Zeryn Faross


Gender: Male

Kit: Divine

Location: Amazon


Alignment: Villain

Team: Solo Villain


Strength: superior (rank 2)

Agility: superior (rank 2)

Mind: standard (rank 1)

Body: superior (rank 2)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )


Infamy Points: 65

Personal Wins: 1

Personal Losses: 0

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0


Status: Blocked


"Neophyte Angel Zeryn Faross, you stand accused of engaging in carnal activity with a known priestess of Drogan, how do you plead?" the angelic Arbiter said as he read from a scroll depicting Zeryn's foul deeds with the priest of Drogan. His blank white eyes seemed to pierce the very essence of the young angel's soul as they searched for the truth buried inside of Zeryn's mind. He fidgeted under the Arbiter's gaze and looked down at the marble floor to avoid it.

"I...I plead guilty sir," Zeryn replied, steadily regaining his confidence. He was but a young angel and had perpetrated one of the most unscrupulous acts an angel could hope to commit. So now he stood before the Tribunal of Angels, which consisted of the Chief Arbiter and his cadre of five other Lesser Arbiters. The tribunal muttered amongst themselves at Zeryn's response and the young angel waited patiently to hear his sentence. After a painstakingly long discussion among the Tribunal, Chief Arbiter Jaer cleared his throat and turned back to Zeryn.

"Zeryn, the laws are clear in this case, although your blunt honesty will be noted in the file. However, it will not help you; the laws cannot be ignored. Those that have been set thousands of years ago are just as harsh now as they were then. The punishment for lustful relationship with a priestess of Drogan is immediate removal from Avalon and the removal of all angelic powers. However, this Tribunal is willing to forget this entire scandal if you repent and swear to never see the alleged priestess ever again. What do you say?"

Zeryn fully regained his composure and stared defiantly back at the elderly man. "If there's one thing this ordeal has taught me, it is to not regret my actions. And although they may have been wrong in your eyes, to me it was the best decision I ever made."

"Very well. Then by the power vested in me by the Deliverer, I condemn you to forever walk the earth, forever banished from the paradise that is Avalon," Jaer raised his celestial gavel and prepared to strike it against the marble podium, thus sealing the punishment.

"Wait sir, may I something before you cast me away forever?" Zeryn asked as he raised his hand.

"Very well, this council will hear your words."

"Seeing as this will probably be the last time I address this council, I would like to voice my true opinions about them," a hushed murmur rose through the Tribunal as Zeryn continued. "First of all, I believe this tribunal is a bunch of stodgy, old-fashioned hypocrites who are too caught up in their laws and traditions to recognize love when it's placed right in front of them."

"Very well, you are entitled to your opi-"

"I'm not finished," Zeryn brashly interrupted his older counterpart with a wry grin on his face. "Furthermore, the entire idea of this tribunal is an outdated fascist systen that nobody in their right mind would listen to or support."

"Zeryn, that's enough."

"No, it's not! You need to listen to what the new generation has to say. You've had your time at the top; things will change, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

"ENOUGH! Zeryn, I sentence you to forever walk the world. And furthermore, the one you had a relationship will be hunted down and executed!" Jaer yelled and slammed his gavel onto the podiun, thus manifesting the punishment upon the exiled angel. Instantly, Zeryn could feel a sharp pain shoot through his entire body to the tip of his wings. A sudden shock to his system brought him to one knee and as his knee hit the floor; it broke through and gave way to the miles of air between Avalon and earth. Pain wracked Zeryn's body as it began to fall from the heavens like a dead bird.

The heavens thundered as he appeared in the Nemtorian winter sky. He could feel his falling velocity increase as the flames of divine judgement scorched his wings. In the distance, the sound of rolling thunder could be heard and he knew that his lover had just been struck dead with a bolt of heavenly lightning. An overwhelming feeling of anguish overwhelmed Zeryn and he let himself drop, failing to see the point in continuing his meager existence. Minutes passed, though they felt like hours to the despondent angel. He suddenly saw the ice-covered ground rush up to meet him and his body fell against it with a deafening crunching noise. More pain than he had ever experienced rushed through his body as he felt his bones break from impact.

