The Lich King

The Lich King is a mysterious creature who owns many names. Most of his past is clouded in mystery even to himself, hidden through time, waiting to be shown later in his immortal life.

A Fallen Rose
The sky was ablaze, a falling star. Bright, bloody crimson, falling from the sacred heavens themselves. The fire, or what appeared to be fire, had dissipated. Leaving a man, a shadowy, burnt husk, falling to his own demise. Falling, hurtling towards the world below. New to the realm of Earth, the world of Man, home of Humanity. Where monsters hide their true forms and the Gods themselves walk. A place where Immortals hide from Mortals, shrouded in false, mortal clay.

The midnight sky, lit by the stranger's welcome, appeared a cold mix of darkest blue and icy white. Giving off a bright purple glow the full, lustrous moon showing that a God has arrived within the new world. The beginning of a new dawn, maybe an era of war or peace, only the newcomer can tell. Cracking, quaking, the ground itself and the mountains began to shudder, to tremble at the force falling from the sky. With an almighty rush, akin to strong wind in a winter storm, the Immortal collided with the cold hard ground, melting the rough stone and soil of the land, such fiery heat did pour from his flesh it left the earth blackened and scorched.

Blinking blearily as his ears rang like monks bells, the stranger awoke, sore and aching as he lay in the still smoking crater, caused by his decent into the world of man. He slowly stood up, struggling to stand; the stranger was imposing, standing a colossal seven foot tall. He had short, slightly spiked hair. Shaved at his temples, his snow white hair matched his flawlessly white skin, so pale it almost seemed to glow under its own luminosity. He was garbed in rough, hewn trousers, made of simple brown cloth, no shirt, no shoes. The immortals body was sinewy, well formed with clearly defined muscles that rippled under his skin. His face was smooth with near childish features, large amethyst purple eyes looking around with juvenile curiosity. On his chest, the top left was a dark red tattoo of a rose, the dark green stem curling just underneath his ribs, the end of it stopping by his kidney.

He stumbled out of the crater, in the centre of the compacted field. Scattered petals, the colour of blood or wine, formed a loose ring around the pit. He could hear people arriving at his location, he felt light-headed, about to pass out from exhaustion. The stranger fell to his knees, looking up at the sky. Rose petals descended around him, being carried by the breeze. A wanderer was near, looking for the ditch, he appeared to look similar to the stranger except  he wore leather armour, and his face, although similar to that of the stranger, his had seen conflict.

The stranger sensed the wanderer and smiled, his skin and flesh, everything on him, teeth, eyes, everything peeled off and changed into rose petals until there was no trace of him but the billions of rose petals that had just been blown into the wind. The petals wore scattered across winds, travelling all across the country, within a few hours, the stranger was everywhere, in the form of beautiful petals.

The Resurrection
As I collapse to the ground and my blood rushes to surround my broken body I start to think, this is the end, I’ve lost. Now my insanity is gone, my mind cleared and my regret is free to punish me. My father won’t let me die, even after all that I’ve done to him and these lands. As I await the black empty abyss for my second greeting I stop - I’m still alive somehow but everything’s different, I feel different.

I collapse as if I’ve been standing for years when I should be lying dead on the ground. I look up from the frozen ground and see the ruins of a once great empire, now reduced to an icy wasteland with no life and no sign of my minions. I hear a slight groan coming from behind me so I turn as fast as my own body will allow, “My Lord, try not move much, your body is adjusting.” I hear. When I manage to get a good enough look, I see a skeleton without legs - and alive, with blue smoke coming off it, the eyes, although empty, appear to glow blue. “Who are you?” I ask as the words struggle to escape my lips, “Nyte Abaddon, the Lich, and your second in command” he replies as if he expects me to ask.

Suddenly I realise something - pain, a headache and pain spreading across my body. I notice my skin peeling off and my body slowly degrading. “What’s happening?” I ask Nyte in a desperate attempt to understand the pain, “My Lord, your body is too weak to hold your power - hold the seal on your arm.” he replies as I start to search for my seal. I see what appears to be a white mask on a shield with three arrows going through it; I pick it out of my gauntlet and hold it until the pain stops.

I notice what appears to be a throne made of ice, “How long was I asleep, Nyte?” I ask, expecting a short answer - however “Three thousand, seven hundred and forty one years, Sir” Nyte replies with not a look of worry on his face.

Amitiel
The pistol known as Amitiel was created by a single man, a hermit who ventured from place to place. The name Amitiel is the name of the Angel of Truth, it is said that the user of this pistol can see the true appearance of an being. The gun itself is made from pure Thainyx. Thainyx is a metal that is exactly 60% pure Silver, mined from underneath the Monastery of Saint Anthony. 20% iron, mined from underneath the Rotunda of St. George. And 20% Gold, mined from underneath the Temple of Luxor, in Egypt. With all three of these metals combined, along with rituals both holy and blood, including the fusion of two types of blood. The blood of a pure angel, and the blood of a pure demon. This pistol, forged and ritualized has been made into a killing tool, any being, holy or unholy, good or evil, mortal or immortal, shall fall, regardless of their powers or any powers from above. This pistol as designed to be used against anything, and work, and so it shall forever. However there is a chance that such a being after being shot by this pistol, might return after thousands and thousands of years. That is if this magnum is fired with the rounds that were designed to be used along side it. Within the bullet holds liquid Silvernitrat. The casing is pure gold and the point of each bullet is a diamond that was coated in the blood of a saint turned sinner. After a long history of being hidden, the pistol was founded by a stranger who carries it with him all the time, ready to use at will. That stranger goes by the name, The Lich King. Currently, only ten bullets remain for this pistol.