This is the tale of The Time Before, when the Nine were One. All then lived in peace, for the land was whole, and v'Ran saw to the needs of his children. Unlike the world of today, the land of Idyllia was ruled by the One god, v'Ran. The entities we call deities today were but servants of the One god.
     v'Ran had his enemy, however, in the person of Asha'dar. Like v'Ran, Asha'dar was an elder god, a being of horrendous power and unthinkable might. For all the good that v'Ran did, Asha'dar did evil. Where v'Ran created, Asha'dar destroyed. Where v'Ran breathed life, Asha'dar brought only destruction.
     Each deity had their champions. Among the Warriors of Light were v'Ren, Arch Prelate of v'Ran, and Fairbourne, the mightiest Paladin any world has ever known. Foremost among the Warriors of Darkness were Nightshadow, Arch Prelate of Asha'dar, and Corantus, a mage of terrible might and boundless cruelty. This is the tale of Ebonstorm, one-time companion and steed to that horrible mage.

The Tale of Ebonstorm

     The jet-black stallion snorted, twin wisps of steam jetting from his flaring nostrils. He stood upon the rocky ground, his muscular raven hide glistening with sweat. The air hung heavy with heat, and thick with a sulfurous stench. The horse pawed defiantly at the ground, mere inches away from the edge of a rather active volcano.
     "Calm thyself, yearling," the robed and hooded man spoke soothingly as he walked slowly towards the Nightmare. Ebonstorm had first seen this hateful being some two hours ago. The horse had been in hard pursuit of a band of adventurers foolish enough to venture into the Lower Planes, when a silvery disk appeared directly in front of him. Traveling too fast to avoid the disk, Ebonstorm flew through it, and found himself on the top floor of a tower, on the Prime Material Plane.
     Ebonstorm was standing in the center of a complex series of lines and runes. Standing before him, some fifteen feet away, was the black-cloaked figure. Thinking to rend the mageling to pieces for his audacity, the enraged charger leapt forward; only to be thrown back in a painful explosion of energy.
     "Let that be thy first lesson, mount," the mage spoke slowly. His deep voice was the only indication of gender the horse could spy. "If thou doth listen well, and heed my wishes, thou will come to no further harm.
     Ebonstorm lacked the ability to speak the mage's tongue, but he could most certainly understand it. He snorted wildly, sending a gout of flame towards the seemingly helpless mage. The fire bounced off of the invisible barrier, much as the stallion had moments earlier.
     "Defiance is most definitely a punishable offense," the mage whispered. With a gesture, several of the runes beneath the horse's hooves began to glow with a soft blue light. He tried to avoid them, but the runes shot out blue beams, which bathed the suddenly terrified stallion in a miniature electrical storm.
     The mage watched silently as the massive beast shrieked and whinnied in fear and pain. After a few moments, he gestured again, and the runes faded. The electrical storm dispersed, leaving the beast on its knees. Ebonstorm struggled to his feet, his sides heaving, his lips flecked with blood.
     "I trust thou shalt not repeat thy mistakes," the mage chuckled. "If thou be a vapid beast, thy stay here will be short indeed." He met the horse's baleful gaze, and sighed. "I suppose the first thing we should take care of is the language barrier." He gestured again, and this time, a different set of runes flared into existence. Ebonstorm's eyes widened in fear, but this time, the stallion felt only a mild tingling. He snorted, and was surprised to hear his own language translated into that of the mage.
     "Thank Darkness," Ebonstorm said, relief evident in his voice. "You are indeed powerful, mage."
     "Yes, I am," the cloaked figure agreed. "The sooner ye realize that, the better."
     "What should I call you?"
     "Master will do fine."
     "I would know your name," Ebonstorm said softly.
     "There is great power in a name, Ebonstorm." Noticing the steed's look of surprise, the mage laughed. "Think thee I knew not thy name? Then a dull-witted beast thou art. I would not have been able to summon thee, lest thy name were known to me." The mage shook his head, and walked towards a massive black book, resting upon a grey marble pedestal.
     "Allow me, then, to explain to thee the rules of the game. I, as Summoner, am required to correctly draw the runes and wards of summoning and containment. I have obviously done so correctly, or thou wouldst not be here. Had I failed to draw the runes of containment properly, thou wouldst be free to attack me." Ignoring Ebonstorm's snort of pleasure, he continued.