Above, a light snow began to fall and Zeryn closed his eyes and embraced the cold, expecting to die in the tundra of the Nemtorian countryside. But death never came, and the words Jaer had said before he had been cast out came back to haunt him. He condemned Zeryn to walk the earth forever. Never dying cursed to forever bear the torture and pain of failing his lover. He tried to get up, but the impact had broken his legs and almost every other bone in his body for that matter. A cough followed, and he could feel blood beginning to surge through several of his wounds including one inside his mouth. The pain was almost unbearable and he felt himself slipping away into unconsciousness. He groaned, coughed once more, and passed out on the cold ground.

Slowly, Zeryn returned from the world of black unconsciousness to the real world, where his current situation was growing steadily worse. He was no longer lying on the cold ground of the Nemtorian wilderness, but now was lying propped up against a barred wall of a small metal cage. Outside he could see a stout young woman sitting at a table, obviously keeping watch. Pain still shot through his body, but he could slowly move now and he managed to crawl up to the bars facing the guard.

"Oh, you're awake now?" she said as she looked up. Zeryn got a good look at the woman now. She appeared to be an elven female in her early hundreds with long blue hair and sapphire eyes. She was wearing a drab brown robe that covered her whole body and Zeryn could sense a serene aura of intelligence eminating from the elf.

"Unngh...how long...was I out?" Zeryn asked in a parched voice.

"Out? Since we found you, about four weeks. We actually saw you fall out of the sky, it was quite amazing. Not every day you see a fallen angel, you know?"

"Fallen angel...how did you know?"

"Uh...dude, the wings are a dead giveaway," she said and pointed to Zeryn's wings. He looked back to see his former pearl-white wings had now turned jet black and had blood red tips.

"What? They're supposed to be gone," he said in clear astonishment. When most angels are exiled, their wings are destroyed but there were some stories of those who managed to keep them.

"Look, I don't know much about the angelic judicial system. All I know is we found you in the plains north of Zelten with several broken bones. We tried to get a healer for you, but some malicious aura is preventing most of the healing magic from affecting you."

"I see...one more question. What's with the cage?"

"Well, fallen angels aren't exactly known for their kindness. It was to protect us should you turn...violent. But you seem nice enough, I'll go get Thomas," she said and walked off in search for the person she had mentioned. It was now that Zeryn noticed he was inside a bluish tent of some sort that was virtually empty aside from the cage and the table. The only other things in the room were a few crates stacked on top of eachother on the far wall.

About a half an hour later, the elf returned with a male human who Zeryn assumed to be the one called Thomas. He was a quite handsome young man who couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. His black hair was combed back; giving him a sophisticated look and his deep green eyes almost radiated with intense emotion. His mode of dress was very conventional, a simple gray tunic with matching pants and black boots, which told Zeryn he was very confident in his power over those he worked with.

"So Serra was right, you are awake. Well, how are you feeling?" he asked as he leaned in close to the bars.

"What do you think? I've been exiled from paradise, broke hundreds of bones in my body, been in a coma for four weeks, and now I have a giant poster attached to my back that says 'freak of nature'," Zeryn pointed to his odd wings, "how do you think I feel?"

"Hungry, I bet."

"...Yes, that too."

"I thought so. Serra, fetch him some food," he ordered and the elf took off in search of a meal for Zeryn.

"I am also wondering why you haven't let me out of the cage yet."

"Hah, you are a gullible little thing, aren't you? I have in my posession a fallen angel; do you know how rare you are? So how old are you in Angel standards?"

"If you convert it into human years, I am seventeen. Why?" Zeryn was beginning to grow nervous as he raised an eyebrow at Thomas.

