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    The Kingdom of Vamora was a land in turmoil.  Fierce warlords battled one another for control over the land, and strange beasts from worlds unheard of stalked the land with a thirst for human blood.  Lately, however, most people feared the weather more than the fangs of some vile creature.  Violent hurricanes, mighty winds, and devastating tornadoes tore through the land without mercy, destroying entire villages and leaving people starving and homeless.
    On this day, almost nothing could be seen.  Everything in sight was obscured by a swirling cloud of snow.  The vast plains of Vamora were blanketed in white, making the simple task of walking nearly impossible. The savage blizzard cut through the land like a warrior's battle axe.  But somewhere in the whirling abyss a figure was slowly pushing onward through the knee-deep snow.
     A man covered from head to toe in thick furs, frost clinging to the pelts, stumbled wearily through the seemingly endless expanse of snow.  His warm breath condensed into a thick cloud in front of  him, and was dispersed by the fierce wind as quickly as it had appeared.  The cold air stung his lungs as he strained with each step, forcing himself to move onward.  The howling wind was deafening and the snow clouded his vision.  Then, out of exhaustion,  his knees gave way and he collapsed in the icy snow.
    Sprawled across the ground motionless, he fought to remain conscious.  The cold stung his face, and his eyelids felt like lead, but he forced them open.  Suddenly his weary eyes widened at what he saw.  In the distance, the mouth of a cave was barely visible through the storm.   With all his remaining strength he lifted himself from the ground leaving a deep impression in the snow.   He glanced behind him but could see nothing through the white maelstrom.  Sluggishly he pushed onward.
     After what seemed like an eternity, he arrived at the cave entrance.  Panting loudly, he entered the dark cavern and collapsed on the floor.   His last thought, before he was overcome with exhaustion, was that some vicious creature may be waiting in the darkness for a fresh meal.   He just hoped that if something was there it was asleep as well.

     In the center of Vamora stood an enormous castle.  It sat atop a hill watching over the land like a great eagle resting on its perch.  But the once majestic castle was now a crumbling charred mass of stone.  Hundreds of men swarmed around it like flies, busily repairing the shattered walls which once protected it.  The land it sat upon was scarred and blackened, and the man responsible for the immense devastation sat upon the glorious throne within the castle's walls.
     "What do you mean you lost him!?"  King Marrius shouted furiously, rising from his golden throne.  His booming voice echoed through the vast chamber like thunder.   His black armour reflected the face of a terrified man.  Kneeling before the monstrous King, the man seemed small and unimportant.  Marrius' armour shone brightly and seemed untouched by a blade of any sort, yet the axe he hefted in his powerful arms was marred from countless battles.
     "We lost him in the blizzard my lord."  The man replied in panic.  "He could have never survived the storm."
     "You underestimate his abilities you fool!"  The King roared in anger.  "When you bring me his dead, rotting carcass, then, and only then, will I believe he is dead.   Until then, he is still very much alive.   Is that understood?"
     "Yes my lord."   The man was groveling pathetically before the King.  "I swear this will never happen again your majesty."  And with that, the King cleanly removed the man's head from his neck with one swift sweep of his mighty battle axe.
     "You're right.   It won't happen again."   The King affirmed mockingly.  "Clean up this mess."   He waved his hand casually at the soldier's headless body and returned to his throne. Two attendants hurriedly obeyed Marrius' orders.  They busied themselves collecting the separated body parts, and hastily mopping up the pool of blood that had collected on the cold marble floor.
    "Oh, and bring me something to eat."

