–==Official Submission==–
FROM: General Debinani Rahl
RE: Chapter Nine – Sandoval”s Story

***The story of Lord Sandoval***

Pain…

Blood…

Death…

Madness…

The evil is everywhere…

Like a cancer it eats away at our souls. The gates of Hell
stand open,

spewing forth it’s venomous, disease ridden filth upon the
land.

Britania, my home, stands chest deep in the blood of the
righteous.

The evil feeds and grows with each passing second.

I must stop it.

It started so long ago….

A thousand years past, a stranger from the stars defeated
Mondain,

shattering the gem of immortality and freed our land from
the

darkness. He left our world, never to return. Years later, a

darker evil struck. Minax, the enchantress took hold on
Sosaria.

Her rule lasted hundreds of years. Again, one man stood
against

the evil. The Great Lord Sandoval struck her down in a
battle that

cost him his life. The martyred warrior lives on only in
stories

and the songs of Bards, and few at that. The stories were
told to

me by my mother when I was a young child.

I was born Gabriel Ki Kalendeen, in what was once the town
of Paws,

which used to lie to the southwest of the great city of
Britain.

Paws has since been swallowed by the great city and is now
under

the protection of Lord British’s guards. This was not
always the

case, however. Back in the days of my youth, we lived apart
from

the city, making and enforcing our own laws.

As I stated previously, my mother, Aryana Ki Kalendeen, was
a master

Bard, well traveled and very knowledgable about our land
and it’s

people. With her words, she painted beautiful pictures of
our world,

full of color and life in every detail. My father,
Alexander Ki

Kalendeen, was a miner. During the long days of summer, he
would

take me with him to the west, at Miner’s Pass. While
digging for

the precious ore that sustained our family, I would watch
the caravans

traverse the narrow valley, filled with items from Yew and
Skara Brae.

In the evening, my mother would tell us the stories of old,
and instruct

me in the art of archery. I can still hear her voice this
day.

“If you ever travel the lands, you will meet many an
opponent who

desires what you carry. The world is full of rouges,
bandits, and

murderers. If they catch you, they will kill you. But
first, they

must catch you. Keep you distance, and you will keep your
life.”

How right she was, about everything. The night I returned
from the

pass and found their bloodied and broken bodies among the
ransacked

remains of our house shall stay with me forever. Everything
I knew

was destroyed, and for what? An old bow? A few ingots? Or
just

for the thrill of killing? I may never know. Had I been
there, I

may have stopped them. Had I been there, the killers may
have been

brought to justice. Had I been there…. If only I could
have been

there…

When I burried their bodies by the sea, a part of me was
burried

with them… Who I was, where I came from, and all that I
had in

life. Gabriel Ki Kalendeen was burried that day with his
beloved

parents. Crying softly, I swore by my blood that they would
be

avenged. But how? I was but a simple miner’s apprentice
with small

skills in archery. I had but 100 gold pieces to my name and
the

mining equipment and practice bow I had taken with me to
the pass?

I prayed to God for answers.

Kneeling by the grave on that cold, rainy night, a
transformation

took place. My hands trembled and every muscle in my body

clenched so tightly that blood began to pour from my eyes,
ears

and nose. I let out an anguished scream that tore from my
throat

and rang across the land. When I came to my senses,
something

had changed. Physically, I was the same, but when I walked
to the

water and saw my moon-lit reflection, someone else’s eyes
looked

back at me.

Laughter echoed through the night, along with several
mocking

immitations of my scream. I stalked closer, the scent of
evil

filling my nostrils. It was so strong, like decaying meat on

a hot summer’s day. I followed. Soon, I came upon a small
camp.

Three men sat around a fire, laughing. One of them poked the

fire with his sword, another was making a poor attempt at
playing

a lute, while the third sat in a drunken stupor. I gazed at
the

lute, illuminated by the amber glow of the fire. It was my
mother’s!

Fear should have filled me, but it didn’t. I wanted to rip
their

throats out and be sprayed by their spewing blood. I
waited…

After a time, the drunken man stood up. “I’s got ta go make
water,

lads. Be back in a shake,” he said. He staggered in my
direction.

I held still, not daring to breath. He picked the tree next
to me

and began to relieve himself, setting down his heavy
crossbow.

Reaching into my pack, I pulled out my dagger.

There was a quick flash of steel across his throat,
reflecting in the

moon light. He let out a gurgling scream and fell to his
knees, blood

and urine spraying the tree. The sounds from the camp
stopped.

“Trevor? You okay?” asked one of the men. The wooden clack
of my

newly acquired cross bow echoed through the night, and the
man dropped,

a bolt protruding from his grimy forehead. The third man
turned to run.

I darted after him, trying my best to reload the cross bow.
Luck was

with me. Aiming in his direction, I stopped and fired. The
bolt

whistled and struck, his sweet, anguished cries filling my
ears. I

walked towards the screaming. My bolt had struck the back
of his

leg, right above the knee. Rolling around on the ground in
pain, he

tried to pull the bolt free, snapping it. Upon seeing me,
he reached

for his dagger. I stepped on his hand, standing over him. A
look of

horror filled his eyes as I reloaded the crossbow and
pointed it at

him. He began to cry.

“Please, sir. Don’t kill me!” he begged. I stared into his
eyes,

wondering if my parents had begged for their lives earlier
that day.

I felt cold inside, holding no pity or remorse. Slowly, I
raised

cross bow to his chest. He cried out one last time as the
bolt pierced

his heart.

It was a good begining, but my work had just begun. I will
rid the

land of evil and will not stop until the gates of hell are
closed.

Since then, I have taken the name of Lord Sandoval, the
Avenger of

old. I have traveled the land searching evil, find it
everywhere.

Ogres, troll, and orcs inhabit the forests. Everywhere is
death

and decay.

Through my quest, I have made many friends who share a
common goal.

I have joined their guild, The Black Rose Society. Through
them,

my resolve has been strengthened. I have seen too many of
my guild

brothers and sisters cut down by the cowardly evil that
attacks in

numbers. Terre LoveGrove, Lazarus Shade, ShadowSpawn,
Thanos…

The names go on and on. Their lives shall be avenged and I
shall

bathe in the blood of their murderers!

Candy Bytch, Sephiroth, Rygar, Wilson, Avatar, and all
those who

prey upon the innocent, Your days are numbered! Now you
shall see

why you fear the night! I am coming for you…..