Ebon Skull Archives: The Story of Shadow, The Wraith Lord

From Atlantic Roleplay Wiki

This is reposted from OES documentation for the pleasure of the Atlantic Community. Story by Shadow of OES.

It was an odd looking knife, created long before Seth was born. For one thing it wasn't symmetrical. The handle curved to one side, lined with soft leather all the way to the hilt. Eight runes had been carved around the handle just below the blade, dyed in what Seth could only assume was blood. The blade was not very wide, but it still stretched a good five or six inches from the handle to the tip. Its edges were just as sharp as they looked, and could peel a good amount of skin off if handled improperly. There was no doubt that this knife was created for combat.

This did not stop Seth from carving yet another strip of hide from the cow's corpse. It almost didn't seem right to be using this knife to carve up the cow, but it was all he had. He had enough money to buy a cheaper knife, more suited to the tasks of tailoring, but why should he when he had a perfectly good knife already. It was thinking like this that Seth hoped would later lead him to be one of the most successful tailors in Delucia, perhaps even in all of what was now being called "The Lost Lands." He found this name funny, since he never thought of himself as "lost" during any part of his life.

Seth finished carving the last of the cow's usable hide and added it to the pile already at his side. Then, after carving the meat for later cooking, he left the remains to be finished off by some scavenger in the woods, perhaps a wolf or even a troll. Seth had never seen a troll, but he supposed they were living creatures too and had a right to eat. The closest to a troll thing Seth had come across was an orc, and he wished to never see one again. It was during the historic raid the orc hoards had launched on Delucia, long before he could even wield a knife left alone a sword. His father had been a paladin, and was butchered by the savage creatures in that raid long, long ago. The scholars had determined the orcs felt threatened by the recent increase in adventurers looking for fame and fortune by invading their fort to the north. Seth made a vow to never cause such destruction on an entire city by doing such a foolish thing.

Wrapping up his knife, Seth got his bearings and tried to figure out where he was. He had tracked the cow further into the forest than he would have liked, but he was still a good distance away from the dangerous areas. Tucking the knife into the front side of his pants, Seth lifted the stack of hides and started off in the direction of home. The pile was heavier than he thought, and would bring in a very good sum when crafted into a heavy suit of armor and sold to one of the many adventurers in the city. Maybe then he would be able to buy that necklace he had his eye on. It would make a fabulous gift for Andrea, and Seth smiled just thinking about her face when she saw it.

He had known Andrea almost his whole life. Their families had been good friends in the city of Delucia, and they spent most of their childhood around one another. It was only within the past year he had thought of Andrea as more than a friend, even though it had been much longer for her. She was an alchemist in training now, always bringing back interesting and exotic plants and reagents their house. It really was their house; they both had contributed to building and furnishing it. It had taken eight months worth of work for both of them, but they now had a place to build their futures and could begin to think about starting a family.

It was the cobwebs that first brought his attention to the fact that something was wrong. Living in the woods for so long, Seth had gained a rather strong instinct about things out of place in the forest. When normal people, such as him, walked this path the cobwebs built across it would part gently and fall to the side of the path, creating almost a curtain to the rest of the forest. Today there was almost no sign of fallen webs, save a few small strands on the ground, as if they had either been cut or broken through with incredible speed and strength. Seth quickened his pace, anxious to reach his home and kiss his fiancé and hear her tell him how worrisome he had been about foolish little things. However once his small hut came into view from the clearing, he dropped the hides and broke into a dead run.

The house was now no more than a shack. The front door lay a few feet in front of the porch, torn completely from the hinges. On the side lay a burning pile of what appeared to be his furniture and some personal belongings. The windows were smashed in as well, with glass scattered all across the grass. But these were all details in his mind; Seth was completely focused on the body that lay next to the tipped-over outhouse.

The sight of Andrea unconscious made Seth lose all sense of instinct as he raced to her side. He didn't see the slender strand of string stretching from the house to the outhouse. Didn't see the crouching man ducked down behind the pile of furniture waiting to be tossed into the inferno. Didn't see anything until it was too late. His feet clumsily tripped over the tight strand, making Seth crash to the ground. He rolled over just in time to see a grinning, toothless man raise the handle of his dagger and smash it into his face. Then there was nothing but darkness.