     "Now, while I can keep thee here, or send thee home, I cannot command thy loyalty. That, thou must give freely. However, I can coerce that word from thee. I can leave thee here to rot, or visit upon thee intense pain, for as long as I wish." Ebonstorm's eyes narrowed.
     "To do this is not my desire. I seek instead thy word that thou will serve me faithfully for one year, as steed and companion. At the end of this year, I shall free thee from my service. I will return thee to thine home plane, or release ye here."
     Ebonstorm snorted, and tossed his head. The idea of free run on the Prime was one that appealed.
     "To release thee, I require only thy word. Serve me faithfully for one year, as steed and companion. What say thee?"
     "I agree," Ebonstorm said loudly. Already, he was planning his revenge upon this opportunistic mage. When the wards were dropped, he would tear the weakling mortal's heart from his chest. The mage smiled, and gestured.
     "So be it," he spoke. The runes surrounding Ebonstorm began to glow with a blinding white light. For a brief moment, the horse was certain that the mage was a mind-reader, and had learned of his intended revenge. However, the runes faded from existence, leaving the horse free to move.
     "That was undoubtedly the last mistake you will ever make." Ebonstorm launched himself through the air, smashing both hooves down on the mage's seemingly unprotected head. The mage moved fast, but Ebonstorm still caught him with one hoof. To the stallion's amazement, it felt as if he had struck a stone wall; the mage stepped back, apparently unhurt.
     "I know thy species is rather dishonourable, but I had hoped for more from thee, Ebonstorm." The mage began to wave his hands in an almost hypnotic pattern, while he chanted alien words in his deep baritone.
     Ebonstorm leapt towards the mage again, but was this time met by an invisible barrier, which pushed against the mighty beast. The harder the horse tried to move towards his enemy, the stronger the barrier became. Finally, he gave up, and allowed the force to push him away.
     "I will have thee as servant, beast," the mage hissed, his patience evaporating, "or I shall send thee back to thy home minus a few limbs!" The mage gestured, and several darts of pure white light streaked forth from his fingertips. The darts struck Ebonstorm, and sent him reeling with pain.
     Unable to think, Ebonstorm leapt through an open window, and flew off into the night. Turning to look behind, he saw the mage begin to glow with a strong red light. To his amazement and chagrin, the mage began to float, and shot off in pursuit.
     Ebonstorm flew on into the night, at top speed. Try as he might, he could not evade the pursuing mage. He could once again hear the mage's voice as it chanted in that alien tongue. Seconds later, he found himself rapidly losing altitude. Ebonstorm stumbled to the ground, his ability to fly gone.
     Gaining his feet, the horse ran off through the thick trees of the forest, knowing that the mage was mere steps behind. Running into a clearing, Ebonstorm found his way blocked by a chasm. Looking in, he saw that the chasm was indeed the edge of an active volcano; lava boiled a few dozen yards below. He whirled, and saw the mage standing a few short yards away.
     The jet-black stallion snorted, twin wisps of steam jetting from his flaring nostrils. He stood upon the rocky ground, his muscular raven hide glistening with sweat. The air hung heavy with heat, and thick with a sulfurous stench. The stallion pawed defiantly at the ground, mere inches away from the edge of a rather active volcano.
     "Calm thyself, yearling," the robed and hooded man spoke soothingly as he walked slowly towards the Nightmare. "Thou hast no other option but to serve me now."
     "What of death?" Ebonstorm asked. His eyes widened momentarily as one of his rear hooves slipped off the edge, sending a rain of earth and rocks down to the lava below. He quickly regained his balance, and cast about him for some means of escape.
     "Art thou seriously considering death as an alternative to a mere year of service?" the mage's voice was mellifluous, and seemed to have a calming effect on the stallion. "A year is such a short period of time, in the scheme of things. And afterwards, thou will have thy reward."
     Ebonstorm paused, and considered the offer. The mage did seem to make sense. What did it matter if he stayed here and served the mage, or returned home to serve some brutish tanar'ri lord? Ebonstorm nodded, and took a few steps away from the cliff.
     "A wise decision, my friend," the mage approached, and reached up to whisper into the Nightmare's ear. "My name is Corantus," he said.

     Over the following months, Ebonstorm came to appreciate his decision. He had seldom had a more powerful or evil master, even in his many years on the Lower Planes. Corantus seemed to delight in wrecking mayhem and terror wherever he went. While there were plenty of opportunities to commit evil to further Corantus' plans, the mage would also take time out for bits of random cruelty.
