(with the help of the honorable and illustrious [@Zelosse] I present this wonderful master piece. Thanks mate.) [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fNjgfTfQjCQ]Bad moon[/url] Karl had long since forgotten the nights rush of combat and his own drunken predicament, unaware of his pending punishment and the ire of his respected superior officer, all that was his reality existed in a seperate world from this one. In this world he was what he dreamt of. A weapon of the Order, sharp as could be, a blade that found every weakness and defeated any foe. It was here in the smoldering ruin that had once been the proud fortress of Starguard, beacon of the Order and crown jewel alike. It was here his blades met flesh and felt his hunger grow for the carnage further into its festering stomach. Unarmored save for a simply cloth outfit and wielding his long and short swords in what could only be described as the beautiful finito of deaths eternal ire. Amidst the glow of the moonlight he descended the stairway into the underbelly and brought his justice upon the ones who had robbed him of himself. A boy by mortal means, Karl Shadowthorn was a good fighter and a resilient man, with a will of purest steel. But this was a world where Karl had waged his private war for years uncounted. No more was he the adolescent wood elf boy with wide eyed dreams. Now he was a man of a hundred years with a body toned to perfection amidst the endless combat of this place. He neither shouted his rage or whispered of his despair. It was his blades that talked for him now, a universal language any creature could understand. Overwhelming power. In this twisted hellscape he had brought ruin to Sar'Than personally, had scattered the rebelious traitors and heard their screams of regret as the pristine edge of his longsword found their heart. Every death bore the name of Shadowthorn, last of the covenant, loyal follower of High Arch-Templar Evelyn Sunderland. In her name and all that came before he reaped the souls of everything that had destroyed them. Twisted black lines were etched into his weathered features, eyes of purest black devoid of mercy. This was the only feature that told of the darkest hate any creature could hold. The descent had been uninspiring, a ragtag team of cultists in dirty robes had ambushed him in an alcove at the top of the stairs in a last ditch effort to overpower their killer with sheer numbers. Not a drop of their tainted blood stained the pristine white clothing he was wrapped in. The darker the descent the brighter it seemed. Here in the bowels of Ruined Starguard he saw it. Speared through the heart and chained to colossal runed stones was the dessicated remains of the Dream demon. Karl approached the remains with blades drawn. Each footstep sent his mind vaulting to the deaths of his friends. To his defeat at the hands of this very creature. To the gruesome end of the most respected military officer he had ever known. Karls howl of rage echoed through the cavernous depths and shook the very foundations of this once holy home. Both blades flashed in a shining line and cleanly severed the half-rotten skull from the upper body. The whisper of its voice tickled his mind. "You will never save this world. You will die some day, fool Elf, and turn to dust." "No, devil. I will avenge every death. Every soul lost to your dead Master will have justice." "So you say," It laughed cruely, "but too little too late. Karls foot crunched down over and over on the skull until it became an unidentifiable mass of skull and fluids. Karl breathed heavily as he kicked the disgusting globs about the room in a blind fury, deeper lines of darkness spreading across his face as the demons words drove him further into the madness. He turned to the chained corpse and rased his blades to destroy the vile presence once and for all. "Stop, Shadowthorn. You have done enough." The softer voice pleaded from the darkness surrounding him. "Destroying it will bring you no peace. Neither will the killings." Karl trembled as he fought to bring his arms down, to cut the body to ribbons, but nothing could force his blades on their path. The shining steel clattered to the ground as his legs buckled, forcing him to his hands and knees before the warring voices. Each demanded of him and neither held the answer to his tortured existence. "SUNDERLAND!" --------------------------------- Karl sat upright in his bed covered in sweat, clad only in silk pants. Each breathe of the cold morning air brought his mind closer to normal but his heart felt as if it would explode with how fast it beat. Throwing the covers aside, Karl ran for the nearest privy and found a bucket of cold water and a mirror and splashed himself repeatedly with the freezing water as he gasped for oxygen, finally feeling his heart gradually return to a normal pace. The dreams were becoming far too real. Too controlled. Why had he not been able to finish the accursed creature and free himself. Why Sunderland? What did it all mean.. Something about his hands gave him pause, raising them for closer inspection. They seemed.. older. Youth had fled his hands and replaced them with the calloused fingers of a war veteran, scarred and strong. Glancing down he realized his whole body seemed like that of a person who'd spent years... fighting... demons. Dread set in as slowly he looked up into the mirror. The sight made him swoon, stumbling back and out the door to collapse on the floor of his room gasping for air. Pitch black eyes had stared back at him. It had been too much as Karl fainted into oblivion. --------------------------------- After what felt like hours Karl awoke again on the cold floor of his room pushing himself off the ground he stood, grabbing his equipment he dressed himself and started looking for Captain Sunderland, he felt that he needed to inform her about his dream. "You know I was supposed to be taking over guard duty for the guards I knocked out. But it's seems like you'll need everybody to hunt for the king's killer." Karl stood at perfect attention, with all his weapons on him, facing Captain Sunderland and the others. And much to their surprise he was shirtless. His torso showed hundreds, if not a few thousand scars. "Also Captain I have to talk with you about something but it can wait."