Slowly, Koronos gets his strength back, the object beneath him in the ground is pushing his body to heal faster and somehow sustaining him, it calls to him, it wants to be in the hands of an Everliving, almost as if it has agency of will. His eyes start to see in the darkness, not because his eyes are adjusting to the absence of light, it’s something supernatural. He is seeing in total darkness and beyond the darkness, through the very floor, a halo similar to an Everliving is radiating from below and it’s like music, a choir of his ancestors singing with incredible beauty.
But how to get through solid rock without tools? He starts to scratch the floor, then he begins to hit the floor, then hits the floor harder and harder, calling upon the Everliving power within him. The bones in his hands start to crack but so does the rock under him. Suddenly, not understanding how, but his spirit connects with it, and the floor explodes upward, knocking him back.
Now the choir is louder and with a purity of sonic beauty that is enough to make the celestial seraphim weep. A radiance like that of the sun with the coming of the dawn from the chamber below; it’s the crypt of The First, she’s beautiful and radiant even in death. Lying on her perfectly preserved remains, on her chest of golden gleaming armor is a sword sheathed in a glowing radiance. It’s the Sword of the First, an ancient artifact from another epoch, and a power beyond anything the world has ever known. A weapon not meant for mortals to wield, only in the hands of an Everliving can it be used at full power, and it chooses Koronos to be its master and he alone does it answer.
As he takes the sword into his hand, the fortress and the ground on which it rests begins to rumble and shake. Blocks, stones and rubble start to fall and tumble to the ground. As waves of pulsing energy emanate from the sword, The First begins to glow; then her body turns into pure light and energy and shoots upwards to the heavens and vanishes. Even in death, her will was so powerful that she kept herself anchored to the mortal realm for thousands of years, until the sword could be passed to someone worthy. Koronos doesn’t understand, but he just witnessed someone ascend to godhood.
It’s a greatsword but is somehow lighter than it would normally be for a sword of its size, it would normally be meant to be used with two hands, but Koronos is big enough and strong enough to wield it with one hand if need be. After the rumbling, it left a hole in the ceiling of The Pit, with a pile of rubble underneath it to conveniently climb out. Any guards that try to stop him on his way out are quickly dispatched in splatters of blood, severed limbs and entrails, accompanied with their screams and death cries.
Out in the courtyard, the guards on the towers shoot arrows at him but he deflects them with the sword, then he hurls the sword at them, and it cleaves them in half, the spinning, whirling sword continues through the air in an arc, returning to the hand of its master. Some of the prisoners join in with the or the dispatching of the guards, until all the guards are dead or fleeing into the cursed land beyond the walls of the fortress.
Koronos stands on the wall above the portcullis as the ragged men gather below him in the courtyard and he shouts to them, “Listen to me. I care not what dreadful crimes you may have committed or possibly unjustly accused of; in this horrible place you have paid your debt to society from whence you came, so go, live, be free!”
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The prisoners look at one another, some run out of the gate, some stay as some of the prisoners that are ex-soldiers get on one knee and swear fealty to him, right then and there. They know who he is by repute, and now they have witnessed what he can do firsthand, they know greatness when they see it.
“Stop kneeling like fools, I am no lord or king, I am low-born from the Thunderfel Tribe from Kazar, we don’t have kings and that sort of nonsense.” Koronos says to the kneeling men.
The burliest of the ex-soldiers replies, “but you are… I mean to say, you were a General, so maybe you can be a warchief or warlord, isn’t that what your people call it? You are our warlord, sir. I am Captain Korvax. I have fought a lifetime in many war campaigns and now I will fight for you. Indeed, we will fight for you.” All the men kneeling nod in agreement.
Koronos nods, “Yes, that I can be. Very well, I will be your warlord.”
Some minor details are needed tending to when being a warlord or leader of men. The first thing Koronos does is make the ancient fortress of The First into his headquarters and base of operations. Captain Korvax sees to this task; a good captain is necessary for commanding a lot of men. The men need food, drink and the company of lady friends, the closest town is beyond the mountain pass and it’s barely a town, more like a village. It only exists because of this location to act as a logistical supply station with an ale house/whore house. Because of the horrible nature of this cursed land, no one will make deliveries to the fortress, everything had to be brought in by the guards; since the guards are either dead or gone, the remaining men must do this unsavory task.
Outside the walls there is a creature from beyond the veil of life that haunts these lands, terrorizes and kills everything it can every night. It’s an aberration straight out of nightmares and its very presence attracts other horrid things from the Nightlands, otherwise known as the great beyond. He is going to have to destroy or send it back from whence it came. If not, the men will leave and Koronos doesn’t fault them for this. No sane man would stay in a cursed valley full of nightmares.
“Nightfall in the blighted lands, or cursed lands, or whatever charming name you may call it is a fairly ominous affair. First, you have the thick omnipresent fog that blocks out what little light the sun might provide at dusk, making the air feel heavy. Then you have the crows and ravens making calls, along with strange unidentifiable noises that sound like distant screams. These less-than charming screams that the men call ghosts, might possibly be ghosts. On top of this, whatever the thing is from the Nightlands, it is known by the men as something that cannot be killed by anything mortal men possess and it has haunted this valley since the previous epoch. The only refuge is behind the walls of the fortress, any man caught out behind the walls at night will eventually be found by the aberration and killed and their soul sucked out of them, that’s why no one ever tried to escape. And it might be some kind of deity and most likely, immortal. Even with the Sword of The First, it might be unkillable.” Captain Korvax explains to Koronos as they stand on the wall, looking out into the fog as the sun begins to set, then continues, “Perhaps we should leave this place and find something better, sir?”
“Maybe, but I feel compelled to confront this thing from the Nightlands, the sword hates it, I can feel it. This world belongs to the living, it doesn’t belong here, we do.” Koronos says to the captain, not taking his eyes off the rolling fog. “It senses the sword, I feel it, it’s coming, probably tonight.”
“But we’re safe behind the walls, right?” Queries the captain, trying to not sound alarmed. But Koronos only looks at him with a side glance and doesn’t reply.
As the sun sets, there is a distant, unnatural roar, followed by wretched screams emanating from every direction that echoes through the fading light.