The eerie dew of a damp ground swirled as the red cloaked man in the mask strode forward into a decrepit, abandoned town in the land of Meremoth. He had waded through the terrors of the country with ease, as if he knew them by heart. As he approached the town he spotted a small band of creatures. Mynhas. Small though they were, they were ferocious in their own right. They were hideous little things and the smell they carried with them was enough to make a man lose his supper. They were almost completely still, heads barely poking above the dissipating mist. They had pale, hairless, bodies with short legs and long arms. On the tips of their slender fingers were long talons that were often stained red from a recent hunt. Their heads were altogether too big for their bodies. The whole creature was no taller than two feet, but the head made up one third of that height. It’s head was an oblong shape and was all mouth. No ears, no eyes, and no nose. No other distinguishing feature. It’s mouth took up the whole of it’s face, if you could call it that. It constantly hung its gaping mouth opened wide, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth. They stood still with only a slight swaying of the head back and forth, tasting the air for any sign of prey. The strength of this creature was not in its size or even its mouth, but in it’s numbers. They were the piranhas of the land. When they swarmed, there was little hope for the creature they hunted.

As the man stepped forward, the creatures turned and faced him in unison. He knew the mynhas to be formidable, but with the strength of his newly procured sword in hand, he felt sure of his victory over them should they approach. He stepped closer again. The creatures did not stir more than merely following his motion with their mouths. It frustrated him that they would not try to attack, for he wanted to test his blade against these formidable opponents. He stood a moment, waiting for their typical call for a hunt to signify the fight he was looking for. He grew impatient. He stepped again closer, till he was right in front of one of them. He glanced down in disgust. As he gazed down at the pale, sickly looking, pungent rodent, he wondered if this hideous creature had a sense of honor and loyalty. To test his theory, he slew the one at his feet. Whether it was honor, or something else, is impossible to tell, but the action did not pass by without response.

The other mynhas went deadly still. They all of them turned slowly toward the intruder and started shaking. A deep rumbling became audible, deeper than would be assumed possible from a creature that size. They all shook in unison, whether it was to communicate or because they were angry was uncertain. The rumble grew louder under until finally a shriek split through the resonant noise and every mynha in unison rushed at the cloaked man.

They were on the hunt.

They seemed to come from everywhere. There were certainly more than the man previously assumed. It seemed that near a hundered of them were scattered throughout the rundown village. The man laughed. A new challenge for his blade. This was not why he was in this village, but killing all of these wretched things would give him joy.

The first wave of mynhas jumped up to attack from above, while the second wave rushed from below. This was their usual tactic. All this for the purpose of overcoming the man like a wave of ravenous destruction. They did not last. With rapid strokes, the sword cut through the mynhas in droves. When the sword slashed through one creature, it’s dark flame would rush through several, burning them and leaving them nothing but ash. So this process continued. At one moment, the mynhas attempted to surround the man and rush again from above and below, but this time from all around. The man only laughed again at the attempt. As his senses and reflexes kicked in, everything slowed around the man as he took the sword and circled it around himself once. As he did, that’s same dark flame erupted from the blade, only this time the flame held it’s place, suspended in the air. Once the circle was complete, he then stabbed the tip of the sword into the ground. From the point where ground met metal there came a wave of dark fiery energy that blasted through the mynhas and brought them all down.

The fight lasted mere moments. At its conclusion, the ground was littered with creatures either burned or cut, and the man laughing a self satisfied, wicked laughter. He held up the sword again, admiring its cruel beauty. This sword was made to create peace, yet what despair it could bring.

What an enjoyable distraction. Now, to move on to the task he came here for.

The man took the sword and stabbed at the ground once again, burying its blade half way into the soil. He then knelt before it. He was still, until the ground began to rumble as if understanding his intention. A dull hum began to reverberate through the air. This ruble, quite different from the one just created by the mynhas, seemed to come from much deeper in the ground. The man stood and stretched out his hands and a pale sickly green light sprung from his fingers. He then crossed his hands, the light following, leaving green burns in the air. He uncrossed and then raised his hands. He then moved his hands in a series of sharp motions, until there was a sickly green burned image left in the air. It was a symbol. A perfect representation of the symbol of Meremoth etched into the air. The significance of this is unclear, but the man certainly knew. The motions he made were performed like they were practiced constantly.

