Role

Chapter 1

Searing, tearing, piercing horrendous pain and agony. Flashes of pure white
light and raging darkness. Pulling, tugging, pinching, yanking, savage winds
of change. Loss, no control, sadness. What in the abyss is happening!!


Eyes open only a hair's breadth through massive fatigue. He can see two
figures from what seems to be a concrete slab upon which he lay. He doesn't
dare move in the slightest for fear of the unknown. A terrible sense of loss
fills his mind, heart and soul.He does all he can to keep from crying as a
single tear runs from the corner of his eye, down his cheek and past a small
ear lobe.


Dammit! Not another failure you moron! Thats the thirteenth one in a
row! You are supposed to be able to bring them in from the abyss not the
azure planes! I need a demon, not a damned prissy little lightborn
mongrel! said the gravelly voiced necromancer to the conjurer he hired for
his experiments. I need DEMONS for the children of a darkened army. I
didnt kill all the kids around here for them to be wasted on the light!
Kill it and bring me the next one. We will get this right by the end of the
night.


The conjurer sobbed softly and removed the child from view. He quickly
glanced over his shoulder and leaned over the softly glowing boy. He
whispered I know you can hear me and I am so sorry for taking you from an
eternity of nirvana. I cannot do much but give you a small chance to
survive. He leaned over the child as he grabbed the dagger from the stone
slab. He inched closer to a chute in the wall while feigning cutting the
childs throat. He slid the child into the opening and whispered once more
Survive and I am sorry.


*THUMP* Landing roughly on what feels like fleshy stones Ricen rolls down the
small hill to a cold stone floor. He takes a moment to survey his
surroundings without making much movement. Where am I? He thought.
What the hell just happened to me!? He listens and hears no movement or
voices. He opens his eyes and finds he is staring directly into the eyes of a
small child. This child lies at the bottom of a pile of 12 others that have
had their throats cut and all seem to be around the age of 5 to 7 years old.
With a start of horror he bolts upright. What in the abyss! He screams
hoarsely barely over a whisper. He hears his voice and is confused. Its
the voice of a small child. He looks himself up and down slowly and finds
hes just like the other children, close in age and has a slight glow.
Oh no, what happened? He said with horrified wonder.