Arcturus96
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I was not sure if I needed to submit a new request for an edit, but here is the updated version after taking your awesome critiques into account!
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 of combat. One field, however, quickly grabbed his interest due to a fateful day in Falconreach
It was a Friday the 13th, and the undead were coming in droves. Sicarius and Morte fought with all of their might, but the fledgling Hero admitted that he did not save the day: the paladins did. They 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 these warriors wielded. He would need the powers of a Paladin. So, once repairs of Falconreach were under way, he set of for Amityvale to meet their leader, Artix, 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. He especially showed prowess in dealing with the Darkness Orb and Lady Vayle. Due to the Orb bonding with the Necromantress, a different approach was needed; they needed a way to separate the Orb from her soul, and Sicarius proved imminently adaptable. He contacted his new friend, Tomix, and, putting his paladin training on hold, took a detour to Ravenloss to learn the basics of SoulWeaving. Once he knew enough, the weaver returned to the Necropolis to aid Vayle. He was, of course, successful, and subsequently resumed his time with Artix as a hero of the Light.
The ‘hero,’ however, was extremely naive. Throughout all his journeys, he had 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 after recovering the Darkness Orb showed him that users of Light magic could just as easily incinerate their foes as heal them. Then, as he returned from the Sandsea and continued to interact with Lady Vayle, he began to see a side of Necromancy he had never imagined. But the worst realization came when he was adventuring with Artix. One day, he and his commander 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. What if, he wondered, 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.
The Hero arrived at Warlic’s *tent,* entering and finding himself welcomed immediately. The Blue Mage always had a knack for knowing when people needed help, and he could tell Sicarius needed much right now. They talked long and hard, Warlic discussing the Elements and their Lords, Sicarius taking it all in. Finally, Warlic finished his talk; the Hero sat back in the stool provided for him, and looked around the library where they had been talking. He eyed his magical friend. “This,” he said, “changes everything I thought I knew. Thank you, Warlic.” AS he left 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. He would have to tread carefully, as the ghost was sure to be ready for revenge; after all, it was he who discovered that Malifact needed his gear to manifest in a body. Without it, he was useless. That’s why I sealed it away, he though. Now I just have to convince this ghost to let me take it out of the tomb! Almost as if on que, the spectral Knight appeared, angry as ever. “Come to gloat, I see,” he began. “The fabled champion of the Light, returning to brag about his ever-increasing power and authority over—” Malifact stopped, stunned. This Paladin had…knelt down. Bowing. To him.
Sicarius began his cleverly crafted story. He began with elements of truth: how Sek-Duat had rocked his beliefs, and how Lady Vayle had been instructing him in certain foundational elements of Necromancy. The hardest part, however, was when he began to make is seem like he was ready to succumb to his desire for vengeance. The ghost eyed him carefully, measuring him for treachery. The Hero stared into the empty eyes of the specter, waiting for his reaction. He did not have to wait long.
Malifact's ghost guided Sicarius into the depths of the tomb, passing all of the new traps and shambling undead. Finally, they reached the inner chamber, where Sicarius had stored his gear after he and Artix had defeated the ghost. Malifact’s 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.
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