Angel of Death
Chapter 1: Encounters
Loraan stared into the deepening shadows slowly encroaching upon the small circle of light cast by his small campfire. The creatures of the night were strangely silent on this damp evening, with little more than the sounds of small rodents scampering across the undergrowth. He adjusted his posture on the small, round rock and continued watching for signs of life. With the recent strengthening in the influence of the Three upon Sanctuary, any life in the wilderness may prove hostile or even demonic. The campfire began to sputter, prompting him to toss another small log on the pitiful flames. He sat and thought a bit, while his right index finger idly traced blue flames in the air. The evil had been spreading across the land slowly, and the Horadrim, though powerful, were not fast enough in stamping out the small packs of demons that turned up in various towns and cities throughout Sanctuary. The fear in the populace was contagious, spreading like wildfire across the more civilized nations, causing mass migrations wherever demons were sighted. Fighters and magic-users like himself had spread like flies across a dragon's corpse, bravely combating evil, though with limited success, wherever it threatened. The reports from the east had been ominous at best, tales of great hulking brutes standing twice as tall as a man wielding massive two-handed battle axes crafted from some infernal black metal cutting ten warriors in half with a single mighty swing. Fire-breathing demons and huge mobs of small goblin-like creatures scoured the countryside, slowly pillaging and killing until only the walled cities stood, and even then, it was not long before the walls fell to the constant bombardment of demonic magi. The south had remained strangely silent, which perhaps indicated a situation more dire, for in Loraan's experience, silence usually meant no survivors. The hope that the south had been spared had been abandoned, for trade caravans and messengers brave enough to take the trip through the forests and grasslands to the south had never been seen or heard from again. Traveling towards Khanduras to meet with a band of Horadrim fighter-mages, Loraan had seen his share of fighting, death, and suffering. While life and death to him were part of the same great cycle, the expressions on some of the horribly mutilated, charred bodies of men, women and children had been haunting. . . the sheer fear and pain was etched in his mind forever, and he woke with images of those faces every morning.
A sudden flare in his senses jolted Loraan out of his thoughts. The evil presence floated in his mind like an oil slick on a pool of clean water. As Loraan stood, the presence rapidly multiplied in his mind, spreading like a black plague of darkness across the surface of his thoughts. Grabbing his bone shield and wand, Loraan quickly stamped out the fire with an iron heel and stepped backwards into the trees, blending in with the dark, the white of his bone armor gleaming as though a skeleton, not a man, danced amongst the trees. And then, he saw them, or rather, felt them. They were large animals, although twisted in shape by the influence of the Three. He could not make out the exact forms, even when he projected his senses outwards, wrapping them around the evil before him, enveloping the creatures with his mind. He could uses his mind to generate mental maps of the area around him, probing for life, but animals tended to use their eyes for hunting, thus giving him the upper hand. As they drew closer, Loraan fought the urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor as the fetid smell of blood and rotting entrails washed over him. . . apparently other unfortunates had wandered into these creatures' paths. The leaves of the trees rustled as the beasts approached, apparently unconcerned with stealth in the corrupted haze of their minds.
Slowly focusing his mind, Loraan raised his hands, steadily drawing power from the nether beyond. He could feel the strength flowing from the tips of his outstretched fingers, through his hands, coursing down his straightened arms and flowing into every fiber of his being. Thus prepared, he lowered his hands, preparing for the onslaught. He readied his shield, a mass of bleached and battered bone held together by forces beyond the strength of simple iron. His wand glowed steadily blue in his right hand, a finely crafted implement of destruction, with arcane symbols etched into the ornately decorated skull at its end. The metal and bone of his armor, pulsing with an unholy light, felt suddenly light upon his shoulders as the power slowly flooded him, granting him not only magical power, but physical strength and mental focus.
