade fall to relax at his side. The demonic hordes

in the coliseum continued to howl and scream. They demanded more blood, more death. The

priest rolled his left shoulder as it began to stiffen from the beating it underwent earlier.

Morzak dropped his sword and let it fall to the earth as he tried to clear his mind in preparation


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for the healing mantra he was about to undertake. The war priest had performed the simple

restoration spell countless times before, but now he found that he could not channel the

correct energy required for the mending. In fact, Morzak couldnt even find it, it was as if he

had never used a healing spell. The priest then noticed several other differences that hadnt

been apparent previously.

For starters, his hair was grey and almost white, not black. His reach was longer to, by

several inches. Morzak hardly ever used a two handed sword, he preferred his mace and shield.

So naturally, during the melee he hadnt observed the irregularity. He had attributed the

difference as the weapons doing. The war priest was slightly taller as well. Some of the types of

demons he vanquished today he had fought before it distant battles. The devils were usually

larger than Morzak, but now he was the same height as the fiends. Everything about him was

strange, but somehow, oddly familiar. Before Morzak could draw a connection with his

metamorphosis, the largest gate in the arena shook and slowly rumbled open.

The war priest retrieved his blade and drew it in front of him, holding it at the ready. His left

shoulder ached, but Morzak would have to fight without healing it. The inside of the gate was

dark, and he couldnt see very far into it. As he waited for his foe to come forth, Morzak shifted

the blade to his right shoulder to relieve some of the stress.

A huge form slowly lumbered out of the black. Its shape was vague at first, but as the demon

walked into the light its monstrous form was terrible to behold. The fiend was massive, one of

the largest the priest had ever seen. It had to be three times his size. The first thing Morzak

noticed was its color, a purple so dark that it was almost black. The bipedal beast stood on

three-toed feet that ended in nasty front and back talons, and its legs and thighs were as thick


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as tree trunks. The behemoth had four arms, two slightly smaller ones that connected at breast

level and larger ones above at its rounded shoulders. Like its feet, the demons colossal hands

were complete with long raking claws that looked capable of shearing metal. The devils visage

reminded Morzak of a pit fighting dog, except with dead black eyes and large fangs that

extended to the lower jaw, and short upward curving horns instead of ears.

The demon was nasty to regard, and surely a deadly foe, but when it stretched its back and

two gold cuffed stumps rose from behind its shoulders, Morzaks face went slack and his eyes

wide. In all his years of adventure and warfare he had only seen the bindings once before, on a

creature considered the third scourge of the world. The manacles, as he had been told, were a

mark of servitude to an ancient, satanic god.

A demon would cut off his wings and offer the leathery appendages to the absolute being. If

the sacrifice was accepted, the fiends marred stumps would instantly be cauterized with molten

gold cuffs, sealing the bond between god and monster. If the tribute was rejected, the hellion

would explode from the inside and its life force would be permanently obliterated. Morzak had

only ever seen the denial. The bindings gave power and status, which proclaimed and made the

wearer a lord, among devils.

Morzak hoisted his blade in front of him and whispered a prayer to the gods, begging for

strength. The priest received nothing. Omeglar advanced on Morzak, and the war priest cursed.

Wralgars boots and knees knocked against stone and wood in the darkness as he blundered

about inside the tower. The young king swore as he rubbed his right knee, then stood and

squinted in the gloom. Without his sight, the barbarian was going nowhere, fast.


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Wralgar had felt his way around the keep, using his hands and feet to guide him, but the

progress of ascending the tower had now got him lost. The path he had been following ended

and left him stranded in the middle of what seemed to be an empty room. The Jarreg groped

about in the blackness, searching for something to guide his path upwards, but his fingers only

closed on cold, empty air.

The young king sat down and buried himself beneath the Yorguurs fur, for security and

warmth. Hands, feet, and all went under the makeshift blanket until he looked like a white

lump on the cold floor. He admitted defeat to Traguls keep. Not everyone can be brave

priestI tried! As Wralgar huddled beneath the cloak he began to hum a song his mother

taught him when he was younger. The tune was for scaring away the darkness and monsters,

and bringing back the sun.