     The next day Arthimus opened his eyes, squinting in the late morning sun. Suddenly the heat hit him with the force of a war hammer.  He realized he was damp with sweat, and puddles of melted snow dotted the cave's entrance.   What was going on?  In all his life he had never seen such strange weather in Vamora, or in any of the lands he had traveled through for that matter.  He quickly peeled off the layers of clothing that covered his body, wiping his face dry.
    Arthimus was a powerfully built man.  Long, black hair fell over his broad shoulders, damp and matted with sweat.  A fire, waiting to be extinguished, burned violently in his dark, enigmatic eyes.  He wore only a ragged pair of pants and worn out riding boots.  A massive sword hung from his belt, and a shield, scarred and pitted from many battles, was slung across his back.
     He rose from his area of repose, stretched his aching muscles, and let out a bellowing yawn that echoed through the deep cave like a lion's roar.   The cave was dank and an acrid smell of rotting flesh hung in the air.   He was lucky nothing had decided to make a midnight snack out of him, but he didn't want to wait around long enough for breakfast.
     Reaching into a small pouch at his side he pulled out some crude rations.  While not the most appetizing meal, they did satisfy hunger quite well.  Biting into one, he nearly broke a tooth.  He may as well have bit into a rock, but he had no water to spare to soak it in.  He took a quick drink from his waterskin and walked out into the heat of the morning sun.
     So this was his new life.  Running from the continually spreading reaches of the insidious  claw of the warlord Marrius.   Once he alone had ruled Vamora.   He was King Arthimus the Great.  Warlords turned and fled at the mention of his name, and his subjects worshiped him.   But his reign came to a crashing end when Marrius arrived.
    Marrius came from the land of Kadinara far to the south, beyond the Mountains of Fire, and Drakenwood Forest.  His dreadful armies were assembled from the most wicked men in existence. Men whose souls were as black and cold as the heart of Marrius himself.  With them, he marched across the land, scarring the earth and destroying all that stood in his way.  News spread quickly of the infamous warlord's conquests.  Then, without warning, Marrius' soldiers were storming the walls of  Arthimus' mighty castle.
     Flaming arrows dotted the nighttime sky in a deadly rain of  fire.  Arthimus' once glorious city was burning to the ground like a worthless heap of trash.  The land was a blazing inferno, and Arthimus' mighty army was being crushed like a meaningless insect beneath the boot of a monstrous warrior.
     His entire family was slaughtered like a pack of wild animals.  He saw his children murdered in front of him.  Their skulls bashed in without remorse.  His wife's head was separated from her body by Marrius' own blade. He was the sole survivor of the royal family of Vamora, spending the past several days evading Marrius' patrols.  Arthimus the Great was now a fugitive on the run.
    Arthimus took in a deep breath of  fresh air, surveying his surroundings.   It was amazing how beautiful the land was when it could actually be seen.  Bare patches in the melting snow revealed a wide array of colorful wildflowers.  Giant oaks loomed over the edge of the plains, their leafy tops covered in a thin layer of snow.  Birds flew about the forest singing their songs, and antelope roamed the expansive plains.  The animal populations were quickly declining as a result of the unnatural weather conditions.
    The head of a lioness appeared from behind a patch of grass, intently watching over the herd of antelope.  Once Arthimus was the mighty lion, but now he was just another antelope. But he was a survivor.  He was bent on avenging his family.  But what could he-a single man-do against an entire army?  He pushed his doubts aside for now.  He would have his revenge or die trying.
     He inhaled through his nose, studying the different smells of his new surroundings.  Something was not right.  The smell of decay that had hung heavily in the stale air of the cave lingered outside.  He spun around quickly, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword,  and found himself face to face with a creature nearly three times his size.
    The hulking form slowly emerged from the  darkness of the cave.  It stood well over ten feet tall and was nearly as wide.  Its back was covered in scales as thick as a warrior's armour.  Sharp, menacing claws protruded from its fingers like bloodstained daggers.  Two eyes, glowing like red hot embers, glared viciously down at Arthimus.  It spread its huge arms and let out a thunderous roar that sent the antelopes fleeing in panic.  Arthimus pressed his palms against his ears to shield himself from the agonizing sound.
     When the beast's threatening display ended, Arthimus quickly drew his sword, pulled his shield from his back, and stood ready for battle.  He wielded the cumbersome sword in a single hand as gracefully as a maiden holds a delicate flower.  His powerful muscles tightened under the weight of the awesome weapon.  He seemed almost unafraid of the enormous monster.  It slowly moved toward him breathing heavily, occasionally producing an intimidating snarl.
     Arthimus was overcome with nausea as the beast neared him.  The vile monstrosity reeked of death.   He staggered clumsily from the unbearable stench.  Before he knew what was happening the creature raked its claws across Arthimus' bare chest with blinding speed, sending him tumbling onto his back.  Blood oozed out of the wounds, staining the white snow with red.  The world spun erratically around him threatening to consume him, but he struggled to his feet.
     The beast swung another clawed hand at Arthimus but he was prepared this time.  Ducking out of the way, he thrust his sword into the creature's gut at least a foot deep.  Swinging its arms furiously through the air, it let out a horrid screech that pierced Arthimus' brain like a flaming arrow.  Arthimus lifted his shield over his head and braced himself for impact.   The monster slammed its fist against the iron shield with a bone-shattering  thud, and Arthimus found himself on the ground again.
    Jumping quickly to his feet, he barely caught a glimpse of the beast's deadly claws approaching on his left.  He sidestepped gracefully and swung his sword into the creature's incoming blow.   The
beast's arm sailed through the sword's razor-edge severing it from his body.
    The arm landed limply on the ground.  Warm blood poured out of the lifeless appendage and merged with the icy snow.  The enraged beast screamed in agony clutching the bloody stump with its other hand.  Blood gushed out of the wound, flowing down its hand, pooling on the ground below.  Its eyes ceased to glow, rolling back into its skull.  It let out a tortured moan with its last breath before it collapsed in the red snow.
     Arthimus wiped his sword in a tall patch of grass cleansing it of the creature's vile blood. Sheathing it he gave the bloody mound of flesh a final glance.   He strapped his shield across his back to rest, and set off, deciding it best not to wait around long enough to find out if the beast was truly dead.

     After several days of vigorous travel across the grasslands Arthimus' food supply began to dwindle.  The few creatures left on the barren land could not be hunted without a good bow, and he was beginning to lose hope.  He was fairly certain of his location, but as far as his eyes could see, there was nothing but a never ending sea of grass.  But his determination forced him onward.
     The snow had melted away completely leaving the ground muddy. The temperature had  risen sharply  over the past few days slowing Arthimus to a sluggish walk.  He reached for his waterskin and found it as dry as his throat.  Discouraged, he still moved onward.   The grass was withering, and the flowers were dead.  The only sign of life on the dying plains was Arthimus and a flock of vultures circling overhead, waiting for him to collapse so they could have a fresh meal.  He would give the blood-thirsty vermin no such pleasure.   If he was going to starve, then so were they..
    The day slowly began to turn into night and he decided to get some rest.  At least sleep would take his mind off of his stomach. Even during the cool nights the heat was uncomfortable.  Sweat covered his exhausted body, and he desperately wished for a lake, or even a puddle, to jump in.
    As he approached a nearby rock formation, a strange smell lingered in his nostrils.  It was a pleasant smell, something he hadn't smelled in a long time.  A home cooked meal.  He rounded the rocky outcrop and a wondrous sight filled his weary eyes.  A tiny shack was huddled in between a crevice in the rocky hill.  It sat upon a huge boulder with an intricate carving of face in it.  A deteriorating flight of stairs climbed the rock face and met with the doorway of the hut.  But where a door should have been was nothing but a tattered old cloth.
    Time had taken its toll on the rotting abode.  The wood which it was built from was splintered and nonexistent in some places.  The straw roof had a gaping hole in it where a small mammal scurried out from inside the dwelling.  Only an old fool would attempt to climb down the badly decayed stairs.  And it seemed that old fool was home.
     A disheveled old man descended the rickety flight of stairs.  He wore tattered robes perhaps older than he was, and held a twisted walking stick in a bony hand.  His gray beard fell below his waist, wagging from side to side as he walked.  His face was wrinkled from the persistent hand of time, but he still had a youthful glow in his eyes.
     "Well, hello there!!"  The old man shouted enthusiastically, waving his walking stick through the air.
     "Hello old man."  Arthimus said walking toward him.
     "What brings you here my boy?"   The old man asked curiously.
     "I've been traveling this land for days, and I would be unduly grateful if you could provide me with some food and a place to sleep for the night."
     "Of course!" the old man said delighted.  "I'm the one who should be grateful.  I've not spoken to anyone for...well, lets just say its been a long time."   He stroked his long beard thoughtfully, "I'm not even sure how old I am anymore.   That doesn't really matter though.   I'm sure you're famished.   Please, come with me."   And with that the old man turned and walked back toward his hut with Arthimus following closely behind him.