The beasts were approaching rapidly now, and their forms slowly became clear. . . wolves. Misshapen wolves, with fangs so large that the jaw had to remain perpetually open lest they stab themselves with their own teeth. They came at a demonic pace, long loping strides rapidly taking them through the forest, not 20 meters from him. Closing his eyes, Loraan raised his hand and channeled his power. Above the skull of his wand, a white point of light flashed into being, lines of mystical energy flowing from his arm. With a sudden flash, a shaft of pure white bone sprang into existence, shooting forward at an arrow's pace, impaling the first demonic wolf even as it leapt into the air towards him. Continuing on through the branches, the shaft pierced through tree trunks thicker than fortress walls, rending and tearing its way through the column of wolves. Demonic intellect rapidly adapted however, as the wolves broke formation and fanned out into the forest, attacking from multiple directions. Loraan focused inward, concentrating on the newly fled spirit of his closest victim. Re-imbuing life into the shattered corpse, Loraan reanimated the demonic wolf, which then mindlessly tore off into the forest, seeking its former brethren. Momentarily drained from exertion, Loraan almost missed the silent approach of a wolf from behind. He spun quickly as his senses flared, bringing up the bone shield as he formed another bone spear with his wand. Razor teeth slashed against bone, scoring long marks and jarring Loraan's arm, almost causing him to drop the shield. The wolf landed 3 feet away, turned quickly, and sprung again, taking a shaft of bone directly through the head. Masses of red and green spurted obscenely from the ruptured skull, splattering the nearby area in toxins. Momentum carried its carcass through the air, and Loraan had to twist sideways quickly to avoid being bowled over. He could sense a fight somewhere off to his left, where his mental tag on his reanimated wolf was. The wolf had attracted the majority of the remaining wolves, and though his magic strengthened his own minions considerably, Loraan could sense that his wolf was fighting a desperate battle against a score or more of its own kind. Slipping silently to towards the mob, Loraan readied a spell in his mind, and slowly drew what remaining power he had from his body. As he came within throwing distance of the struggle, he could see a mob of wolves dancing about in a circle around a single target, every once in a while darting inwards with a flash of teeth before retreating back to the circle. Loraan, unseen, took his time to focus his power, then, slowly raising his hand, he pointed towards the middle of the circle. As the power left his body, completely draining him, he saw the air around the wolves begin to glow red with friction and heat. The cloud of red grew rapidly larger, slowly taking a humanoid form. The wolves were not quick enough to spring aside as the fire golem suddenly flashed into existence, scorching everything around it with its searing flames. Several of the demonic wolves were killed outright, their bodies scorched beyond recognition. The others, suffering horrible burns, turned away, snarling, and fled into the forest, even as the trees and undergrowth began to light and crackle with flames. They did not get far, as the golem pursed them with unearthly speed, hunting down one after the other with its fire. Bright flashes of flame erupted where it struck them, burning hideous holes in their hides and vaporizing their innards. As the last of the wolves was destroyed, Loraan, fighting fatigue, relinquished his control of his minions. The fire golem dissipated in a cloud of hellish light, and his reanimated wolf simply slumped to the ground, once again a lifeless corpse. Staggering back to his small camp, Loraan sat again upon his stone and, despite his fatigue, began to think again. He would not sleep as long as he remained in the wild. To do so would be to risk death, and though he did not fear death, there were things that had to be done before he took the trip.
The presence of wolves this far to the west meant the evil was spreading more rapidly than anyone had originally thought. He feared what he might find the next morning when he walked northward to the town of Lunas, or rather, what he may fail to find.
