He is being released

[LukkanMortain]

The guard walks down the damp hallways of Britannia jail, thumping his longsword on the ground at every step he takes. He snickers as he passes the thieves and beggars, the minor traffickers and the poor who were jailed simply because they have no place to live. As he passes into a nother corridor his snickers turn to a frown, as he enters the halls of the murderers, rapists, major conartists and the such. The despicable ones of Evil. He approaches a cell that at first sight seems to be empty.

"Necromancer!", shouts the guard to no reply.

"Show yourself Arcane One"

From out of the shadows a figure clad only in a hooded shroud emerges. His beard long and tattered. His hair even longer and obviously unkept for months now. Feet are torn and sore from the hard rock floor, skin pale white from the lack of sunlight.

"Your time has been served, necromancer, you are free again. But beware, for the next 40 days we will be keeping a close eye on you. So keep your revenants and familiars at bay, or youll find yourself in here again.

A sly grin arises over the grim necromancers face.

"Do you think ill let you keep me in here next time?" moans the necromancer.

"Get him out of here!! Take him to the magistrate for processing. His brother awaits out front to take him."

The guards carry the weakened necromancer to the front of the jail house. As hes being processed out and having his wares returned to him. He sees his brother the miner approaching with a large grin on his face. The miner approaches the necromancer and greets him heartily weith a huge hug.

"You have been greatly missed, dear brother, the Empire awaits your return. Changes and restructuring have taken place. Your leadership in the arcane arts is needed once again."

"Dear brother, it is nice to be out again. But the walls of the jail cell have kept me from nature, the source of our Arcane abilities. My mana is low and I am weakened, I need rest and sunlight."

"No fear, brother, you altar on the rooftop of Dread Sanctum is ready for you. There you can have as much sunlight and nature as you need. Then your seat as Centurion of the Empire awaits you."

A sigh of relief comes over the necromancer.

"Take me to Malas, brother, I long to go home."

The miner takes hold of his weakened brother and leads him to his beetle, to set out for home.

[Triston]

From the shadows of a nearby treetop Triston Watches the brothers reunite. It crossed his mind for a moment to go and join in the smiles, but there was much to be done. A weak smile played across his face as he watched them disolve into the shining blue portal, but the moment it closed his face became grim and steeled. Pressing events indeed. Already the Double Bladed Staff on his back was begining to glow warm with power, power that needed release. He had come by the weapon in the most bizzare of events.

*The scene changes to an alabaster temple, running red with blood. Braizers and torches flicker with Arcane energy. The screams of Dragons, undead, and far worse can be heared from below. Although the sun is up, the place seems to be cloaked in an eternal shadow.*

Triston crept from corner to corner slowly, relying on all of his skills of stealth. His footfalls where without sound, and tiny peices of cloth placed in his chainmail armour made his every movement as silent as death. He slowly lowered himself into a room there the shadows where a light in and of themselves, and the floor was slick with blood both new and old. A shadow larger then all the rest sat in the corner, crunching through the bones and armour of its latest meal. It was one of the Darkest denizens of the abyss, it was a Balron. Its jet black wings seemed to scrape against the ceiling nearly twenty feet above it, and its claws bore five nails each as long and hard as a broadsword. Most unsetteling of all where its eyes, orbs the size of a mans fist the flickered between red and yellow as the fires within them where stroked by the beings almost limitless magical power.

What was I thinking? Triston pondered as he looked upon the beast. Not with a dozen men could be take this beast, not to mention the lesser deamons that surround him. None the less he was prepaired to attack it and die in his effort to slay it. This was not just another Balron unleashed upon the earth by spellcasters who reached beyond the powers of man. This was Kalamemnon, The Lord of Lies. He had been summoned by Tristons family generations ago, and had turned the tide of an unwinnable war. Unfortunatly he was as deceitful as any Deamon, and immidiatly turned on his allies after securing their victory. This temple was errected to imprision him and keep him for all time, but as the Lioness family died off, the magic they had wrought was loosing its power. Soon Kalamemnon would be free, and would join the other Champions of darkness in their attempt to bring the world under their iron fists.

But Triston could stop it, as he had one weakness. Against a weapon weilded by a member of the Lioness family, he was as vulnerable as any Balron. Not that that was all the vulnerable mind you, but it was the ray of hope Triston needed. This was his families last living Travisty to be righted, and the list had been long.

Triston checked his weaponry one last time and pulled out a very special set of daggers upon which a very special spell had been placed. A spell of paralization. When the magic changed recently, weapons could no longer be imbdued with this ability, and once used, the ability was lost. So due to their ever lessening nature, they where needless to say in high demand. Nine such daggers would now be lost forever, but they might buy Triston enough time to win the day.

He slid from his corner carefully, taking aim on his first target. With a deft flick, it landed right in the middle of the beasts back, and while the creatures eyes suddenly burned with an intensity the rivaled hell itself, he moved not an inch. In a matter of moments Triston had launched the other eight daggers into their corresponding victims, and the Generals of Kalamemnon where frozen, and their leader was none the wiser. He knew he only had a minute before the spell began to weaken against such powerful foes, so whispering a silent prayer to Tymora the Goddess of Luck, Triston launched forward, leading with a thrown spear and following with a blinding array of slashed from his kryss.

