"Tyrael! Tyrael!" He cries, running towards the echoed screams of a woman. He's a well dressed man, bearing an elegant red coat, the finest furs, expensive gems and a stunning crown. But his face, a sickening contrast. Flooded with anger, fear, and hopelessness.
On wards the king runs through the ancient halls, yelling "Tyrael" over and over again, the screams growing ever louder! And suddenly, only the king let's out any noise. He's too late. Bursting through a wooden door, he sees the mangled body of a once beautiful elven lady. Frozen, he stands, as a figure in dark blue robes stands nearby, cackling softly.
The king looks up at him, the figures eye's are shot with a look only describable as horrific, literally inhuman. "You will suffer a fate worse than death for this" says the king. The figure only replies with one thing, "do your worst old man, I've suffered such punishment before."
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Contritum
FantasyA deteriorating kingdom, once stood proud, now damned by a mysterious plague and ruled by a maddened king.