* * *
Amura floated, silent and motionless, above the underbrush, eyes closed as he focused his concentration inwards. The tendrils of his power spread invisibly outwards through the forest, wrapping around each tree trunk, slithering upwards, twisting and writhing around every branch, caressing every leaf. Thick invisible coils spread out across the forest floor, rapidly slithering and undulating into the distance. Small fibers wrapped around each insect, reached upwards to feel the wings of birds flying slowly and carelessly through the greenery. With Amura as its center, the power flowed throughout the forest like an invisible, intangible gelatinous mass, flowing and slopping into every crevice, wrapping around every object and creature, relaying information back to its caster. So many years had been spent into honing this sensory skill that Amura could count exactly how many insects were in the forest, how many leaves were on how many branches of how many trees, how many times each bird flapped its wing, or how many ogres tramped through the northern portion of the forest, almost 7 kilometers away. The tendrils of power flowed into and around the raiding party, engulfing each ogre, completely filling and wrapping around armor, weapon, and shield without the ogres' knowledge. The ogres could neither see nor feel the power, nor could they sense any form of aura. Their battered black iron armor plating clanked loudly as their horribly misshapen feet trampled bushes, insects, and fungus. Long swords, axes, and flails were held in hands frozen permanently into fists. Some ogres sported ornate shields, most probably stolen from fallen human warriors, but most preferred dual weapons. As the power completely engulfed the ogre raiding party, Amura concentrated his mana, focusing and channeling it for a brief instant, sending an enormous bolt of lightning down the tendrils. As the lightning raced through the thick coils, the forest erupted into flames from the sheer energy. Waves of dirt and greenery exploded into the air as the bolt passed by. The ogres never saw it coming. As the bolt reached the group, it spread out, flashing through the entire group of ogres, striking with the swiftness and fire of a paladin's zeal. The black metal armor conducted the electricity brilliantly, crackling, fusing, and splitting apart as the intense energy flared through them. Most of the ogres simply exploded in bloody clouds inside their armor, splattering a large area with blood, scraps of flesh, and bone. Others convulsed, twitching and writhing wildly as electricity arced through their bodies. The smell of burnt flesh was overwhelming, and the forest around the group had been burned to the bare soil; all living things within 30 meters had been purged. Clouds of vaporized metal wafted upwards from charred ground as Amura returned to scouting the forest with his power.
He had been floating motionless in the center of the same forest for weeks, without water, food, or sleep. The endless power of his mana sustained him, and could continue to sustain him for years. An Archmage reigning from the Citadels of the Sky, his training and inner focus had eventually granted him the ability to use his mind to replenish his energy infinitely, which in turn could be used to sustain his body. No longer were hunger, thirst, or fatigue bothersome to him. However, the number of creatures he was encountering was increasing, and they appeared with increasing frequency, causing him to expend more and more energy faster than he liked. Over time, Amura could eventually fully recharge his energy but with more frequent use, his regeneration was not meeting the heavier and heavier demand. After expending the energy to vaporize the ogres, Amura could feel the beginning of weakness and brain fatigue as his vigilance began to take its toll. Realizing that he would not be able to hold his position for very much longer, Amura fought to hold onto control. Through a haze, Amura estimated he could remain conscious for another 3 or 4 days. After that, the surrounding villages would need a new source of protection. Amura thought quickly, assessing his options. He would not allow these villages to suffer the same fate as the others he had passed on his way northward. Finally, he settled on a solution. Slowly, he lowered himself to the forest floor. Insects and rodents scrambled away as the heels of his plated boots touched down lightly on the soft soil, slowly emitting a blue aura. He breathed deeply, preparing his body for the coming spell. Suddenly, an aqua aura exploded into existence around him, flaring brightly like an ethereal flame. From underneath his eyelids blue flames licked and from the tips of his fingers blue flames drew arcane symbols in the air. The words flared as long fingers traced them out, then slowly dissipated. With a slash of his right forefinger, Amura traced a long arc of blue fire in the air and pointed at the ground. Slowly, the forest floor began to bulge upwards, rapidly turning a grayish red. The bulge slowly expanded, forming into broad shoulders and a torso. Within seconds, a red-gray man of earth and stone stood before Amura, hands clenched in fists at its sides. After conveying instructions through a psionic link to his creation, Amura hovered into the air and was quickly asleep. The man lingered until its master breathed deeply and evenly, then gestured and suddenly disappeared, a circle of red fire marking his teleport spell.
