|
|
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| − | There was once a ceremony, seven years ago. This ceremony was hosted by an elder witch known as Eruliaf the Black Cat of Misfortune, and required a child sacrifice. This child was born to be the said sacrifice, and nothing more. This ceremony was to ease the demons of life, and exchange all of the fortune that the child would have had upon living.
| + | |
| − | The witch performed the hex in silence, draining the tribute of everything other than that born from the bone. Alas, there was a problem in the end...
| |
| − | ...The child survived...
| |
| − | The child grew of age, bearing grey eyes and a sharp face, exiled and outcast from society, looked down upon by all around him, to the point, all he wished upon others was the misfortune granted to him. He slowly became more and more obsessed with power, while thinking, "How may this creature be looked down upon... if it is better than those with eyes..?"
| |
| − | He set himself searching from settlement to settlement for crypts, dungeons, prisons, and anything with a mystery of wealth and power in it's mist. He would search to obtain power, in whatever shape, form or even existence. He would hunt, unmercifully and violently to get what he wanted.
| |
| − | Searching a crypt, he obtained his first blade, and a shield, the size of a child. Searching a dungeon, he obtained a flail and a short sword. Searching a re-inhabited prison looted knives, from the fresh corpses of bandits.
| |
| − | This man hunted until he found mithril hills. A land of corruption that slowly accepted his cold heart, with no knowledge of his hex. He slowly became fond of having a location to store his finds.
| |
| − | Though, what one would call home, is a sense of belonging. He still would lack this. This creature would assist in the slaughter of near holdings, and protection of this small one, for his own benefits alone. Those would ask for his name, and he could only reply with, "I do not know".. At time, he decided to give himself a name... "I am Anaton". With this, his unmerciful cruelty to those weak and near death, bore him the title of The Wicked.
| |
| − | With time, Mithril Hills became size enough to not require worry of plunder and raiding, and the land grew grey in his eyes. This man returned to his original goal... ...Power. Yet once again, he sets off.
| |
| − | While searching for a monsters nest in a white wood forest far to the north, he could hear roaring in the distance, and yelling. The roaring of two, and the yelling of one. Upon approaching the commotion, he comes across a large man, gored and still swinging a sword, larger than himself. What the man is swinging at though, is a goat. A goat that is a snake, and a snake that is a lion. This is a chimera...
| |
| − | The chimera would lunge forward, and the large man slams his sword across one of the beasts heads. Unfazed, it pressed forward, adding to the man's wounds. Anaton quickly decides, that this beasts head is his, and draws his sword. Not knowing how to approach the creture, he would keep his distance, and try to it's back side. With the large man keeping it distracted, Anaton took a chance, and rushed towards it's flank to get a surprise shot. The surprise was on him.
| |
| − | Realizing he is now on the ground, he looks down to find a snake, attached to his leg. In shock, two quick chops of his sword dismembers the snake from the chimera's body. Readying himself up, the two heads are roaring in anguish and rage. The Chimera evades a strike from the great sword, and goes for the smaller one behind it.
| |
| − | Anaton is thrown a large distance, life saved with the sacrifice of his shield. It is broken in half. Displeased, he draws his short sword. Anaton is not skilled with two swords. Back to his feet, he charges back to the chimera, once again facing the large man with the great sword.
| |
