[Nihlus Macala]

William Castigan was not a happy man.

For what had seemed like centuries, he had led the garrison of Castle Markoth, on the Valterran border with the Eldenar Wilds. It was a rather dull posting, and he knew full well that his assignment there meant he would never find himself advancing within the ranks beyond the point he had reached. Valterra didn't care about some border fort. With the situation between the kingdoms deteriorating before the eyes of everyone, Markoth was getting less and less supplies as the convoys were diverted to the front lines. If it wasn't for the merchant who made the trek from the capital to the fort every other week, William would be sure that his superiors had forgotten all about him and his men.

Though he hated to admit it, being a career soldier and all, William had been nursing thoughts of rebellion in his little fort. The men he led, they were all loyal to him, and just as annoyed with the lack of attention from their commanders. It wouldn't be difficult to convince them to go renegade, claim the fort for themselves, and go outlaw. For the most part, they'd all go willingly. With the tensions of the kingdoms being at the forefront of the mind of the Valterran elite, they wouldn't bother to take back the fort, and even if they did, they would send a token force at best. It would be practically foolproof.

But that was just the passing ideas of a man who was bored. William wouldn't betray the oath he took, no matter how much he was tempted to do so. He was an honorable sort, despite the scenarios that played out in his mind. It was how he had made it to the rank of Captain in the first place.

Despite rarely getting any orders, William still kept himself busy. Since his posting, he had taken up painting to pass the time, and had managed to actually become quite skilled at it. With inspiration in the form of the wilds which sat just outside the fort's walls, it was no wonder his renditions of forestry were actually not half bad. He had even managed to convince the lone merchant who made the trip to the castle to purchase some of his works for trading. It didn't get him much, but it allowed him to say his hobby made him money. Not many people could say that these days.

Especially not lonely border guard captains.

It was a painting that he was working on as he thought his faux treasonous thoughts, a half-finished painting of a pool of water surrounded by trees, something which was inspired by one such pool he had stumbled upon once on patrol. He hadn't been able to go out that far in recent days, much to his disappointment, due to a series of sightings of creatures that far in the woods. Though he had disliked giving the order to stay closer to the fort, William knew he had had to do it, if only to keep his men from being stupid. For the most part, however, it wasn't affecting his work too much; as far as his memory could tell, the painting was coming out quite nicely.

As he dipped his brush into paint to continue, William was interrupted by an extremely loud noise from outside of his building. Startled, William lost the grip on his brush, and it fell onto the canvas he was working on, splattering paint across the image. William's mode darkened quite quickly at this. He had spent a decent amount of time on this painting, and to have it ruined by the incompetence of one of his men was quite angering. He left the brush on the canvas, and stood up from his desk, intent on figuring out which bastard member of his guard had screwed up.

However, before he even get halfway across the room, yet another loud noise from outside the building hit his ears, this time easily identifiable as an explosion. William's nerves shot straight up as he realized that he could also hear faint screams from outside as well. He sprinted the last few feet to the door, kicking it open to emerge into the hallway. He was greeted by the frightened yells of one of his soldiers, Korvaun, who was standing about halfway down the hall, firing a crossbow out of a shattered window. William stepped out into the hall, and called out to Korvaun. "Korvaun, what the hell is happening?!"

The soldier turned to face William, his eyes wide with fear. He opened his mouth to shout out, but before he was able to form the words, Korvaun burst into flames before William's eyes as a ball of fire came rolling through the window. The blast from the fire sent William flying down the hallway, before he landed on his back about twenty feet away from his study's door. Groaning in pain, the captain managed to stagger to his feet, before looking down the hall to see what had happened to his comrade. Where Korvaun had been mere seconds before was a burning, blackened humanoid figure, laying on the ground.

