Prologue
The Undeath of a Good Man
The world turned ashen black that night with fire reigning from above. Ashes flew wildly across the Landing as Karana's stormy wrath raged over the sea to the east. Thunderous booms resonated from all around as the god Innoruuk stepped a menacing, clawed green foot upon the earth. The great giant excreted himself from the black depths of the sky, clawing his way down from the heavens and onto the earth. Hate billowed in purple and black clouds of magic all around him. He appeared as a troll did, with a deformed green-skinned face that was pockmarked with the disease of Brextullous. His nose was long and hooked downwards unattractively, his black eyes gleaming like a rat's, threatening and loathing all of Creation. He had no hair, only the blemishes one would find an elderly man's scalp. His ears were long and sharp, pointed like an elf's. He was a slouched figure that stood taller than any tower, his thin, bony frame looming over the Freeport city, claiming the area with sheer presence. Innoruuk's long arms stopped at claws tens of feet long that hung down to his knees, which were bent and slouched as his back was. His muscles flexed with the grace of an immortal as he moved across the land to the ocean.
In the ocean, Prexus blew the current in favour of a sailboat carrying the incarnate of Tunare. A woman with long, flaming orange hair stood atop the watch with a Paladin at her side, staring up at the looming figure of Innoruuk. She was only a mere avatar, who shone bright as Tunare's sun, but could not shine past the black of Hate. Doomed, she took in a deep breath through full lips and turned her golden eyes towards her Paladin. He stared at her with sadness in his blue eyes.
"Innoruuk will kill me," the Avatar of Growth whispered to her Paladin, taking his armoured hand in hers. "Promise me you will escape. Tunare wishes your life to go on. Promise me you will leave, now."
The Paladin's face twisted in pain at not being able to fulfill such wishes. "I can't," he told her in a voice almost inaudible, the depth of his meaning darkening his eyes intensely. He leaned towards her for a kiss, but she turned away. "Please understand…"
She said nothing, and looked up at Innoruuk. "Please, live…"
Pressing his lips together, the Paladin turned from his lady. He pulled on his silver-winged helmet and took hold of the Frostbitten Blade of Vox at his side, which gleamed with the power of his own loving soul. He drew it from its scabbard and leapt from the watch and into the raging black ocean beneath.
Pausing, Innoruuk looked to see the Paladin treading water beneath him. The god of Hate saw the man, and admired his power with a glare. "Leave, Paladin, else I will destroy you."
"Take me instead!" the Paladin cried, holding up his sword which symbolized his strength. Innoruuk's eyes narrowed. He had killed the Ice Dragon, Vox, as it would so appear. The blade itself was created from her claw. "I am strong," the man said, softer, "I will serve you for eternity if you spare that lady, the Avatar of Growth."
"Serve me?" Innoruuk contemplated with an evil smirk on his face. Before the Paladin could change such a deal, a black void dipped down from the sky and enveloped the Paladin. The ocean fell away from the power of Hate, leaving dead fish and seaweed to be taken up into the storm of black clouds. The screams of the Paladin could be heard as all good magic was vanquished from his very heart, erasing all markings of the god of Valor, Mithaniel Marr. All goodness was therefore replaced with Innoruuk's hate, with his black magic and his deeds. Nothing was left but a man who had fallen from valor, who would inevitably be damned for the rest of his life.
"If you serve me, Paladin," Innoruuk's voice bellowed, feeling the presence of the immortal he had just created, "You will kill this lady."
Unable to avoid the direct command, the man's body twisted in the blackness of the void which surrounded him. His now dim sword flashed upwards, towards the watch tower of the boat. Purple magic swirled across the man's bicep and into the sword, creating a sinister ball of fire at the tip of the blade. With a cry, the man released the magic and it flew into the watch tower, creating an explosion so strong that would kill anyone within a hundred feet of it except himself and the gods.
And thus was the undoing of a good man.