"I suspected as much. Welcome to the world of the humans, my dear angel. We mortals tend to not be as righteous as you are. We are corrupted, avaricious creatures that will stop at nothing to get our hands on large sums of money. And you, my friend, are my ticket to a mansion and millions of gold pieces. Just think of how much people will pay to see a real-life fallen angel. And think of how much the fanatical Kentons will pay to gain approval in their god's eyes by...punishing a fallen angel."

"You...you wouldn't."

"Oh wouldn't I? As I said, humans are greedy. And we will stop at nothing to get our money, even if it means the suffering of another."

"I cannot allow you to do this!" Zeryn yelled and painfully reached through the bars to swing at Thomas. His weak attempts were useless, and he slumped against the bars completely exhausted.

"Ohh...don't waste your energy. And more importantly, don't ever throw a punch at me, I am the only thing keeping you alive," Serra produced a small dagger from his sleeve and slashed at Zeryn's face. A gash was cut from the top of his right cheek to his lip and warm blood began to trickle out of the wound. "That's gonna leave a mark. Oh well, I'll make up a story for it."

Then, Serra returned with a plate of assorted meats and breads. She was obviously surprised that her master was holding a bloody dagger while Zeryn had a gash on his face that looked like a dagger caused it.

"What's going on here?" she demanded.

"Oh Serra, thank god you're back. He attacked me and I had to defend myself. He's an animal, I swear!" he said and backed away from the cage. Serra looked concerned at Thomas and led him out of the tent. Se returned a short while later and gave Zeryn his food.

"He's lying, isn't he?" she asked as Zeryn devoured his food like a ravenous wolf.

"Yes, he is," he replied in between bites.

"I thought as much. He's always twisting the truth for his own selfish needs. I don't see why I'm still with him; maybe it's because he has such a convincing story about his childhood. It's really easy to take pity on him for some reason. Oh well, it looks like you'll be with us for a while. I'll try to get you out of here as soon as I can; I've done it with all his other so-called 'roads to fortune'. It might take a while though, he's getting suspicious of me."

"Are all humans like him?"

"I...I cannot answer that. I'll leave you to your food, you're gonna need your strength for his shows later. Good night, and I'll see you later," she said and left the tent. Zeryn could sense an apprehensive undertone to her last comment, but didn't say anything as he let his newfound friend leave the tent. He ate the rest of his food and lied down on the floor of his cage, waiting for the day to come when he would escape, although he didn't know what he would do when he did.


For two weeks Zeryn was subjected to the jeers and hatred of the Nemtorian populace. The people of Nemtor certainly had vicious stereotypes for his position and he soon bore many scars from them hitting him with blunt and sharp objects alike. He had never been a violent angel; the job of fighting the demons was the job of the Crusader Angels, not the Neophytes. However, out of necessity, he had learned a few minor things about unarmed self-defense combat.

On the dawn of the third week, Zeryn had learned that Thomas earned over thirty thousand gold coins and was planning on moving to the much busier city of Seira to the north. That night, Serra had slipped him the key to his cage and promised to get him out of the tent in the midst of twilight. So now Zeryn was sneaking through an assortment of tents to the meeting place where Serra would lead him out of this hellish prison.

"Zeryn, over here!" a voice said and Zeryn ducked over to a small tent where Serra was waiting for him with a set of plain robes much like the ones he wore. "Here, put this on. We need to get going as soon as possible."

Zeryn was still wearing his angelic garments from over a month and a half ago, but they were tattered and beginning to smell very musty. But he had no time to slip out of his old clothes, so he folded his wings tight behind his back and slipped on the robe, being sure to prop up the hood to hide his face. He nodded back to his elven friend and they stole back into the night. They didn't get very far before they were stopped by two armed guards.

"Serra, what are you doing...and who is that with you?" one of the guards demanded.

