Atremious

He slowly sat up a bit on his horse and seemed to try and nod towards the others. He looked towards Stark, and seemed to speak carefully "I'm... in need of some medical assistance." He didn't say more. The wound in his back did hurt, and when he slowly turned, it was easy to see the crossbow bolt. Chances are he just got a few of them and was shot in the back while escaping. Thats how it looked anyway, despite the mans appearance. He seemed to be a good warrior, but even he had his weaknesses. Had he taken too many more attacks during that fight he most certainly would have died, and hoped his master would have taken mercy on him. "I am known as Zerral. I'm a mercinary. I was traveling through when I was attacked by bandits on the road. I only managed to get two of them in passing but... I really need this crossbow bolt taken care of." He dismounted, and for special effect, he fell over on his knees in pain. Well, the pain part wasn't fake. It did hurt like crazy, but he has in all reality felt worse. He would join this group for now, if only to be near the living just a while longer. It had been millenia since he had spoken with anything, and while he was a slave to his masters will, he still had some of his humanity left, if you could call it that. He felt like letting it last a little while longer. "I mean not to be a bother, but I can travel with you, and if I can recieve some aid, I will be of no trouble"

Heh. Well, the whole "Dark Lord" Thing, may seem similar to the LOTR< but I do very much agree that such evil that does nothing but say how evil it is and hates all life would be same-old same old. Trust me when I say there is more to it then that. Also, there is a distinct difference between him, and his general anyway!

The town was burning. This was the best possible thing which could have happened. Zerral made his retreat during the chaos, making his way quickly out of town. He didn't really stop to speak to any of the people whom he had inadvertantly helped. He knew what his mission was, and the consiquences of failure. Sometimes the best of options was to sit back and wait rather than do anything drastic. The fire elemental would take care of his work for him. He left the small town, and traveled for little over half an hour until he reached a 'scenic' outlook higher up above the town from a distance. He could watch it burn, but more importantly he could feel the power from those who happened to lose their lives in such a fight. This was what he was sent to achieve. To steal souls, and his master didn't want their paln discovered before it came to fruition. His pale, ice blue eyes examined the hot fires which ravaged the town below, a small grin emitting from his lips. It was then however, that he felt a stinging pain in his back, before falling off his fel steed to the ground writing in pain, a crossbow bolt sticking out his back, as he stopped breathing. "Well look what we've got here? Seems we found ourselves a knight who wasn't paying enough attention to his surroundings!" the single marksman spoke, as a sizeable force of bandits, or mauraders. Were they mauraders? They could just be theives. Brigands! let's call them brigands. The brigands had been passing by, preying on caravans leading in an out of the town. They weren't exactly there to attack it, but rather cause attrition to the merchants who made their living off these roads in the hills and steppes. They approached their kill, the leader walking out seeming proud of himself. "Seems we have a rich knight too, look at the sword he's carrying! I've never seen anything quite like it before." Twelve. He could count twelve of them. The question was, do they die slow? Or die fast? Eleven die slow. Yes, eleven. The unlucky number twelve (Or lucky, if he is a masochist) had to die slow. And with pain, lots of pain. The one who shot him, how he hated so much to be shot. Had he been human this would be lethal, much like what happened to that strange Shu character on whoms quest we were all partaking. But this wasn't a potentially main character who was going to die just yet. With a quick motion, he reached out with his unholy strength, ripping off the limb of the bandit leader nearest him. This happened to be his leg, which he then proceeded to use to beat him to death with, a large mass of gore and blood spilling over the ground as he screamed in agony and for mercy. He recieved none really, being beaten to death with his own leg. The sword was drawn next. How he hated having to deal with these shocked bandits, no, brigands. He felt more blades dig at his armour, few getting through causing little more than stinging and light bleeding. The crystaline blade cleaving limbs and hacking flesh, tearing armour and causing death and destruction in it's wake. How he loved this part, how long he had missed it and how may people had this blade cleaved? He never really kept track, but he knew the number was vast. It wasn't too much time until he was soaked in blood from his plate boots to his deathly white hair, a grin across his lips as he held out the shimmering green gem, as it ripped the souls out of the men who had attacked him. They would have their suffering, but only after they were used to help create the Dark Lord's army of the damned. As he turned back, he saw the entire town gone, the few survivors gathering outside, he rode down to them. He was bloodied in carnage, though he approached them carefully, slumped over as if heavily wounded before speaking weakly. He was a man who looked near death in condition and in wounds, and his voice was weak. "There are bandits... on the road." Was all he could mutter out, approaching the remaining group of survivors. He had to at least act hurt, or more so than he was.

