The altar was completed, the stones that were scattered throughout the lands were united, the circle was completed. The knights had returned. The grip of the shade engulfed the land within its iron hold and soon none would be able to stand before its presence, not even the mighty D'Sari Knights.
Armanon sat alone atop the walls overlooking the lands which one day he hoped to see united under Ahriman's banner. Below lesser knights and those chosen by the Kings Farg and Demerol themselves were busy with activities. Over the past few months things had been changing, the altar was finally finished and Ahrimans shade had been seen casted over the land from atop the tower. His knights were stronger in battle against their foes and it had been no less than aweing to see them in action. Silthe, a long time Assassin whos worth had been proven time and time again returned from his journies along with Rauln, a mighty warrior and well-focused knight. Nimbis had been seen on more than one occasion practicing his mental prowess with the other knights in training. Zedar himself had been seen, a mere shadow slipping along the walls silent as death. Alot of the older Knights were returning to the realm and re-joining the forces and ranks of their brethren. Now, there were two more.
Laep, a priest of the shade. His time would come when his courage would be tested to its fullest as the rivals of the Order were stirring, however, Armanon would never doubt this new comers abilities. He had seen the strength of his resolve already in combat, and knew he was casted in steel. Then there was Sammael. Sammael, an odd creature of bone and black arts. Runes that were scarred from fire into the bones of the Assassin radiated a permanent glow of shock blues and reds. It was said Sammael stood beside Farg, Demerol and Kalvas in many battles when Ahriman still held control over the old Hellfire Ahrmy. He had been before Armanon's time, so he knew nothing except rumors and stories passed between the battlefronts.
Something of Sammaels past was never spoken though, some curse that had him locked away in cold isolation from the rest of his kin. All that time was spent in focus, in search, and Sammael had unlocked something, some force yet to be seen. This was something the tactician would look to develop, if not only to see it in action.
As the wind blew hard across the ancient stone of Ahrimans Castle, high above on the battlements where the Tactician stood and focused, it brought with it a smell of change, a scent of something turning in the tides of war. The Absolute Night shimmered briefly in responce to the unseen force, and the tactician turned. It had begun.
Posted by Armanon at June 11, 2005 01:43 AM