     Several weeks after gaining his steed, Corantus was flying on Ebonstorm's back over a dark forest. The moon was full, and bathed the woods in its sanguineous light. Corantus signaled Ebonstorm to land in a small, clearing.
     "Nearby lies the lumbering village of Melthon," Corantus spoke as he dismounted. "Eighty-four years ago, I traveled through this village on an errand for my master. The villagers knew of my master, and hated him, for they envied his wisdom and might." Ebonstorm listened intensely.
     "As much as they hated my master, they also feared him," Corantus began to lead Ebonstorm off into the woods. "However, they bore no fear for a lowly apprentice. Although I had done them no harm, they refused me entry. When I insisted, they beat me mercilessly, stole my possessions, and left me for dead at the side of the road."
     "I crawled back to my master's tower, and told him of what had transpired. He called me a fool, and walked away." Ebonstorm offered no murmurs of false sympathy; they both knew that, in the master's shoes, they would have done the same thing.
     "I had many long months during my convalescence to reflect on these events," Corantus continued. "I learned many a valuable lesson. First, the weak and powerless are just as ruthless as the mighty, if they find someone weaker than themselves. Second, none will ever help me, unless I first help myself. I learned these lessons well, and gained much from them."
     Corantus stopped, and pointed forwards. Ebonstorm saw a small village, nestled into a clearing in the woods. Lights burned cheerily in several windows, and a group of villagers were gathered around a central fire pit. Sounds of laughter and singing drifted through the night to the horse's ears. They flicked in annoyance.
     "It has been eighty-four years since that night," Corantus whispered. "The third lesson I learned was one which has brought great pleasure to my life. Always, always, enact your revenge."
     "It has been a lifetime for these people," Ebonstorm pointed out. "Surely they are all worm-food by now. Most likely, even their children have died, and lie rotting in their graves. What purpose does revenge serve now?"
     Corantus looked up at his mount, and smiled.
     "It makes me feel better. Any objections?
     "No. Just thought I'd mention it."
     Corantus raised his black onyx staff over his head, and pointed it down the hill, towards the village. With a soft whumf!, a small ball of red light shot forth from the staff, and streaked towards the largest building in the village. Seconds later, the still of the night was shattered by a horrendous explosion. In seconds, the building was engulfed in flames.
     "Dost thou see?" Corantus laughed. "Most enjoyable. Feel free to participate."
     With a horrible screech, Ebonstorm leapt into the air. He circled the village several times, and watched in amusement as the peasants attempted to organize a fire brigade. As the villagers formed a line from the burning village to the well, Ebonstorm swept downwards.
     Before the villagers even knew he was there, Ebonstorm had staved in the skulls of three of their strongest young men. He landed before the burning building, and reared up into the sky. Silhouetted dramatically by burning flames, the villagers stopped in shock, and gaped at the mighty stallion.
     Ebonstorm swept forward, his body engulfed in thick, noxious fumes. The villagers shrieked in fear, and began running in all directions. Ebonstorm struck out, but missed a young girl as she ran by. However, the heat from his now glowing hooves set her hair ablaze. Screaming, the girl dropped to her knees, and began beating at her head. Ebonstorm trotted up behind her, turned, and delivered a powerful kick. The girl screamed as she flew through the air, landing inside the burring building.
     Ebonstorm reared again, and neighed in triumph; a scream that sounded suspiciously like human laughter. Ebonstorm's call changed into a howl of anger, however, as an arrow pierced his rear haunch. He spun to face his adversary.
     A human male, garbed in chain mail armor, was stringing another arrow to his bow. As Ebonstorm ran towards him, he released another shaft. The stallion swerved, but the arrow caught him a glancing blow along his left flank.
     In a heart beat, Ebonstorm was on the human. Dropping his bow, the human drew forth a wickedly serrated sword. Before he could use it, he began to gasp as the fumes from the stallion surrounded him, making breathing difficult. As he gasped for breath, Ebonstorm reached out with his fanged mouth, and tore the man's throat out.
     The nearby villagers watched in horror as the bloodied beast leaned down, and began to feast upon the fallen warrior. Their momentary courage gone, they ran off; some towards the forest, others to their homes. Another explosion, and another home burst into flames. With more screams, the villagers ran from their houses, and into the woods.
