Basten - The Underhand of Illburg

[Laemor]

We were never meant to open this book, to look through its pages...

Several layers of Hel':

"Come closer... Enter into the oblivion." 

They were words the likes of any soul would've felt themselves whispering in tandem to the arrival of such enigma. Branded with vermilion eyes and skin dark as chard ash. Ethereal, in the manner of presence. It was something of a first sight for most. Brought to chills, to the very core of their beings.

"Miles... Hundreds... Lost, Lives."

For such horrific creatures always left a trail behind, sights as these however to those young and old meant so little. When driven to their limits, a lack of thought overcame them. A lack of acknowledgement in the difference in strength. For what might be superior than all, couldn't match the might of unyielding wills. A single cry for battled, tied together by the vocals of the Rhoynish group. 

So they fought and the battle between what could be considered Black & White. Good & Evil.

With it came the sacrifice of, one. One unable to match the trails to-which the others braved. 

And yet with fear driving him forward, courage kept him in place. A sight of light amidst the darkness, it came the shape of a individual. One who continued to lead the group forward, the same who'd endured the weight of the world while the tales of truth were revealed.

Beneath the sands, enslaved to the nobles. Enslaved within their own lands. Enslaved to battle, work and continue to pour out their efforts against the laborious breathes that piled on them each day. A once proud clan to the Rhoynish were reduced, but a few. Those who'd fought against were quickly ridden of. The group had learned as the trails pressed on. What occurred in such a scared temple. 

Death... And plenty of it. But to what awaited them at the end?

Was beyond their imagination.