or eons, there were myths about a little island, out in the deepest of oceans, all alone surrounded by water and the Mist of Hysteria. The myths read that there was a treasure of great value and power. That whoever possessed it, would rule the isle and all it's magic. That that person could leave the island and conquer the world.
Warriors from all over the known world sailed to this island to seek this great treasure. Few came close, but could not find the island. Other found the island, only to be swallowed up into the Mists. And others landed, never to leave the island, there screams still echoing through the jungles of this island. Blood curdling cries of death, lost souls to the Daemons of this island.
Then, centuries went by, a party of warriors and sailors seeked this island, with the intent of finding the power that lies within. Of the group, there was a warrior and a scholar. The warrior wished to find the power for himself so he could conquer his enemies and the scholar was seeking the knowledge of the island's libraries (there was a minor legend of a vast library of books and scrolls, dabbling in ancient arts, storytelling and history).
They landed on the island, and braving some of the worst monsters and nightmarish creatures and places, made it to the castle gates, the warrior and the scholar... alone, covered in the blood of the creatures they fought. They opened the door... to find books and scrolls covering the walls and ceilings of the castle.
The scholar started looking at the books, reading their fascinating histories, the poetry, the knowledge within. The warrior meanwhile scoured the castle for the treasure and the power that he so greatly desired. As the warrior searched and searched, there was nothing, nothing that he could find that was his goal. To no avail, he returned to the scholar to tell him of his find.
The scholar looked at him and said, "The treasure you seek is not of gold, silver or precious stones. The power is not something material that you can use to strike down your greatest of enemies. The treasure are these books, the power is knowledge."
Upon hearing this, the warrior flew into a rage, drew his sword and struck down the scholar.
Before he could let out his last breath, the scholar said, "Well, warrior, you have doomed yourself to eternity on this island. In the books of knowledge that I have read, he who stands alone in the castle is it's Lord and Master. If Good enters, then Good is allowed to spread the treasures of the Ilse to others. But if Evil enters, Evil will stay on the island for Eternity to protect the treasure. My Death marks you as Evil, and so you will stay."
... And he died.
The great doors through which he entered, suddenly closed, sealing his fate. The warrior stood there, bloody sword in hand. looking at the scholar. He knew. in his rage, that he was blinded from the knowledge of the scholar. The air around him grew cold and silence of the great hall was deafening. And then he heard it...
A whispering, from afar... silent but still audible. Cloth sliding across the hard stone of the floor, heavy breathing... growing closer, ever so closer. Then he saw it. A black apparition, slowly gliding towards him. It was like a ghost that he'd seen in books, but black instead of white and something evil about it.
He raised his sword to the apparition... and it was upon him. A black, overwhelming feeling, like drowning. No way to fight it. It covering his entire body, until he realised that it had consumed his clothing and now became his clothing. His sword was no longer a sword, but a great battle axe of the strongest and shiniest metal he had ever seen.
He seeked a mirror to find out what this 'thing' is. Upstairs in one of the rooms, a full length mirror revealed and suit of blackness, dull and eerie, covering his whole body. His eyes were not eyes but glowing slits.
In the days to come, he found that he could leave the castle to venture out onto the island. The creatures never bother him, in fact he seemed to know where each one was hiding. Whenever he tried getting off the island, the suit stopped him, controlling him away from escape. Finally, he broke down and cried uncontrollably with the futility of it all. He knew he was doomed here. He returned to the castle, passing the scholar's shallow grave and, mulling over his last words, entered the castle to do something he hadn't done in years... Read.
He read about the island, about far off lands, about the suit, the battle axe. Written by it's past masters, those Evil enough to wear the suit of the darkness, it showed the true treasure to its fullest. He knew he was now the new lord of the island, his name no longer his. He is now known as Lord Skulbite, Lord of Skulln.
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