Ok, revamped story time. Here we go (creds to Greyor_42 and others for commenting in my DeathKnight thread and helping to develop this, I would love feedback for improvement):
The day he saw the priestess, everything changed for Sicarius. Sure, he had dreams; everyone did. Maybe he would save a boy who fell down a well, or maybe he would be lucky enough to join the fabled Guardians of Falconreach. That day, however, changed everything. That box changed everything. Within the year, Sicarius was honing his skills as a Dragon Lord in Sunbreeze Grove and watching his dragon, Morte, grow in strength. Their adventures helped to strengthen their bond, and, with Morte's encouragement, Sicarius began to expand his knowledge into other fields, particularly SoulWeaving.
His stay as a SoulWeaver was short-lived, however, due to the invasion of the Undead on one fatal Friday the 13th. Though he wielded his looms with all his might, Sicarius had to admit to himself that Artix saved the city that day. He waded into battle, axe in hand, and the undead simple fell in droves. Sicarius new that if-no, when-the undead returned, he would need the powers Artix wielded. He would need the powers of a Paladin. So, once repairs of Falconreach were under way, he set of for the Necropolis and began his Paladin training in earnest.
Sicarius advanced quickly in the ways of combat and Light magic, and he proved to be the bane of all the undead in Doomwood and around Amityvale. The hero, however, was extremely naive. He assumed that all who used Light magic were good, while all users of Darkness, such as Necromancers, thrived on inflicting pain and suffering. Three encounters he had as a Paladin rocked his beliefs. First, his encounter with Sek-Duat showed him that users of Light magic could just as easily incinerate their foes as heal them. Then, his relationship with the enemy-turned-friend Vayle showed him a side of Necromancy he had never imagined. But the worst realization came when he was adventuring with Artix. One day, they stumbled upon a makeshift house in Doomwood. Living inside of the house was a Paladin, one of the highest ranking in the Order. He was torturing creatures with Light magic for his own amusement. He was stiffly dealt with.
The fledgling hero did not know what to do. His encounters were all mixing together, and he began to think in ways that he knew Artix would not approve. Was it possible that Light was just another form of magic, and that Darkness was just as good, or neutral, as Light? Surely not. He had seen the hordes of undead scale the city, and the rumors of Sepulchure's massing army were always present. But, he reminded himself, what of Vayle? And the Necromancers who had helped to defend Falconreach? Sicarius decided to turn to the one Mage who could help him understand this: Warlic. And help he did. There conversation lasted barely more than an hour, but after leaving Warlic's *tent,* Sicarius had a new belief. Magic, Light and Dark, was neither good or bad: it was a tool.
Armed with that knowledge, Sicarius ventured back into Doomwood to find a place he and Artix had spoken of often and a place he had helped seal: the Tomb of Sir Malifact, last of the Death Knights. With Morte's help (and complete understanding and support), Sicarius unsealed the tomb and ventured inside, only to find Malifact's ghost waiting. And smiling. I knew you would return to this place. You were too wise not to. Sicarius recognized this voice in his head; Malifact was reaching out to him as he had before. "Yes," he replied. "I have returned, and I now see the truth: magic, all kinds of magic, isn't evil. You can use Light magic for evil...and raise the dead for good." The ghost laughed, his spectral voice echoing throughout the tomb. "So," he said, finally speaking out loud, "you now see the world I do." "I do," Sicarius replied. "...and I need a teacher." Malifact grinned even larger. "No. You need my equipment."
Malfiact's ghost guided Sicarius into the depths of the tomb, passing all of the traps and shambling undead. Finally, they reached the inner chamber, where Malifact had stored his gear before his unfatelful demise. His Paladin armor lay there, the silver metal now turned black. His skeletal ring was a few feet away, along with his blackened sword. "Put the ring on first," Malifact whispered, "and all will be understood." Without hesitation, Sicarius picked the ring up and, casting aside his Paladin axe, slid it onto his finger. Instantly, his mind raced. He could see so clearly now: the Light magic could empower necromancy and allow him to sap the life from his enemies, while also raising the dead to fight in his defense. Sicarius grinned, and Malifact laughed.
Sicarius emerged from the tomb an hour later, finding Morte asleep on a rock. Hearing his bonded partner coming, the dragon awoke, only to be taken aback. His friend had changed. His blonde hair was now bleached to a bone white, and his blue eyes now pulsed with red magic. His cheeks were gaunt, almost like a skeleton. And his armor...his armor, once shining in the sunlight, was now a blackened plate with a skull on his waist. "Sicarius," Morte whimpered. The former Paladin looked at the dragon. And then he laughed, a laugh that set his friend at ease. He had not changed at all. "Don't worry buddy," Sicarius said. "I'll still be able to buy you your treats from the Grove." Morte laughed, in his own way, and climbed up onto his master's shoulder, changing to match Sicarius. Now, Morte's skin paled to match Sicarius' hair, and his horns matched the red eyes of the Hero he loved. Together, they walked out of Doomwood, ready to face Sepulchure's army. But, Sicarius said to himself, he would not face this enemy as a Soul Weaver or a Paladin.
He would face him as a Death Knight.
< Message edited by Arcturus96 -- 4/13/2018 21:21:43 >