The Jarreg felt ridiculous for singing it, but no one was here to watch or judge, so he

continued on. Thoughts of his mother brought tears to his eyes, she had passed when he was

just a child and the wound was still sore. The king stopped humming the song and began

singing it. His voice flowed outwards from him like a warm wave. The melody rolled through the

dark corridors of the tower and banished the cold air from the keep. As the barbarian

continued the song, he began to glow. At first the light was like a spark of fire struggling against

the wind, fighting to stay alive. But then, as the ballad reached its crescendo and Wralgars

voice grew in strength, the spark caught flame and grew into a mighty blaze, lighting the

barbarian in a magnificent glow that banished the shadows from sight.


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Wralgar finished the song and raised himself to his feet. His golden eyes shone like the sun,

and the fire within him flowed through his veins like a hot spring. The young king was no longer

afraid. He was no longer cold. His path to Morzak was now clear.

The war priest dodged under the demons backhand and slashed towards Omeglars exposed

midsection. The blade bit deeply into the fiends abdomen and opened a large gash. Black

blood rushed from the wound and spilled down the hellions body. The monster howled.

Morzak didnt stay to inspect the damage as he did a forward roll and escaped under the devils

legs. He sprang up behind Omeglar and cut at his hamstrings trying to chop the beast down to

the priests size. The sword split hide and muscle but the behemoth remained standing.

Dark, sanguine fluid freely poured from multiple wounds that spanned the demons body.

The fiend now looked more like a steak suffering under a hungry knife than a devilish

champion. Even though it had lost what seemed to be an extreme amount of its life force,

Omeglar continued to fight and lashed out towards the priest with its long arms. Morzak

dodged the slow lumbering strikes and dashed in to score the fiend with several more strokes,

drawing black blood. The priest danced away before the devil could counter.

This is too easy.Morzak crouched under the hellions double swipe, the colossal curved

claws just barely passed over his helm. The war priest riposte with a stab to Omeglars

underarm. The two handed sword stabbed through the tricep and into the demons bone with a

sickening crack. The fiend roared and stumbled backwards clutching its torn appendage. For the

first time since the start of the battle, Morzak saw what appeared to be fear in Omeglars eyes.

The holy warrior pressed his advantage.


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The situation was surreal. Withering away before his adopted blade was a truly power

demon, perhaps one of the most deadly foes he had ever seen. And yet he was conquering it

with ease! Perhaps the gods truly had answered his prayers. Rather than linger on the mystery,

Morzak decided to use his good fortune to effect and assault Omeglar.

The priest charged forward, his blade held high above his head. The injured devil clawed at

the warrior with his upper right arm, but Morzak spun left, and shuffled inside the fiends range

where its longer arms would be of little use. Morzak used the momentum of the spin to keep

the blade whirling in motion. The razor edge of the steel gashed deeply into the demons

oblique muscles, spraying blood across the warrior, and shattering several of the ribs as well.

Omeglar shrieked. The war priest continued his sweep. He stepped past the demon with his

right foot and swung his left behind him, putting his weight into the maneuver as he crouched

low. The long steel sword swung around Morzaks body and chopped into the back of the

monsters right knee. The ruined joint cracked and shuddered. The war priest yanked the blade

fee and slashed the underside of the left knee to similar effect.

Unable to support its massive weight anymore, the beasts legs gave out and Omeglar

lurched forward, catching himself with his for arms. The hulking demon choked on a nasty

cough and then twitched, spewing hunks of dark viscera on the sand beneath him. The

coliseum shook with anticipation as hellish clamor echoed off the walls and floor.

Morzak lifted his bloodied blade in victory and reveled in the moment. He allowed the devils

to cheer for him, he accepted their praise! The energy cascading from the stands washed over

him. At that very moment, the holy warrior felt like theirchampion. He roared with them.


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The war priest triumphantly walked around the demons broken body and brought his blade

to rest above Omeglars exposed neck. He held the sword like a guillotine, poised and waiting to

be dropped. The arena trembled in excitement, every soul, living and dead, their eyes watching

the priest. The hellish crowds chanted what the priest could only assume meant death.

Morzak looked towards the balcony that he assumed held the leaders, and waited for their

command.

Diadrath couldnt stop a smile of victory from crossing her face as she approached the

banister. The devil used her alluring body to full affect, sauntering forward as if she had all the

time in the world. The knight, that impossible man, had defeated Omeglar, a true fiend of hell.