Burning. Screaming. Seth clutched the bottom of his mother's dress as they hid in an alleyway. He could smell the distinct odor of burning wood, along with the unfamiliar stench of blood and death. Swords clanged not so far away, and the sickening sound of steel hitting bone followed shortly after. An orcish head flew from the streets and rolled right up to their feet, its face still grinning up at Seth. He cringed away and looked up to his mother, only she was now an orc herself. He backed away into what was a moment ago a clear area, straight into the arms of a huge orcish captain. The orc's axe was almost bigger than Seth, and the helmet made of bone made him seem more like a ghost than a living being. Regaining his balance, Seth looked around and found himself surrounded by eight orcs all closing in on him. He did not know where it came from, but that ancient knife was all of a sudden in his hand, and he knew he would have to fight his way out. Then everything got blury... He slowly came to his senses. It was now dark except for the burning fire pit a few yards away. Around it sat his three attackers, laughing while they ate and drank to their success. Seth was filled with anger and his memories and tried to rush at them. He moved only inches as the rope dug further into his wrists and would not budge from the tree he was tied to. The biggest of the brigands then turned his way, and tossed the remains of what was to be Seth's dinner that night into the fire.

"Well looks like our catch be awake. I was wondering when we could start the fun." The large man strode over to where Seth was tied and grinned, staring straight into his eyes. The man turned to walk away, only to spin around and punch Seth directly in the stomach. The brigand only chuckled as Seth dropped to his knees coughing. "And that's just the start little man," he said as walked over to where the other two men had moved. It looked as if those men were tying his hides to a tree across the small clearing in the forest. Only it wasn't his hides, it was Andrea.

Seth squirmed against his restraints, trying to find some way to save her. The large man walked over to the other two, said a few hushed words, nodded, and came back over to the tree Seth was tied to. "Quite a good time we've already had tonight. Between your belongings and food we've had quite a party. But unfortunately for you its about to end, as we have to be moving along." The man motioned with his right hand, and the stool Andrea stood on was kicked away. She fell for a fraction of a second before the tope went tight against her neck.

"Nooooo!" Seth fought with all his strength against the rope as his future wife dangled at the end of that rope, squirming for air. After a little time had passed, her legs stopped moving, and the rope and her body swayed limply in the light breeze. In the meantime, the brigands had packed up their valuables and appeared to be ready to move on. All three moved over to Seth, who was now reduced to kneeling on the ground, sobbing. As they approached, Seth looked up and saw the largest pull a dagger from his side. It was then he accepted his fate, accepted he would soon meet his wife again in the spirit world, and stood to meet his destiny.

One of the smaller brigands lunged to gut him with his dagger. Somehow, whether it was the constant friction against the tree or a benevolent spirit come to save him, the rope snapped against the tree just in time for Seth to duck and roll under the knife. Just like in his dream, that ancient knife was in his hand. Whether he had grabbed it from the ground involuntarily when he rolled or the knife had found his hand he never knew. What matter then was he wanted revenge.

The same brigand, seeming infuriated for missing his mark, lunged once again. Seth stepped to the side, catching the brigand's arm in his own. He then smashed forward with the handle of the knife into the thief's wrapped up elbow, shattering the elbow bone. As the man cried out in pain, Seth spun around the man's body to face the others, plunging the knife into the exposed back of the first brigand. For a second the wounded man stood staring into the woods at nothing until he crumpled to his knees and flopped down on his face. These men were used to dealing with helpless farmers and merchants, and were not ready for a real fight. The remaining men looked at each other, and both took off in opposite directions into the forest. Seth effortlessly flipped his hand and tossed the dagger in the direction the smaller of the two men ran. He then took off in the other direction, only barely hearing the sound of the knife hitting flesh, and the muffled fall of the man into the dry, dead leaves. Seth flew through the forest, on the track of the remaining brigand. In his peripheral vision he only saw the forest as a blur of green and black as he leaped over fallen logs and stones jutting out of the ground like broken bones. He needed his revenge. The uncontrollable urge would not be satisfied until he caught this man. He would pay even worse than the others for what they had done.

The final brigand, gripped with fear at what he had just seen happen to his friends, carelessly tripped over a stone and tumbled to the ground. In an instant Seth was hovering over him, a large rock in his hand. He motioned to strike the man, crushing his face, when memories of his father flashed back. This was a man, just like himself and all other human beings. Countless times his father had reminded him of how alike all men were, and how even in the worst people there was always a little good. Seth could not believe he was ready to murder this man with his bare hands. The pause was enough for the fallen brigand, who grabbed the small blade from his boot and flung it at Seth. The blade hit him square in the chest, lodging itself between two rib bones and puncturing a lung. As Seth collapsed to his knees gripping his wound, the remaining brigand ran off into the darkness never to be seen again.