     Tabrin, the village baker, ran to the north, planning on calling for help at the King's Garrison of Nolblat. He ran off into the night, and the screams of his friends and family members faded into the night. He ran for what seemed like hours, finally collapsing in an exhausted heap. After a few minutes, during which he tried vainly to catch his breath, Tabrin struggled to his feet. He stopped when he saw a dark shape blocking the trail ahead.
     "Be thee from Nolblat, friend?" Tabrin asked hopefully. "For if thou art, I beg of thee, return to thine hold, and warn thy master of a terrible evil beast which stalks the land."
     "Lad, I be not thy friend," Corantus' deep voice chilled Tabrin to the core. "Nor be I thy salvation. Rather, I be thy DOOM!" A blaze of light, and Tabrin dropped to his knees in fear. The mage stood before him, his eyes glowing with red fire, his hair waving wildly in the bright red light.
     "Please, master, spare my miserable life!" Tabrin began to cry as he groveled in the dirt at Corantus' feet. Ebonstorm watched silently from the cover of the trees, blood still dripping from his sharp teeth.
     "Know this, mortal," Corantus spoke softly, just loud enough to be heard over the baker's sobbing. "Eighty-four years ago, this pathetic boil of a village did thwart my will; they have now paid price."
     Tabrin looked up, incredulity plain on his face. In his surprise, he forgot his fear.
     "Eighty-four years ago?" he whispered. "In me Gram's time? v'Ran's pity, man, she's been dead for sixty years! What kind of revenge is that? No one here even knows who the dreck you are!"
     Tabrin shrieked as he felt invisible fingers grab him, lifting him into the air. He struggled, but to no avail. Corantus walked towards him, stopping mere inches away.
     "My name is Corantus. I do not think thou will have trouble remembering that. Remember well, and warn all ye meet. Any who stand against me will pay, sooner, or later. I may visit my revenge upon their grandchildren, but all will pay. Can ye remember this?"
     Tabrin nodded mutely, biting his lower lip to hold back his sobs. Corantus appeared satisfied, and turned to walk away. He stopped suddenly, and turned back.
     "No, I think that ye need a reminder; something that thou will never forget."
     "No, master, no, I remember thy name as if it were my own. Thou art Corantus, mightiest of all wizards!"
     "That is correct, but I think that thy addle brain will have forgotten my name by morning. No, a physical reminder is what you need." From the arms of his robe, Corantus drew forth two six inch long needles. With a word, the needles began to glow red hot. The last thing Tabrin saw was the needles heading inexorably towards his eyes.
     Over the rest of the year, word of the evil mage spread across the land. Word spread, too, of his baneful mount, a horse like no other, that could breath flame, and fly through the air. The world grew to fear the names Corantus and Ebonstorm.
     Finally, the year of service ended. Corantus approached the stallion that morning, and smiled.
     "Thou hast served me well, Ebonstorm. Thou art free to go." Corantus turned, and looked out of the stable doors, and into the valley below. The mist of morning had yet to burn away, and hung over the trees like a glistening shroud.
     "I think not," Ebonstorm spoke at last. "I have found myself enjoying my stay with you, mage. Never before have I had the chance to visit so much pain, suffering, and anguish on so many helpless foes. I choose to stay."
     "I had hoped thou wouldst say that," Corantus smiled. With a mental command, the winged snake curled around the stable roof dislodged itself, and flew off toward the mountains. "Glad indeed, my friend."

     Ebonstorm remained with Corantus for many a century. He was the mage's only friend, and true confidant. He assisted in the building and maintenance of Ironkeep, Corantus' immense subterranean lair. He visited death and destruction wherever possible, and reveled in the misery he caused.

     Hundreds of years after first joining the mage, Ebonstorm was in charge of a critical war keep. Corantus was away, directing troop movements to the North. The war against Light was going well, and Nightshadow's armies were pummeling their weaker foes. Corantus had left Ebonstorm in charge here, much to the horse's dismay. He wished to be at the front lines, delighting in the carnage and mayhem.
     Early that morning, a ogre mage minion approached Ebonstorm as he slept. The knock on the stable door woke the stallion immediately, and he bid the mage enter. The ogre had to stoop to fit through the door. Over ten feet tall, the beast was had light blue skin, with twin horns jutting out of its bluish-green hair. It bowed deferentially at the stallion's feet.