Horrified of the sight, William turned away, in order to head down the hallway towards the stairs leading outside. Before he made it halfway down the hall, however, he heard a quick bang and a scream, before seeing a body tumble down the stairs, a sword embedded through its chest. Skidding to a halt, William reached to his side to draw his sword, but realized with fright that he had left the blade within his study, laying next to his desk. Hearing the sound of armored boots snapping against the stone steps, William did the only thing he could think of.

He ran back to his study.

Throwing the door shut as he ran into the room, William put the lock bar into place, before crossing the room to unsheathe his sword from its scabbard at his desk. Though he doubted it would be of much use against whatever it was that had incinerated poor Korvaun, William took comfort from the weighted steel in his hand, and decided that it would be more than enough to take on whoever had killed the soldier in the stairway. As for the fire... his room was in the keep. The entire keep was made up of rather sturdy stone. No fire would reach him within his room. Even if the rest of the garrison died from whatever it was that was happening, William was sure he would survive.

Boom.

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The first thing William noticed when he opened his eyes was that his vision was completely blurry. The second thing he noticed was that he couldn't feel a thing.

From what he could make out, his entire room was a wreckage. Bookcases which had stood against the walls for years were laying on the floor, and the books they once held were strewn across the floor. Most of them were burning. Turning to his left, William could see his desk, laying on its side, pressed up against the wall he was sitting up against. On his right, what was left of the door to his study was laying on top of the mangled wreck of his bed. William's eyes widened as he realized this, before turning his gaze to look at what remained of the door-side wall. It seemed as if the entire door had been blown from its hinges, along with most of the supporting stone. Outside, William could make out the flickering outline of flames, and a great cloud of smoke, through a window on the far side of the hall.

Suddenly, his view of the outside was blocked by something, something dark, something black. It took him a moment in his shocked state to realize that it was a person who was blocking his vision. A person! William opened his mouth to call for help, but instead of words coming out, William found himself groaning pitifully instead, barely making a noise. Something was wrong. He couldn't feel anything, and now, he couldn't even speak. What had happened to him to cause that? The captain glanced down at himself, trying to see if he had been physically hurt or anything, only for a look of terror to cross his face.

A large fragment of wood, presumably from the door, had embedded itself within his stomach. Weakly, William grabbed at it with his hands, but couldn't bring about the strength necessary to grip it, in order to take it out. Giving up, he felt around his side and to his back, before bursting out into tears. The wood had gone clean through his body, and into the wall behind him. He was impaled against the wall, and he had noway of getting out. He couldn't even call for the person who had entered the room to help him. It seemed as if his luck had finally managed to run out for good, and William couldn't handle that.

After a moment, William heard the sound of armored footsteps, recognizing it as the same noise as he had heard on the stairs before. Turning his gaze away from himself, William found himself looking up at a man dressed all in black, with armor forged from what seemed to be bone. His feelings of terror became only worse when his gaze fell upon the featureless mask of metal which covered the mysterious man's face. Though he could not see the man's eyes behind his mask of steel, William could feel a most unholy gaze burning right back at him.

The masked man stared at him for a moment, before slowly kneeling down before William. He stretched out a gauntlet-clad hand, and grasped the wood which had made its home in William's stomach. With a small bit of force, the man ripped the wood from out of William's body, causing the captain to start screaming in agony as feelings of pain flooded his body. The man waved a hand over the wound, and suddenly the pain was gone again. Choking back his tears, William looked back at the masked man, who had stood up and began walking away from him. "Wait... wait...please..."

At William's words, the masked man stopped, and slowly turned around to face the captain again, his body positioned in such a way that William could tell he was waiting for him to speak. Coughing up blood, William tried to clear his lungs long enough to speak, but he realized he was running out of time. He could feel his life beginning to leave his body, and it was going fast. The wood being removed was going to kill him. However, he needed to know. He needed to. So he cleared his lungs, and asked.

"Who... who are you?"

For a moment, the masked man was silent, and William feared that his question would go unanswered. However, as his vision started to go black, William heard the man speak.

"My name is Nihlus.

And I am Death."