Chaining the Beast

[Uloim]

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Timeline
Chapter I: All was silent...
Chapter II: Remembering the Past
Chapter III: An Unexpected Meeting
Chapter IV: Conversion
Chapter V: Submersion
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Chapter VI: Chaining the Beast
-Prologue-

Someone sat on the floor of the empty old library.  The one sitting in the halls of Utopia.  In the person\'s hands laid an old, large book; one which was obviously forgotten and rarely used.

A page turned, and yet another.  Reading the cover of the book once more, the fellow read the words aloud.  Yes, it was Uloim of course.

\"Chaining the Beast.\" he said, over and over again.  This book was more of a journal, and the author was unknown.  

The dwarf could not put the book down, it seemed to keep him under its control.  Turning each page, the dwarf was pulled deeper and deeper into the story, his fingers tingling and spine chilled.  Uloim was being sucked into the story, and he began to see the images of the writings around himself.  The old library around him, the musty smell and the almost rotten bookshelves, were disappearing.  The story, every word in every sentance, was happening for the dwarf to see.  No longer was the dwarf reading the story, he was now watching it happen.  Uloim slowly faded away until he was no longer there, but others were.  Many others.

And a horrible secret was about to be revealed.

[Under the moon]

An interesting -how should I put it- fade out. Very good.

[Uloim]

Part I: The Ceremony

\"You cannot do this!\" a man shouted.  He was chained to the wall of a cave-like room, hidden deep under the earth.  This man was obviously stuck there for some time, for dried blood covered his pants and shirtless breast.  This Ylian\'s black hair was ragged and wet with sweat, flailing about as he tried to escape this trap.

\"I am so sorry, Zhaniq, but the council has chosen you.\" spoke a male Klyros.  \"You must understand, this has to be done, and you are chosen to be His prison.\"

A tall, grey Kran stepped forward from the crowd and shouted, \"Do it now!\"

The crowd began to get excited, chanting the words of the Kran, until the same Klyros rose his hand.

\"Grab the torches, hand me the box.  We will begin the ceremony.\" he said, and the crowd knew exactly what to do.  Six people of different races gathered around the chained human, all hooded and completely silent.  The grey Kran returned with torches for everyone, and a short, brown Enkidukai brought buckets of oil.  The Enkidukai looked at the Klyros with his one eye, grinning, \"Finally, we shall be done with it all.  Who has the box?\"

\"I do.\" a tall, slender female Diaboli came forth, a large box in her hand.  The green-grey box was covered with symbols, a language of ancient past.

\"Who gave her the box?\" the Klyros mumbled.

\"S-sorry...\" a dark grey Enkidukai whispered back.

The Klyros took the box and turned to the Ylian on the wall.

\"Th-this is murder!  You are all killers!\" the man shouted.

\"No, Zhaniq, you are the bringing an end to the age of destruction and impurity.  You will be remembered always as the man who gave his body - and maybe even his soul - for the chaining of the Beast.  A hero, you\'ll be known as, the greatest hero of our time.\" the Klyros replied, with nothing more than a blank face.  

\"Pour the oil.\"

And with those words, six new figures appeared, each carrying lit torches.  Oil was poured on the chained Ylian as he cried out in horror, and the torches were given to each of the six figures already surrounding the man.

\"Ai-la kesh shi-nah nia zu kesh!\" the Klyros began to chant, gripping the box in his hands.  Mages behind him were enchanting the chains around the Ylian, making them unable to melt in the heat.  And behind the mages stood dozens of others, all chanting in the same ancient tongue as the Klyros, each seeming to be chanting a different word.

The Klyros stopped chanting, unlatched the metal box, and spoke above the chanting, \"Let him burn.\"

\"NO!\" the Ylian screamed, and the torches were flung to his feet.  In a mere instant the man was engulfed in the flames, his cries echoed through the enormous room.  The body flailed about violently, yet it was barely able to move.  The room was soon filled with a horrid stench, but the ceremony continued with no delay.

The Klyros opened the old box, not looking at the shining pitch black object inside.  He watched as the man infront of himself burned, and waited for a few moments.  Then, he took the stake-shaped stone from the box, and traded the box for a red mallet with the man next to himself.  He looked again at the chained crisp of a body, and gripped both objects with all his might.  He took a step closer, looking at the face of the burning man.  The Ylian\'s eyes were not visible, his eyelids were melted over.  His mouth was a similar version of the same, but he now had a black, smoking hole in the left side of his face.

Up against the man\'s chest was put the sharp rock, just pieces of burnt skin and bone seperated the thing from the man\'s heart.  The Klyros raised the mallet far above himself, and spoke.

\"Goodbye, Zhaniq.\"

And down came the mallet.  As this happened, the Klyros whispered to himself, \"Goodbye to you all.\".

Closer, and closer.... until BAM!  A disgusting noise echoed across the halls of the cave, and then sudden silence.

And then something happened.  Something no one expected.  No one but one person, that is.

Everyone looked up at the chained body, and they were suddenly all thrown back.  A force pushed everything away from the corpse, as the rock glowed brighter than ever.  Every single living being was killed in the blast, not a single body came back to its feet.

Except one.

The Klyros looked around at the place, now a tomb for more than a hundred men and women.  He dropped the red mallet and walked away.  The glow of the stone, which was stuck in the chest of the chained Ylian, faded to nothing, and all light in the room blew out, as the lone figure slowly walked out.