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With his final move, he jerked his hands outward as if to accept what evils he was inviting. He stumbled backward as a similar light seemed to rush from the depths of the earth and reach his feet. The light touched his feet and then took a track up to his chest, where it swelled. The light then seeped into his skin and was now burning inside him. The sickly glow expanded and then two branches of light spread out from his heart, reaching his hands which were then encompassed in it’s sickly glow. He was reeling from the intensity of the power rushing through him, but he stepped forward and grabbed the hilt of the sword. The light transferred into the sword and seeped back into the ground. The ground pulsed as webs of power stretched out from the sword. The burned symbol in the air glowed brighter and then moved to the ground until it rested upon it. The ground met the symbol with a malicious joy and it shook.

“Rise”, resounded the dark voice of the masked man.

He then stabbed the sword deeper into the ground. The power erupted and the rumbling grew louder. The earth shook again and then split along the lines of the symbol until a great hole in the earth was formed. A sickly pale mist poured from the mouth of the hole. The release of force upon it’s opening was so great that it sent out a shockwave, knocking over several buildings. The man held his grip.

From the chasm came a hand. The hand was large and was attached to a muscular arm that hefted out an enormous body. The strong, broad shoulder of a massive beast could now be seen. The beast was hairy and large. It’s head then rose from the ground. It had six horns. Two very large ones coming from just above the temples that curled around it’s head like a rams and two smaller ones just above those that likewise curled but these around the back of the head. Two more horns were placed on the forehead and these were thick but shorter than the others and jutted out about a foot with only a slight bend upward. It had holes where the eyes should be, but in place of eyes, there was only a dark mist that slowly poured from each socket. It lacked a nose and mouth and only had small holes where the ears ought to have been. As for the rest of its body, It was hairy all over. The color of the hair was black everywhere, save for the face where it was a

pale grey. It’s proportions were much like a gorillas, only with longer legs. It seemed just as capable of running on four legs as two.

The man in the mask laughed triumphantly at the sight of the creature. He rejoiced greater still when two more came forth. More seemed to be on the way, but the hole in the ground shook violently and suddenly slammed closed. The man cried out and was thrown many feet away from his place by an unseen force. He got up and steadied himself. A burned shape of the symbol was left on the ground before the three beasts he had summoned forth. He looked at it in confused anger. He steadied himself and began to contemplate what had just happened.

“Looks like I will have to take the long way around after all” he said in an almost whisper. He then looked up at the ten foot tall, muscular creatures before him, “welcome, my Slain of meremoth”

The creatures beat their chests.

“It appears this ritual cannot be complete until my strength is equal to it. Ah well, one way or another, this has been a profitable experiment”

The creatures bowed.

“The rest of the armor must be mine if I am to succeed, or else…” His voice trailed off in contemplation. It was clear that whatever “or else” meant was going to be very unpleasant.

The wind picked up and, as if in response to it, the man inclined his ear. He was silent, until,

“You!” Cried the man, pointing at the central beast.

The creature rumbled deep within itself in response to the command.

“Can you speak?”

The creatures head tilted to the side. Then the mist that was slowly pouring from its eyes lit up green. A voice entered into the man’s thoughts.

“I can whisper”

The voice was soft and chilling. It did not match it’s owner in the least.

“Good, and for the others?”

“They will learn in time. I am the firstborn”

“Interesting. I have a task for you”

“Speak and be obeyed”

The masked man was well satisfied thus far. He spoke his command.

“The trail of the armor is cold. Find it, piece by piece. Start with the helm. Do not reveal yourself unless you must. Should anyone find you, or obstruct you…dispose of them”

The firstborn bowed and rumbled. Directly succeeding this action, the beast ran off at an alarming speed.

“You two!”

The other Slain bowed.

“You will come with me”

The man turned to walk in the direction of the beach head from whence he came. The Slain followed.

“We must bide our time it seems”

The wind picked up again. The man stopped, waiting for it to stop. When it did the man looked back at the symbol burned into the ground and gazed at it.

“Patience…patience”

He walked on, followed by his new servants.