Origins of the Fallen



          Long ago in the mystical heights of Transylvania lived a quiet soul. He kept to himself and rarely ever spoke. He would soon be addressed as an outsider, living on the fringe of society. As the years went on, the man grew ill and soon blind. Not many knew what to do for him. On a cold winter night, as a storm raged on, a sudden gust of flame rose from the Earth outside the man’s home. The smoke and ash layered the heavens above. A lone claw reached out from the abyssal hole that was forged in the ground, prying itself free. It stepped into the home of the blind man and spoke with a deep demonic tone, “You are the Chosen one….To lead a great army, an army of the dead…to lead on a Great Journey…” The man sat in bed without a single cower, he listened closely to the words that had spilled from the demon’s tongue. “And what is it you are asking of me?” the man spoke. “You are to be given a great and holy power,” the demon spoke as he pulled a dark orb from the satchel at his side. The orb was a solid cloud of a shadowed smoke. “This orb will grant you these powers in order to command your great army,” the demonic figure spoke with certainty. The man calmly sat there and attempted to understand the knowledge he had just gained. “And what shall become of me?” his voice finally cracked into a sound. “Your body will be consumed with a furious rage that can only be summoned by the Dark Lord himself, within that moment your soul will flee the shell in which you survive in and thus be consumed by the orb. After this sacred ritual, I shall return to Hell and you shall arise within three days. You will be neither human nor demon, but a hybrid of both. This will allow you to return here as needed and walk among the flesh walkers above. There is also a single task you must complete in order to gain command of your new army; you must travel the Earth until you befriend a Saint by the name of Joziah, he will help guide you.” the demon’s faint words faded into the night as the man considered.

“I accept my fate, great demon.” the blind man spoke as he stood up from his bed. The demon forged a wide grin across his face exposing his razor sharp teeth as he called upon the Dark Lord to begin to transformation. A sudden ball of flame consumed the man’s wrinkled flesh. Not a single scream escaped his lungs, not a single thought filled his mind. His entire body consumed, the demon held out the orb in order to collect the soul. As the storm outside continued to rage on, the ritual was now complete and the lifeless cadaver that was set ablaze now rest in a pile of ashes. The demon then stepped outside and looked to the heavens as a bright flash of light returned him to Hell.



After the three days, the man finally returned in his new form and made his journey to Earth once again. He would walk among the living for centuries until he came about his meet with Joziah. Together they returned to Hell and spoke to the demon that had brought them both there. “I have done your bidding, demon. Now what say you about granting control over this army you foretold me about all that time ago.” He spoke to the demon as it grinned in pleasure. “This army known only as The Fallen has been hidden behind shadows for all eternity, they have been forced to walk the Earth until a great commander such as you took control, and it grows rapidly by the days. In order to gain global control, you must crown individual kings.” The demon spoke softly. “But how will I know when to crown a king?” he asked. In a faint whisper, “When a demon has fallen, you must crown thy king.” it spoke before placing a crown atop the man’s skull and turning to a pile of ash.