The withered body slumped to the floor with a soft thud. The poor man used to be a magic user, before it was ripped from him by the darkened warrior who stood over his corpse. He hadn't thought twice about opening the tomb, even though it had a pretty powerful protection sigil over it and even a warning, "Here lies Arkan, agony and all. Beware his horror and flee." It was instantly disregarded and he nullified the protection spell.

Upon opening the tomb he was met with a strange sight. There was what appeared to be a suit of armor unlike anything he had seen before. It would probably catch a splendid price on the right market and as he went to touch it, he became aware of the amulet around the corpses neck. It was beautiful, made of diamonds and seemed to say, "touch me". It was his biggest mistake.

As he put a finger on it, the suit of armor seemed to heave before an incorporeal veil of grey started seeping from it. Then its right hand came alive, snatching his by the wrist. It was ungodly cold and his life seemed to flee before his eyes, as he tried to scream but not a sounds came out. It was over in minutes, and Arkan then emerged from his tomb, restored but still hungered for magic. Always hungered. 

The demon looked back at the tomb and removed his sword, Agony, from its depths. The sword was unimpressive looking but the taint of his powers had leeched on it, causing the sword to become powerful in its own right. Simply touching the blade end would cause a living person's hand to throb slightly. A cut would send the weakest to their knees and anything worse then that would be indescribable. It truly took talent and the will to tolerate pain, to even have the chance of overcoming the dangerous magic placed upon it.

Arkan then left his tomb, then the crypt at a slow pace, never seeming to be in a hurry but his steps had purpose. He emerged from what appeared to be a large drainage pipe in the middle of a ditch. He shambled up the side, coming face to face with what looked like a large town in the distance. He began to walk towards it, the pull of magic was calling him ever so slightly like a breeze. He was a leaf in the wind and those that relayed upon magic were beacons within the dark.