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Necro-Knight -> (DF)Another Day as a Hero (6/26/2012 15:34:27)
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(WIP) The malevolent creature reared its head, and unleashed a roar that sounded like rolling thunder, its dark and intimidating form casting a shadow over the Hero of Falconreach and Sepulchure, the Doom Lord. Its body was as darker than the night itself, and had a faint blood-red glow. Its wings spread out several miles, and its tail swept back and forth like a sickening serpent.
The Doom Lord’s servant had betrayed him in his moment of final glory, turning himself into a Darkness Dragon of unrelenting power. Only with the combined abilities of Sepulchure and the Hero did the dragon fall. The victory did not last, as the Doom Lord’s master arrived and revealed his true intentions to his little, red-armored pawn. He had simply used Sepulchure, he explained, to create a form strong enough to inhabit. The Master was a shadow being, and could not exist in the open light without a solid body or form, and with the slaying of the dragon…the Hero and Doom Lord has supplied him with one.
Fear gripped the Hero and Sepulchure tighter than any vice ever could as they saw the Dragon rise again, but in a new form, one even more menacing than the last, and much more sinister. The hero felt like stone, unable to move or breathe or think. Just stand there in total fear as Sepulchure screamed his defiance at his former master. With a blow that shook the earth around them, the Dragon raised its fist with a growl, and crushed the former “lord” into the ground, rendering him motionless with a single blow.
The Hero had tried himself to defeat the evil Sepulchure many times over the past 7 years, and each attempt ended in failure. Seeing this dragon defeat him so easily sent a cold chill down the Hero’s spine. The Hero was a powerful, honorable Dragonlord, but why was he unable to move, or warn his friends nearby about the impending doom? The villainous creature turned its attention on the hero, and he found himself struck with a fear he tried so hard to beat down. He was the HERO OF FALCONREACH, and was supposed to be an invincible being of justice, yet this fear enthralled him like a wet blanket.
The dragon thundered and exhaled a flood of pure darkness energy towards the Hero, who stood there, unable to comprehend that any creature in this world could brandish such power. A Doom Knight can easily teleport, or shadow-step as they like to call it, but the Hero found himself cemented to the ground. A scream rose to his lips…and echoed through the small suite he held at the local Inn in Falconreach north.
He looked around, the cold sweat beading on his body, forming little orbs of liquid fear across his chest and back. The Hero’s blankets were in total disarray, as if he’d tried to wrestle with them instead of the dragon. It had been over a year, and the sight of it still haunted the darkest part of his thoughts. He sighed, softly, slowly feeling the spiders of fear that had been crawling over his skin recede back into oblivion.
“Wake up, Lazy-bones!” The sharp, delightful voice of Serenity pierced the Hero’s fear, and aided to bring him back to reality as she knocked on his door. “I’ve got a hero’s breakfast waiting!” She then continued down the hall, humming a soft tune, the little notes floating behind her like smoke. The Hero looked around the Suite, viewing the surroundings he’s been looking at for years. A large bed made for more than just the Hero, with a solid black quilt. Despite its size, the quilt had been enchanted to keep the young man warm in the winter and cooler in the summer months, courtesy of the Blue Mage.
A large closet sat next to the large bed, its hickory wood polished to a bright shine in the morning sun. Within it, were all the Hero’s armors, hanging in long rows like a display of the skills that this young man had. The closet was enchanted to be deeper than it looked, which made it easier for the hero to store his numerous armors and clothing.
A similar hickory desk sat parallel to that, a few parchments on its surface with little drawings on them, with a few quills and ink beside them. The hero enjoyed doing little sketches, simply to show that he wasn’t just a man who knew nothing but the battlefield and bloodshed.
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