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Title: Rimmer Silvershield
Area: Characters

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Rimmer's Past

"Lord Rimmer," the voice whispered through the pain.

"Who calls,' the Elven knight answers weakly, the terror in Rimmer's voice very evident.

"Who and what I am matters not, what matters is that if you continue this day the way you started it by sunset you will be amongst the fallen on this field."

The knight pants in terror now, "you think I know that not? But I don't see any way out of it either. What do you expect me to do? Charge back into that slaughter to my death? I think not. I would rather break my sword and renounce my lands and title."

From the shadows the voice laughs a cold mocking laugh, "I offer something better than that Lord Rimmer," the voice pauses, 'How would you like to go home a hero, the savior of the day?"

The Elven knight scoffs, "How, I am out of magic, my mantle is exhausted, and I think that my sword arm is broken. And you, someone unseen, expect me to save the day? Again I ask how?"

"That is the easy part Rimmer, I help you." Again the pause, 'but first you must help me."

"Help you?" Rimmer looks about and sees the advance guard making their way to his concealed position. "How?" There is now desperation in his voice as well as terror.

The voice sighs in pleasure, finally he found one, now came the tricky part. "See the stone not but a hand span from your right hand?"

Rimmer looks about for a moment, "The moss covered one?"

"Yes, that is the one, lift it,"

Rimmer's hand touches the stone and he tries to move it one handed.

"Use both hand Lord Rimmer, both hands, and get a good grip." The voice sounds very eager now.

Rimmer shifts his position slightly to get a better grip on the stone when the hue and cry goes out from down the hill "There he is, We've found him, up on the hill."

Panicked Rimmer picks the stone up and lifts it to his eyelevel and then stares in pure terror at the glyph carved into the stone.

Rimmer's eyes wide with terror he goes to scream when a shapeless black shadow erupts from under the stone and pours into Rimmer's open eyes, changing them in an instant from the sky blue that are Rimmer's mothers to a slate gray. Instead of slumping down in defeat and terror he stands to his full height of over six feet and looks down to the two men coming up the hill at him and raises his right hand. Four bolts of black energy dart from the hand to strike the two men directly in the chest, ripping though hastily raises shields as if they were mere rice paper.

The men's screams echo throughout the battle for over twenty minutes as their souls are ripped from their bodies and eaten by the shadow. With a fierce grin he howls "Let the feeding begin" and swoops down on the battlefield.

The rest of the day and all through the night the shadow possessed Rimmer went through the battlefield killing friend and foe alike, ripping through magic, steel, and flesh with a sickening ease. When he was done and the shadow was finally sated there was not a soul left on the battlefield. Rimmer stood alone with the carnage.

"What have I done?" The Elven knight asks the stars in despair as he surveys the carnage.

"You survived," came the voice, now from within his own mind, "and now we are one, you are no longer Rimmer Silvershield, you are now Rimmer Dall."