This was the moment Diadrath had been waiting for, the point where she would once again

gain superiority.

The Queen of the Blood Lands raised her hands out over the assembled hordes below, they

screamed for their beloved mistress and leader. With a few waves of her hands, she calmed the

enraged, blood hungry demons and the arena quieted. Diadrath could feel the thousands of

eyes upon her, begging for her to give them death. She slowly, teasingly, raised her hands, and

a clamor began to rise through the coliseum, but then stopped as the queen held her judgment.

Diadrath surveyed the entire arena, grinned wickedly, and then pointed both thumbs

downwards, damning Omeglar to die. Her subjects thunders of elation made the earth

tremble.


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Behind her, the supernatural being pressed its gaze into Omeglar. The demon spit out more

black blood then turned to face its masters call. The dark entity nodded once, and the devil

returned the gesture. A cruel, fang filled grin spread across Omeglars face.

Morzak waited for their queen to give him the command, to issue the order that would make

him a warrior of legend. When the demon lord finally gave her people the death they yearned

for, the priests heart leapt in his chest. He could see statues of himself carved in gold and the

tale of his life being read in scriptures to the masses. All he had to do was swing his blade one

more time. Morzak chopped at Omeglars neck with all his might.

The priests next sensation was that of flying. Spiraling head over foot, the realm around

Morzak became a blur, and then he returned to the earth from whence he came. The holy

warrior struck the ground and violently bounced several times. Various bones in his body

cracked and Morzaks vision went red. The priests world spun rapidly and his stomach clenched

as he quickly sickened from the motion. Morzak vomited until nothing was left inside of him,

and then he dry heaved as the pain continued to wrack him. His confused mind slowly gathered

its self as his world tried to return to focus. The priest collected his hands beneath him and

pushed his body off the coarse sand. The effort caused him to cough up blood.

Morzak had been hit, hard. His compressed chest throbbed with sharp pain under the stress

of multiple fractured ribs, and his breath came in short rasps. The priest tried to stand and his

left leg buckled underneath him as his ankle failed. Morzak cried out and fell back to the arena

floor. The agony pushed his muddled mind together and he could see straight once more.

Omeglar, the demon he had thought defeated, stood.


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Omeglar raised himself and flexed his torn and bloodied appendages with ease, as if they

hadnt just been ravaged. The abyssal demon elevated his four muscle knotted arms above his

head, clenched every tendon in his body, and roared. His voice thundered out like a gods and

the earth trembled around him. The mighty bellow continued forth and echoed out of the

stadium and into the cosmos. Omeglar finished his eruption and stood in silence as the wounds

on his body closed and his bleeding ceased. The shocked coliseum fell silent. Morzak wet

himself.

The next few minutes of the priests life were a blur as he was tossed about like a babe

fighting a bear. The demon moved with unreal agility for a monster so large. He leapt like a

tiger and struck faster than the quickest fencer. Omeglar devastated Morzak with every strike

as he enacted his revenge. The blows either smashed the priest into the earth, or sent him

flying. But the demon made sure not to kill his plaything.

Morzak coughed up a bloody whimper as his broken body stopped rolling. Omeglar strode

over to the priest and stood over him, blocking the sun behind him. The demons shadow fell on

the human. Omeglar laughed aloud, and then spoke something with a tone of disgust in his

harsh guttural language. The fiend almost looked as if he pitied the priest, almost. Then the

mauling resumed.

Wralgar ascended the tower and the gloom fled before him. With each footfall upwards,

Wralgars steps became lighter and faster as if he was being guided by some otherworldly

force. As the young king rounded the last corner he came to Morzaks room. The barbarian

marched forth and parted the double doors to the priests abode.


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The room was black, and incredibly cold. Frost had formed in the corners and all of the

candles had been snuffed of life. Morzak lay in his bed, thrashing as if he was being brutalized

by an invisible foe. He had kicked the pillows and covers off his berth and was dressed only in

his undergarments. The priest flailed from side to side and screamed like he was dying. Wralgar

rushed to Morzaks side and grabbed him, his skin was freezing. He shook the man and shouted

his name trying to wake him, but the nightmare kept its victim in its grasp. Wralgar put his

fingers on the priests eyes and tried to force them open. A dark, malignant force screamed at

the barbarian and he quickly pulled his hand back and jumped from the bed.