"Just taking Zeryn to see Thomas, move along," Serra bluffed. The guards muttered to eachother and lowered their weapons at the two escapees.

"You're lying. First, Thomas' tent is the other way, and secondly he gave us strict orders not to let the angel out of the cage. I'm going to have to place you both into custody," one of the guards said. Serra's face instantly turned cold and a spell began forming in her hands.

"Dammit, looks like we're gonna have to fight through this," she said and blasted one of the guards with a searing jet of flame. Zeryn shuddered as the guard was instantly reduced to ashes; he wasn't used to blatant killing, he just hadn't been subjected to such outright loss of life. A second later, the other guard fell dead with massive parts of his body disintegrated and Serra motioned for him to follow. "Quickly now, they will soon know you've escaped."

"Serra...where are you taking me?" he asked.

"No time, hurry!" Serra replied and began to jog into the night. Zeryn had his doubts about the escape, but he knew that anything was better than that cage. He shuddered at the thought of being burned with holy water from a Kenton fanatic and chased after Serra with newfound confidence. Soon the tents and lights of the tents were far behind them.

They ran for what seemed to be an eternity before Serra judged that they were a safe distance away. They rested at the base of a hill with the ominous Mt. Dor looming overhead. Serra sat down on a rock and stared at Zeryn as he layed himself down on a stretch of grass. Both were feeling sore as the effects of fatigue caught up with them.

"Can you tell me where we're going now?" Zeryn asked as he relaxed his muscles.

"Very well...we shall return to my hometown, the only true elven community left on the continent. Before the human settlers from the north, the land was filled with mighty elven cities...but you probably know the story."

"Yeah," Zeryn said quietly and recalled the history that the angel elder's used to teach him. Hundreds of years ago, the first human settlers arrived on the continent and they were met by the peaceful elven people. Years of prosperity followed as the humans built small communities on the coastline of Rattis, thriving off of its rich aquatic life and mineral deposits. However, years passed and feelings changed, and the humans began to take more from the elves. They took everything...the trees, the wildlife, the cities, even elven concubines and although the elves fought, they were defeated and confined to one city. That city, was Miru, was the last bastion of relief for the elves. Thinking of this reminded Zeryn how cruel and petty the mortals can be, and a single tear formed in his eye.

"Zeryn, are you alright?" Serra asked when he noticed Zeryn's sorrow.

"What drives you mortals Serra? Is it money?"

"Some may believe that, but I cannot answer your question. It is one we've been trying to answer ourselves. Come, we should continue on our journey. If we hurry and take the route around the southern edge of Mt. Dor, we should make it to Miru in three days."

"Yes, I suppose we should be going," Zeryn said and rose to his feet. Serra stood up and soon they were on the road towards Miru. The road was long and gave Zeryn time to ponder the fate he had been given. Here he was an immortal fallen angel in the midst of thousands upon thousands of mortals who seemed to be driven to hurt one another. He couldn't find out why they acted that way though, so he devoted most of the journey to discovering the truth.


Serras Sword to the Future Fallen Sword

     Slashing Weapon: superior (rank 2)


Days passed and they eventually arrived at the forest surrounding Miru. As they trudged through the heavy brush, Zeryn's mind raced with thoughts of the ethics of the mortals. It had been days and still no answers came to him, but as Serra said the most educated of mortals had been researching the subject and came up with nothing also. His thoughts were disrupted when Serra suddenly stopped in front of him, with a hand up to indicate silence.

"We've been followed. We're in the woods now...a favorable place to be when with an elf. It's Thomas, he's here...and he's alone. That's unlike him," she whispered. Thomas, obviously realizing his cover was blown came out of his hiding place in the trees and stood before them defiantly with a sword in his hand.

"It took me a while, but I finally caught up with you. I can't have you escape, not when I'm so close to achieving ultimate riches!" he said and began to focus ethereal powers in his free hand.

"I am not a tool for your ambitions!"

