By: Mysti's Player (Pam)

She stands in the entrance of the Temple, a shrouded, slender figure. Her trembling hand holding a piece of parchment, the corner of it tinged crimson. She lifts her face up to the sky and speaks to no one in particular, "So...it begins.."

*** *** ***

A soft 'hum' resounds over the open field. Terrifying, spiraling fingers of energy flash from the heavens above them. Agonizing screams mingled with deep grinding sounds of crushing bone echoed through the halls of the Tower.
A sweet-rancid odor filtered through the air and hung heavy on the nostrils. Any warrior who had seen battle knew it well... like the life giving fluid that it emitted from, dark, thick, sticky. As one after the other marched into war.... the thickness became great, and greater still. Lambs to the slaughter, they were.
His amusement… for this day..

The entity knew no limits; it was questioned if he ‘knew’ anything at all, especially of mortals. Yet, it was understood that he knew enough to survive all their attempts on him. His prime objective seemed to be destruction.
He made no distinguishing difference between his victims. First peeling the flesh from one, and then draining the very essence of the soul from another. His bountiful plate was 'torture'.... he fed off it. Consuming the entirety - from fear and anguish to the horrifying tortures when pain no longer exists, and then in evident moments of life just before death.... he drank in the last sweet drop of his victims soul.

His awesome power unleashed after thousands of years, his vengeance seeping out of every crevice in the Tower. Dark tendrils of evil lashed out at each warrior who moved deeper into his lair...
Whether they were real or only imagined was never truly known, but the ones who felt his touch were never able to tell. It was said that his laughter was the only introduction they got. Ultimate demise followed quickly.

'Foul.. foul' were the words she'd heard. His lair stank from the stench of torture. It billowed outward and assaulted even the foreboding ones, the ones who waited for their turn. From bodily excretions to burnt flesh, the rotting corpses were his trophies. Rats and worms his instruments of completion. Madness raged within the confines of his chamber.

Now, he searched for new amusement... He wanted a bride

The ancient one had returned.