     "Arise, Nugota, and report," Ebonstorm yawned.
     "A lone human approaches, master," the ogre growled in a deep, guttural voice.
     "Lead me."
     Nugota lead Ebonstorm through the keep, to the wall over the entrance. Ebonstorm eyed the scarred and blackened terrain, noticing with pleasure that not a single speck of green life could be found in the desolate wasteland. Finally, he saw the human, approaching on foot.
     "Should I order the gates closed, master?" Nugota asked.
     "You must have fine eyesight indeed, lieutenant," Ebonstorm purred.
     "Wha - why do you say so, master?"
     "You have obviously spied an army, hidden behind hill and boulder."
     "No, master, I have not done so."
     "Then why your fear? Why close the gates? This is just but one man."
     "Only a powerful warrior would dare travel these lands alone, master," Nugota declared. "I fear this man."
     "A powerful warrior….or a fool," Ebonstorm declared. "When he arrives, bring him to me." Ebonstorm turned, his coarse black tail swinging through the air to strike Nugota in the face. The ogre brushed at the hairs, and glared at the stallion's retreating back.
     An hour later, Ebonstorm stood in the War Room, regarding maps of the conflict. The door opened, and Gretho, his human groom, entered and bowed.
     "The human is here, or Exhalted One," Gretho bowed and scraped.
     "Show him in."
     The door opened wide, and in walked a tall, imposing human male. The human's hair was blonde; almost white, fell down around his plate mail clad shoulders. The human was obviously powerful, and carried himself with a warrior's grace. Ebonstorm noted with pleasure that, although armored, the human was not armed.
     "Who might you be, human?" Ebonstorm drawled.
     "My name is Fairbourne, High Paladin of v'Ran, and Chief Servant of Light."
     "Indeed?" Ebonstorm laughed. "Then you are either a fool, or insane."
     "How so, dark stallion?" Fairbourne asked.
     "If what you say is true, then you are a fool to have come here. For you will never leave alive. If it is not true, then you are insane; for either you erroneously believe yourself to be the Paladin, or you are daft enough to think that, by claiming his name, you will gain safe passage. Any way, you will be dead soon enough."
     "It is not thee I come to do battle with, horse," Fairbourne smiled. "Although I am sorely tempted to do so. No, I come to meet thy master, Corantus. It is time that his depravations were ended."
     Ebonstorm paused to think. As much as he would dearly love to destroy this bastion of good, he knew that Corantus would want that sublime pleasure himself. And Corantus denied was not a pleasant person to deal with.
     "Very well, human," Ebonstorm sighed. "I will not destroy you now."
     "Thou art most kind."
     "Take a seat, human, and tell me of yourself."
     Fairbourne sat across the table from Ebonstorm, and began to tell his tale. He told of his childhood, of his loving parents and good friends. He told the horse a tale of great deeds, heroic acts, and ultimate sacrifice. As he spoke, Ebonstorm soon found himself enthralled by these tales of good deeds, in spite of himself.
     Soon, Fairbourne began to speak of v'Ran, of his love and charity towards all living things. He told Ebonstorm of v'Ran's doctrines; his goals and hopes for the world of Idyllia. During these tales, Ebonstorm found himself becoming strangely captivated by the human's tale. At first contemptuous, his attitude soon changed to interest, and then to envy.
     "Tell me, human," Ebonstorm interrupted. "This divine love you speak of. v'Ran bears it for all of creation?"
     "v'Ran holds only love for his creatures. He can forgive any act."
     "What of someone like, say, myself?" Ebonstorm asked, his eyes downcast. "Someone who has knowingly, and gleefully, committed uncounted atrocities over the years. Surely v'Ran would despise a creature such as that."
     "No, not at all," Fairbourne's voice was soothing. "v'Ran asks only repentance. Any being can change his ways, and embrace the Light. This is v'Ran's promise."
     The next morning, Fairbourne made ready to depart. The land was quiet and still, the only sign of life a vulture, circling high in the distance. Fairbourne stood at the open drawbridge, and turned to address the Nightmare.
     "Must you leave now?" Ebonstorm asked.
     "Yes, fine stallion," Fairbourne smiled sadly. "It is obvious that your ex-master does not intend to return here any time soon. Your war reports show that quite clearly. I must go, and face him to the North."
     "His armies will surely slay you."