Chapter 1: Encounters
Loraan stared into the deepening shadows slowly encroaching upon the small circle of light cast by his small campfire. The creatures of the night were strangely silent on this damp evening, with little more than the sounds of small rodents scampering across the undergrowth. He adjusted his posture on the small, round rock and continued watching for signs of life. With the recent strengthening in the influence of the Three upon Sanctuary, any life in the wilderness may prove hostile or even demonic. The campfire began to sputter, prompting him to toss another small log on the pitiful flames. He sat and thought a bit, while his right index finger idly traced blue flames in the air. The evil had been spreading across the land slowly, and the Horadrim, though powerful, were not fast enough in stamping out the small packs of demons that turned up in various towns and cities throughout Sanctuary. The fear in the populace was contagious, spreading like wildfire across the more civilized nations, causing mass migrations wherever demons were sighted. Fighters and magic-users like himself had spread like flies across a dragon's corpse, bravely combating evil, though with limited success, wherever it threatened. The reports from the east had been ominous at best, tales of great hulking brutes standing twice as tall as a man wielding massive two-handed battle axes crafted from some infernal black metal cutting ten warriors in half with a single mighty swing. Fire-breathing demons and huge mobs of small goblin-like creatures scoured the countryside, slowly pillaging and killing until only the walled cities stood, and even then, it was not long before the walls fell to the constant bombardment of demonic magi. The south had remained strangely silent, which perhaps indicated a situation more dire, for in Loraan's experience, silence usually meant no survivors. The hope that the south had been spared had been abandoned, for trade caravans and messengers brave enough to take the trip through the forests and grasslands to the south had never been seen or heard from again. Traveling towards Khanduras to meet with a band of Horadrim fighter-mages, Loraan had seen his share of fighting, death, and suffering. While life and death to him were part of the same great cycle, the expressions on some of the horribly mutilated, charred bodies of men, women and children had been haunting. . . the sheer fear and pain was etched in his mind forever, and he woke with images of those faces every morning.
A sudden flare in his senses jolted Loraan out of his thoughts. The evil presence floated in his mind like an oil slick on a pool of clean water. As Loraan stood, the presence rapidly multiplied in his mind, spreading like a black plague of darkness across the surface of his thoughts. Grabbing his bone shield and wand, Loraan quickly stamped out the fire with an iron heel and stepped backwards into the trees, blending in with the dark, the white of his bone armor gleaming as though a skeleton, not a man, danced amongst the trees. And then, he saw them, or rather, felt them. They were large animals, although twisted in shape by the influence of the Three. He could not make out the exact forms, even when he projected his senses outwards, wrapping them around the evil before him, enveloping the creatures with his mind. He could uses his mind to generate mental maps of the area around him, probing for life, but animals tended to use their eyes for hunting, thus giving him the upper hand. As they drew closer, Loraan fought the urge to empty the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor as the fetid smell of blood and rotting entrails washed over him. . . apparently other unfortunates had wandered into these creatures' paths. The leaves of the trees rustled as the beasts approached, apparently unconcerned with stealth in the corrupted haze of their minds.
Slowly focusing his mind, Loraan raised his hands, steadily drawing power from the nether beyond. He could feel the strength flowing from the tips of his outstretched fingers, through his hands, coursing down his straightened arms and flowing into every fiber of his being. Thus prepared, he lowered his hands, preparing for the onslaught. He readied his shield, a mass of bleached and battered bone held together by forces beyond the strength of simple iron. His wand glowed steadily blue in his right hand, a finely crafted implement of destruction, with arcane symbols etched into the ornately decorated skull at its end. The metal and bone of his armor, pulsing with an unholy light, felt suddenly light upon his shoulders as the power slowly flooded him, granting him not only magical power, but physical strength and mental focus.