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, my little angel. You are my possession, and I will use you for my own means. I own you, and I will not have you escaping from me!" as he finished his speech, he unleashed the magical spell he was preparing directly at Zeryn. Time seemed to slow as the bolt of yellow energy shot toward him, creating sonic vibrations in its wake. Suddenly, in a flash Serra leapt in front of Zeryn and took the spell herself. Energy shot through her body and she was down on the ground before Zeryn knew what was happening. Seeing his friend unconscious on the ground stirred something deep inside of him and he clenched his fist with anger. He drew Serra's sword out of her sheath and pointed its blade at Thomas.

"You will regret that...I'll kill you!" He yelled and charged him. Thomas was obviously surprised and barely got his weapon up in time to deflect the strike from his former slave. Zeryn quickly recovered from his charge but it had left him with his back turned to his opponent. He instinctively spun around to see a blade coming down at his head, which he parried in the nick of time. Their blades locked and so did their gazes as he stared Thomas down with intense hatred. The rage of battle completely controlled Zeryn as he continued to batter Thomas with constant blows from the sword. But Thomas was more experienced with a sword and managed to get through his assault with only a few scrapes.

Suddenly, a rustle in the trees could be heard and an elven arrow shot from the canopy directly into Thomas' back. He doubled over from pain and Zeryn quickly ended Thomas' life with a final slash to his skull. He fell down dead on the goround and in a final fit of rage, Zeryn shoved the sword through Thomas' stomach and deep into the ground.

"Good god man, you fallen angels live up to your name," said a lean elf as he leaped from the trees to the ground.

"I...don't know what came over me. I saw Serra go down and I just lost control," he said and fell to his knees, completely shocked at what he had just done.

"Ah yes Serra, we saw the entire spectacle. Nothing happens in these woods without us knowing. The spell cast upon him was not a fatal one, but it is hard to tell what the full effects will be. Come, I will take you to Miru where he can get proper treatment," the male elf was soon in the trees carrying Serra over his shoulders. Zeryn followed quietly, whatever ethics he still had were destroyed. He was completely numb and didn't even realize when they had gotten to the city. Zeryn stood solemnly over the bed where Serra laid. He had only been in Miru for a day and he had never left her side during that time. A swarm of different emotions swarmed thorugh him as he stood, worry for Serra, fear of what he had done to Thomas in the forest, and an even deeper fear of slightly enjoying it. The angels always had their stories of Fallen Angels, how they lost all shred of angelic decency and were reduced to mindless killing machines. A strong feeling in his gut told him that perhaps he was turning into one of them, but he refused to believe it and maintained his peaceful demeanor.

Serra had not stirred since she took the blast of the explosion the day before, but the healers said that she should come around any minute. And she did come around, slowly but surely she began to stir in her bed until she had sat up with her back leaning against the frame.

"Zeryn? Are you here?" she asked, and that is when he noticed that her eyes were not open.

"Serra, why don't you open your eyes? Please, I want to see you look at me."

"I...I can't, they just won't open."

"No! I refuse to believe that. Please tell me this is some form of a joke!" Zeryn began to feel tears well up in his eyes. He grabbed Serra's hand and held it tight, as if doing so would somehow bring back her sight.

"Zeryn, do not cry. I do not regret my decision to save you, or to take that spell that was meant for you."

"Dammit, this can't be."

"Please, stop crying...I did not free you to hear you cry. Things like this happen to us mortals, we just adapt to these changes and move on."

"But...can this be cured with magic?"

"Alas no, Thomas had some kind of artifact that enhances his magic power. But that is not important, what is important is we are both safe."

"If...if you say so. What happens now?" he asked.

"Well, I suppose we will get you settled. I don't know whom you talked to on your way here, but I'm sure that Magistrate Thadian will want to at least know of you. Uh...if I could see, I would lead you, but since I can't see, we will call for someone."

