Character Writings by:
Zero, the Dimensional Traveler
Hala'nia the Lost
Perhaps the first thing someone would think is strange, is waking up not aware of anything that had happened before that first moment of self awareness. Perhaps it should have registered to any normal person that something was not right when you come to awareness fully grown, clad in cold plates of wicked armor and standing on your feet before someone that you know completely, in withering detail, and know that you are his to command.
As though you had known him for years, decades, centuries, eons, and had long ago pledged yourself to his cause, even though you are fully aware that you had not met him, indeed, had not been aware of anything beyond the few moments ago when you emerged from the wispy vestiges of whatever dreamworld you had existed in.
Then, without a word, you kneel before him, and he graces you with a sword, finer than any your myriad clouded memories can remember, that at your touch burns to life, eldritch spellfire etching powerful mysteries into the cold steel of the blade. It is glorious, and at the same time deeply, darkly terrifying to some small part of your consciousness.
"GO NOW, MY WARRIOR. GO FORTH AND SPREAD CHAOS UNTO MINE ENEMIES."
Just like that, that small terrified part of your mind is locked away, and again, you are left with nothing but the unconditional feeling of cold obedience. The cloak swirls around your feet as you stand and walk resolutely away from your towering dark liege.
You can feel that small part of your mind beating at whatever bind or door keeps it locked away, but as the legions of your lieges enemies come crashing down upon the bulwark, it shrinks back into the aether at the cold, unfeeling oppressiveness that comes upon you as you leap into the battle.
SUFFER WELL, DEATH KNIGHTS!