What hell has its grip on you priest, the young king exclaimed with fear. Wralgar watched

as Morzaks thrashing worsened. The priests body bucked and clenched and his breath came in

short labored rasps. He was sure that if Morzak continued this way that he would quickly die.

Wralgar began to sing again. His voice lifted the darkness from the room and washed the

cold out of the air and stones and replaced it with the warmth of summer. He built his voice to

a crescendo and then laid his hands on Morzaks eyes once more. The malignant force thrashed

against his power.

Omeglar lifted Morzak by his broken leg and then flung him like a bone. The priests limp

form rolled across the sand and came to a rest. His entire body throbbed with dull and sharp

waves of pain. Morzak was passing in and out of consciousness.

He thought he had won. He thought he had defeated a champion of a god, a truly powerful

demon, and done so effortlessly. He realized now that it was all a ruse, he had never had a

chance. The demon had allowed him to devastate his body, to cut him into a bloody mess.


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Omeglar wanted Morzak to think he could win just so he could rip the victory from beneath the

priest. But why? Why the cruel show? Why the torture? Why didnt the demon just finish him?

Omeglar had a message to send. The broken knight in the sand had slain their best

champions and had done so without being injured himself. This one man had defied and

embarrassed the collective demonic powers for over a week. But compared to abyssal

champion of a god, that man was nothing. It wanted everyone in the coliseum to know that he

could slaughter them at will, everyone. Omeglar marched to his prey to finish the job.

Morzak had failed. He had failed his kingdom, his order, but most of all, he had failed

Wralgar. With his death, Wralgar would be left to fend for himself, to prepare himself against a

great evil that was coming. But the young king wasnt ready, he still hadnt come to terms with

his tortured past, a hell which was fatally holding him back. Because of Morzaks death,

Wralgars world would end. The thought sobered him and he prepared to die, as a failure.

Omeglar once again stood over Morzak, blotting out the sun. The demon appeared to be

surveying the priests smashed body, but didnt move to finish him. Morzak was barely

conscious, but the demon spoke again and his voice had a clear tone of pity in it, as if he was

sorry, as if the priest hadnt deserved this. Then Omeglar reached towards him with his four

grasping arms to finish it.

From somewhere deep inside the priest, a powerful, warm, tsunami like wave washed forth

and repulsed the demon. Omeglar shrieked and recoiled from the priest, his purple-black claws

raking at invisible foes in front of him. The storm surged through Morzaks broken body

mending bones and muscles and renewing his depleted strength.


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The priest heaved and sat forward on his knees as he coughed new life into his lungs. He

tensed his muscles and found their power returned, then rolled his joints and found his bones

mended. Where had this healing come from? Who had answered his pleas?

Omeglar roared in front of him as he continued to be assailed by some awesome force,

whatever it was wouldnt keep the demon occupied for long. Morzak didnt have time to search

for answers, he had to keep a promise he made to a young king. The priest ran to retrieve his

blade, and to kill the demon.

Morzak flew across the arena and snatched up his sword. With weapon in hand, the priest

yelled and charged at his foe. Still distracted by his concealed enemy, Omeglar didnt see the

attack coming, but he felt it. Morzaks blade cut deeply into the fiends dark back and bounced

off his spine. Black blood sprayed over the priest. The demon howled and his form strained in

pain.

The wound was nasty, but Omeglar had survived worse. The demon bellowed, then turned

and clawed at the priest. To the devils astonishment, the man parried the blow, a strike that

would have slain a giant, and advanced on him, forcing the hellion to give ground.

Now it was Omeglars turn to wonder. He had broken this man, utterly smashed him, but the

very same creature now fought him with even more might than before! Omeglar snarled as the

priest drew a long gash in his right forearm, and then cut open his chest. The wounds burned

and dark blood flowed out freely.

I am the champion of a god! This foe is nothing! This man cannot defeat me!Omeglar

roared, planted his feet, and pushed into Morzaks advance. Each of his four colossal hands

flashed in front of him and raked at the priest. The fiends talons could rend stone and his blows


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could shatter pillars, but the knight blocked and evaded each attack while still managing to

score hits of his own. The hellion gnashed his fangs as the holy warrior scored another attack, a

broad cut along his thigh that gushed blood and flayed skin and muscle. Omeglar howled, but

then leapt forward, pressing his assault and snarling at his foe is his hellish language. I only

have to hit you once!

