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[Sethos]

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It was a night just as any other in the forests of Skara Brae. The woods were peaceful, with the light of a full moon casting an eerie glow about the forest. It was still, as was the long forgotten Citadel of Shadows which stood deeply hidden within it’s borders…until recently.

Once the seat of the Lich Lord Rune Artisem it was a poison on the face of woods; the foresters still told stories of what they suppose went on there, odd rituals, experiments, grisly murders…with glee they recall the armies of Stormhaven’s arrival and almost ominously they note that The Lord Artisem was never actually killed; all his disciples never totally captured. Little did they realize that perhaps Rune’s greatest and most lasting monument to his insidious mind was not the Citadel itself but what once again stirred within it.

Sethos gazed deeply at the life-sized fresco of his father painted onto the study wall; it was to say the least like looking in a mirror. It was the same skinny frame, flawless pale skin, piercing green eyes, and long obsessively neat hair. Rune always was vain, the only thing that ever betrayed he or Sethos’ near perfect human visage was their hands free of all meat and cartilage two skeletal claws covered constantly by gloves, or in Sethos’ case heavy metal gauntlets.

Not looking a day over sixteen Sethos turned and made his way into his father’s lab on this his eighty-third “birthday”. Eighty-Three years ago Rune Artisem created him; he was to a point smarter, stronger, and more magically inclined then Rune could ever be.

Rune ensured this. Sethos was to be his greatest servant and creation, his heir, his weapon.

Clad from head to toe in rather well made enchanted plate armor as dark as night Sethos blended in well with the Dark Stone of the Citadel, his heavy cloak much longer then he was tall draped down his back and then hung over his left arm which was always laid across his chest.

Sethos had been troubled as of late; not simply because the Order of the Ebon Skull was gone, but because his work to find the convergence of Unmaking was quite in vain now as Oblivion’s incantations were all but useless now. That and he was sure once the foes of the order realized he lived they would be looking for him; he did after-all order the now infamous slaughter of Cove and Minoc.

Suddenly with a loud grunt Sethos gripped onto the rails of the balcony and fell to his knees something powerful was coming Sethos’ connection to the arcane allowed him to feel the very fabric of Sosaria’s arcane energy ripple. Rising slowly eyes were consumed by a great blackness pulsating with energy. Looking out into the sky Lord Sethos Artisem cried out in a rare display of emotion:

“Bailos!”