Chapter I:
The Beginning
In the Shadowy Forests of Trok, a rider encased in a black cloak, speeds through the trees on his dark mount. Though his face cannot be seen, his cloak, outlined with runes and skulls, show that he is a dark sorcerer, one that practices magic beyond what is safe to normal wizards. Galloping through mud, thorns and soil, the mare is as relentless as its master. Finally reaching his Mt. Grimstone, the sorcerer reins his horse to a halt, and gets off. Tying his horse to a nearby tree, he goes directly in front of the mountain, and takes out an amethyst crystal pendant. Raising the pendant high with one arm, he mutters two incantations: "Aleth, sakorion, guthux." A dark light started appearing in front of the sorcerer. "Zamos, yeithod, hei!!" Then, a dark swirling portal appeared from the light, and he tucked the pendant inside his cloak as he walked inside.
After a few seconds, the sorcerer stepped out of the other side of the portal, into a huge black room, filled with hundreds of skeletons, old spell books, cobwebs, weapons and staves, and one large, stone coffin with a crystal podium at the end.
Taking out an unlit candle, he swept his hand across the top of the candle, and a small fire lit up, illuminating the darkness, just enough to see. Walking slowly toward the coffin, the sorcerer's footsteps echoed across the room, penetrating the still silence like glass breaking. Tip…..tap……tip….tap….tip…..tap...
As he got closer to the coffin, the room seemed to get colder, and the sound of his footstep grew smaller and smaller. The darkness swelled as if it had a mind of its own, and completely swallowed the room.
But the sorcerer wasn't surprised, and even though he could barely see anything, even with his candle's light (which was incredibly dim) which passed out, he eventually got to the coffin, and slowly put his hand on the podium next to it. He muttered, "It's me master…."
Suddenly, a mist of a thick, purplish-black haze rose up from the coffin, and morphed into a lich-like spirit, with cold, rotten bones, a skull with ice-blue fire inside, illuminating its eye holes with glacial light, and a purple sorcerer gown streaked with golden linings like crafted lightning, and a nefarious death-like hood that all liches wore.
"You called...?" ranted the ancient lich-like spirit.
"Yes master, I have retrieved what you desired," the sorcerer bowed and reached into his cloak with his wiry arm, slowly pulling out an emerald with red lines that wove together like a spider web.
"Aaahhh….., you have done well, Bloodwrath," the spirit reached over and took the spider-emerald away. "We will need use of the Ethereal Web for my rebirth……," the spirit chuckled with a chilling, throaty voice.
"Master?" asked the sorcerer uncertainly.
The spirit glared at him. "What is it.. Bloodwrath?" demanded the spirit. Seeing his trembling body, the spirit ranted, "So it's another spell you want is it…Hmm….?" Waving his bony fingers (of his right arm) in the air like carving letters, the spirit wrote down incantations in the warlock language, and with each stroke, a line of blue fire followed it, thus creating words the same way as quill and paper.