    Arthimus and the old man were huddled around a wobbly old table, propped up on one end by an old barrel.  The chairs they sat on looked as though they'd collapse if so much as a mouse was to sit on one, but oddly enough, they supported even Arthimus' massive body.  A small fire burned warmly in a fireplace, providing a small amount of light while they ate and talked.  "So, now I am on my way back to my kingdom to reclaim it from the warlord Marrius.  Although I must admit it is a useless undertaking, for I alone could never defeat him.  But I owe it to my family to try."
     "I am truly sorry for your loss my friend, but something interests me."  The old man continued with an eerie look in his eyes,  "This Marrius you speak of.   You  say he wore an emblem upon his breast plate?"
     "Yes.  A skull with ruby eyes resting upon a pair of crossed battle axes."  He crossed his two index fingers to show the old man what he meant.
     "Are you certain of this?"  The old man asked with skepticism.
     "As sure as I am of my own name,"  he said confidently.
     "If you are certain, as you say you are, then we all may be in grave danger."   he said grimly.  "Hundreds of years ago, when your primitive ancestors roamed the land, there lived a powerful sorceress named Delana."  The old man's eyes seemed to lose their youthful radiance as he spoke.  "Delana was exiled by the Vamorians for performing strange rituals.   She was brought far to the south by a group of the King's soldiers, and left there to survive on her own.   There she continued practicing her ancient black arts and became more powerful than ever before.   It is said she could raise the dead from their graves and command them.   All the ghastly creatures that roam Drakenwood Forest are said to still carry out her orders to this day.    But skeletons and zombies were nothing compared to what she did next.
     "In her travels she came across an ancient spell book that once belonged to a corrupt wizard named Marrius."
     "So you're saying that this Marrius is the same man who took my thrown?"
Arthimus quickly interjected.
     "No!  Don't be foolish.  Marrius is long dead.   Well, Marrius the man is long dead."
     "What are you talking about old man?"   Arthimus asked confused.
     "Well if you'd stop interrupting me you would understand perfectly well."   The old man snapped irritably.   "As I was saying...In the spell book, were some of the most powerful spells in existence.   And one in particular caught Delana's attention.   A spell to invoke a powerful Demon from the Netherworld.  This one spell made all her years of work worth while.  If she could control such a powerful creature she could take over all of Vamora, and perhaps all of the world."  Arthimus didn't utter a word.   He just sat there, his dark eyes intently watching the venerable man, and absorbing every word he spoke.
     "She hadn't counted on one thing though."   The old man continued, "She expected the Demon to obey her like a good little puppy, as did all her creations.   However, the Demon had plans of his own.   He turned on Delana, slaying the unsuspecting sorceress with ease, and began to execute his plan.   To destroy all of humanity."   Arthimus, the powerful warrior, now had the look of a frightened child on his face as he listened to the old man's story.
     "He took Marrius' name as his own and conjured an army of Lesser-Demons to heed his every bidding .  Donning a suit of magically enchanted armour and an immense two-handed battle axe, he lead his army across the land leaving it in ruins.   It seemed nothing could stop him until, a powerful wizard stepped forward to face the hellish creation called Marrius.  He was called Ralakhad.
    Using his most powerful spell Ralakhad trapped the Demon and his entire army in an alternate dimension."  The old man shifted nervously in his seat.  "It would appear the spell which bound them there has come to an end, allowing him and his army to reek havoc upon our land once again."
     "What became of this Ralakhad?"  Arthimus asked, a glint of hope still remaining in his eyes.  "Is he still alive?"
     "Of course he's still alive.   He's me."