All Seth could feel after that was pain. Fresh, warm blood ran down from the wound and soaked his shirt. He could only crawl through the woods, hoping to find the city of Delucia, or perhaps a remote house like his once was. The dagger remained stuck in his chest, the handle scraping the dirt as he crawled towards what looked like the forest's edge. Beyond, he spied the gray stone of the Paladin's outpost on the outskirts of Delucia. Only this structure was not as tall, and was probably five times as wide. It was then he recognized the smell burned into his memory for all time; the odor of blood, of death, of orcs.

Looking to his right, Seth saw the infamous orc fort. Its walls stood around ten feet tall, and ended in carved points to prevent attackers from climbing over. He heard an orc cry out from the fort in anger, most likely from an internal fight for food or fun. In an instant Seth decided this building would be safer than lying in front of the orcs, and worked his way inside. Oddly enough, a man sat on a throne at the end of the building around fifty feet away. White flowers lined the walls to his seat, and a brazier crackled and burned at either side. A glowing purple staff lay tilted against the throne, and in the light it appeared as if his skin was gray. As Seth crawled closer, he realized it was not the light.

This was no ordinary man. The bluish black robes flowed from its bony, gray body. Its eyes had no white; they were just deep, glowing purple, and looking directly at Seth. A slight grin cracked the skin on his face as it stood up, grabbed the staff, and walked over to where Seth had crawled. With each step, small fragments of dead skin fell off the creature like dust, and when he neared the stench overwhelmed Seth to the point where he thought he might be sick. It tilted the staff slightly towards the dagger, still lodged in Seth's chest.

"Quite a nasty wound you have there. Within at least an hour you will be dead, but we can help you. We can see the anger in your eyes. You wish revenge against that man, against humanity. We can grant you eternal life to accomplish this." Seth looked up, his vision already becoming blurry. "What do you get out of it," he said, the words coming out no more than a whisper.

"You will be our servant. It will not be so bad, considering how some of our other servants are treated. You will be free to roam the lands, extracting your revenge where you see fit. However, when we call you will come to us, and perform the tasks we ask of you." Seth considered for only a moment; the thought of revenge still was strong in his mind, even while in this much pain. "Do it," he said, attempting to kneel but tilting slowly until he fell flat on his back. The being, known throughout the land as Azalin the Lich Lord, grinned as he lifted his staff. A green blade poked from the bottom, and Seth's eyes went wide as Azalin drove it into Seth's skull, stopping his breath.

Cold. Darkness. These were the only "feelings" he had now. Eternal life he had been granted, only it was not life. Every deal has a catch. Seth would remain on the planet until Oblivion, that much Azalin had been truthful about, however it would be in the form of a specter. Hunger, happiness, pain; they were all only memories. He felt no emotions except the relentless anger towards humanity and all things living. In time, it is told he learned to form his anger into physical manifestations. These corporeal blades were imbued with the deadliest poisons in the world, and could strike a man dead in a single blow. Seth never did find the remaining brigand, and now wanders the earth searching for his lost life, carrying out the grizzly deeds given to him by his master without emotion. In time his name was forgotten, and he became only known as a shadow that haunted certain places where the lowest and cruelest men lurked. In time even this was shortened, and he were merely known as Shadow.

The bartender finished his story with a glare at the drunks sitting in front of him. Half had fallen asleep; the others were busy showing off their knives and joking about the recent crimes they had committed. The bartender merely shook his head as one of the men walked outside to relieve himself. "Only fairy tales to scare children," one of the few remaining conscious men replied to the bartenders turned back. "There are no such things as ghosts, let alone murderous undead assassins."

"Its true," the bartender shouted in reply. "I was told a long time ago that my grandmother was the descendant of the sister of the girl, Andrea." The men only smiled their drunken smiles once again as he sighed and went back to cleaning the dirty ale mugs.

A few minuets passed as the men slowly woke and began ordering more ale. The window in the rear of the bar exploded in a blast of glass and wood. The men all dropped to the floor, expecting a flurry of knifes and other random sharp objects to follow as was usual during the frequent attacks in the area. Instead there was only silence. In the middle of a table in the bar lay the head of a man, the one who had just left moments ago. His face was still frozen in fear, and for a moment a blurry blade could be seen jutting from the hole in the back of his skull before it faded into nothing...