For a moment the Deamon Lord did not even moved, even smiled with his bloody tooth filled maw. He thought himself invulnerable, for the entire Lioness family had been dead for thirty years. His smile faided very quickly though when then spear imbedded his left wing into a wall, and three deep clean cuts opened his check to spew forth black ichorus blood. Triston leaped back as the two massive claws came down on him, but his cloak trailed behind him and was cut to ribbons despite the fact that his was imbdued to be as strong as steel. Triston cursed the powerful entity as it simply ripped away from the wall with the spear no longer causing him harm. It was no longer weilded by a Lioness. Chanting a few word of Honor Triston launched himself back into the frey, his kryss no glowing with a soft white light. It did not go well.

In a blinding away of wizardry Triston was thrown across the room, his teeth locked together in pain as waves of energy and eldritch flames crawled up and down his body. The being laughed as it moved around the room, striking deadly blows against its generals, waking them from their frozen state. Each of them began circeling the now standing and chared warrior, occasionally swiping aimlessly at him, keeping him from escaping the now closing snare. Triston began to say the last rights of a warrior as there would be nobody to say them for him, when suddenly a flash of brillient energy moved through the room, freezing all in place, including Triston.

Stepping through a very solid wall a cowled figure aproched Triston, holding a double bladed staff in one hand, and a gem that glowed with violent green light in the other. The hood of the figure pulled itself back of its own accord, and the skeletal face underneith grined with delight. He was as tall as a man, but clearly was nothing of the sort. Where its eyes should have been sat two rubies, glowing bright. Each of its teeth where diamonds or emerals, and within each stone a white glowing movement could be seen. No flesh remained on the walking corpse, but it stank of death none the less. Triston would have drawn back had he been able to.

"Well then young warrior, it would seem youve gotten yourself into a fine mess here. It lookes to me as though your not only outnumbered, but outclassed by each of them. Really a pitty too, your one of the finest warriors Ive ever seen. I think it would be in the Relms best interest if you lived through this, and im fairly certian you agree. So I have a proposal. I will give you this weapon to slay your enemies and clear your families name, but only if you take it willingly. Its an ancient and powerful weapon, and it thirsts for the blood of deamons, much like yourself. I think you will be a fine pairing. What say you?"

Triston suddenly realized that his ability to speak had been returned, and as movement was given to his eyes he looked upon the deamons. They saw and heared all of this too, and fear was clearly written in their eyes as they looked upon the staff.

"Who are you?" Triston finnaly managed to choke out.

"That is irrelivent young one, all that matters is the buisness at hand. Do you accept my gracious gift and live with your worthless Honor, or do you die here in a hopeless and pointless battle. It matters not to me, but I am a very busy person, so I suggest you answer before I loose patiance and leave."

Triston only had to look into the fearing eyes of Kalamemnon to know his answer. "I accept your gift willingly." Triston said, knowing there was more to the bargan then met the eye, but lacking an option."

"Excellent!" The Demi-Lich exclaimed, and in a swirl of mystical energy Triston found his kryss in his sheith, and the staff in his hands. The hooded figure was already faiding into airy vapors, and all in the room felt their movement returning to them. In a blinding moment the deamon generals where upon him with all their might, while their Dark Lord began to summon up all the energy he could for a powerful magical assult.

They never had a chance.

In a blinding display of warrior prowess Triston slashed at each of the beings with an inhuman speed and accuracy, and each blow he landed felled the deamon it struck, and seemed to feed the momentum of the warrior. By the time that the nine deamons lay dead or dying, both Triston and his Blade Staff glowed with an eerie grey light, and the magical assult of Kalamemnon slid by him as though he where not even there. Triston walked forward with a cool and calm nature that betrayed the ecstacy he was feeling. Each time a deamon had died, it had fed his lifeforce. He felt as though he was a teenager again, invunlerable to pain or suffering, and the greatest joy was yet to come. The Deamon Lord lunged forward with his clawed tallon, but Triston simply ducked and swung up, removing the claw at the wrist. Before the shock could even register to the cripled beast, he was dead, split in half from groin to collar by a single mighty swipe of the weapon. The magical energy released litterally lifted Triston off the ground, and an indescribable feeling of pure joy poured into him from the weapon. After many moment spent shuddering in joy, Triston rose to his feet. The warrior did not take the way of stealth out of the dark temple. We walked boldly through it, killing all of the Deamons, imps, and other denizens that daired to cross him.

*The scene returned to the outside of the prison, and Triston realizes he has been lost in though for over an hour.*

He lept from his perch in the trees, starteling many of the guards around him. Before he even hit the ground an etherial beast formed beneith him, and Triston rode off before the local guards could even raise their crossbows in objection. There was a gateway that deamons used to gain entry to our relm nearby, Triston thought. Imagine what wonders deamons so fresh from the abyss would bring!

The proud warrior never noticed the floating skull only a few trees away watching him, grinning its gem filled smile.