Zerral had watched the display put on by this Stark fellow (Not that he uh... knew his name or anything. It's just plot device! Yeah!) and watched him fight. How fun it was to watch humans backed into a corner, trying to fight their way out of a situation by any means nessecary. With a swing of his blade the goblin he had put on it with his ride by, now quite dead (But not -completely- dead) fell to the ground in a bleeding useless pulp. No longer would it raid things. No longer would it see the joy on it's kids faces when it brought back severed human heads and Ducats. No longer would it kiss it's goblin-wife, even if he really never liked her a whole lot, but damn for a goblin she was attractive. But no, there would be no more of this. The last thing that went through the goblins mind before it died, was the massive crystaline blade. The sanguine fluid dripped off the blade and onto the ground quickly, until once again it was clean, and the warrior dismounted. He didn't engage the other targets just yet, he rather felt like these pathetic little creatures could handle it. He was once just like them, and while he would kill them, unlike his master, he was always curious about these beings. He liked to learn from them, as despite their inferior lifespan, potential, and overall ability, they had always amazed him with their sheer force of will. Maybe it was because he was used to the undead. Maybe it was just that he's been alone in a fortress for the past millenia or so. He wasn't quite sure which. He still looked human, and didn't smell necrotic nor was his skin dieing. He was pale however, and had with him a sense of dread that his enemies could almost taste in the air. To be honest, had the Dark Lord ever found out that his general wasn't always merciless and a murderer any time he came across humans, he'd have been destroyed of all free will and made a puppet. It's partially why he sent the other riders back. He could handle this himself, it was more fun, and besides, he still liked to fight and have fun doing it. As the man yelled out for others to help out, he merely laughed. "What, happen to bite off more than you can chew? It's easy really, the game is to make sure they die, without letting them kill you. Really easy, and a whole lot of fun once the adrenaline starts to kick in!"

There was so much to fear in these lands. There always was. But there was something which had remained dorment for so long, which now was awakening deep in the Forbidden Lands. A terrifying Evil whose power had returned. Far to the lands in the south, a black Keep was carved out of the mountains. Large spires rose high into the permanently scorched black sky, darkness falling all around the lands near it. How unforboding the land was. Soil grey and salted, so that nothing could ever grow in this area. There was no water, and no life to speak of. This was a cursed place, an evil place, that even the dangerous beasts of the Forbidden Lands generally stayed away from. The dark keep now awoke, but no life walked in it's halls. Nothing, but silence. In the Throne Room of the Dark Lord Tahkysis Atop the highest spire, sat in his dark throne, carved of the bones of the living, a dark being. The piercing green lights, which could only be described as eyes, pierced the veil of shadow created by the cowl of darkness and black cloths which covered his body. A flowing cape reached the ground at his armoured boots, made of white cloth, stained crimson with the blood of countless enemies. It had been many years, centuries perhaps, since he had the power to come alive once again. They wouldn't know who he was anymore, which gave him the element of surprise when he went to attack and regrow his armies. He would start small as he always did, and work his way outward. But first, business was business. A silent ripple flew through the dark keep, summoning forth the only five beings who had kept in this citadel since their master had been defeated so long ago. Forever waiting his masters wishes, through the doors came the one man who had been with the Dark Lord as long as he had been in existance. General Zerral entered the room, and bowed deeply, before kneeling in front of his king. "You called for me my master. We are all greatful for your return, and as always, we are here to serve you and only you" Spoke the dark general. His words were true. The taint had taken his heart long ago, and the powerful abilities of the Dark Lord Tahkysis had destroyed any other will he had but to serve faithfully. The full plate creaked slightly against the stone floor. And the masters words spoke in his mind. "You... shall go forth General Zerral. The time... has come... once again" Spoke the raspy, dark telepathic voice of his master. General Zerral knew well what time it was. It was time to rebuild the Dark Lord's army. His army to lead once again, and how he enjoyed this wonderous feeling. They would start as they always had. "Go... Now" Spoke the Dark Lord, as Zerral rose, and bowed deeply once more. Departing from the black stone gates which lead to the Throne room, following him were four dark figures, dressed much like General Zerral. These men, if they could be called men, were the best swordsmen and warriors that General Zerral had left, who had faught hundreds of battles at his side. Their orders were clear. He had the dark green stone in his palm. The Soul Gem... While most weren't sure what this weapon actually was, the Soul Gem was in fact the greatest asset that the Dark Lord had ever created. It gave them power. What kind of power was beyond Zerrals actual knowledge. But asking questions wasn't his job. The five riders set out on the world, and rode for days on end, the dead of the horses and the dead of the men requiring no sleep of course, nor food or water to slow them down. The undeath always seemed to have an unusual way of escaping the problems of attrition. It wasn't long until they came across a single town, part of it on fire, or so it seemed, and from a hill in the distance they could see what it was. It happened to be a fire elemental out of control. Perhaps a foolish wizard, a bored elemental, or just an idiot conjurer. There also seemed to be a bit of a commotion farther along, and General Zerral descided it might be best to let the other four riders head back. At the moment, the last thing they wanted was to look more out of the ordinary than theya lready did. Goblins it seemed were attacking. And while the goblins weren't a big threat, he remembered his masters orders, and rode off in their direction. From atop his fel steed, he drew the massive crystalline blade, shimmering in the pale light of the sun, the hooves heavy in hitting the earth. There were a few other warriors attacking, and as three of them seemed to be all that was left, the General chose to lessen their numbers, if only a bit. Riding past, he used the massive blade (That totally wasn't overcompensating for anything) And skewered a goblin on the end being sure to shake it off, and inadvertantly slicing it into pieces in the process, riding past some guy who really seemed to love his armour.

