-7 years ago, in the hall of Panthor-

His head was heavy with fatigue.

Arms of stone.

Feet becoming a part of the stone floor.

Sweat stings his eyes. Their final exercise bringing the initiates to a panting stop, their heavy breathing the only sound bouncing around the stone chamber as they waited. For the Master and Judgement. Today in the great hall in front of the great stature dedicated to Panthor the five initiates would be deemed worthy to become knights of the order.

As the breathing lessened and pounding heart beats of rushing blood cooled to a familiar silence, so too did the hall. The great black walls stood to three times their height and reflected a strange light from the black surface. As if something was inside them, watching. The statue of Panthor in front of them rose from the floor in the same material. A carved and polished panther, Crouched low as if to pounce from it’s platform, with a single paw stretched out claws extended making you feel as if you were already too close. Shining green eyes of a precious stone Ulrich couldn’t place seemed to judge them all silently. As if that glare found them wanting.

The boys wilted under it’s pressure.

Ultaan the Wise, a tall and heavily built elder of Panthor arrived and walked at a leisurely pace towards the assembled initiates. He muttered something under his breath as he walked, a kind of chant that was forever audible in his presence. Groaning with exertion as he climbed a step, onto the dais infant of the massive Idol.

“You have all done well.”

He takes a breath. Age straining his lungs.

“So now it is for Panthor to judge all who are worthy”

Questions bubbled in the minds of the initiates, but before any of them found a voice the master waved his hand and all of them blacked out.



He awoke alone. Fatigue still clawed down at him, calling for him to rest his head on the tree bark and close his eyes. Instead he took a look around himself. Finding himself in a great green area, trees surrounded him and a path stretched out ahead twisting into jungle darkness. Fighting the exhaustion he climbed to his feet, dizzy and off balance he moved into the jungle. For Panthor’s judgement.

Each step freed him from his previous exhaustion, certain that the jungle was real he was distracted by the thoughts that revolved around the ability for him to arrive in the location. So focused on his puzzle that Ulrich tripped and stumbled on the remains of a stone structure, partly re-claimed by the wilds of the jungle, the first Starrs of which had snared his foot and his momentum. Forcing the young man to asses his surroundings.

A great stone temple, almost part of the jungle itself, so overgrown that it looked to be built by the plants themselves. He wasn’t sure how he knew, But Ulrich did know that he was at the entrance to the first temple of Panthor. It’s location, far to the south of where he was moments ago.

As if called, ulrich’s hand moved to a mound of dirt, knowing already what he would re-discover when he pushed it to the side. The Brass bell under the moss was un-marked by age, corruption or rot. It rang with a great clash. Enhanced by some form of magic, but none that Ulrich had studied in his time.

He was in the temple now. A great stone hall with cracks where the vines had started to pierce the ancient stone walls. In his hand the bell was still ringing but now almost a caress to his ears. The response to the bell: A low growl from the darkness. A great cat, Fur black as night and great green eyes which shone beyond all reason. It crouched low on all four of it’s paws and the ringing stopped. The bell was no more, now his hand was filled with a weapon, a blade made of magic, bound by bands of darkness that were so alien, so wrong that the very idea of them didn’t hold within his mind.

The great cat stretched out a paw and leaped. Instantly Ulrich knew what to do on impulse and instinct, heavy arms swung up and forced the new blade of unspeakable horror into his throat.


Exhaustion gripped him once more. The halls of Panthor as real as they were before his vision.
Looking around Ulrich, prone on the floor, was the only initiate to wake. Ultaan stood above him. Staring with old eyes.

“Congratulations.”