The beasts were approaching rapidly now, and their forms slowly became clear. . . wolves. Misshapen wolves, with fangs so large that the jaw had to remain perpetually open lest they stab themselves with their own teeth. They came at a demonic pace, long loping strides rapidly taking them through the forest, not 20 meters from him. Closing his eyes, Loraan raised his hand and channeled his power. Above the skull of his wand, a white point of light flashed into being, lines of mystical energy flowing from his arm. With a sudden flash, a shaft of pure white bone sprang into existence, shooting forward at an arrow's pace, impaling the first demonic wolf even as it leapt into the air towards him. Continuing on through the branches, the shaft pierced through tree trunks thicker than fortress walls, rending and tearing its way through the column of wolves. Demonic intellect rapidly adapted however, as the wolves broke formation and fanned out into the forest, attacking from multiple directions. Loraan focused inward, concentrating on the newly fled spirit of his closest victim. Re-imbuing life into the shattered corpse, Loraan reanimated the demonic wolf, which then mindlessly tore off into the forest, seeking its former brethren. Momentarily drained from exertion, Loraan almost missed the silent approach of a wolf from behind. He spun quickly as his senses flared, bringing up the bone shield as he formed another bone spear with his wand. Razor teeth slashed against bone, scoring long marks and jarring Loraan's arm, almost causing him to drop the shield. The wolf landed 3 feet away, turned quickly, and sprung again, taking a shaft of bone directly through the head. Masses of red and green spurted obscenely from the ruptured skull, splattering the nearby area in toxins. Momentum carried its carcass through the air, and Loraan had to twist sideways quickly to avoid being bowled over. He could sense a fight somewhere off to his left, where his mental tag on his reanimated wolf was. The wolf had attracted the majority of the remaining wolves, and though his magic strengthened his own minions considerably, Loraan could sense that his wolf was fighting a desperate battle against a score or more of its own kind. Slipping silently to towards the mob, Loraan readied a spell in his mind, and slowly drew what remaining power he had from his body. As he came within throwing distance of the struggle, he could see a mob of wolves dancing about in a circle around a single target, every once in a while darting inwards with a flash of teeth before retreating back to the circle. Loraan, unseen, took his time to focus his power, then, slowly raising his hand, he pointed towards the middle of the circle. As the power left his body, completely draining him, he saw the air around the wolves begin to glow red with friction and heat. The cloud of red grew rapidly larger, slowly taking a humanoid form. The wolves were not quick enough to spring aside as the fire golem suddenly flashed into existence, scorching everything around it with its searing flames. Several of the demonic wolves were killed outright, their bodies scorched beyond recognition. The others, suffering horrible burns, turned away, snarling, and fled into the forest, even as the trees and undergrowth began to light and crackle with flames. They did not get far, as the golem pursed them with unearthly speed, hunting down one after the other with its fire. Bright flashes of flame erupted where it struck them, burning hideous holes in their hides and vaporizing their innards. As the last of the wolves was destroyed, Loraan, fighting fatigue, relinquished his control of his minions. The fire golem dissipated in a cloud of hellish light, and his reanimated wolf simply slumped to the ground, once again a lifeless corpse. Staggering back to his small camp, Loraan sat again upon his stone and, despite his fatigue, began to think again. He would not sleep as long as he remained in the wild. To do so would be to risk death, and though he did not fear death, there were things that had to be done before he took the trip.
The presence of wolves this far to the west meant the evil was spreading more rapidly than anyone had originally thought. He feared what he might find the next morning when he walked northward to the town of Lunas, or rather, what he may fail to find.