     The following morning Arthimus arose from the pile of straw Ralakhad had so generously allowed him to sleep on.  He stretched his muscles and yawned, not quite awake yet.  He staggered clumsily outside into the bright sunlight soaking in the morning rays.
     "What a glorious day!"   He announced to no one in particular, but a black raven perched upon the shack's roof seemed to respond to Arthimus' statement with a shrill squawk.  It sat upon the dilapidated hut intently watching over him.
     "What are you looking at?"   He said to the bird as if expecting it to answer him.
     "You're much crazier than I thought."  A voice said from behind him.
     He spun around swiftly, but realized it was only Ralakhad.  "Where were you?"   Arthimus inquired.
     "Collecting our breakfast."   He held up a small sack dotted with stains of various colors.    Arthimus took the bag, and peered inside curiously.    A pleasant smell filled the air and drifted up his nostrils.  It was filled with lots of peculiar fruits and small berries.  They looked good enough to eat.  He thrust a hand inside and plucked an odd looking fruit out of the bag.  It was about the size of his fist, purple in color and covered with numerous lumps of different shapes and sizes.
     "What's this?"   Arthimus asked the old man.
     "Oh, I'm not quite sure actually.   But I'm sure it's quite edible.   I wouldn't worry."  He replied confidently.
     "On second thought, maybe I'll skip breakfast."  He stated shoving the fruit back into the bag.  "I'm not all that hungry."
     "Ingrate."  Ralakhad muttered under his breath.   Arthimus decided now wasn't the time for an argument.
     "We need a plan."  He said finally.   "Marrius must be stopped, and you're the only one powerful enough to do it."
     "On the contrary.  You're the only one powerful enough to do it."   He stated matter-of-factly, tossing a few red berries into his mouth.
     "Have you gone mad old man?   What can I do to a Demon!?  I would be useless against an army of men, let alone Demons.  All I have is my father's sword and shield to protect me.   You're the wizard!"   He reminded Ralakhad.
     "Yes, yes.   I realize all that.   But I no longer have the power to stop Marrius.    However, that sword you wave around may."   Arthimus stared blankly into Ralakhad's eyes.
     "What are you talking about?"   Arthimus replied, baffled by all that was being said.
     "Must I explain everything to you boy?"  Ralakhad sat down on a  nearby rock, aggravated.  "Let's make this fast.   Many, many years ago, before you were born, your father was Commander of the mighty King Galarond's army.   Fearful of Marrius' return, the King gathered a group of elite warriors, one of them being your father.   They were given weapons, which I personally bestowed with magical enchantments, to protect the King and his empire.   Your father was appointed to lead the warriors and was given the most powerful of all the weapons.   The Demon Slayer."   Arthimus' eyes widened in disbelief.
     "Why was I never told of this before?"
     "As you are well aware, your father died before you were born.  He was the only one who knew the true power of The Demon Slayer other than King Galarond and myself. You alone have the power to destroy Marrius.  You must succeed. . .or we shall all die."

     A gaunt figure slowly crept toward King Marrius, who sat impatiently in his thrown.  It was wrapped securely in black robes, its skeletal face hidden within the shadows of the hooded cloak.   The man looked as though he should have died ages ago, but somehow he found the strength to walk before the King. Upon his shoulder sat a black raven.
     "I bring you news of Arthimus my lord," the figure reported is raspy voice, almost too quiet to hear.   Marrius said nothing, but sat with his chin in his hand listening intently to the ancient being.  "Sikara," he said stroking the black bird, "has located him.  He stays with an old man far to the east, on the outskirts of the plains."
     "Excellent work Hestus."   Marrius replied with satisfaction.  "Once again, you have proven yourself worthy.  If I had more men like you, I could conquer the world in a matter of days."   He said with a grin.  "You are free to go Hestus.  Your talents are greatly appreciated, and will be greatly rewarded. Maybe I will even give that bird of yours a room of it's own" He  added with a laugh.
     "I require no rewards your majesty,"  Hestus said silently.  "I will do whatever is necessary to ensure your continued rule over the land."   The small man bowed before the King, who sat in his throne smiling contently.
     Marrius was truly amused by such blind devotion.  Hestus knew how to ensure that his head remain securely attached to his shoulders.   He laughed quietly to himself before calling the commander of his army.
     A woman casually walked across the immense chamber towards Marrius.   She was powerfully muscled and incredibly beautiful.  Her dark eyes had a profane glow to them, and her hair was as black as the night itself.   It fell down her back nearly touching her waist, swaying from side to side as she approached the King's thrown.  She wore a splendid suit of Elven chain mail, no doubt taken from the dead body of one of her victims.  A pair of short swords clung threateningly to her waist on either side.  She gripped a helmet under her arm with a pair of wicked looking horns protruding from the front.   Kneeling before King Marrius she spoke, "You requested my presence, your majesty?"
     "Yes Lianna, I have located Arthimus.  I want you to assemble a group of fifty of your best men and kill him.   He is at the eastern end of the plains.  Take any supplies you deem necessary, but do not return without his miserable corpse."   He ordered coldly,  "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
     "Of course your majesty."  she responded as she did to everything he said.  "But don't you think fifty men is a bit excessive?  Twenty men would more than suffice."
     "Never underestimate him!"  Marrius warned.  "There is much more to that man than you think.  You had better heed my warning or you will undoubtedly find yourself face down in the dirt with his sword in your back."
     "Very well my lord."  She knew it was useless to argue her point.  "Consider Arthimus as good as dead."  She stood upright, pivoted on her heels, and marched out of the chamber.

     Arthimus rummaged hastily through the clutter Ralakhad called home.  He tossed useless baubles, moved rotting crates, overturned barrels and anything else he could get his hands on, in search of provisions for the long journey ahead of them.  He couldn't understand why Ralakhad had asked him to do such a seemingly useless job.  The only object he had found of any use at all was an ancient bottle of liquor that he decided may prove useful later on.  He was seriously beginning to doubt the purpose of this tedious assignment.
     Frustrated, Arthimus allowed himself to collapse into one of Ralakhad's prehistoric chairs which immediately gave way under his weight.   He crashed to the floor noisily, wood splintering beneath him.  The chair that had survived for so long was reduced to nothing more then a pile of scrap wood.  He quickly gathered up the pieces and dumped them into an empty barrel.
     "Find anything?"  a voice inquired from behind Arthimus.  He spun around nervously and found himself gazing into Ralakhad's eyes.
     "Oh, umm. . .no.   Nothing at all,"  he quickly replied, trying not to meet the old man's gaze.
     "No matter.  I've got our food.  It should be more than enough, and I'm sure---"  He stopped speaking abruptly and looked around the disorderly room befuddled.   "Where is my chair?"  he asked, scratching his head.
     "Chair?  What chair?"
     "I only had two chairs and there is one missing.  I think it's quite obvious which one I am looking for."  Ralakhad informed him angrily.
     "Oh that chair!  Well, actually it's a rather amusing story.  You see I went outside for some fresh air and when I returned there was this man running away with---"  Arthimus began, but Ralakhad quickly interjected.
     "Enough of this nonsense," he ordered with irritation.  "We have more important business to attend to.  Unless you think there are any other supplies we may require, I suggest we leave immediately."
     "Very well."  Arthimus agreed.  Hatred swelling within him, he clenched his fist tightly.  "The sooner we leave, the sooner Marrius dies."

