One dark spring night, when the air still retained its cold winter grasp, the mage stood in his lair's makeshift lab. Laying on the stone table infront of him, a human. A living, breathing human male, strapped down with crude but strong leather straps. He was his small tribe's greatest fighter, and had singlehandedly destroyed almost a dozen kobold zombies. It was a small loss for the mage, as his army was still growing steadily and a few kobolds more or less didn't make a difference, but this warrior's power had impressed the mage enough to spare his and his family's life. No, the mage wasn't getting soft or anything. He had far more horrible intentions in mind.
"I'm going to ask again," spoke the mage, "Will you join me willingly as an undead of great power? You would have immortality, and power beyond your immagination. You would rule nations, control vast undying armies. All for the price of your insignificant life and free will."
"Never. I would rather die than serve a monster like you."
"Oh come on, why do heros always have to go like this? It's a cliche worse than the villanous ones I follow. If you just say yes, you'll be much better off than if you say no. What would you gain of refusing?"
"I would retain my honor. I refuse to associate with you, no matter the price." The warrior spits onto the mage's face.
Hissing in anger, the mage raises his hand which instantly starts glowing white-hot. Then, he places his hand on the warrior's chest. The warrior clenches his teeth and endures the agonizing pain that would cause most other living to scream and beg for mercy. Removing his now cooled hand, the mage examines the mark left on the warrior's skin. "I think that settles it. I could continue torturing you, as you would break eventually. But why do such a tiring and time-wasting thing? I'll just transform you into an undead with or without you being willing. But first... I'm feeling... bored. Let's have some fun, shall we?"
The mage clapped his hands twice, and three of his Elite obsidian-blade wielding undead entered the room, each leading a bound humanoid. "Papa!" screamed one of the humanoids, a small girl. The second humanoid was an older women, face bleak and full of tears. The third one, a teenaged boy, was strugling and trying to break away from the undead's grip. The undead barely moved no matter how much the boy struggled. "I'll get you out of there, dad!" he shouted in anger.
"No..." said the warrior in a faint voice, a voice now devoid of the previous pride and justice. "Honey... Anna, Rob... Why... You, you... You MONSTER! Let them go, they have nothing to do in this! Your fight is with me alone!"
"Fight? This isn't a fight. I already lost, as you refused, didn't I? So now, I have no reason to keep these inferior beings alive. And since I'm bored, they'll be atleast of *some* use... hehehe."
The mage turned to the humans. He then gestured, and from the shadows stepped out a huge figure of darkness. It was one of the mage's more powerful creation, the giant shadow jaguar. With another gesture, the older human female was released by the skeleton holding her. The monster of shadow immediately jumped on her. In a cacophony of the melded humanoids's screams and the sound ripping of flesh and bone, the mage stood silent, watching the scene. After a few minutes, all that was left of the older woman was some shreds flesh and shards of bone floating in a pool of blood. The smaller human girl was crying profusely, the boy was starting, jaw opened, the look on his face completely blank. The warrior was crying too, all his former determination and unphasedness shredded away as the one he loved was shredded.
"Well, that was rather boring," said the mage matter-of-factly. "Let's see what we can cook up next... oh wait, I know what... lets cook up YOU!" shouted the mage with glee, pointing to the small girl who almost suffocated from the fear.
"No! Leave her! I accept the offer! I'll... I'll do whatever you want! STOP!" shouted the warrior as the mage slowly advanced to his daughter.
"Wha~at? I can't hear you!" said the mage, with an undertone one would hear from a playful and disobediant child. He approached the little girl more and more, until he was right next to her. "Now, little missy, don't cry, you look radiant today. As radiant as the sun. No, wait, you aren't that radiant..." The mage gently touched the girl. She spontaneously combusted into white-hot flames. Among her screams of agony and her remaining family's screams of despair, the mage continued. "Now you are!"
"You... you... I'LL KILL YOU" shouted the teenaged boy. Summoning all the strength granted by overwhelming anger, he broke from the skeleton's grip and grabbed it's obsidian-bladed weapon, running towards the mage while shouting as high as his lungs would allow.
The mage patiently waited during the few moments it took for the boy to reach melee-range from him. The boy's weapon was raised, and came down at great speed, aimed right at the mage's heart. The blade stopped mid-air, though. "What, going for the heart?" asked the mage, amused. "Well that won't work. 'Cause I don't have one." And the boy flew backwards from the force of a blow of Air, bashing into a wall 10 meters back. The mage slowly stepped towards him, while the boy, his anger replaced by unimaginable fear and the pain of dozens of broken bones, layed paralyzed, watching the approaching abomination.
"Like father, like son, eh? Wanting to do the heroic thing, slay the evil beast, and live happily ever after? Well we aren't in a fairytale, boy. Here, the strong wins, not the rightous. Strength and Might outmatch any so-called 'justice'. Power is itself 'justice', and thus the only path to victory. And this time, Evil wins."
The mage grasped the boy's head with both hands. The boy screamed such a horrible scream that nearby crude glass instruments shattered. The boy's body seemed to shift, to turn, to twist in unimaginnably disgusting ways, so much so that the warrior father started retching uncontrollably among his tears and screams. The boy's body was turned inside-out, organs ripped through the body, his intestines strangling his own neck, his heart held, still pumping, in the evil mages hand. "You see, 'good' is a weakness. Having a heart is a weekness. Their is only one path to power, the path of hatred and evil, the path of the heartless." The mage stood watching this abominable show of Chaos, until finally all that was left was a mangled corpse that would make the most evil of Shash-Hash vomit and would haunt anyone's nightmares for the rest of their existance.
The mage dropped the silent heart onto the corpse and wiped his hands on his black cloak, a black far surpassed by the darkness of his own heart. He turned back to the warrior, who by some miracle had not died from nothing but the shock upon seeing such abominations done to his dearest loved ones. "Wh... Why... Why?" was all the warrior could whisper.
"Why?" said the mage mockingly. "Oh, you mean why I killed them even when you had accepted the proposal? Oh, my. You seem to still not have catched on. There never was a proposal. I was just toying with you. I could have easily transformed you into an undead without your consent. But were would have been the fun in that? Even had you accepted from the very beginning, I would still have killed these worthless things soon after. It was much more enjoyable to see you suffer this much. To see you mind bend and shatter to these visions. Now, that was an evening well spent, wasn't it?"
This time, the warrior's mind finally broke. As he uttered on his last breath, once again, an almost silent, "W..h..y....." his spirit was released.
But that wasn't enough for the mage. He approached the dead body, and with a grasping motion, pulled out of thin air a small shimmering flame. The warrior's very soul and spirit. Now, even in death he would find no rest, as his soul, twisted and bent from the ordeal he had faced, would be trapped in an undead husk for the rest of eternity.
What could have been a smile behind the metal mask appeared on the mage's face at the thought, and he laughed with a laughter that would make the very dead shake in fear.