[Uloim]

Part II: The Legend of the Lich

It was hundreds of years ago...

Nurdok was the name of this being.  This cursed lich who sold his soul to the Hells, for a life of eternity.  A half life, that is.

This foul creature was now no more than a living corpse, his hair was gone and his flesh was rotten and smelled of death.  Covered in a ragged red cloak, the monster walked the underground crypts of a great civililzation, seeking the perfect spot.

And so the necromancer searched and searched, until he found a grand spot to begin.  The grave of past kings.

So large were these towering shrines, each with a statue of a passed beloved king, that they may have stood forty feet high above the dead ground below them.

The lich took a step infront of the tomb of the first king of that nation, Laidus Phinsik, and stared out into the halls filled with graves, urns, and sarcophaguses.

\"Rise, my children.  Build me an empire worthy of the Hells themselves!\" he called out, his voice only a whisper yet it could be heard for miles.  The lich began casting spells, and chanting words of death.  Glyphs of necromancy hung about the neck of the being, and they began to glow.  But he was not only using glyph magic, something else was being used here.

Something much more powerful and unholy.

Grey smoke flew about the lich, circling around the creature over and over, in almost random patterns.  The lich continued chanting, and the ground began to rumble.

\"LIVE AGAIN!!\" he cried out, and from the tomb sprouted hands.  Bodies crawled from their sarcophaguses and graves, and they limp-walked toward the lich, their new master.

Soon the hooded being was surrounded by his minions, and he looked around at the boney, rotting masses.

\"We have work to do.\" whispered the lich.  But just after those words escaped his broken lips, many doors to the crypt were opened.

\"There he is!  Destroy the monsters!\" shouted the captain of the guard, who was followed by many strong warriors.  The men charged toward the undead horde.

A battle began.  The living verses the non-living, the fight lasted for hours.  Only by removing the undead heads from their bodies were they defeated completely.

The captain of the guard was followed by the grand monk of the city, who had a white crystal in hand.

\"Defeat this monster and his army will fall!\" the monk said, and the captain ran through the fight, to the lich.  The monk slowly followed, dodging all combat.

The lich watched as the human approached.  The undead being smirked, and equipped a large, black scythe.  He took a few steps closer, and waited.

The captain sprinted to the monster, longsword and shield in hand.  His speed grew as he came closer...

And closer....

And closer....

The two weapons clashed.

[Uloim]

Part III: The Price of Victory

The two figures seemed to dance as they fought so flawlessly.  Every move a fluent motion.  Every strike, parry, and dodge perfectly executed.  Paying no attention to the chaos around them, the two figures kept themselves focused on their own duel.

A guard and skeletal being fought in the distance.  Sword clashed with a large piece of rusted metal, and the objects danced about eachother, clashing and screaming, flowing and gleaming.  Flawed was their combat, and soon the rusted piece of metal found the guard\'s heart, and he fell to the dirt ground, joining the piles already there.  The rotting corpse hustled over to the rest of the fight, and almost instantly its head was severed from its body, by a randomly swinging blade.  The corpse fell lifelessly to the floor, but diminished into grey dust before the impact.  The dust blew away in the wind created by all the movement, and was no more.

The black scythe and silver-white sword clashed once again, as the two leaders fought on.  No more than a few scratches had the two, but they were both obviously quite fatigued.  A wrong move, and the scythe went soaring at the open, unguarded spot.  Or was it planned like this?

The guard captain grabbed the lich\'s arm, and his hand began to burn.  Fighting the pain, he brought his sword down and removed the lich\'s left arm.  The necromancer howled, and the guard severed the second arm, it hit to the ground with a crackling noise.  The loud, shrieking howl filled the place as the lich called for his minions.  Hundreds of the unlife turned from mid-battle and came running to their master\'s call.

\"Now is our chance!  Hold him!\" called the monk, who came running, the white crystal in one hand and a red mallet in the other.

The guards held off the undead to the best of their abilities, and the guard captain held the lich down, fighting the pain of the touch.  The monk held the white crystal against the lich\'s chest, and held the mallet high...

The screaming became so loud that no other sound could be heard in the crypts.  The monk brought down the hammer, and as the crystal was imploded into the monster\'s heart, or lack there of, there was an explosion of force.  Everyone went flying, both friend and foe of the lich.

The screaming exploded into a deafening sound as the lich began to melt away.  He had been betrayed by the dark dungeons of the Hells, his soul was trapped in the white stone as his body burst into flames.  The monster spoke out a curse before his end, and then all was silent.  The long, now jet black crystal laid there in dark ashes.  The guard captain got up, his sword and armor broken in the blast, and certainly some bones were broken as well.  The man bent down and picked up the crystal, and gazed into it.  A light... no, an aura surrounded the thing.  A dark, evil aura.  When bringing the thing close to his face, the man could almost hear screams of a thousand tones.  He blinked, and remembered something, bringing his gaze to the crypts around himself.

Bringing himself to his feet, the captain realized one thing.  No one else had gotten back up.

They were all dead.

[Uloim]

I know, I haven\'t been writing much.  I\'ve been quite busy doing other things than Planeshift, and I\'ve had a hard time thinking about future parts of my story.  This part of my story is quite.... different and really won\'t make much sense for a while.  I believe I\'ll just have to let the story write itself, and that\'s what I\'ll try doing.  Don\'t give up on me, I haven\'t quit writing.  I\'ll try to have the next part of Chapter VI done soon.  Check back tomarrow.