Post by Azrael Emony on Jul 7, 2006 1:53:55 GMT -5
All was gone; there wasn’t an ounce of magic left in this Outer World. It was all sucked dry into these hands of great evil, an evil that urges for more. The thought of immortality was something indeed to urge for. That thought of an everlasting life would keep him running, destroying whoever dared to stand in his way. These hands of evil will reign. Just the thought off power could drive a man mad, corrupt his mind. Was his mind corrupted, it was hard to say.
The Overlord’s chains dragged heavy against the ground as he walked forward with long legged strides, his iron claymore tapping at the side of his thigh. Azrael’s glowing green eyes narrowed at his hand just before he had balled it into a fist. Looking forward once more he continued his hike through the land that was no longer of any use to him. More magic was out there, he just had to find it. Many have wondered why exactly the Overlord’s eyes had a neon glow to it like something you would only see on a demon or monstrous creatures, the truth was, his mortal body was filled with so much energy and magic his eyes were no longer normal. The magic aura of his power leaked from his eyes like smoke on the end of a cigar.
The sun’s deadly rays were beating down on him with its powerful radiation and everything around him seemed gone, there wasn’t a life force left, not one. It was all gone. Even as bright as it was, you could not see the figure of the man’s head because it was shadowed by the collar of his cape. His cape was long enough to overlap his body twice and hung very loose against his body. The Crimson cloth swayed from side to side going along with the motion of the lord’s pace as Azrael searched for his next destination which was yet undecided.
The next target needed to be fresh and plump, something with magic pulsing through it like blood in veins. The weaker areas of magic could wait until another time. The Overlord planned to get the more threatening locations out first, that way the rest of it would be cake. Taking the magic from his next destination would be complicated, but shouldn’t be anything he couldn’t handle. Azrael was cutting it close to being classed as immortal because the magic has made him something so powerful, that not another mortal was like him. It wasn’t long before he would suck enough energy he could become powerful enough to even face on the gods, taking their magic as well. All would be his in time, and no one was going to stop him. He was determined to be the king of this whole realm. Every man and woman, creature, would fear his name. If they would not bow before him, then they would be destroyed with a most painful death that most would not wish to feel. You could call the Overlord Azrael a walking nightmare.
The Overlord’s chains dragged heavy against the ground as he walked forward with long legged strides, his iron claymore tapping at the side of his thigh. Azrael’s glowing green eyes narrowed at his hand just before he had balled it into a fist. Looking forward once more he continued his hike through the land that was no longer of any use to him. More magic was out there, he just had to find it. Many have wondered why exactly the Overlord’s eyes had a neon glow to it like something you would only see on a demon or monstrous creatures, the truth was, his mortal body was filled with so much energy and magic his eyes were no longer normal. The magic aura of his power leaked from his eyes like smoke on the end of a cigar.
The sun’s deadly rays were beating down on him with its powerful radiation and everything around him seemed gone, there wasn’t a life force left, not one. It was all gone. Even as bright as it was, you could not see the figure of the man’s head because it was shadowed by the collar of his cape. His cape was long enough to overlap his body twice and hung very loose against his body. The Crimson cloth swayed from side to side going along with the motion of the lord’s pace as Azrael searched for his next destination which was yet undecided.
The next target needed to be fresh and plump, something with magic pulsing through it like blood in veins. The weaker areas of magic could wait until another time. The Overlord planned to get the more threatening locations out first, that way the rest of it would be cake. Taking the magic from his next destination would be complicated, but shouldn’t be anything he couldn’t handle. Azrael was cutting it close to being classed as immortal because the magic has made him something so powerful, that not another mortal was like him. It wasn’t long before he would suck enough energy he could become powerful enough to even face on the gods, taking their magic as well. All would be his in time, and no one was going to stop him. He was determined to be the king of this whole realm. Every man and woman, creature, would fear his name. If they would not bow before him, then they would be destroyed with a most painful death that most would not wish to feel. You could call the Overlord Azrael a walking nightmare.