     After several endless days of walking across the vast grasslands of Vamora, Arthimus and Ralakhad could clearly see Lorrian Forest stretching across the horizon.  The sun was rapidly sinking below the trees illuminating the leafy canopy of the forest with a multitude of colors.  Transforming it into a wondrous rainbow that stretched on for miles.  Lorrian forest lay directly between the Vamora Plains and Siranobi Hill, where Arthimus' castle lay waiting for him to seize it from the devastating grasp of Marrius.
     They set up camp as the daylight fled from the darkness of the night.  Slowly millions of stars began to materialize in the sky.  Arthimus studied the stars trying to identify the different constellations he had learned from his mother as a child.  His mother had filled his mind with knowledge hoping he would not stray down the same path as his father.  A violent path of endless battles; risking his life everyday for the good of the King. But in the end, Arthimus had become his father.  He became one of the greatest warriors in the history of Vamora, and one of the most beloved Kings.
    He had always thought of himself a man of monumental importance.  He alone ruled Vamora.  But that night, as he stared at the millions upon millions of stars that dotted the nighttime sky, he realized just how minuscule Vamora really was, and how insignificant he was.  He was nothing without the fantastic sword Ralakhad called The Demon Slayer.  The world would go on without him.
     "I'm going to get some sleep Arthimus,"  Ralakhad told him, wandering into their makeshift tent.
     "Goodnight."  Arthimus replied without taking his eyes off the stars.  He had to destroy Marrius though.   He held the power to do so, and he swore he would at least try to avenge his family's death. He drew The Demon Slayer from its sheath, silvery moonlight shining upon the magnificent blade.  He was King Arthimus the Great, and Marrius would soon be dead.

     Arthimus and Ralakhad both arose early the next morning. Few words were exchanged between the two as they quickly ate breakfast and packed their things.  A long journey still lay ahead of them.  The weather had remained surprisingly calm for the past several days.  The grass was growing tall, the flowers' radiant colors brightened the day, and the animals had returned to the land. It was almost too perfect. Arthimus decided to inquire about it. "Do you find it strange that the weather has become peaceful so suddenly?"
     The old man looked up from under his hood, "Not really. The violent weather was merely a result of the opening of the vortex between our dimension and the one that held Marrius prisoner." He replied as if it were obvious. "When the unnatural weather began, I was almost certain of Marrius' arrival, and your information confirmed my predictions."
     Suddenly Arthimus froze in his tracks, surveying his surroundings like an antelope that had just spotted a lion hiding in the grass.  He drew his sword and removed his shield from its resting position, "Get down!"  he shouted.
    A glint of metal flashed in the bushes which lined the baron grasslands and an arrow burst into the air.  It was immediately followed by a volley of at least thirty more arrows which rained down upon
the two companions.  As the arrows closed in, their wooden shafts shattered upon an
invisible barrier.  Arthimus gave  Ralakhad a bewildered glance.
     "Don't ask questions, just go!"  Ralakhad ordered, "The barrier will protect you from their arrows, but their blades can still cut you.  I will deal with as many as I can with my magic."
     Without saying another word Arthimus charged into the forest toward the concealed attackers.  He let out a bellowing battle cry as he waved his sword menacingly over his head.  Arrow after arrow exploded into splinters in front of him, and then they stopped.
    Suddenly armoured men poured out of the forest, one after another until there were at least forty of them charging him at full speed.  Their rumbling voices were all Arthimus could hear, as they moved toward him like a wave of black water.  He ran to meet them, hoping that Ralakhad planned on doing something fast.
     With a bright flash of light, an enormous fire ball soared over his head.   He could feel the scalding heat drift over his body as the roaring inferno flew past him.  It smashed into the advancing army, erupting into a fiery storm that spread through their ranks melting flesh from bones.  Arthimus halted his charge and held his shield close to his face, protecting himself from the intense heat.
     As the flames died down, Arthimus removed his shield from his face to see the remaining soldiers trying to retaliate from the attack.  A lone woman stood in front of the few remaining soldiers holding a bow in her hands.  She notched an arrow onto the powerful string and drew it back with surprising ease.  Hadn't she realized she can't hurt him?  Then he came to a realization, he spun around to see Ralakhad leaning on his walking stick exhausted.  The spell must have drained all his energy.
     "Ralakhad!  Look out!"  He cried out to the old man.
     Ralakhad looked up, but it was too late.  The woman released the string sending the arrow tearing through the air with blinding speed and deadly accuracy.  It tore deep into Ralakhad's  shoulder  knocking his frail body to the ground.  Arthimus bolted toward the woman with incredible speed waving his sword furiously.   She threw her bow to the ground and drew a pair of short swords.

     Lianna stood ready for battle with a short sword in each hand.  Sweat dripped down her face, and her skin was scorched from the wizard's deadly spell that had wiped out almost her entire army.  Should couldn't believe she had allowed that to happen.  She had been foolish, but the wizard was dead, or at least dying.  Now it was Arthimus' turn.
    She tried to ignore the painful burning that surged through her body as Arthimus charged her in a crazed frenzy.  She was powerful, and she knew it.  Her eyes glowed brightly, and she snarled, bearing a pair of wicked looking fangs. She dug her boots into the ground and her muscles tensed as Arthimus drew near.

