1 Prologue

Rain, the spears of the heavens that pierce the damp clothes of a man who lost everything. Feeling each and every drop coating his body and turn it cold as the frigid mountains. Staring at a mutilated and tortured body before him. The features of the body were slashed and bruised. He had tried with all his might and powers of healing to bring the body back from the brink of death. But, nothing was working.

The man swore, cursing the people who did this. A flash of light revealed the body of a young woman. Flowing red hair, freckles that crossed the bridge of her nose down to her cheeks. Smudged ruby lipstick and darkened eyes of copper brown. Her figure, slender and strong, though from what he had discovered was torn apart by blades and hands.

The rain coming down his face mixed in with his tears. He looked at his surroundings, seeing other bodies and tombstones around him. He lamented the woman's passing, feeling his heart tighten and his wish to have died beside her. Not even the light of the gods were strong enough to bring someone back like this.

"Why couldn't it have been me...?" He said, to the woman, her lifeless eyes looking into his. "I...I am sorry... I was too late," she didn't respond, he covered his face. The blood of the ones he had slain covered his gauntlets. He uncovered his eyes as the blood was washing from his face. He noticed something on one of the men beside him. Something he didn't want to dare to doubt the meaning of what he saw.

The symbol... of his church... he clenched his fist and looked up to the heavens. "Why? Why would you allow your followers to do such evil acts of debauchery?" No answers came. He gripped the symbol of his faith, a head of an angel in a medallion carved from stone. The eyes were closed, only to open when holy magic was cast through it. He tossed it to the side... a heavy pressure seemed to fall on his body.

Something whispered on the wind, "breaker... oath... breaker..." it wasn't the voice of angels coming to smite him. But, the voices of something else. He sensed a presence behind him. Something corrupted and evil. He turned to see a being clad in black armor, wielding a weapon that had the stench of death and decay on it's blade. The being looked at him, it's eyes were not visible but it felt like someone was walking over his grave.

"So..." it started, its voice like that of the words of Death himself, wispy and cold enough to touch the soul. "You've seen the nature of the children of gods. Their deeds overlooked by the gods they serve. Nothing done to punish those who seek to abuse their power for themselves." He raised his weapon and stabbed it into nearby corpse. The sound of crunching bone and muscle as a long and twisted sword was driven into the dead man's chest.

"You have learned the truth that is the corrupt nature of purity and sin. The outlook from the side of your devotion has blinded you from seeing the evil that dwells in the souls of man." The sword still stuck in the corpse, he walked away from it. "Do you want to bring down justice for the one you lost? Do you want to right the wrongs done by those in power? Save the people from the terror of the gods?" The being held out his hand, "Do you release yourself from the confines of your oath?"

The man, reached out his hand...

As the world went dark...

He could hear the agony of those around him...