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Long ago in the ages of old, there was a loyal and brutal warrior that fought under the name of his tyrant king without failure. His strength grew and consumed him as he led his forces against any kingdom that opposed his lord. One day on a march through the dark marshes of the forest, headed toward a nearby kingdom, him and his men had approached a major split in the forest path, and lacking the knowledge of the correct path, he brutally interrogated a passing woman, old in age and shabbily clothed. The old wench cursed his brutality, and bade that one day soon his blood-lust may be his downfall in battle. After slaying the woman and continuing on, his warband reached the glade of the neighboring kingdom, and after an afternoon's rest his assault began. His men brutally slaughtered the peasants and farmers and anyone in his way, setting fire to the town before the king's knights appeared. At once, swords and lances were drawn and steel clashed, but soon enough, his army had been all but wiped out and a few men stragled to stay living. In a final display of strength he took out 11 men, finally succumbing to a wound to his chest that finally stole his life from it's human cage. As his final breath left him, the words of the old woman echoed in his mind and the very evil that possessed his mind had devoured his soul. As if by witchcraft, the very armour that had protected him for many years began to seer to his flesh and become apart of his being. His skin turned red and his armor glowed with an aura of pure evil. As he fell into eternal slumber, he uttered his final words, "I won't fail you my lord, I will be back, and the whole world shall succumb under your might!"

now, over 2,000 years later, under a moon of pure, eternal crimson, the demon he had become has reawakened, and he rose to the surface and stared into the night sky. "I have returned my lord....." he muttered. "It is time i fulfilled my task, this world will become one under your rule...."