* * *
Amura floated, silent and motionless, above the underbrush, eyes closed as he focused his concentration inwards. The tendrils of his power spread invisibly outwards through the forest, wrapping around each tree trunk, slithering upwards, twisting and writhing around every branch, caressing every leaf. Thick invisible coils spread out across the forest floor, rapidly slithering and undulating into the distance. Small fibers wrapped around each insect, reached upwards to feel the wings of birds flying slowly and carelessly through the greenery. With Amura as its center, the power flowed throughout the forest like an invisible, intangible gelatinous mass, flowing and slopping into every crevice, wrapping around every object and creature, relaying information back to its caster. So many years had been spent into honing this sensory skill that Amura could count exactly how many insects were in the forest, how many leaves were on how many branches of how many trees, how many times each bird flapped its wing, or how many ogres tramped through the northern portion of the forest, almost 7 kilometers away. The tendrils of power flowed into and around the raiding party, engulfing each ogre, completely filling and wrapping around armor, weapon, and shield without the ogres' knowledge. The ogres could neither see nor feel the power, nor could they sense any form of aura. Their battered black iron armor plating clanked loudly as their horribly misshapen feet trampled bushes, insects, and fungus. Long swords, axes, and flails were held in hands frozen permanently into fists. Some ogres sported ornate shields, most probably stolen from fallen human warriors, but most preferred dual weapons. As the power completely engulfed the ogre raiding party, Amura concentrated his mana, focusing and channeling it for a brief instant, sending an enormous bolt of lightning down the tendrils. As the lightning raced through the thick coils, the forest erupted into flames from the sheer energy. Waves of dirt and greenery exploded into the air as the bolt passed by. The ogres never saw it coming. As the bolt reached the group, it spread out, flashing through the entire group of ogres, striking with the swiftness and fire of a paladin's zeal. The black metal armor conducted the electricity brilliantly, crackling, fusing, and splitting apart as the intense energy flared through them. Most of the ogres simply exploded in bloody clouds inside their armor, splattering a large area with blood, scraps of flesh, and bone. Others convulsed, twitching and writhing wildly as electricity arced through their bodies. The smell of burnt flesh was overwhelming, and the forest around the group had been burned to the bare soil; all living things within 30 meters had been purged. Clouds of vaporized metal wafted upwards from charred ground as Amura returned to scouting the forest with his power.
He had been floating motionless in the center of the same forest for weeks, without water, food, or sleep. The endless power of his mana sustained him, and could continue to sustain him for years. An Archmage reigning from the Citadels of the Sky, his training and inner focus had eventually granted him the ability to use his mind to replenish his energy infinitely, which in turn could be used to sustain his body. No longer were hunger, thirst, or fatigue bothersome to him. However, the number of creatures he was encountering was increasing, and they appeared with increasing frequency, causing him to expend more and more energy faster than he liked. Over time, Amura could eventually fully recharge his energy but with more frequent use, his regeneration was not meeting the heavier and heavier demand. After expending the energy to vaporize the ogres, Amura could feel the beginning of weakness and brain fatigue as his vigilance began to take its toll. Realizing that he would not be able to hold his position for very much longer, Amura fought to hold onto control. Through a haze, Amura estimated he could remain conscious for another 3 or 4 days. After that, the surrounding villages would need a new source of protection. Amura thought quickly, assessing his options. He would not allow these villages to suffer the same fate as the others he had passed on his way northward. Finally, he settled on a solution. Slowly, he lowered himself to the forest floor. Insects and rodents scrambled away as the heels of his plated boots touched down lightly on the soft soil, slowly emitting a blue aura. He breathed deeply, preparing his body for the coming spell. Suddenly, an aqua aura exploded into existence around him, flaring brightly like an ethereal flame. From underneath his eyelids blue flames licked and from the tips of his fingers blue flames drew arcane symbols in the air. The words flared as long fingers traced them out, then slowly dissipated. With a slash of his right forefinger, Amura traced a long arc of blue fire in the air and pointed at the ground. Slowly, the forest floor began to bulge upwards, rapidly turning a grayish red. The bulge slowly expanded, forming into broad shoulders and a torso. Within seconds, a red-gray man of earth and stone stood before Amura, hands clenched in fists at its sides. After conveying instructions through a psionic link to his creation, Amura hovered into the air and was quickly asleep. The man lingered until its master breathed deeply and evenly, then gestured and suddenly disappeared, a circle of red fire marking his teleport spell.