    Arthimus let out a booming roar and lunged at the woman in rage.  He swung his sword in a huge arc, but she gracefully stepped backward avoiding the blow.  She quickly retaliated, stabbing at him with one of her short swords which was deflected off the dense metal of his shield.  The second sword slashed low to the ground grazing his shin.  Blood trickled out of the wound, but he gave the minor wound little regard.
    He regained his balance from the enormous swing and absorbed another blow with his shield.  He
returned her attack, but she ducked under the swing and punctured Arthimus' abdomen with her blade.  He reeled in pain as blood slowly flowed from the wound staining his pants red.
    Before she rose from her ducking position, he drove his shield into the side of her head with a sickening thud.  The woman fell to the ground motionless.  Thick, black blood oozed out from the side of her head, as Arthimus stared at her in disgust. Suddenly he remembered the other soldiers.
     Arthimus raised his shield above his head and a soldier's blade clanged against it.  He swung mightily with his sword, tearing open the man's stomach.  The soldier collapsed on the ground in  a pool of vomitus black blood.  A second soldier swung at him from behind, but he ducked under the blade, shattering the man's jaw with an upward blow from his shield.  He winced as a sharp pain shot through his back, and warm blood dripped down his spine.
    He shot a quick glance at the ground in front of him and saw the soldier's shadow hovering over him.  In one fluid motion Arthimus rolled forward on his shoulder, leapt to his feet and removed the soldier's head with a powerful swing.  He stood waiting for the remaining four soldiers to attack, but instead they fled back into the forest in panic, tripping over each other as they ran.
     Arthimus stared at his sword with loathing as the soldiers' blood oozed down the blade like tar. As he watched the dead soldiers turned to nothing more than gray piles of ash, which were quickly dispersed by the wind.  Abruptly he remembered Ralakhad.
        Swiftly, he spun around, and just in time to see Lianna's sword sailing toward him. Instinctivly he raised his shield parrying the blow, but her second blade slashed a deep woud in his chest. He immediately retaliated with swing from his own sword.  Lianna ducked out of the way with ease as she kicked Arthimus' legs out from underneath him.  He hit the ground hard, dropping his sowrd.  He rolled onto his back and began feeling around blindly for his sword as he stared in terror at the shadowy form descending upon him from the sky.  At last his hand closed around the soft leather of his weapon's handle, and he rolled quickly to the right as Lianna landed.  Her swords embedded themselves deep into the earth where Arthimus had been only moments before.  She growled angrily and tore the blades from the ground remaining in a crouching position.
    Arthimus jumped to his feet and stood ready to defend himself.  Lianna's eyes were burning a malevolent red.  She hissed at him with contempt and rose into a standing position.  The two warriors stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.  Finally, Lianna let out a horrid screech and charged Arthimus.  He replied with a roar of his own and ran forward to meet her.  Metal clanged against metal as they ferociously exchanged blows with one another.
    Lianna swung one of her short swords at Arthimus with blinding speed.  He deftly ducked under the attack, and countered it with a swift blow from his shield, slamming it forcefully into her stomach.  As Lianna's body fell toward to ground, Arthimus' sword trailed closely behind it.  A moment after she impacted with the dirt, the smooth metal of the Demon Slayer pierced through her chest.  It drove its way deep inside of her until it severed her spine and buried itself deep within the warm earth.  Lianna let out a final blood curdling shriek as black blood poured out of her.  Then she lay motionless.  Arthimus' massive sword protruding from her chest.  He stared at her for a moment before pulling his sword from the umoving body.
    He looked over at where Ralakhad had been and saw the old man laying motionless on the ground.   He rushed over to him, and stared mournfully at the arrow protruding from his shoulder.  Blood pooled beneath the unmoving body and stained his cloaks red.  Arthimus fell to his knees and began shaking the old man vigorously.  "Wake up you old fool!"  Tears began to swell in his eyes.  "Don't die, damn you!   I can't finish this without you."
    He began to lose all hope as he realized he must continue on his own.  He would have been slaughtered just like his family if Ralakhad hadn't been here.  What if another army was waiting for him beyond the forest?  He couldn't go on alone.
     Arthimus rested his head upon the old man's lifeless form and immediately he felt Ralakhad's chest rise.  He hastily lifted his head and stared into the old man's closed eyes hopefully.  Ralakhad let out a harsh cough and opened his eyes.  He stared at Arthimus, with his bright eyes, and struggled to speak. "How did we do boy?"  He said softly.
     "All but four are dead.  The survivors fled into the forest," Arthimus said, his hope returning.  "We need to get that arrow out of you."
     "Oh, yes.  I suppose we do." He said attempting to smile.
     Arthimus tore a piece of his pant leg off, twisted it tightly, and handed it to Ralakhad, "Bite down on this.  This is going to hurt."
     "What are you doing?"  The old man asked nervously.
     "I'm going to push the shaft out the other side.   It's the only way to remove it without shredding your shoulder to pieces."
     Ralakhad's eyes widened with fear.  He bit down tightly on the thick piece of cloth and closed his eyes.  Arthimus grasped the arrow in his hand and hesitated for a moment.  Then he thrust the arrow through Ralakhad's shoulder.  The old man's body writhed in agony and he let out a muffled scream.  Fresh blood flowed out of the wound, and Arthimus quickly wrapped the mangled shoulder with another piece of cloth he tore from his pants.  "There.  It's done."  Arthimus declared.  "But you're losing blood quickly, we have to hurry."
     "Arthimus, I'll only slow you down.  Go on without me, I'm as good as dead anyway."  The old man said wincing in pain.
     "Don't talk like that.  I'm not leaving you here to be eaten alive by those damned vultures."
     "Arthimus, you must---"
     "That's enough."  Arthimus shouted angrily.  "You're coming with me."  He lifted the old man to his feet.
     "You're as stubborn as your father."  Ralakhad coughed, struggling to stay on his feet.
     The two companions slowly entered the forest, Arthimus half-carrying Ralakhad. As they wandered deeper into the wilderness, everything seemed to change before them.  Although the sun was out, it was as if someone had placed a giant black cloud over the forest.
    The trees seemed gnarled and twisted and the dismal woodland was void of life.  No birds sang, no squirrels chattered, not even a single insect flitted about them.  The network of roots covering the ground seemed to come to life, slithering across the ground like a thousand giant snakes.  The wind seemed to laugh mockingly at them as they stumbled through the maze of trees.  Ralakhad was rapidly deteriorating, drifting in and out of consciousness.  Arthimus quickened his pace, fearing for his friend's life, and afraid of what might be waiting within the shadows of the trees.

