In the Darkness a man stood alone, surrounded amidst a sea of stone, blood, blades, and bodies. Encased in a suit of Pure Adamantine Armor with veins of golden magic running not only through his armor but along his uncovered face, with long shoulder length hair tied in the back and a close cropped beard of pure white. two swords impaled on two separate corpse’s to the man’s right and left, made of pure Adamantine with glowing golden runes running along the blades along with a Great helm of Spoleto design to match his armor under his left arm. A dark smile ran across his face unmarked by his age, splattered with blood. His eye’s searching the ocean of soul’s he had just sacrificed to his god, his mentor, his guiding light, his only friend amidst the chaos of the world. He didn’t expect to find the one soul he was searching for, the one who decided to go against his god, His lord. No he wouldn’t take to battle, nor would he send his son’s to battle, for battle was a poor man’s proper place to a king. Despite not finding the soul it didn’t upset the man as he knew, not hoped, he knew with the certainty only those of whom were champions could have, that the soul of the king and his family would be sacrificed no matter how much praying to lesser gods they did, the king's fate was already carved in stone and soon his tiny little kingdom would be but a footnote in history, reduced to an accolade of accomplishment for the men and his legion who stood with him.
The man’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, clinking chains and the quiet tapping of wood on stone.
“Lord Mot, we have secured the fortress. They have all been sent to the fields of Glenshire. Long may Nadir watch over us." The words were spoken reverently by a woman of unremarkable beauty and young age, too young for Mot to quite understand. in a deep black and gold Hooded Robe with the symbol of their God Nadir, a Throne on a field of red bones. Carrying a staff of Deep Ebony wood with a wooden skull as tall as the priest at 5 and a half feet.
“Good, High priest Lela . But Alas our duties to our Lord are not yet over. We have been sent to Destroy this kingdom, and its king for openly challenging our lord.” The man in black Armor, Mot spoke back calmly with a deep voice full of strength and charisma.
“Indeed Lord Champion. And to that point our legion will be ready to move out at dawn. I believe it would do us well to let them res-” Lela was cut off by a dismissive gesture Mot sent her way. “High priest, first of all it is my legion, not our legion you hold no control over me or my men, you and yours would do well to remember that, and secondly I do not need nor request your counsel on the state of MY army. I have been leading army’s for our lordship long before your grandsire was conceived. And I shall continue long after your death. Leave me now priestess and return to your fellows of the cloth inform them we shall be moving before dawn.”
“As you will, my lord”
Lela said shakily with a deep bow as she turned and walked faster than was appropriate for a priest of her station. Mot stood there for a moment long with a stoney unimpressed expression on his face, Before he turned to his second in command, Commander Conrad, a man just a few inches shy of Mot’s own massive 6 foot 10 inch tall frame.
“My lord, did you have to rebuke the high priest like that, you know she was elected only a few years ago, let her atleast learn the ropes before you club her. This is after all her first purging.” Conrad spoke softly so none of the nearby legionnaires who were ensuring the dead were truly dead, a lesson they learned the hard way, overheard them. Mot gave Conrad a look that could make stone cry, before a second later revealing a soft smile while quietly laughing. “Sorry my friend, but it is necessary, this is the 6th high priest I have been through and I still miss the old high priestess. She might have been meaner than a legion of cold ones, but we still had a good connection. I am still deeply saddened by her loss. And it helps that I need to ensure the high priests do not forget who they are, they work for me not the other way around. I’ve had too many try and use their imagined power for personal gain and wealth. We after all serve the dead mother, it is not the other way around and I will be damned to spend all eternity in the pits of Glenshire before I allow it to happen again.” The two century old friends stood next to one another, one with a slightly saddened gaze and the other with a look of understanding. “My lord. She is with our god now, fighting in his name in the Arena of death. There is no better ending for any of us who serve Nadir and every man and monster of the legions would rather die before they let one of those magic wielding, pompous little cunts do something like that.”
Mot’s next words were cut short before he could even get them out, by an incomprehensible yell forcing both men to look towards the sound of the scream.
They saw a young boy no older than 16 on horseback standing in the breach in the fortress wall the catapults of Mot’s legions had opened. Currently the young boy was surrounded by a dozen legionaries in their Black Iron armor with their curved blades and skull helmets, with a elder priest of the order of Nadir talking calmly but animatedly at the young man more than with him. Mot gave a look of confusion quickly followed by understanding at his second in command before he freed his twin swords from their resting place inside some noble looking man's chest cavity resheathing the blades before speaking and stepping towards the commotion.
“I shall deal with this conrad, go see to the men and make sure they are ready to continue the march before dawn.”
