The Approaching Shadow: The Message (1st Entry)

[+Veritas]

Stelios looks back to Castle Britannia in reaction to the explosion of fireworks. It seems they have liberated the castle, he internalizes. His wide grin is held momentarily, but quickly changes to a look of concern. A party of horseman left shortly after the Excelsior Army made way for the castle and they have not been seen for nearly an hour now. Stelios fellow brother-in-arms, Jerrin, has not returned from his pursuit of the fleeing dark riders. His eyes narrow in thought and worry as he quickly redirects his attention to the search of the western wood.
He reaches the mountain pass as the light snow falls upon his vermillion stained cloak. After an hour of treading through the pass, he notices birds circling in the near sky, as shrieks and cries echo through the corridor. As Stelios rounds the ridge, his eyes betray him. His stomach twists and his hands tremble within his gauntlets and numbness envelopes him. The reigns fall from his grasp as the landscape before him reveals his dear friend…

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Clinching his jaw as he regains his composure, he tightens his shield strap. He removes his golden sword from its sheath, as the high pitched sound of metal on metal amplifies around him. Reaching for the reigns, he wraps them once around in a restricting grasp. From the deepest part of his diaphragm and with a desperate strength he yells out, “Yah!,” as he charges around the ridge. The snow stings his face like small shards of glass as he rides swiftly, knuckles surely white from the death grip on his sword’s hilt. His thoughts of retribution misguide him, for his mortality is a firm reality he cannot supersede. Just as suddenly as he flew into a charge, his mighty steed comes to a sudden decision, planting its hooves and sliding to a stiff halt, hurling Stelios over its head and to the snow laden ground. The beast rears up with a screeching neigh and gallops back towards the pass, kicking up earth with each determined move. Stelios fights to achieve some coordination and sorely recovers, squinting to focus on his fleeing horse. He presses to the ground with his hand to leverage his rise, while a bone slightly pushes up against the flesh of his forearm. He can feel the burning pain travel up to his neck and down to his fingertips and he relents, falling back to the ground.

With balance being the enemy, he makes it to his knees, though the pain is too severe to be glad for this achievement. He bends forward, clenching his teeth and his body stiffens in retaliation; the lids of his eyes tightening, blood vessels, bursting. Adrenaline rushes to his aid, and he opens eyes, still blurry. His focus begins to clear and he can see before him, in the near distance, an assembled line of horsemen. It was the same group of dark riders that had fled the castle, and here they stood, silent and still as the night, staring in Stelios direction. After a few moments of sizing up this dread assembly, he made mental notes of the black robes, the armored chargers, and the darkness that seemed to hide their recognition. Stelios heard a faint whisper behind him, as if the wind was speaking in a drowning tongue. He slowly turned his head towards his right shoulder, holding his breath as if his finite senses could be altered by repression of air. He quickly darted the rest of the way, looking behind him to see the source of the haunted voice. Nothing. With confusion riddling his mind he returns his glare to the direction of the dark riders, only to be met with a worn and crude heaume, inches from his face. Giant horns were affixed to the helm, most likely belonging to an eldar wyrm, only heard of in legends. Remnants of dragon scales laced the exterior of this shadow iron veil, which appeared to have seen many days in dark places.

Grabbing Stelios by the throat, the concealed one lifts him up and slams him up against the mountain side, breaking off stone with his force. He let out a long and hissing sigh. “I assumed your friend’s head on that pike beside his transfixed waste of flesh would’ve been enough for you to turn back. You are either very brave or very stupid, neither of which will bring you satisfaction.” Gasping for air Stelios mutters, “Darkness has been beaten…again…It won’t be long until…we clear these lands of your creations….and come for you.” Tilting his head slightly back, the muscles in his neck tightening, the man squeezes Stelio’s broken arm, splintering the bone further. He exhales as his grip tightens, and says,

“Good, that is the plan. I am looking forward to having these pathetic souls in my citadel. “However,” he moves closer to Stelios’ face, ”I will not have a fool with a sword regurgitate his hopeless cause before me. I will continue to overrun this world with my darkest creations.” He looks just to the side of Stelios’, “Your comrades have already met my dark priest, Legion, my hulking juggernaut the Jabberwocky, the agile avian Cockatrice, my hearty plant Balmoro, and the general of my army, Gigas.” He directs his gaze back to Stelios, “There will always be another general, there will always be another beast, and I will always have droves to ravage this land. Excelsior will meet them again.”

He notices a dim glow coming from a pouch at Stelios' side. He recognizes it's dark energy as the smoldering force within rythmically illuminates as he focuses on it. He loosens his grip ever so slightly and cocks his head to the side as if a revelation has come to him. He continues, but in a more gentle tone. “Each of my creations holds a fragment;" He looks towards the treasure at Stelios' side, "… a keystone fragment which is bound to them; an essence by which their entity was formed.” He moves closer, proximity enough for Stalios to rile at the stench coming from beneath the helm. “For each adventurer who slays one of my works, taking with them one of these fragments, they will be one step closer to their fate; for these fragments, when aligned in the Abyss of Montor, will open the door to a dark place. There, and only there, can your friends attempt to defeat me, yes…” He appears amused with the idea, and quite pleased. He abruptly revokes this gracious tone, and a deep hatred lunges forth. “Now go! Report to Excelsior that another darkness will meet them soon. I do hope it will not be their last. For that day, I have marked.”

He releases Stelios and the scout slides to the ground, grasping his throat. Too weak to raise his head, his eyes fix on the stranger’s boots as he walks heavy footed towards the dark riders. With one question burning inside him, he musters a commanding tone. “Who are you?!” His eyes fight to remain open, blurring as he sees the man stop in his tracks. The figure turns, his cloak swishing in the cold air. “I am the one who will cast the permanent shadow over this world. I am Bael’Nefario.” With the sound of his name, Stelios’, both weak and injured slips into unconsciousness…

[Journal entry recorded by +Veritas and +Rayne]

[Gumbi]

Is this the beginning of some new quest or dungeon? or is just something you guys did for fun? sorry if i missed a post somewhere explaining this
p.s. nice writing

[Electra]

Yes this sounds great:) Where do we start the adventure!

[Herra]

Have to agree this sounds like it could be fun

[Quantrax]

Well written and well played. Being that some of the monsters mentioned were ones that were spawned and killed by members of excelsior does that mean there will be more and a final battle against Bael’Nefario in the abyss of montor? I recall being there for Balmora but not sure about any fragments as of yet. Will that be in the reward we are to receive for that bounty?
Definately sounds intriguing and I am sure looking forward to it if possible.

[mermaid]

awsome writting ... congrats guy ....that say i,m really anxious for the next event ... tho it will be fun to know about it a bit in advance... so we can make sure not to miss it :)