Pristius: Origin

The son of Deane and Caitlin Ulbright, one an accountant and the other a blade for hire, was named Deacon. He was a happy-go cheerful type and grew up in Stormwind, content with his life. Then one day, after long hours of playing pranks on the magistrate, Deacon returned to a home engulfed in purple shadow. Fearing for his parents he went to rush in but something held him back, a feeling. He inched closer, dead silent and witnessed a conversation behind the blackened glass in the windows. A huge, demonic figure towered over his parents and a few indiscernible creatures surrounded them. A deep, dark voice made the glass shudder before Deacon's pale face "It is time we take back what you got from us. The boy is ours!" "You will never have him, old friend," said Caitlin levelly, staring deep into the demon's eyes. "Now go back to your pit and tell Qu'Znah that if he ever wants to talk to me, he can come himself." There was a pause before a deep demonic laughter filled the house. The demon shouted a command and the creatures attacked. The Ulbrights suddenly transformed from mere husband and wife into precision fighters, holding off the minions. Deacon's eyes were wide with terror, his face pressed against the glass. A crowd had gathered on the street but saw nothing through the blackness. The priests and paladins had been called.

The fight continued and the Ulbrights were outnumbered. Deane's side was torn asunder by a blade made out of shadow. Gritting his teeth, he slumped momentarily but then straightened as his sword-wielding arm shot out and stabbed through the head of his attacker. The minion disappeared with a shriek and Deane fell to his knees. But Deacon didn't see that. Filled with a blinding rage from seeing his father cut, he burst into the house, screaming. Caitlin's face went pale. "No, Deacon! Get out of here! Find the paladins! Go n-" She looked down to see a blade sticking straight out of her chest. She fell into the arms of her husband and they sank to the floor. They drew their last breath together. Silence.

The large demon turned towards the silenced boy, tears streaming from his closed eyes, running unchecked down his cheeks. "You will come with me, Kulzac." Deacon didn't move but trembled ever so slightly. The demon uttered a command to one of his minions and it glided over to the boy, grabbing his shoulder. The shadowy figure jolted back, as if electricuted. It was then the demons noticed a glow radiating from the young boy. He opened his eyes and they were like fiery orbs. A high pithced sound was barely audible but still cut the ears of the dark figures. The large demon shouted an attack and the minions rushed towards the boy as the room was filled with bright, pristine light.

The house had been torn apart as Lord Brighton stepped of his horse. The other paladins weren't far behind. Brighton climbed over the rubble of the outer wall to find a peculiar sight. Every wall was charred and covered in soot, like from an explosion. In what would have been the centre of the explosion lay a young boy, untouched by the damage all around him. Brighton rushed towards him, removing his gauntlets. He took the boy into his arms and was overwhelmed with joy to find that he was alive. More paladins entered the ruined building in the formerly peaceful street, a bewildered and worried look on their faces. The boy drudgingly opened his eyes and looked, blinking into the steel-blue eyes of the strong paladin. Lord Brighton smiled. "Hello, young Pristius. You are safe now. I have been waiting for you."

tack tack

--Drekafluga, í laugardagsvinnunni--