Serra yelled out something in elven and soon a young elven boy was standing in the doorway. He silently took Serra's hand and motioned for Zeryn to follow him as he walked out of the room. Zeryn quickly followed and soon was walking through the elven city of Miru.

The elves were renowned for having at least part of their cities in the trees, and Miru was no exception. Altough they were currently on the ground, Zeryn could see small wooden structures built into the side of the mightiest oaks he had ever seen, not that he had seen very many. He almost lost himself in the beauty of the place when he realized that Serra and the boy was quite a distance ahead of him. As he ran to catch up, he heard the other elves muttering amongst themselves and looking in his general direction.

The boy led them to a wooden structure built in and around the base of a tall redwood. Inside was merely a large room decorated with magical lanterns and a large table where several older elves sat. From the look of their dress and the way they composed themselves, they seemed to be of very high stature within the village.

"Serra, good to see you back on your feet. This is the...angel you freed?" said the elf that sat at the head of the table.

"Yes Magistrate, Zeryn is the one whom I freed. He was being subjected with cruel tortures; I couldn't just sit there and let him suffer."

"That's all well and good, but why bring him here?" the magistrate replied.

"And where is he supposed to go? Out into the world, alone and vulnerable?"

"He is a Fallen Angel! Have you not learned anything from the Massacre at Ercon?" said another elf to the right of the Magistrate. The other elves chimed in their agreement, but the Magistrate remained silent.

"In my own defense," Zeryn stated "I do not know what you mean by this massacre, but if it was caused by one of my kind, I can safely say that I do not have that kind of feelings within me."

"Oh? You are not familiar with the atrocities of your own kind? Very well, I shall tell you. Ercon was a cathedral on the northwestern tip of the Turan Peninsula that was famous for it's policy on taking in refugees. Well one night, a Fallen Angel came stumbling up to their doors covered in blood, and the foolish acolytes took him in. And all was well, for about a month until the Fallen Angel slaughtered them all and burned down the cathedral in a fit of bloodlust. After the slaughter, he disappeared never to be seen again."

"That...that's horrible, why would someone do such a thing?" Zeryn asked, thoroughly sickened by the tale.

"Because Zeryn, that is the nature of the Fallen Angel. They thrive on destruction and the suffering of others."

"That's a lie, I am not like that!"

"Maybe not, we'll be the judge of that," the Magistrate said, once again regaining control of the discussion. "We will accommodate you for now, but you will be under the constant watch of this counsel. If you show any sign of bloodlust, we will be forced to expel you from our city. You will be informed with your duties once you are settled. Harven, the boy who led you here will lead you to your room."

Harven, upon hearing his name took Zeryn's hand and led him out of the building, with Serra in hot persuit. The boy led him to a ladder that led to a catwalk in the trees, which they climbed until they were a good thirty-five feet off the ground. Zeryn followed his guide across the wooden catwalk and around several trees until he finally stopped at a door leading into one of the smaller trees. He opened the door to find a small circular room with scarcely any furniture. All that adorned the room was a single magical torch, a modest hay bed, and a small window that overlooked the sea. However the room did have a cozy feeling to it. He dismissed Harven and sat down on the bed, having not felt one since he had last slept on his cloud-like bed in Avalon.

"What's the deal with the boy?" he asked Serra while examining the rest of the room.

"Who, Harven? He's an orphan who's lived here ever since we freed him from a slaver in the far south. Poor boy had his tongue cut out by his master, can't speak a word. He communicates by simple facial expressions and hand motions when necessary."

"How horrid, how can you people perform such acts on eachother?"

"It is just how some of us are, Zeryn. Some of us thrive off of other's suffering."

"It's not right dammit. I don't understand mortals at all."

"Sometimes, neither do I," Serra said and sighed, her mind beginning to drift back to other horrible things she had witnessed.

"Serra, do you think that I will turn out to be like the other Fallen Angel at Ercon? I know I hate killing now, but when Thomas fell by my hand...I couldn't help but feel like wanting more."