The abyssal fiends strikes became erratic. The demon no longer cared if Morzak struck him,

it understood that it only had to connect solidly with him one time, one blow is all it would

take. The claws rained in faster and faster and Morzak began to lose track of each arm. He

backpedalled and gave ground to the savage monster. He could no longer afford to parry its

talons. The priest hadto dodge every attack.

As the man retreated before his fury, Omeglar howled, and like a hound smelling blood,

rushed forward. He snapped his lower claws at the knight from opposite, angled directions.

When the warrior made his move and dodged in concert with the two strikes, weaving out and

in, Omeglar launched himself at the priest, trying to smother him beneath his massive form.

The bold tactic forced the knight to scramble backwards and it put him off balance as he

stumbled on his heels. Ceasing his opportunity, Omeglar hooked his upper right hand out and

smashed the holy warrior in the chest, earning a nasty cut to his wrist in the trade, but sending

the man tumbling through the air. The devil roared in triumph. The knight crashed and rolled

nearby. The demons feet chopped beneath him as he rushed over to Morzak, You will not get

up this time!

Morzak spun and tried to get his boots under him but the archfiend reached him before he

gained his feet. Omeglar snatched him off the ground and seized his left appendages and his


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right leg, but as the abyssal demon reached for his right arm, the one wielding the blade,

Morzak whipped the sword in front of him and cut the hellion from his left arm, across his

chest, and into his right arm. The fiend shrieked as blood and skin burned and he lost his grip on

the priest. The monster juggled Morzak into the air while trying to dodge his blade and regain

control over the priests limbs. The brute knocked the holy warrior higher with his right upper

arm, and then poised to snatch him with his left, but Morzak gashed the devils bicep and

Omeglar jerked his limb back in response. With no clawing hands blocking his path, the war

priest fell forward and cursed the demon as he plunged the two handed blade up to the hilt

into the beasts chest, stabbing into its heart.

Omeglar floundered backwards as the knight hung onto the blade and ripped down through

his chest. The razor edge sliced through his innards and split bone. He screamed and wretched

as his legs almost gave out beneath him. Red, fiery lances of pain stabbed through his body and

a river of black blood poured from his wound and washed over the knight. He nearly collapsed,

nearly. But as the blade stuck fast in his sternum he realized the blow wasnt fatal.

Omeglar howled, whipped his outstretched arms forward and seized the confused knight in a

bone crushing embrace. The demon laughed as it smashed the man against his chest while its

horrid breath sickened him. The warriors bones popped while Omeglar increased the pressure.

An astonished, cheated look filled the knights widening eyes and face. The devil pressed his

head forward until his fangs loomed directly in caught warriors gaze, then he whispered to him

in his abyssal voice. I have no heart, dead man!Omeglar wrenched the knights arms and legs

and gnashed his fangs forward upon his helm.


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He had been cheated. Victory had been stolen from Morzak in what he thought to be its

true, crowning moment. When his great blade had plunged into the demons chest and speared

its heart, the priest had felt like a god! And when Omeglar went through what he was sure was

the monsters death throes, the priest had bellowed like never before. But as his joints popped

and bones snapped under the devils obliterating hold, all the priest could feel was the deceitful

hand of fate playing Morzaks final card.

Damn them all! Damn the gods and their cruel games! I shant go out like a coward! As the

fiends fangs closed on his helm and his limbs popped like chicken bones, Morzak shouted at the

demon in defiance. Come claim your victory, bastard!Omeglars serrated teeth pierced into

his helm. The priest closed his eyes and braced himself for death.

CEASE! The word of power blasted through the coliseum and a reflective, metaphysical

force ripped the fabric of reality to a crashing halt. The entire stadium, all of its inhabitants, and

the immediate world around it froze in place.

REGRESS. The dynamic voice spoke again and the arena slowly reversed in time. Omeglars

fangs receded from the priests helm and his massive arms opened to release the demons prey.

HALT. Reality once again stopped, but now Morzak was free of the demon, although he

still clung to his blade embedded within its torso. A maligned, heavy presence grew around the

entwined combatants until air about them freely discharged electrical currents. A dark force

laid itself on Morzaks body.

