How can you believe in the Gods when they allow travesties to exist? How can you kneel before a God and speak their name with reverence in your voice, as you wash the dirt from your hands, having just buried your own child who was brutally murdered?

My veins burn with Holy Fire, because I was born into this world blessed – or perhaps cursed – with a Celestial lineage.

I still remember the day the world changed. As a Holy Warrior, I proclaimed Eldath as my goddess. I fought wars in her name to restore peace to the world. Many saw this as a contradiction; the idea to fight in order to bring peace. But my entire life would be bound to contradictions.

It’d been a war where a band of Orcs known as the Red Eye Orcs had invaded a small, defenseless village. The Red Eye Orcs did not attack because they needed something, or for revenge against someone who had struck at them; the Red Eye Orcs were notoriously known for attacking for the sheer thrill of murder, mayhem and chaos. Most no longer even followed Gruumsh, because they despised the idea of being bound to any law or higher being.

We had been tracking this particular band of Red Eye Orcs, and they had stayed ahead of us, for days now – and in their path – the small hamlet of Evergreen, now a decimated, searing ember and ash of charred wood and the smell of flesh burning. The Red Eye Orcs knew that every village they attacked we would be forced to slow down and search for survivors; but the decimation of Evergreen made it evident that there would be no survivors to be found.

Inside one of the barns I found a mother, embracing her two children, probably around the ages of six and eight, and an infant, probably no older than several months.

And that’s when it happened.

I snapped.

The world went black, my fury, my anger, my pain, my frustration. This war for peace was useless.

I dropped my sword and shield and cursed Eldath, forsaking her and casting her blessing and her love from my soul.

That was when a woman behind me spoke. “What if I told you, I could help you get revenge. Your… bloodline… allows you to inherently pull at the sphere of magic… if adequately trained.”

“Who are you?” I growled. I glanced down at my shield and sword I had dropped, both with the symbol of a waterfall – the symbol of Eldath. I reached for the dagger in my boot instead, which was plain, simple, no markings.

“I have been known to have a thousand names, but you can call me Dylila,” she smiled, “and I can teach you how to wield magic. Rather than always being behind your enemy, I can teach you to channel the darkness and use it like vicious arrows.”

“Why would you do this?” I asked, staring at her.

“Why? Because, just as I have had a thousand names, I have also lived a thousand years, and while I have heard of a Paladin who forsakes their god, I’ve never seen one myself, before. That makes you interesting to me.”

In one fell swoop, I had lost my faith in my goddess, turned to what undoubtedly felt like darkness, and left my organization. No one else seemed to be able to see Dylila as she walked besides me, and I announced my resignation to the Captain of the Order.

Dylila taught me how to pull magic from the air and use it. One day, after years of practice, she asked me if I was ready for the next step. To forego a piece of who I am and bind it to her. I agreed and a pact was made of light and shadow, until the darkness washed over my soul. With this new ability, I was able to summon weapons from the very shadows.

I began forging a new sword and a new shield. On the shield, a careful etched symbol of a flaming sword pointing upward which was duplicated on the hilt of my blade. I embraced a new god, today, with this new power surging in me. I vowed my soul to Tempus, the God of War.

There was no peace that was ever going to exist in this world; only War.

And I was ready for the War awaiting me on the horizon.

Come what may.

I am shadow. I am light. I am angel. I am demon. I am peace. I am war.

I am whole.

Man I love this one We really need you to start building a world cannon using these people