Tillna
10-02-2008, 08:58 PM
She was, is, and always will be daddy’s little girl. It was her lot in life, and she never cared. Her first words were daddy, her first steps were towards her father and her first kill was in defense, rather, by command of her father. Who couldn’t admire the man? A paladin, staunch defender of the light, he weaved the power like so many threads on his wife’s loom, a trait passed on to his youngest daughter, if nothing else.
He was described as kind by many, and a strong leader. What most never saw, could have never seen or even guessed at, was the underhanded deeds he would commit. Silencing those with blackmail, or at worse, death to the stubborn. But, he knew that even if some spoke, they would be dismissed as slanderous dogs, only looking to gain some coin or status from his downfall.
But, his daughter had a near blind devotion to this man, training by his side in the light, using her abilities to empower her large, two handed sword with the power of the repentance, wounding her adversary, but never to kill on the initial strike, rather, let the light entice the enemy to run, to flee or repent on the spot. She had let many a mugger repent, sending them off to the church instead of the afterlife. She only did it at the word of her father; otherwise, they would all be dead for daring to raise a hand to such a noble man.
Unbeknownst to her, he had sent in plans that would seal the fate of his daughter. A gorgeous child, now a young woman, each day looking more and more like her mother. Long blonde hair covering her face, white smooth skin covered by fierce plate armor attracted many a suitor, but they we all turned away by the young paladin. They were not men in the same stature as her father. They would not do. How could they?
The years passed by, the girl growing stronger each day, her father becoming more twisted. The Cult of Death was cemented in his mind. Each word spoken in secret only made his inner lust for power grow. And he knew, how easy it would be to use her, a willing slave, a tool looking for a master. He would call her to his side, and tell of those who were being corrupted by powers. She did not care what powers, or to what end the corruption was. She followed her father’s orders with brutal efficiency. She killed all who he named without blinking, without flinching, never questioning. Her heart began to darken. This world was impure, and only her father’s wishes and commands would help cleanse it no matter the cost. No matter the cost to her own being, or to any one else, she would complete her father’s works.
In his studies, he had found one flaw with his plan. One that he would fix that night. His daughter, his right hand, his executioner, was too connected with the light to be able to accept any gifts he could give her from the Cult. Instead of empowering her, it would outright kill her. He had taken care of this earlier, siphoning off his own power, letting the darkness dribble in its place. Able to still exert over the same level of control of this new, dark energy. He called her to his study, smiling. As by his command, she had knelt, crossing her sword in the circle, her armor left to the side.
And then, again with out a question, she renounced the light. Forcing it out of her body, she let the shadows in. She let the dark power cascade in, not caring for her soul or her own frame. The change would prove too much for either to bear.
It came at once, a dark waterfall, a rushing torrent form the ceiling. Entering the young vessel it corrupted and twisted her. Her skin pulled tight against her bones. Her hair darkened and fell out, becoming a short tatty mess. Her skin turned a greenish hue. Even her armor was warped, each piece becoming dark, spiked, empowered by the shadows. Her blade began to glow, before shattering, not storing enough to contain the powers that assaulted it. She stood, her armor lifting to cover her warped body. She looked to her father. He merely nodded and led her to his office.
It was a room of books in peaceful times, but now, it was full of scourge trinkets, a cauldron and books on human anatomy. He handed her a small stone, her bony fingers taking it. He nodded, before kissing her softly on the cheek. She smiled back as she activated the stone, transporting off to the dread citadel to being her training as a Death Knight.
He shuddered, crying. What had he done…what had he done to his girl...and was it really…for the best?
He was described as kind by many, and a strong leader. What most never saw, could have never seen or even guessed at, was the underhanded deeds he would commit. Silencing those with blackmail, or at worse, death to the stubborn. But, he knew that even if some spoke, they would be dismissed as slanderous dogs, only looking to gain some coin or status from his downfall.
But, his daughter had a near blind devotion to this man, training by his side in the light, using her abilities to empower her large, two handed sword with the power of the repentance, wounding her adversary, but never to kill on the initial strike, rather, let the light entice the enemy to run, to flee or repent on the spot. She had let many a mugger repent, sending them off to the church instead of the afterlife. She only did it at the word of her father; otherwise, they would all be dead for daring to raise a hand to such a noble man.
Unbeknownst to her, he had sent in plans that would seal the fate of his daughter. A gorgeous child, now a young woman, each day looking more and more like her mother. Long blonde hair covering her face, white smooth skin covered by fierce plate armor attracted many a suitor, but they we all turned away by the young paladin. They were not men in the same stature as her father. They would not do. How could they?
The years passed by, the girl growing stronger each day, her father becoming more twisted. The Cult of Death was cemented in his mind. Each word spoken in secret only made his inner lust for power grow. And he knew, how easy it would be to use her, a willing slave, a tool looking for a master. He would call her to his side, and tell of those who were being corrupted by powers. She did not care what powers, or to what end the corruption was. She followed her father’s orders with brutal efficiency. She killed all who he named without blinking, without flinching, never questioning. Her heart began to darken. This world was impure, and only her father’s wishes and commands would help cleanse it no matter the cost. No matter the cost to her own being, or to any one else, she would complete her father’s works.
In his studies, he had found one flaw with his plan. One that he would fix that night. His daughter, his right hand, his executioner, was too connected with the light to be able to accept any gifts he could give her from the Cult. Instead of empowering her, it would outright kill her. He had taken care of this earlier, siphoning off his own power, letting the darkness dribble in its place. Able to still exert over the same level of control of this new, dark energy. He called her to his study, smiling. As by his command, she had knelt, crossing her sword in the circle, her armor left to the side.
And then, again with out a question, she renounced the light. Forcing it out of her body, she let the shadows in. She let the dark power cascade in, not caring for her soul or her own frame. The change would prove too much for either to bear.
It came at once, a dark waterfall, a rushing torrent form the ceiling. Entering the young vessel it corrupted and twisted her. Her skin pulled tight against her bones. Her hair darkened and fell out, becoming a short tatty mess. Her skin turned a greenish hue. Even her armor was warped, each piece becoming dark, spiked, empowered by the shadows. Her blade began to glow, before shattering, not storing enough to contain the powers that assaulted it. She stood, her armor lifting to cover her warped body. She looked to her father. He merely nodded and led her to his office.
It was a room of books in peaceful times, but now, it was full of scourge trinkets, a cauldron and books on human anatomy. He handed her a small stone, her bony fingers taking it. He nodded, before kissing her softly on the cheek. She smiled back as she activated the stone, transporting off to the dread citadel to being her training as a Death Knight.
He shuddered, crying. What had he done…what had he done to his girl...and was it really…for the best?