"Zeryn, try not to think of such things. You are with friends now. I don't know why you fell from Avalon, but something inside me tells me that you wouldn't hurt anybody."

"Thanks Serra. If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone," Zeryn said and smiled weakly. Serra smiled and found her way to the door, where Harven was waiting to lead her to wherever she needed to go.

Zeryn layed back on his bed and closed his eyes, recalling the reason he was here in the first place. He had been sent to earth to appear in a vision of a priest, but on his way back to Avalon he was taken in by the charms of a Priestess of Drogan by the name of Sasha. That was his first feeling of love, and it wasn't long before his encounters with her became more and more passionate. All of which eventually led up to his carnal encounter with her. It had been mostly her idea, but he was too lovestruck to decline when she suggested it. And after it was all over, he was summoned back to Avalon to stand before the Tribunal for his crimes. So here he was now, a banished, afraid version of his former self living off the kindness of Serra. He smiled as he thought of her, knowing that he was beginning to feel the same for her. And in the midst of his premature feelings of love and self-pity, he felt that dark emotion that surfaced when he drove the sword through Thomas's stomach; that lone, renegade feeling of bloodlust.


Fallen Rage

     Berserker: superior (rank 2)


Months passed and Zeryn found himself quite at home amongst the elves of Miru, and in time even won their trust. As customary with all living in the village, he was forced to take on a job like all other citizens, so he took a position as a scout. He was out in the forest almost every day keeping an eye on the forests around Miru, keeping it safe from unsavory visitors, much like the elf who had shot Thomas so many months ago.

In accordance with his position, he learned how to fight effectively, training under the best of the elven warriors. He learned how to use a quarterstaff, as it was one of the few weapons available that wouldn't kill the opponent easily. Although he was still a Fallen Angel, he did not enjoy killing...at least consciously.

His relationship with Serra was getting steadily more and more emotional, and he was thinking of soon asking her hand in marriage. He had also taken a shine to young Harven; feeling a pity for his situation and trying to act like a father figure for the young elf. Many a times he would take Harven along on his scouting excursions, and Harven would pretend he was a mighty elven warrior, defending the city from evil intruders.

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, and the oncoming night found Zeryn pacing restlessly in his room. For the past few nights, he had awoke several times to see a ghostly figure covered in flames walking around the room. Every time he tried to address the figure, it disappeared; leaving a bright red spot on the ground that reminded him of blood. He began to pace faster, trying to exhaust himself so that finally he'd be able to get a full night's sleep.

Finally, he decided to wander around the town, finding that his room had been way to confining. He stepped out the door and stretched his ebony wings, preparing to use them in flight. He hopped off the catwalk and used his wings to glide to the ground, where his walk began. His wanderings took him all over town; the streets were empty as most families were sitting down for supper at this time. As he walked, Zeryn's mind madly went over the ghostly image, dissecting its appearance and trying to unravel its mystery. His though process was disrupted when he realized he had entered one of the buildings, and an elven male was staring at him.

"Zeryn, what brings you to the Armory?" he said. Zeryn looked around at the many weapons that adorned the building. Although he didn't like killing, he couldn't help but admire the fine elven craftsmanship.

"Oh, er...nothing. Just wandering, I suppose," he replied, still a bit aggravated due to the lack of sleep.

"I was about to close up for the night, but I can't until you leave now. Was there anything you were looking for?"

"Uh...not really, just gimme a few minutes and I'll be gone," he said as he walked lazily over toward the swords. A particular one caught his eye, and he couldn't help but pick it up. The sword measured well over four feet, but due to elven magic weighed surprisingly little. The hilt was made out of solid silver and was shaped to look like a serpent coiled around a branch of a tree, but the blade was even more beutiful. It was slightly serrated on one side and polished so much that it gleamed even in the fading sunset.

