A New beginning
He paused and looked up, in the gloom things stirred and shuffled, but it didn’t worry him as they moved at his command, animated by the darkest of sorcery and foulest of magiks. He shuffled around in the darkness, dark shapes, a shadows in the night falling in behind him, his personal bodyguards, two fallen knights or wights bound to him, how appropriate he thought, once the proudest & most noble, now laid low and humbled as he had been humbled. His movements where slow and deliberate, his body broken and damaged, but it wasn’t always like this. He remembered a time when he felt the wind on his face, the salt spray on his skin and the crash of the waves in his ears, his hand absently moved to scratch the mass of scar tissue over his heart as he thought of a previous life a world away. He moved past the Flesh golems, large constructs stronger than a man, he had crafted 2 as his servants to fetch carry, kill and capture, past the zombies, mindless slaves who overwhelmed their opponents by weight of numbers and relentless drive. Further into the darkness of the cavern he travelled, deeper into the darkness to his prize specimens, past the ghoul in the cage, a monstrous specimen, strong as a golem but more agile and quicker of foot, alive in every sense of the word except in it devotion to him, a truly valuable slave, he stopped to study it, he would need another soon, maybe not as big but just as fast if not faster.
He moves on to his greatest work, his masterpiece of evil intent, they said it couldn’t be done but he had proved them wrong, the Elven twins had come to him as enemies but his horde had overcome them and restrained them and on the fullest of moons he had administered an elixir extracted from a wereling and watched as their body rippled and swelled, fur bursting through their pale skin as their faces elongated into snouts and their limbs and back broadened into a lupine form. They now looked on with malevolent eyes, murder in their hearts but slaved to his will with mental chains stronger than steel, they, along with the others.
He comes to a final cage, a broken body lying in the corner, not dead, not really alive, “my old friend, how are you keeping?” his mocking tone gets no reaction, “missing the feel of magic? I could give it back to you…..but probably not as I imaging you wouldn’t pay me the same decency as I pay you, and after all it was your slip that elevated me” The body moves and an eye opens, focuses on him and in a whisper “ I should have left you dead Eilivaror, you deserved peace for your sacrifice, let me free and I’ll send you to eternal rest, I promise”
Eilivaror smiles “there you go, making assumptions that I want to rest, yes I suffer however I shall have my revenge before I pass to Valhalla to sit at NUFFLE’s right hand. You gave me too much back, and now I’ve acquired your skill, your magic and I shall use it to right the wrongs done to my crew and myself, PREACHMELDA must pay!!”
He shuffles away, pulling an old scrap of parchment from his pocket, a fragment of a report from a previous life:
The match report later stated that a large part of the stadium roof had come away in the high wind and struck the Norse Capt., killing him instantly, no mention of the large shaft protruding from his chest over his heart, or indeed the fact the air was still that day, history it seems is always written by the victors
A New beginning