Without waiting for an answer he made his way towards the breach and the now growing group of priests and legionnaires, the closer he got the more Mot could make out and his rough estimate about the situation proved true. The boy, a messenger from king Alcott the second, of the Rakar Kingdom had arrived without warning and without a banner, those two facts alone would have damned the boy to the fields of Glenshire if not for the timely arrival of Mot. Passing through the line of men Mot spoke loudly enough to ensure he was heard by everyone there including the men starting to make their way towards them. “Enough. Legionnaires return to your posts, Elder return to your rites, I shall hear this messenger out.” Mot’s tone left no room for questions, argument or hesitation. After the crowd started to disperse and it was now almost only Mot, the boy and a few guards on the breach itself who stood a respectful distance away so as not to try and overhear anything. He continued slowly, solely focused on the boy. “Now, boy Repeat the message your king sacrificed your life to send to me.” The boy's eyes went wide only now realizing what it meant to deliver a message to one of the legions of death, and with a small shaky voice the boy responded. “ I- I am Johnathen Stein Squire to his grace prince Albert the first of the Rakar Kingdom. I was sent.” The boy stopped hesitantly before looking around a few times before he began again. “I was sent here not with a message from the king but an offer from the crown prince. The fact that I am here could, if exposed, lead to the execution of my lord the crown prince.”
Mot was more or less completely not interested in what the boy had to say, it was inevitable that one of the princes sent a messenger to try and calm his so-called rage by offering help in destroying the kingdom so long as they are then put in charge. By now after doing this same thing countless times it had become boring for him. Did they forget that they were included in the royal family he had announced when he sent his declaration of war. sure it was fun and exciting at first hundreds years ago when he first became the champion of Nadir but then everyone started to do it and it lost all its uniqueness. Mot thought to himself as the boy spoke more about the gifts the crown prince would offer him, the gold, the women, the estates, the women. After the boy had finally run himself dry after nearly 10 minutes of the same prattle nearly everyone did when faced with him. Mot finally spoke. “No” was the only word he had chosen to speak. Before he looked around, and made eye contact with the guards at the breach and spoke loudly enough for them and well as anyone who was trying to listen. “Boy. we shall play a game that I am quite fond of and that fits this situation.” The boy looked confused and said with a small voice “ an-and wh-wh-what is it?” The smile on the nearby guards somehow grew brighter and bigger after a few seconds as they realized what game their lord and master had chosen to play with the boy. “It is quite simple. I even play it with the legionaries here sometimes. You run as fast as you can, and for as long as you can. And I will chase you, I have until dawn to catch you.”
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“An-d what happens if I escape you?” the boy asked more confidently, assuming it could be painful it could also be a game he survives. “Well simple, you escape, you win. I will stop chasing you and ensure your passage home with food. And when we come to destroy the rest of this kingdom you will be spared. On my honor as the champion of Nadir I will swear this.” Mot said with a smirk on his face with a right hand over his heart.
“And if you catch me?” the boy asked.
“Simple. Death.” Mot replied to slow cheers of the legionaries who had started to surround them again.
Mot looked around for a second before pointing at a legionnaire at random and asking. “If you would please, Legionnaire Tarklin. Start us whenever you are ready.” The legionnaire looked more surprised he was given the honor of calling the start of his master’s favorite game then to the fact that his master knew his name. “Of course, my lord. 3…2….1…go.” The legionnaire said in a shout. The boy didn’t move for a second then something clicked in the boy as he realized what was truly happening and he shot off north into the dark wood surrounding the fortress as the legionnaires cheered for their lord as the elder priest gave a small smile and laugh while the younger priests including the high Priestess looked confused.
As the boy shot off, Mot watched him as he left and which direction he set off in. with a silent prayer to his god of ‘Nadir may you watch over this wretched soul as he delivers another into your cold, warm embrace.’ After his prayer he looked around and called for his horse with a sharp whistle. A few moments later a monstrous Bicorn steed with sharpened teeth, two horns and pure white hair like its master. It emitted an aura of pure death, and hopelessness, it came to his side not led by anyone. Mot looked over his steed. A mount that has served him since he began his service to the dead mother Nadir, A gift from his gods home realm Glenshire. Mot patted the deadly beast like one would a favorite pet, whispering when their heads connected “Abyss, my friend. We shall claim another soul together alone after all this time.” mounting the beast in one expert motion and placing his helm upon his head, Mot made for a terrifying figure. With a soft pat to the side of the beast’s body with one leg they were off towards the direction the boy fled.