     "I go to meet my forces," Fairbourne whispered so that Ebonstorm had to strain to hear him. "The forces of Light will clash with those of Darkness on the Plains of Betrayal. I wish you would come with me." After hearing the human's tale, Ebonstorm had decided to change sides. A lifetime of good was now somehow appealing.
     "I will join you shortly, my friend," Ebonstorm promised. "However, there are a few things I must tend to here."
     "Very well," Fairbourne clapped the steed on the shoulder.
     "Be careful, Fairbourne," Ebonstorm pleaded.
     "But of course!" Fairbourne laughed loudly. He lifted his two-handed sword from the hands of a kobold guard, and sheathed it at his back. He began to walk away, but then paused, and turned back.
     "The kobold..." he began. "You're not planning on killing him, are you?"
     "No," Ebonstorm assured the mighty warrior.
     "But he has heard us speak. Surely, thou dost not want him to report thy recent change of heart?"
     "I chose this one because he is deaf, brave one," Ebonstorm laughed. "Now, go, meet your troops!"
     Fairbourne smiled, and turned, and walked off across the drawbridge.
     "v'Ran's luck to you, courageous friend," Ebonstorm whispered.

     Two days later, Ebonstorm was startled when Corantus appeared, as if out of the air. The stallion was standing in the courtyard, observing the guards during weapons practice. Upon spying the mage, the guards immediately ran off, emptying the square in seconds. They had come to recognize the look of ire that currently rested upon the mage's face.
     "Ebonstorm," Corantus' smile seemed forced. "How good to see thee. How goes it here?"
     "All is well, Great One," Ebonstorm forced his voice to sound normal.
     "Nothing to report?"
     "Nothing, liege."
     "How extraordinary," Corantus began to pace in front of the horse. "The High General of the Forces of Light himself comes calling, and thou dost not consider that to be noteworthy!" Corantus' voice rose from a purr to a roar as he spoke. "What would it take to impress thee? A visit from v'Ran himself!?!"
     Ebonstorm sagged visibly. Obviously, Corantus had a spy here. He should have expected it, really. Gathering his courage, the stallion spoke.
     "Enjoy your time as despot, puny mage," Ebonstorm tried to sound confident. "Fairbourne seeks you; and when he finds you, you're life will be ended!"
     Corantus' eyes widened in fury. He drew back his fist, which began to burn with a reddish-black flame. Ebonstorm had seen this spell before, and new that it killed instantly. Ebonstorm closed his eyes, his only regret was that he never had the opportunity to right his many wrongs.
     "No, no," Corantus whispered, the flames on his hands fading from sight. "That would be too easy. An instant death would be no punishment for the likes of thee. Thy betrayal demands a higher punishment." The mage gestured, and Ebonstorm found himself fading from consciousness.
     "By the time ye awake, I will have devised a truly fitting punishment, my faithful steed."

     Ebonstorm awoke, and found himself standing on a circular wooden platform. To his right, a garishly painted wooden column arose, supporting an equally garish circular ceiling. In front of him, he could see a white wooden horse, its back impaled by a pole, which ran from ceiling to floor. He tried to turn his head, but found he could not.
     "Art thou awake?" Corantus stepped into his field of view. "Good, good," he said, noticing the wild look in Ebonstorm's eyes. "Thou hath failed to serve me as steed," the mage began to pace back in forth in front of the captive horse. "Thus, thou will serve me as an amusement."
     With horror, Ebonstorm recognized his surroundings. He stood as a part of a carousel, deep within the heart of a rough and unfinished cavern.
     "We are deep underground, trusty steed," the note of pleasure in Corantus' voice was obvious. "In a section of Ironkeep that I have barely begun to construct. No one even knows of its existence, but me. No one alive, that is."
     "The magics I have worked here are powerful, noble beast. They will keep you here, immobile and imprisoned, throughout eternity. Don't worry, though," Corantus leaned in close, and whispered in the horse's ear, "they won't block your faculties. You'll be free to think, and observe. Just not move."
     "I think you'll most likely be insane before too long," Corantus laughed as he walked towards the exit. "Which is a fitting punishment for one demented enough to challenge me.
     Ebonstorm heard an echoing metallic boom, which soon faded away. Then, nothing. No sound, no movement, no whisper of life. He regarded the rump of the wooden horse ahead of him, and contemplated the centuries ahead.