RELEASE. The priests body resumed animation and he fell to the earth in a heap. Morzak

coughed as air rushed into his lungs. When the priest caught his breath, he lifted himself from


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the sand and saw that the world around him was still motionless. Every single soul within the

stadium appeared to be trapped in the altered reality, all except for Morzak and one other

being.

A noise quickly grew around the priest until it sounded like he was inside a massive hornets

nest. The electrical discharges began bolts of lightning that freely arced about the stadium,

slaying any they struck. The hum pierced into his mind until it was all he could hear. Morzak

turned and looked for the source, and when the priest found it, he fell to his knees in terror.

Before Morzak stood an entity that could only be a god. The humanoid soul was enshrouded

by what appeared to be living shadow, the darkness moved freely about his obscured form and

black tendrils extended from it, reaching hungrily for the priest. As the cold coils wrapped

around the stunned priest, they lifted him off the ground and brought him into the aura of

darkness.

Once drawn inside, Morzak could clearly see his unearthly captor. Pitch black plate armor

encompassed his body, and where the obsidian covering wasnt, his shadowy form churned

beneath like a raging storm. Morzak thought he could hear souls crying forth from the storm. In

the eye slits of the gods grim helm, two red orbs seared forth into the priests mind like hot

branding irons. The dynamic voice uttered again, Show me everything. The holy warrior

screamed as his captor invaded his soul.

Wralgars melodic voice slowly pushed the malignant presence back, although it fought just

as hard to hold its grip over the priest. The barbarian flexed his muscles as if preparing to move


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a great weight and then pushed his mind into Morzaks psyche. The young king flooded into his

teachers soul and the two forces collided like a pair of wrestlers. Wralgar heaved with all his

might and moved his invisible foe back a step, but the gloom responded likewise and the two

combatants strained in stalemate.

Wralgar cried out for strength and pushed to his breaking point, and just when he thought

he was about to snap in two from the stress, the entity broke its grasp from him, wheeled

about in terror, and flew away as if fleeing from a great predator. Wralgar relaxed and exhaled

in his apparent victory, but the moment was short lived as the malignant forms predator

exploded into the area.

The raging power washed over the Jarreg and threatened to absorb him entirely. The energy

seethed at his form and tried to eat away at his soul, but its fangs couldnt pierce his glowing

body. Wralgar defensively shied behind his arms, but when he found that the force couldnt

touch him, he lowered his clenched hands and stood tall. The barbarian drew in a mighty

breath and sang once more, his voice echoed forth and smashed the darkness.

The god gasped as something assaulted its mind and the dark tendrils holding Morzak aloft

immediately released the priest. The holy warrior fell to the sand and crawled away from the

shadow aura. The supernatural being clasped its head and shrieked, the cry stabbed into

Morzaks body, physically causing him pain. The dark entity stepped away from the priest and

moaned as whatever was assaulting it continued its attack. The living darkness surrounding the

humanoid form seethed inward to save its master.


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Wralgar pressed forward as the shadow fled from him. He could feel the priests presence

ahead and empowered his voice to leap forward to Morzaks aid. The glow surrounded the

thrashing man and freed him of dark embrace. Wralgar ran forward and lifted the priest into his

arms. Thankfully, Morzak was still alive.

The storm churned around the barbarian as it gained strength to counterattack. Wralgars

aura began to secede to its power, black tendrils pierced through the light and streaked

towards the singer. We must go priest! Wralgar bellowed the last few notes of the song and

he extricated himself and Morzak from the nightmare. The black tendrils gnashed over the area

the young king had just vanished from.

Morzaks eyes burst open and he found himself inside Wralgars embrace. The priests gaze

darted around his room looking for his foes, he found only himself and his savior. You are safe

priest. Wralgar lowered the man from his grasp, and Morzak stood on the strangely warm

stone floor.

What was that priest? What darkness held you, Wralgar asked with clear concern. Morzak

looked into Wralgars golden eyes, the holy warrior found himself devoid of explanation. The

priest began to form words in his mouth, but he held his tongue.

Should he tell Wralgar the truth? Could he? Would he understand? The priests knew little of

what just happened, but underneath the confusion Morzak knew why he had been drawn into

the nightmare, and that was an old, black secret that he was not ready to divulge. The priest

closed his mouth and looked away, ashamed of his secrets.

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Ignavus II

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