((Adding Two characters. So screw you! And I will use my own form!)) Character Name: Lord Tahkysis Character Age: Currently Unknown, but very old Character Race: Undead Human Personality: Not much is known about this Dark Lord. All that is known, is that his heart, if he posesses one still, turned to steel many countless years ago. He is cold, evil, and sadistically inclined. He revels in torture and bringing pain on other people. Appearance: He is shrouded in a dark black fog, and it give him the impression of levitation. He moves very fast, and it seems as though you blink and he moves. He has a cloak of pure black cloth, which touches the ground, and has the same glowing red runes as his blade. His deep, dark green eyes are very piercing, though they are the only things that are seen throughout the shadowy veil that his hood creates. He speaks in a slow language, and it is not understood by any. He does however use telepathy to speak to those when he needs them to understand. When in combat, he uses his full plate. It is a dark black armor, with spiked shoulder pauldrens. The knees on his greaves have two skulls forged into them. He also has a long crimson red cape, which bears a demon in black thread in the center of it. The sheer malice and power of this being is enough to strike fear, supernaturally into the hearts of any who dare oppose him. Though he seems to stand at six feet tall, when levitating, it seems taller. There is also the fact that his image is distorted somewhat when he uses magics, allowing it to seem as if he is somewhere he is not. Other/Bio/Past: Tahkysis' heart was tainted with evil many hundreds of years ago. He wishes nothing more then to destroy, and to gain power. His disposition is one of arrogance and hatred. If you’re not with him, you’re against him. If you’re against him, your life is forfeit. He spares none. He is known to order his generals to take a special orb into combat with them. As his men kill, the orb glows, but nobody knows what this does. Other: Weapons/Abilities: Weapons: He has a long bastard sword, which is made of an enchanted black ebony, and engraved with runes in red, of a certain language none understand but him. When blood is on the sword, the runes glow brighter and the sword seems to be more powerful. He also has another weapon. A flail. It is a rather sinister weapon with a chain about five feet long which he can swing and kill many around him. The head of it is littered with spikes, and is about ten pounds. That, mixed with great centripital force makes a mess out of people. Abilities: He can blink move, meaning short teleportation, as well, he can use telepathy to speak. ((You probably won't meet this guy. The next character however...)) Calling the Dark Star: By blotting out the sun and the sky, he calls artificial darkness to all those around him. the sensation of gravtiy becomes excessively heavy, almost lethal in some instances in a large area. Causes extreme strain which can incapacitate him for anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour depending on the strength Character Name: General Zerral Character Age: Very old, As old as his master Character Race: Undead Human Personality: His heart horribly defiled by the darkness of his lord, he is ruthless, but, he shows mercy. If found out for such a trait, he would be executed. These displays of mercy are very few and far between, and otherwise he is not to be trusted. Appearance: Zerral has dark black armor, such is the signature of his army. The armor is like his masters, however he does not have the cape. His face is pale, and white. His long, white hair reaches to his shoulders, and seems to be tangled in some areas. He has pale, ice blue eyes, which seem to pierce the flesh of men. Other/Bio/Past: Zerral was the general of Lord Tahkysis long before Tahkysis' heart was pierced with evil. Before then, their kingdom had been a glorious one. When war fell upon it however, they were losing. Lord Tahkysis, to save his people, went out into the far reaches of the earth to find a sacred artifact. When he did return the land changed to darkness. Zerral will always serve his master until he dies. He is very loyal to him. Zerral is very powerful as a warrior, but nothing near the skill of Lord Tahkysis. Other: Weapons: Zerral uses one weapon, and one weapon only. It is a five foot great sword that is a foot and a half wide and an inch thick, made of a cold crystal. The crystal never dulls, and is extremely sharp. It can cut through armor with ease, and some rocks. It takes two hands (Duh) to wield this, and as such he cannot use a shield. Abilities/Magic: He uses two forms of combat skill depending on the situation. The first is a meditative combat state meant for one on one matchups. He is almost totally oblivious to any outsiders, but in one on one combat he is quite lethal. Time seems to slow down for him giving him more ability to react (Extreme focus, and thusly better reaction time. Con: multiple enemies is bad) second form being the more destructive Destruction Avatar. He becomes almost immune to pain temporarily (Though he still takes damage) And this is dangerous. When he reverts, he can still die regardless of whether or not he felt any pain. This is primarily against large groups.