Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Pharix Dacosta]

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**If you wish to know what the shadow wraiths actually are, and how they work and rp..you can find all the info you need at this link - http://www.atlanticcommunityboard.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=11174 I highly recommend reading it if you have the time..**


He crept silently through the forest. His repeating crossbow was held tightly in hand, and his eyes were fixed directly ahead. He held his hand up, indicating for his five followers to stop. They wearn't as silent as him, and they couldn't stealth as close to the enemies as he could.

Nine warriors sat around a fire, for some reason fully equiped. One mage sat on a horse a couple yards a head, staring off into the night. Pharix crept behind the warriors and placed himself nearly beside the mage. The bush's were great cover, and he'd never see it coming. Pharix motioned to his troop, he pointed directly at the mage while raising the bow.

The crossbolt drove into the mages leg, he hollared in pain and fell off the horse. Pharix shot once, then twice, and a third time and the mage fell hard. The nine warriors lept to their feet and charged toward the direction that their comrad just fell. Yelling echoed off the trees, and the five soldiers flooded into the camp. The fight raged on, soldiers fell, and blood splashed out the fire.

After a few minutes only Pharix was left standing. He looked around in amazement. His five comrads were only hired from town to serve with him, so they were no great loss. He just couldn't understand how they messed up such an easily executed assault. After looting the corpses' he strode away for the camp and headed toward the nearest town.

Not many had visited Dark Cove since it was abandoned, no one really knew what happened. Pharix didn't care however, no matter how many stories he heard about it being haunted. He stuck to the trees, making sure they wasn't anyone patrolling the area. But it was empty, completely. "They really wearn't lying." he said out loud. "This place really is deserted." Just then a breeze blew across his back. He thought nothing of it, the ocean surrounds this town anyways. But he didn't see the black mist creeping up behind him.

Pharix sat on a log and started picking through his loot. It wouldn't take him long to get back to Buceneers Den and collect his pay. Suddenly his back stung, feeling almost numb and freezing. He was paralized and couldn't move. Slowly, ghostly figures began to come out of thin air and surround him. "We pitty the living." one whispered. "Take him, turn him now!" another said. He turned and shot into the air, but hit nothing. Pharix could feel his soul being drained. The dark tendrils licked around his body and started to suck the color from his skin.

A minute later a shadowy figure of Pharix tore from his flesh. He was now a wraith. A gift was bestowed upon him, undead, and a power to turn and kill all that lived. "Go forth, and turn the living. Create more..." he heard voice say.

The shadowy figure of Pharix disappeared into the air, and his travel began. His mission; to bring souls to the abyss and to raise others like himself, he was to pass on a gift-or a curse.
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What happens when the shadows themselves strike?