"Wretched thing..." The words spoken were brimming with every ounce of hate the knight could muster, his armor slowly soaking red from his prey. His hands were gripping the now shattered jaw of an Alliance paladin, his blue and gold trimmed tabard worn proudly across his chest as his own blood ran down it like a waterfall. The man could only managed to stifle out parts of his last insults and whines, his throat slowly collasping under the force of a large plated hand. Death came swiftly and mercilessly for the paladin, a blade ran through his stomach and whipped upwards by its wielder. Intestines, spine, ribcage. They held no resistance for the blow as his eyes rolled over in their sockets, the head exploded into halves and with a bloodied mist.
Even after the corpse had fallen to the ground, nearly torn outright in half, Rydanovich continued to assault it. Dismembering and scattering the gore all over, hatred fueling every swing of his runed blade. This memory would stay with him for some time, driving him onwards as he made his way into Westfall. In a short four hours, Rydanovich had managed to track down his family's home, housing his wife and children. The door came off its hinges easily, the knight's plated boot smashing it out of his way as he stormed the small building. His wife only managed a scream before he slashed her throat and threw her against the fireplace, ignoring the sounds of her shoulder breaking from the force. His children fared no better, cowering and crying under their beds as their father marched into the room. It was short work, butchering them. With the rooms drenched with blood and his family slain, Rydanovich casualy walked out of the ruined home and made his way into Duskwood.
He spent nearly six hours walking along the roads and in the forests, finally coming upon a small group of people in their travels. The eldest man slowly made his way over to the knight and held out his hand, offering him a kind word. The looks of terror on their faces as he cut a swath through their group only served to drive him on. The fight, what little of it was one, was over in less than a minute. As he stood around the litter of bodies that dotted the road, he tried to manage a smile at the sight of the act.
The knight pressed and continued to stalk the roads, taking some measure of joy as he got wind of stories of his works. The hushed whispers in a tavern, the pleas of mercy from a farmhand before he was beheaded. All of these reminded him further of what must be done. Rydanovich ran his sword down the throat of a small boy, having dispatched his father just moments ago. It took only an hour to find his way to a river to wash the blood from his armor, finally putting his mission to words as he glared out to a nearby campsite of hunters.
"All life must end."
Even after the corpse had fallen to the ground, nearly torn outright in half, Rydanovich continued to assault it. Dismembering and scattering the gore all over, hatred fueling every swing of his runed blade. This memory would stay with him for some time, driving him onwards as he made his way into Westfall. In a short four hours, Rydanovich had managed to track down his family's home, housing his wife and children. The door came off its hinges easily, the knight's plated boot smashing it out of his way as he stormed the small building. His wife only managed a scream before he slashed her throat and threw her against the fireplace, ignoring the sounds of her shoulder breaking from the force. His children fared no better, cowering and crying under their beds as their father marched into the room. It was short work, butchering them. With the rooms drenched with blood and his family slain, Rydanovich casualy walked out of the ruined home and made his way into Duskwood.
He spent nearly six hours walking along the roads and in the forests, finally coming upon a small group of people in their travels. The eldest man slowly made his way over to the knight and held out his hand, offering him a kind word. The looks of terror on their faces as he cut a swath through their group only served to drive him on. The fight, what little of it was one, was over in less than a minute. As he stood around the litter of bodies that dotted the road, he tried to manage a smile at the sight of the act.
The knight pressed and continued to stalk the roads, taking some measure of joy as he got wind of stories of his works. The hushed whispers in a tavern, the pleas of mercy from a farmhand before he was beheaded. All of these reminded him further of what must be done. Rydanovich ran his sword down the throat of a small boy, having dispatched his father just moments ago. It took only an hour to find his way to a river to wash the blood from his armor, finally putting his mission to words as he glared out to a nearby campsite of hunters.
"All life must end."