    Arthimus quickly approached the castle walls.  As he grew nearer, the wind grew maddening, threatening to knock him to the ground.   It felt like a hundred men were pushing him at once.   A bolt of lightning struck the earth not far from him, leaving a blackened crater.  He glanced at it fearfully and pushed onward with all his strength.  Although the drawbridge was closed, he knew other ways into his castle.
     Arthimus circled around the walls to the eastern end of the fortress.  He studied the walls intently, trying to ignore the intense winds that enveloped him and tossed him from side to side.  He placed his hands on the castle walls, and as he expected they moved through the stone like it was nothing more than air.  He walked through the illusionary wall easily, and found himself in a dark, decrepit hall.   At least he was inside.
    Burning torches lined the walls, dimly lighting the narrow corridor.  He instinctively reached for his sword, but quickly remembered the invisibility spell.  He cautiously moved down the hallway.  Although they couldn't see him, his enemies could still hear him.
     Soon Arthimus found himself standing before the steps that led into his thrown room.  This had been the same tunnel he used to escape from Marrius.  He could see his family being butchered by the evil Demon and his men.  His castle crumbling to the ground, and he could do nothing to stop him.  But now it was different.  He glanced at the sword which rested on his side.   The Demon Slayer.  Marrius would pay for what he had done with his life.   Slowly he began to ascend the long flight of stairs.

     Marrius lay motionless in the intricate gold thrown.  The storm echoed violently within the room, like sweet music to his ears.  His eyes were closed as he concentrated all his power on the spell which slowly consumed the land.   Soon he would be the supreme ruler of this world and the Netherworld.   All the Demons would worship him, no one would dare defy his rule.   A wicked smile appeared on his face as he sat in meditation.
     "My lord," came a voice.
     Marrius' eyes shot open, "I thought I told you not to disturb me," he boomed angrily.
     "I have vital information,"  the soldier shifted nervously.
     "Very well. . .proceed."  Marrius sat back in his seat clutching the arms of the chair in his powerful hands.
     "Four of Lianna's troops have returned from their mission.   The rest, including Lianna, were all killed."
     "What!?"   Marrius' voice echoed through the chamber drowning out the noise of the storm as he rose viciously from his seat.  "Must I do everything myself!?   How can one man be so difficult to eliminate?"  He asked, closing in on the messenger, his eyes glowing fiery red.
     "Please your majesty,"  the soldier pleaded.  "I am only doing my job.  I'm just a messenger," he explained in terror.
     Marrius' powerful arm shot out, his huge hand clutching the man's throat like an iron claw.  He crushed the feeble man's neck in his hand and discarded the body on the floor without remorse.
    He motioned to his guards who obediently disposed of the dead messenger.  He returned to his magnificent thrown, worried.  "Leave me by myself," he said to his guards.  "And do not disturb me unless you have news of Arthimus."  If Arthimus was still alive, then he still posed a threat to Marrius' rule.  Arthimus must die before his plans could succeed.

