Personal Contemplations

[Dihydrogen Monoxide]

With the symbol of Bane glowing in his hand, the dark-armored cleric found himself stepping into the portal room antechamber within mere moments. His black and gold one-piece boots clanged with each impact against the stone steps, reverberating throughout the entire area.

The clergyman turned his head, and found no dread comrades to greet him. He clasped the magical morningstar to his side, and slung his protective barrier onto his back. Before he would enter the inner cloister for meditation, the cleric felt compelled to watch the portal room brazier flame for just a moment.

The conflagration contained in the brazier danced wildly, as to suggest an enthusiasm by the dark cleric's proximity. The flame represented the cleric's inner hatred for all who would oppose the Dark Lord's commands; insatiable, ravenous.. empowering. The cleric embraced the dark emotions with a love unlike anything he would grant to another sentient being.

The clergyman extended his right arm towards the inferno, his gauntlet piercing the energetic plasma, beginning to heat.

"The Valley writhes in chaos and disorder.." Thendulryn muttered from under his helm, toying with the flame.

"It requires a man of vision.." The cleric brought his spiked gauntlet into a fist, as to choke the life from the blaze. He slowly removed his arm from the conflagration, his flesh underneath searing with pain. Displaying no torment from the burn, Thendulryn turned to his left and opened the Citadel door to the inner cloister. The door shut behind him; only darkness was his companion now.

".. I am that man of vision."

[Dihydrogen Monoxide]

Thendulryn sat cross-legged in the inner cloister, devoid of his usual metallic protective plate. While it served it's purpose in battle, it merely discomforted him and caused a distraction when maintaining his quintessential link to Lord Bane. The flowing dark black robes and hood suited him well; for such darkness was what he reveled in.

"Equality is a perversion of the natural order," the cleric thought to himself. "It binds the strong to the weak." Thoughts of the pathetic, weak-willed inhabitants of the Valley began to perpetuate his thoughts.

"The weak become anchors that drag the exceptional down to mediocrity.." Very quickly, Thendulryn's thoughts turned to oppression. He envisioned a dark army, Lord Bane's Chosen, marching throughout the Valley and putting rest to the individualistic spirit of those who would rebel against His will.

"Individuals destined and deserving of greatness.. have it denied to them. The strong suffer for the sake of keeping even with their inferiors."

Thendulryn grasped his magical morningstar which had been resting on the cold, hard ground next to him and rose from his meditative position.

"Soon, Lord Bane.. "