Accursed Wars of Immortalis

Chapter 1: Flickering Chaos

Bells tolled incessantly, alerting the near-one-hundred inhabitants of the village of Mirthenhelm that danger was imminent. Flann, a farmer's daughter of twenty, had been peacefully browsing imported wares at the general store when the bells began ringing. She left the store in a hurry by the back entrance. She emerged in the southernmost corner of the village plaza, a large and flat rectangle of beaten dirt notorious for becoming a sea of mud during the rain season. As quickly as she could, she headed towards the church, which was past the inn and the blacksmith's workshop at the other end of the plaza; the village church was the only structure made of stone, and it housed the defenders of the village, the Legionnaires of Light, an organization that strives to protect the innocent and defenseless. The legionnaires had kept the village safe from bandits for five years, since they had first established the church. The villagers were told to hide in the church during attacks.

Halfway across the plaza, she was intercepted, not by a bandit, but by the most horrifying creature she had ever seen. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Flann gaped at the fearsome fiend before her: a thin-limbed two-metre-tall giant, with half-solidified lava for flesh and a strange metal, ashbone, for a skeleton, which showed at the joint of its limbs and its ribs, which protruded slightly. Its demonic, pointed face bore eyes like pits of fire, glowing with the eternal rage characteristic of the Maledicti. It stepped forward, heaving a thin, taloned leg towards its helpless soon-to-be victim. Flann was so deeply entranced by awe and fear that she did not think to move or scream; she simply sat wide-eyed and quivering, silently praying that the legionnaires come and protect her.

The village blacksmith, a strong-bodied and strong-willed man interposed himself between the Maledicti and the young lady. All he had was his hammer which he usually had hanging from his tool belt. The demon before him revealed its ashen teeth as it neared the practically-unarmed artisan.

"What're you doing? Get out of here!" shouted the man over his shoulder.

In that moment of inattention, the Maledicti lunged, thrusting its clawed hand towards the man's bulky chest. The hapless blacksmith tried to block the swift strike, but the sheer strength of the blow snapped the hammer's handle in half, and the claw dug its way into the man's body; the sharp, pointed claws tore through his flesh and seized his heart. Flann was even more paralyzed, having abandoned all forms of thinking at the gruesome sight. The Maledicti laughed its guttural gurgle and lifted the screaming, bleeding man off the ground. Thus began the corruption of the body. Utilizing its innate magical powers, the Maledicti expulsed the water from the man's being, and turned his flesh and bone to the very substances that composed its own. Skin flaked and curled, revealing muscle and bone converted to half-molten rock and ashbone. He had been cursed.

The flailing man was not the only person screaming. Buildings in all directions had been set on fire, and those within or without screamed their fear. A woman and her child emerged into the plaza from a thin alley. She was crying, and so was her child, running from another Maledicti who was close behind them. The demon bore countless sword wounds, but it was still quick on its feet. It passed without a single glance at his kin or the blacksmith, for it was intent on claiming the lives of fleeing villagers.

With a swift gesture of the other hand, the Maledicti holding the blacksmith opened, below the man's dangling feet, a passage to his native realm: a gateway to the Realm of Chaos. It glowed like the creature's eyes, but also assaulted the senses with the distant sound of howling winds and lightning bolts - a great storm. The creature withdrew its claw from the farmer's body, and the newly cursed prey fell into the gateway, which closed after his passage.

Flann was next and would have met the same fate, were it not for legionnaires. Clad in plate-and-mail armour and wielding longswords and shields, they charged towards the infernal abomination. Four of them surrounded the fiend, taking turns stabbing and slashing at the thin legs in an attempt to take it down. The creature, however, would not fall without a fight. It twisted, avoiding a sword thrust and it swung at a legionnaire who did not anticipate the blow, catching him in the neck where there was only his mail coif to protect him. The claw tore through the mail, a feat difficult to achieve with a sword, and sliced the man's neck. With a gurgle and a spurt of blood, he collapsed. In the same swift movement, the demon swung a downward kick at the next legionnaire, and knocked him down. The two warriors still standing took that chance to aim a few good strikes at the back of the Maledicti's knees.

The creature was eventually felled by the legionnaires, who were enraged by the death of their comrade. It let a horrible, deafening screech as it fell. It lay still now, and its flesh slowly turned to ash. The legionnaires gave their battle cry and ran to find their next foe. All that remained of the fiend was its ashbone skeleton.

Flann, soaked in cold sweat, hurriedly stood, finally fully aware of her dire situation. Around her, houses burned like bonfires, spitting black plumes into the air, obscuring the sky. Down a nearby alley, she saw, through the gradually thickening smoke, a Maledicti fighting a lone legionnaire surrounded with the corpses of his fellow warriors. The demon casted forth a sustained blast of fiery breath which engulfed its prey. The man screamed, fell and tried to kill the flames by rolling. Flann did not wait to see if he would live, and made her way to the main road outside the plaza, past the workshop and the inn. Corpses littered the street, some bloodied, some charred. Among the destruction stood the church, relatively intact. Flann crossed the street, eyes fixed on the church, as to not see her fellow villagers dead on the ground.

The walls of the church were blackened in places by fire-breath. Near the front entrance, a double door, was a large splash of blood. The victim was nowhere to be found. The doors were flanked by a pair of legionnaires who beckoned survivors. Flann wasted no time in seeking shelter within the sanctuary.

Inside were a few dozen villagers, cowering near the altar, some praying feverishly to the Bleeding Maiden. For now, they were safe, but they barely realized it, traumatized as they were by the horrors they had seen. Flann found a place near some of her acquaintances, who immediately inquired about her well being. Once they were reassured, all that remained to do was to wait.