     Arthimus neared the top of the stairs.  The storm pounded on the walls outside the castle turbulently.  He stared blankly at the wall before him.  Behind it lay his thrown room which Marrius had claimed as his own, just as Marrius took everything else he desired.  If Marrius wanted it, he received if.  But now the crazed Demon's rule would come to end beneath the blade of Arthimus.
    He passed through the illusionary wall like a wraith.  Bent on vengeance, anger spread through his
body as he entered the room where his family had been murdered.  He found himself facing the back of his glorious golden throne.  But somehow it seemed tainted with darkness, an evil presence filled the room.   And as he silently rounded the massive thrown, the hatred burning inside him erupted into a blazing inferno.  He stared deep into the eyes of Marrius himself.
     Without thinking he drew his sword in rage, raising it high above his head.  Marrius jumped, startled by the man's sudden appearance.  The Demon leapt out of the thrown as Arthimus' sword came crashing down upon it, leaving a deep depression in the golden metal.  "Your time is up Marrius!"  Arthimus bellowed.
     "Foolish human!  You think you can defeat me?" he let out a rumbling laugh.  Arthimus, clutched his sword tightly in his hands, staring hatefully at Marrius.  Suddenly Marrius was surrounded in a burning red light, and  Arthimus was forced to shield his eyes from its intensity.
    The Demon's eyes began glowing brightly, and the human flesh covering him began to stretch and twist upon his skeleton.  Its pale human color intensified to a deep blood red and his muscles began to bulge, writhing like serpents beneath a red blanket.  His forehead began pulsating as two jet black horns pierced through his skin.  A pair of fleshy bat-like wings tore out of his back, and a row of spines ripped out of each vertebrae, down to the tip of his tail which now protruded from behind him.
    The red light slowly died down and Marrius let out a booming roar that echoed through the thrown room like thunder, as he displayed his splendor and might to the weak human.  He clenched his fists together, and snarled menacingly at Arthimus.
     Arthimus swiftly ripped his shield from his back and charged the enormous beast furiously.  Marrius stepped to the side and brought his tremendous clawed hand down on Arthimus.  He tumbled to the ground, his back throbbing in pain, as warm blood oozed from the wounds.  Marrius' hand began flaming as Arthimus stumbled to his feet.  The Demon brought his hand back, and hurled a flaming sphere at Arthimus.   It exploded against his shield harmlessly.
     Marrius glanced back at the thrown, his giant battle axe leaning against it, waiting for him.  Arthimus saw him look at it and quickly ran at him.  Marrius leapt toward his axe, but Arthimus brought his sword down on the Demon from behind.  It harmlessly clanged against Marrius' armour, but sent the Demon sprawling to the ground.  A muscled leg struck Arthimus in the gut, sending him reeling backwards, gasping for air.  Marrius slithered across the floor like a serpent, reaching for his beloved weapon.  His hand reached for it but a pain in his right leg made him stop abruptly.
     Arthimus pulled his sword from the deep wound in the Demons thigh.  Black blood flowed from the wound, pooling on the stone floor.  Marrius knocked him to the floor effortlessly, with a sweep from his mighty tail.  Finally, his fingers wrapped around the wooden handle of his battle axe.  He rose to his feet, pain shooting through his leg.
    He hefted the huge axe above his head and brought it crashing to the ground.  Arthimus rolled out of the way, stone shattering from the force of the blow.   He swung his sword powerfully, slashing the Demon's arm just below the shoulder.  Marrius bellowed in pain, and clutched at his wound.  Blood flowed from the wound and down his hand, dripping rhythmically onto the floor.
     Anger burned brightly in the Demon's eyes, he snorted fiercely at Arthimus and lifted his axe defensively.  Arthimus stood sword in hand, watching the Demon's every move;  waiting for the opportunity to strike.
     "Give up now and I will be merciful," Marrius advised.
     "You are afraid of me Marrius.  Afraid of what I can do to you," Arthimus declared confidently.  "You killed my family and destroyed all of Vamora, and now you must pay."   He rose and charged the monster, his heart full of vengeance.  His sword came harmlessly down upon Marrius' armour, but a quick jab with his shield sent the Demon to his knees.
    Marrius' face bled painfully where the shield had struck him.  He quickly swung his axe at Arthimus, slashing his stomach.   Blood rushed forward satisfying the Demon's hunger, and Arthimus staggered backward in pain. Marrius lunged at a disoriented Arthimus.  He slammed the man to the ground beneath him, knocking the wind from the weak human.
     The irate Demon grasped Arthimus around the neck.  Electricity began to flow down Marrius' arm threateningly.  Arthimus struggled to get free, but it was useless.   The blue crackling energy surged through his body, and he went into a fit of painful convulsions.
     "Who is afraid now?"  Marrius asked mockingly.  "You should have given up when you had the chance."  The electric current ceased to flow, and Arthimus lay helplessly beneath Marrius.  Pain surged through his entire body, and he could hardly feel his hand which was still tightly clutching his sword's handle.
     Marrius rose from Arthimus' body.  Hefting his axe in both hands, he stared down at the pathetic man who called himself King of Vamora.  "It is now time for you to die."  He lifted the axe above his head and swung it heartlessly at Arthimus' unmoving form.
     As the blade rushed toward Arthimus his entire life flashed before his eyes.  He would finally be reunited with his family.  At least he would die knowing he tried, but a voice echoed somewhere in his mind.  I won't fail you, it said.  It was his own voice.
    With all his remaining strength he rolled away from the axe just as it crashed to the ground with incredible force.  Springing to his feet, he gripped his sword tightly with both hands, and lifted it high above his head.  Before Marrius could recover from his tremendous swing, The Demon Slayer was upon him.   Its blade cut through his neck like butter.  His hideous head rolled onto the floor in a pool of wretched black blood, and blue flames shot forth through his open neck.  The headless body thrashed wildly and then collapsed onto the floor unmoving.   With an explosive burst of flames, the Demon's remains turned to dust.  Marrius was dead.

     As Arthimus walked through the echoing halls of his castle, piles of dust marked the dead bodies of Marrius' Demon army.  With Marrius dead all of his minions had perished as well.  The raging storm outside had quieted and the castle lay unnaturally quiet.  He slowly walked to the mechanism that operated the drawbridge.  A large wheel with a thick chain wrapped around it held the immense door closed.
    He began to turn the giant wheel and slowly the drawbridge to his castle opened.  Bright light poured into the expansive hall.  He squinted, protecting himself from the blinding sunlight.  The
drawbridge settled to the ground with a final turn of the wheel, and he walked forward to absorb the life giving energy of the sun.  He surveyed the astonishing land that surrounded him.  Land that was once again his.

     Arthimus stood mournfully amongst the graves of his lost family.  His wife, three sons, and his daughter; all buried in the royal graveyard along side his parents, and their parents before them.  He had avenged their deaths as promised, and now he could rest well knowing Marrius could never kill again.
    Standing alone in the small graveyard was a grave with a gnarled wooden staff resting upon the soft dirt.  The grave of Ralakhad.  If not for him, Arthimus would have surely failed.  He deserved to be among royalty.  He had found Ralakhad dying after the battle.  But the old man was still smiling, and his eyes were glowing brighter then ever.  He had looked up at Arthimus and said, simply "Thank you."
    Arthimus turned from the graveyard and walked in silence through his courtyard.  Life blossomed around him.  He couldn't remember the songs of the birds ever seeming so beautiful before.  Or the  colors of the flowers so wondrous.  He had given the world another chance.
    Leaving his castle behind him he slowly wandered down a worn dirt path toward the edge of a steep cliff.  In front of him lay the ocean.  It streched across the horizon line for as far as he could see.  He looked down and watched as the water beat ryhtmically against the rocks below.
    Reaching down, he unstrapped the Demon Slayer from its resting position at his side. He drew the weapon from its scabbard and held it in front of him, admiring the blade.  The sunlight danced upon the elegant weapon.  Had simple piece of metal given him the power to defeat Marrius?  No. The sword was nothing without someone to command it, but he would remain with or without the weapon.  He gave the Demon Slayer a final glance and freed it from his grasp.  Silently, he watched as it plummeted downward and was, at last, devoured by the sea.

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