Life used to be a living dream. I had a beautiful family within a wonderful community. Life was simple, but I was happy. I went to bed next to my wife and awoke to the sounds of the village coming to life before going to work. I returned home in the evening to my twins playing games with each other.
And then it was all taken away from me.
The forces of the necromancer Malek swept into the country and I, along with many of the men in my village left home to join the king’s army and defend our homes. We weren’t ready.
It was thankfully not a long campaign. Our forces simply gained no ground against the invaders. Those groups that saw some measure of success found it taken away from them when the defeated enemy rose again and attacked them from behind. Still others found their own casualties being turned against them. My company was shattered upon Malek’s forces with near totality. The few survivors staggered their way home to find that it had been completely and utterly wiped from existence – nothing stood that would tell anyone that the area was a thriving village mere weeks ago. It was then and there that my soul stirred to rage. Malek would pay personally for his crimes, and I would be the one to deliver that justice. I swore then and there the sacred oath of vengeance to any deity that would listen, and someone answered my prayer. Now, even so many years later, I still don’t know who gave me my powers, but they have not seen fit to take it away despite my repeated failures to keep my oath. Malek is smart. He’s crafty. And he’s incredibly powerful. And even as I grow in power, so too does he. I must find a way to level the playing field against him and deliver the justice that has so long evaded this black soul.
Ben Erickson
