Nosgoth had known battles. The land was scarred from the clash of too many
armies, the earth cut like so much meat by the sword and spear. In the
cities and towns, where violence was as common as the gypsies that wandered
through, flesh was cut in the back alleys, bones broken, blood spilt.
Through the spilling of blood that fell like so much rain, the plants
learned to thrive and grow on this essence. As the corpses of the fallen
soldiers littered the plain, so did their rotting bodies breath new life
into the soil.
Nosgoth thrived on death. The land seemed to shimmer with death, a palpable energy felt but not seen by those who were not graced with the gift of magic. Then again, people who were not graced with magic feared those who were. Witches were burned in public; sorcerers were hung once their practices were known. The ever-present threat of vampires beyond the protection of the town and city gates made even the well trained solider wary. Most humans, given the choice, would have preferred a death in their warm beds, surrounded by family and friends. The ones who were not as fortunate, to be waylaid on the road by the bloodthirsty monsters, were given a prayer when they did not return. Some humans whispered that other mortals, succumbing to their dark desires or perhaps not in a clear state of mind, went into the darkness to embrace the vampires, hoping they would be turned into one. People shook their heads, tsked quietly and wondered what would have possessed anyone to place their soul in such peril.
Nosgoth was a land tainted by fear roiling just below the surface of everyday life. In a constant struggle for survival, fear was one of the few raw emotions that leant strength to the people. It made them strong. The peasants feared the merchants; the merchants feared the nobles, who in turned feared the royalty of the land. And the royalty in turned feared the Circle. The only people who were held in a mixture of awe and dread for their magical abilities and political prowess were the Circle of Nine.
Guardians of the mystical Pillars of Nosgoth, the Nine as they were known could condemn any person. No one fought the Circle of Nine without a reason, and even then the chances of surviving such an encounter was highly doubtful. It was whispered that they were the true masters of the royal houses in the land; that they orchestrated the rise and fall of every monarchy. That a king or queen was only as powerful as they were with the backing the Circle chose to give them. A voice from the people was never raised to question such things. Sometimes the truth was better left unknown.
He was born into a world of strife, a world of darkness. In a land that was constantly under the threat of creatures born of the night, of political intrigues that could leave people dead and towns destroyed, where not even friends could be trusted, he was raised. Baptized and given the name William upon his birth, known as the Just by the people for his actions, the young boy who would become a noble king, would rule.
A boy whose life would be tragically cut short before he could accomplish a goal that would have sent Nosgoth down a new path. A boy whose death brought the wheels of Fate grinding to a halt and unknowingly reshape the flow of Time itself...
Nosgoth thrived on death. The land seemed to shimmer with death, a palpable energy felt but not seen by those who were not graced with the gift of magic. Then again, people who were not graced with magic feared those who were. Witches were burned in public; sorcerers were hung once their practices were known. The ever-present threat of vampires beyond the protection of the town and city gates made even the well trained solider wary. Most humans, given the choice, would have preferred a death in their warm beds, surrounded by family and friends. The ones who were not as fortunate, to be waylaid on the road by the bloodthirsty monsters, were given a prayer when they did not return. Some humans whispered that other mortals, succumbing to their dark desires or perhaps not in a clear state of mind, went into the darkness to embrace the vampires, hoping they would be turned into one. People shook their heads, tsked quietly and wondered what would have possessed anyone to place their soul in such peril.
Nosgoth was a land tainted by fear roiling just below the surface of everyday life. In a constant struggle for survival, fear was one of the few raw emotions that leant strength to the people. It made them strong. The peasants feared the merchants; the merchants feared the nobles, who in turned feared the royalty of the land. And the royalty in turned feared the Circle. The only people who were held in a mixture of awe and dread for their magical abilities and political prowess were the Circle of Nine.
Guardians of the mystical Pillars of Nosgoth, the Nine as they were known could condemn any person. No one fought the Circle of Nine without a reason, and even then the chances of surviving such an encounter was highly doubtful. It was whispered that they were the true masters of the royal houses in the land; that they orchestrated the rise and fall of every monarchy. That a king or queen was only as powerful as they were with the backing the Circle chose to give them. A voice from the people was never raised to question such things. Sometimes the truth was better left unknown.
He was born into a world of strife, a world of darkness. In a land that was constantly under the threat of creatures born of the night, of political intrigues that could leave people dead and towns destroyed, where not even friends could be trusted, he was raised. Baptized and given the name William upon his birth, known as the Just by the people for his actions, the young boy who would become a noble king, would rule.
A boy whose life would be tragically cut short before he could accomplish a goal that would have sent Nosgoth down a new path. A boy whose death brought the wheels of Fate grinding to a halt and unknowingly reshape the flow of Time itself...