Zeryn's mind began to swim in some kind of induced tranqulity and he closed his eyes to try and regain his thoughts. But when he closed his eyes, he was met by a vision that both terrified and intrigued him. He appeared to be standing on a small rock, surrounded by a sea of blood. The sky above was flames, yet he felt no heat. In front of him stood the ghostly apparation from before, only it was more focused and he could actually see a face. The apparation appeared to be an exact copy of him without his wings and with eyes that shared the same color with the liquid that surrounded them. The apparation approached him and leaned in close to his ear.

"Open your eyes, Fallen Angel," he whispered and Zeryn's eyes shot open. The sword he was holding was now covered in blood, and the elf that owned the Armory was now lying dead on the ground with a large hole in his neck. Before he could react to his current situation, a couple walked into the armory. Upon seeing the corpse, the woman screamed while the male drew his sword to protect her.

"Zeryn, what have you done?!" he yelled. Zeryn, still confused at what just transpired merely stood silently as his mind incorporated the events. In his moment of hesitation, he felt the dark urges of bloodlust surface deep in his subconscious mind. His vision faded to black and his conscious mind shut down, but his body still moved as it attacked the elves in the room.

Zeryn's sword came down on the elf's so hard that the defender's weapon shattered under the weight and the bloodied blade passed into his shoulder blade and through his body, causing blood to pour onto the soft ground. The woman screamed as Zeryn's sword came bearing down upon her, slicing open her chest and killing her as well. With silent determination, his body walked out into the opened streets and the long night of carnage began.

It started with him walking from house to house, slaughtering all residents as they sat for their evening meal. At one point, he had started a fire by simply touching the wooden wall of a house. Whatever dark power had been awakened inside of him was now destroying the city that he has grown to love and even protect.

His slaughter continnued, taking him through the lower levels and causing a raging forest fire that seemed to grow larger with each elf he killed. No one was spared from the bloodbath; men women and children fell at the hands of his blade, and yet he continued. He didn't notice when the elven warriors attempted to take him down with their swords; they were just more people to die in his opinion. The next few hours became a blur of screaming, blood, and flames as his rampage engulfed the entire village.

Sensing that his job was done, the semi-unconscious Zeryn collapsed to his knees, finally regaining full control his body and mind. His head ached severely, and when he held up a hand to comfort it he saw that it was covered in blood. He gasped and looked at the other hand, and at the sword that now lay on the ground; both were saturated in the warm red liquid. Looking up, he saw the village in flames and the corpses of the elves strewn about and a feeling of dread filled his stomach.

"Serra? Serra!" he called, looking for his good friend amidst the carnage.

"Zeryn? Where...where are you?" he heard the raspy voice of Serra say. He bolted towards the voice and found his lover buried under a burning branch. Blood was seeping out of a large hole in her chest.

"Serra, speak to me!"

"Unngh...why? Why Zeryn?" she said and Zeryn could see blood oozing out of her mouth, probably from internal bleeding.

"What are you talking about? What happened here?" Serra smiled slightly at Zeryn's innocent comment.

"You...you did...the magistrate was...right."

"Serra, wake up! Please, don't leave me. I...I love you," Zeryn said as tears formed in his eyes. Serra smiled, touched him gently on the lips, and coughed hard.

"Me...too..." she said and died as Zeryn watched helplessly. He closed his eyes and wept openly over Serra's dead body for a long time, and when he opened his eyes again he saw a sword floating in the air in front of him. Zeryn couldn't quite place it, but he felt a definite evil aura coming from that weapon. At the base of the blade Zeryn could see an inscription.

" The Fallen Angel shall fall to the earth, leaving confusion and corruption when he does so. He shall then learn to live as one of the mortals, even in time be accpeted by them. However, the urges of darkness will overcome him and he shall slaughter everyone he cares about. The bloodshed will be immense, and a blade shall appear as a symbol of that bloodshed, thus ending the first rite of the Fallen Angel. "