Johnathan found himself once again on the ass end of another one of his half brothers' gambits. Jonathan knew in his very soul that this plan was a bad one. For starters they were sending the only bastard of the king to be a messenger to people who worshiped death above all else and would see him as just another being to join their cause or to sacrifice. Another point was that in the hundreds of years of history it hasn’t every worked against the legions of Nadir, not a single accounting in history showed that it worked and that most people even tried which Johnathan highly doubted but Johnathan mostly assumed it was because anyone who tried was killed along with everyone they sent out. He hoped and prayed that, that wasn’t going to be his fate, he still had plans to get revenge on the king for casting his mother aside like she was no better than a whore like the man didn’t forcefully sired a child on her, and his revenge for the man’s arrogant, abusive, untrustworthy, unworthy legitimate children. His thoughts came to a rough and brutal end nearly an hour after they had started this stupid game, when he was knocked off his horse by a tree branch he hadn’t noticed. ‘Damnit John you're better than this, stop thinking and get out of here. You can think when you're back in your own bed.’ he swore to himself.
When he dusted himself off and looked around to get back on his horse a little voice in the back of his head said that he was well and truly fucked now. And he slightly believed it when he saw the horse sprinting merrily away without a care in the world. “Fuck” Johnathan shouted before quiteing himself and starting to run after his horse.
Mot could tell Abyss was happy, the beast was gliding along with joy in his eyes, finally able to be alone with his master once again after being surrounded by others for so long. Mot was content to take this game as slow as possible to length the time he spent away from his duties. His smile faded when he heard the boy shout like he wasn’t even trying to hide. And he sounded close, much closer than Mot had planned for and in a slightly different direction then he had expected to boot.
With a start Mot urged Abyss faster while saying aloud “it seems another wishes to join the dead mothers hall, Abyss lets not keep them waiting shall we.” with a loud boisterous nay Abyss went faster.
Johnathan found himself in a full out sprint, he knew he had fucked up by shouting but he didn’t think it would catch up to him so fast. He spared a brief glance behind him and stared death in its face. A massive man in full plate armor chased him on a horse out of nightmares. That glance reinvigorated him, making his legs feel weightless. He was barely managing to keep in front of the beast, but he could still feel the monster's breath on his neck trying to bite him. That’s when he saw a bright light in front of him just over a hill barely 50 yards away and he had hope that he would be free and the chase would be over. Yet when he passed the trees and over the hill he realized what the light was, it wasn't the light of dawn, it was the light of a camp, a massive camp thousands strong. He didn’t realize whose army it was until he saw the banners of the king of Rakar and remember what the prince had told him
“When you conclude your business with the devil spawn we shall be set up just south of the fortress, the entire army I would not be afraid we are only a few hours away.”, and he was happy for the first time in a long time to see the royal army of Rakar, so happy that he moved slightly faster. forgetting about the monster behind him.
Those lights were the last thing Johnathan saw before his throat was bound in a glowing magic chain, and as his legs fell from under him as the monster kept moving, breaking nearly every bone in Jonathan's body before the cold embrace of death took him, and he joined the halls of the dead mother.
Abyss slowed to a stop after the boy was dead. With his broken body underfoot and his head magically attached to a set of chains swinging slowly in a vertical circle at Mot side, he gave one unsatisfied look at the boy's decapitated body before returning his gaze towards his legions next target. The royal army of Rakar, an army 12 thousand strong, he had known of the army of course, he after all had a priest of intellange who was in charge of the sort of thing after all and had informed him when the army moved and their target. Though it seems he had lost track of time as he was told the army was tens of miles away and to the south, and he had only just started this hunt and they went north. He would have to ask some pointed questions when he returned. As Mot looked over the army arranged below him he couldn’t help but think of the battle that would come. While not the worst odds Mott had ever faced it would still be a battle for the year at the very least. Outnumbered 2 to 1 his legion would face some slight difficulty he knew he had brought enough men, not least of all because every man in the 1st legion he was personally leading was a veteran of at least two dozen wars fought with their lord and master, the Champion of the Dead Mother. As he paced back and forth on the hill overlooking the army camp with the moon at his back, he let the boy's head fall to the ground before he grabbed a war horn from his saddle, and while lifting his helm up blew into the horn, making a blast that could wake the dead. Literally if he needed but that wasn’t what he needed today, only enough sound and power to wake the army and get their attention so they knew their death was coming, otherwise it wouldn’t be any fun for him or his men.
As shouts started to arise from the camp and soldiers started to point toward the monster on the hill, Mot gave it another minute before he turned, ensuring his blood-red cloak waved with a wind from hell, he left the hill back towards his new conquered fortress and his legion.
The Royal army would send patrols out naturally though to try and find him but all they would find upon the hill would be the bloody, broken, headless body of the bastard of the king of Rakar.