Those were dark times. War was occupying everyone's mind. Nobody was safe. There was no such thing as "too far". Villages were raided and burned down. Forts were holding, at the cost of many of their men. Every young boys was thought out to fight. Archers, Knights and Mages were the main arms in battles. Paladins sent from the King himself even made appearances on the crimson fields but very few survived.
Both sides were but only losing battles after battles. There was no winner in the grant scheme of war. All hope was lost, for everyone. The King Malkraft himself, was not safe, in his fortress atop mount Moodruoy. And thus, a name was spoken. A light of hope shined from the ashes. This hero would save them, put an end to such tragedy.. but to what cost? No one could remember the cost of such a heroic work. The tales never spoke of it, but nothing was free. A decision had to be made. Sooner the better and thus, as the enemy was advancing, Mordri Whalkrey was summoned from the darkest pits he was hiding himself into for years, to bow before King Malkraft himself and serve him, to win the war at all cost.
It took but a week to find the man. Living up to his reputation, he was found inside a dark cave, alone but well surrounded by gold and precious items. His fortune was such, that the King himself would be shocked and all was there for the taking. But nobody dared to touch anything, not even think of it. The Knight of the Night would strike them down before they could even bat an eyelash. Thus was the living legend, Mordri Whalkrey. The man who won hundreds of wars over hundreds of years. Wiser then any sorcerer, mage or prophet. Stronger then fifty Knight, his reflexes putted the best thieves to shame. His past was legendary, and so was his armor.
Legends has it named from the King Jaerf Viaerchi himself centuries ago. Heavenwork was an unique armor made from the best blacksmith the world had to offer. A blacksmith couldn't smith without a forge, and for such an impressive piece, the greatest forge of the era was put to use. The result was striking. A metal, approaching white in color, shining like no other and carved in with only the best tools possible. A sign from heaven, given to a lord of death, Mordri himself, as a gift for bringing peace in the last era.
The Knight was now standing before King Malkraft, the legendary dual handed great sword Zaaerv still in hand. The weapon alone ended conflicts and battles without even being unsheathed, but there it was, already in strong hand,waiting to strike down.
Though the tales about the man were well known, though his actions were recognized throughout the world, King Malkraft and his people were finding the Knight much shorter then they expected. Maybe age was finally getting to him. Maybe, inside the shiny armor, was a man tired with age. Maybe the legends were but fantasy, and the Knight was just like any other. A human which time worked against. Could such a great man even die? It appeared so. Maybe one could finally see his face. That, had remained a mystery for as long as the man lived.
For the time being, the King had more pressing matters then rambling about secrecy of a man. He gave out his orders and hoped for the best, preparing for the worst. Once everything was done, the words of the King came to an end, it was time to set a price. The ruler first offered a thousand gold, but the Knight remained silent, like he had been all along. Two thousands gold was offer and denied. As the man was about to offer something else, Mordri raised his sword up and above his head, striking everyone by surprise, and pointed to the throne.
The King could not believe it. A throne? Was a throne all he had to give up on for such a request? But the shining blade remained pointed in his direction. What else could it be? The crown? What could such a death bringer do with a simple crown? Oh but the crown was not the price, and the Kings eyes widen as he realized his life was the price to pay. Why? To what interest would his death be for the man of legends?
Out of options, fear in his eyes, sadness in his voice, the ruler accepted and the Knight went on. It took but eight mere days before the Knight of the Night came back, a flag in his left hand, his legendary sword in the right. The flag was which of the enemy, sign they were vanquished. Those people, who have marched thousands of lands, destroyed millions of lives, in decades of terror, were no match to a single man? It was too good to be true. The legends were .. real? Who was this man? How could he wield such power? Was it the weapon, the armor or the man? Was he part of a group?
The flag was thrown before the King and a bloody letter was given to his guard, which read as such.
''Ye Majesty Malkraft,
Ye have won the war. My men and I are no match fer ye Legend.''
Sadly, everything else was a blur, caused by the blood of whoever wrote the letter. Perhaps sending the Knight was a bad idea, as the King now felt sorry for the souls which were standing before the heavy blade. Sadness was quickly replaced, Mordri made sure of it, as the blade shined towards the man sitting on the throne. A proud King stood up, his eyes fixed on the blade which would end him as he walked down the stone stairs.
Could we see the face of our Hero? Asked the man before his hour clocked. The knight remained silent, the blade remained in the air, ready to blow, but then ...
The legends now speak of a new hero. One none could suspect. A woman, older then time itself. Wiser then the best sorcerer and the oldest mage, stronger then any Knight, barbarian, stronger then any animal. Her courage had for only limit the price her summoner was willing to pay. She was known as Mordri, the Vampire Knight of the Night. If one wished to see death in person, they had to look no further then the red glowing eyes under the white shining armor.
Peace is now ours, thanks to the efforts of an unholy creature of the night. Let us pray it remains this way, for no one wishes to pay the price, to get it back.
Proud of this one.
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