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Deep within the roaming lands of the centaurs. A young man with tremendous skill and agility was jumping from tree to tree with great speed. 'I can't believe this, I'm late for my own Ceremony, by Hal Reftar I can't believe this.' He was in a great hurry, the Ceremony, he was late for was for his right to be a man. After his family was murdered by a tyrant he ran into the forest and ran into a mighty centaur. The centaur looked at him and asked multiple questions like why he was running. So he explained what had happened to his family and was taken in and raised by the centaur and his mate.
He arrived just in time and his adoptive father, Brun and his adoptive mother Daw, were there to greet him and hurry him along. He got to the chief and He gave a mighty speech and with open arms. Welcomed the human into their fold no longer as a child but as a man. He looked at the lad and smiled.
3 years later....
A man stood on a branch looking down with a bow and arrow ready And he took aim. A man with a couple of centaurs in chains with a couple well armed slavers marching along side their catch. The man narrowed his eyes and let the arrow fly, and it hit one of the armed guards in his side and he doubled over in pain and then as fast as the other arrow hit another arrow flew and hit more guards one after another, the man that was hauling the Centaurs looked around and was hit in the shoulders with two arrows and the next thing he knew was a sword with a hooded man staring down at him. "If I ever see you with anymore centaurs in chains. It will be the last thing you ever do." he glared down at the man and stood up and walked over to the centaurs and helped them out of there chains and they ran for home.
Now home, Brock walked over to a large tree the stood not far from the Centaur camp. And he grabbed a rope and started to climb up it to a tree house he had built for him self 2 years ago. He walked into his home and looked around it as he took his mask down and lowered his hood. His hair braided on the sides over his ears and his face tattooed with tribal centaur marks, his hair long and smooth. He was well taken care of by these centaurs the last 18 years. He walked over to the hallowed part of the tree that acts like a chimney in his tree house. Laced with stone going up and up out of his home he started a fire and walked out on his balcony. He noticed the thundering clouds off in the distance and sniffed the air. It smelled like rain but he wasn't too sure. He walked back inside and grabbed a apple out of the fruit dish on his table and bit into it. Green apples were his favorite, and his adoptive mother always supplied him with plenty. He walked over to a alter he made to Hal and knelt down and prayed. "great and mighty Hal Reftar, I have stopped another slaver from taking your beloved Centaurs to those evil men to the east. I hope this makes you proud in the sky's above and I bring offerings of green apples and a basket of fine arrows to you made by the Centaurs. Bring us good tidings and protect us with your might." he kept praying and once he finished he blew out the candles that stood at the alter.
Darko now leaving after hearing the words of the Dead council. He pondered the thought of multiple things. But one concerned him more than anything. Who was the threat. He walked over to his citadel. And pondered many things with great thought. He looked to the rippling pool of blood in the middle of his throne room. Heard the call of his champion and smiled. He walked over to the blood pool and touched it and the sky seemed to darken and thunder boomed as clouds formed shaping a reaper in the sky, souls flew out of the formation and into the nightmare and the dark steed armored up and eyes burst with flames and it snorted fire. The formation can be seen from the forsaken tomb, calcifer was in. The ground seemed to cover itself with blight and mist as the army marched. The ghouls limped or marched near the front lines. Disgusting looking creatures. Flesh falling from their bodies clothes tattered and torn. The worst of the undead army when it came to looks though was the large grotesque monsters that the Dark Lord calls the Devourers, large two headed ghouls that scour the underworld eating souls, their massive size but disgusting looks makes them fearsome creatures. The largest was guarding the Forsaken tomb. When the fight they eat. They smell like a thousand rotten corpses but they aren't the brightest of creatures. Darkos Liches and his Necromancers march close by. The darkest of magic flows through their bodies. And will make sure the dead don't fall. The whole army marched to the sound of the Fright Drums. Beaten by the Ghost Drummers. The banging of those drums sounded like screams of fear.
He arrived just in time and his adoptive father, Brun and his adoptive mother Daw, were there to greet him and hurry him along. He got to the chief and He gave a mighty speech and with open arms. Welcomed the human into their fold no longer as a child but as a man. He looked at the lad and smiled.
3 years later....
A man stood on a branch looking down with a bow and arrow ready And he took aim. A man with a couple of centaurs in chains with a couple well armed slavers marching along side their catch. The man narrowed his eyes and let the arrow fly, and it hit one of the armed guards in his side and he doubled over in pain and then as fast as the other arrow hit another arrow flew and hit more guards one after another, the man that was hauling the Centaurs looked around and was hit in the shoulders with two arrows and the next thing he knew was a sword with a hooded man staring down at him. "If I ever see you with anymore centaurs in chains. It will be the last thing you ever do." he glared down at the man and stood up and walked over to the centaurs and helped them out of there chains and they ran for home.
Now home, Brock walked over to a large tree the stood not far from the Centaur camp. And he grabbed a rope and started to climb up it to a tree house he had built for him self 2 years ago. He walked into his home and looked around it as he took his mask down and lowered his hood. His hair braided on the sides over his ears and his face tattooed with tribal centaur marks, his hair long and smooth. He was well taken care of by these centaurs the last 18 years. He walked over to the hallowed part of the tree that acts like a chimney in his tree house. Laced with stone going up and up out of his home he started a fire and walked out on his balcony. He noticed the thundering clouds off in the distance and sniffed the air. It smelled like rain but he wasn't too sure. He walked back inside and grabbed a apple out of the fruit dish on his table and bit into it. Green apples were his favorite, and his adoptive mother always supplied him with plenty. He walked over to a alter he made to Hal and knelt down and prayed. "great and mighty Hal Reftar, I have stopped another slaver from taking your beloved Centaurs to those evil men to the east. I hope this makes you proud in the sky's above and I bring offerings of green apples and a basket of fine arrows to you made by the Centaurs. Bring us good tidings and protect us with your might." he kept praying and once he finished he blew out the candles that stood at the alter.
Darko now leaving after hearing the words of the Dead council. He pondered the thought of multiple things. But one concerned him more than anything. Who was the threat. He walked over to his citadel. And pondered many things with great thought. He looked to the rippling pool of blood in the middle of his throne room. Heard the call of his champion and smiled. He walked over to the blood pool and touched it and the sky seemed to darken and thunder boomed as clouds formed shaping a reaper in the sky, souls flew out of the formation and into the nightmare and the dark steed armored up and eyes burst with flames and it snorted fire. The formation can be seen from the forsaken tomb, calcifer was in. The ground seemed to cover itself with blight and mist as the army marched. The ghouls limped or marched near the front lines. Disgusting looking creatures. Flesh falling from their bodies clothes tattered and torn. The worst of the undead army when it came to looks though was the large grotesque monsters that the Dark Lord calls the Devourers, large two headed ghouls that scour the underworld eating souls, their massive size but disgusting looks makes them fearsome creatures. The largest was guarding the Forsaken tomb. When the fight they eat. They smell like a thousand rotten corpses but they aren't the brightest of creatures. Darkos Liches and his Necromancers march close by. The darkest of magic flows through their bodies. And will make sure the dead don't fall. The whole army marched to the sound of the Fright Drums. Beaten by the Ghost Drummers. The banging of those drums sounded like screams of fear.
