Scorinthian, a world that exists in a universe parallel to our own. A world that is fueled and nurtured with what we would call magic. Along with humans like those of our world, Scorinthian teams with magical life of all sorts–centaurs, mermaids, dragons, and sorcerers alike. Compared to our world, Scorinthian is far older, throughout its recorded history of intelligent life, the abyss was always present.
At the geographical center of Scorinthian's only continent is a monstrous, seemingly bottomless, black void. It stretches across the land--- devouring any light attempting to brighten it. Casting shadows on the surrounding lands. This ancient mouth has been present throughout all of recorded history. Based on those accounts, one fact was certain: the void had been forever widening, unnoticeable to the naked eye, subtle yet persistent. It took even more time before a correlation was noticed, though seen as only a mere coincidence, the void grew at a rate consistent with Scorinthian's increasing population of intelligent life, only ever varying in sped up growth during times of war.
In fact, the correlation was no coincidence. Though the inhabitants of Scorinthian knew not what fed the ancient vortex, the truth was they themselves had been the source of its power. Appearing alongside the first sentient beings, an unnoticeable speck was born from the darkness within the land's inhabitants. Every hateful, angry, vengeful, greedy, murderous thought or action in all of life's history---this was the infinite feast of the abyss, and on the day of Scor's people's most heinous act, an unholy sacrifice to the depths of the darkness itself, the mystery of the abyss was solved and twas the day the power within the void became full and awoke from its hungry slumber and spoke to the world.
The power within erupted in fire and shadow, engulfing the skies and blotting out the sun. The darkness spread across the globe and the flames formed a nightmarish face in the sky for all the world to see. A cold, menacing voice echoed across the lands and into the mind of every being alive, introducing itself as Sharlon, God King of Scorinthian.
The extent of Sharlon's ultimate power immediately became known to all. The face faded from the black sky, leaving only a full blood-red moon in its place. Next, a swarm of demonic beings with charred coal for skin and flames for eyes began to climb out from within the abyss, spewing jets of fire from their gaping mouths, consuming any aspect of life they saw. Trees, creatures, and men burned alike, none spared when caught in the path of Sharlon's demons.
After the demons freed themselves from the pit, something else began to rise from its depths. A great black tower, made of titanic metal serpents twisting and growing until the tower's peak grew past the clouds and further still.
Those who witnessed the next occurrence and lived to tell the tale were very lucky. The rest, murdered because of their proximity.
High above his swarm of minions, Sharlon appeared, floating in the air for all onlookers to see, having created a corporeal form for himself, human in presentation, though much taller than any Scorinthian man. His skin was stark white, glinting pink from the red moon's glow. His fingers were like giant spiders, outstretched, as if to welcome his new world's existence. He wore a long, blood-red cloak, his feet bare and bony. His face was the truest horror. His lipless mouth bore two rows of hideous fangs, his nostrils long and flat against his face, and where his eyes should have been, were two black holes, as dark and endless as the void from which he was conceived.
The six days that followed came to be called "the cleansing" and during that time it became clear that daylight itself was banished, along with freedom itself. Sharlon and his demon horde swiftly enslaved most of the remaining inhabitants, only a choice few able to evade and live in hiding, and continued their persecution under his cruel and malicious rule for the following half century. Any who stepped against the God King's might during that time met unimaginable tortures and eventual murder.
Then came the rise of an extraordinarily intelligent young wizard, raised in secret by his magician father on the outskirts of Scorinthian, as far as possible from Sharlon's rule. The day came when his father embarked on a mission to aid the less magically inclined, but he was killed by Sharlon's forces. Ever since, the rogue wizard persisted in mastering the art of sorcery, driven by the good instilled in him by his father and the impossible faith that he may find a way to free his fellow Scorinthians from the God King's might.
The wizard took many painstaking years to piece together the final pieces of defeating Sharlon, and one day, he believed he'd finally cracked it, though enacting the plan was a whole other seemingly impossible matter. The plan would have to include the help, and supreme loyalty of nine other magical creatures, all willing to make the ultimate sacrifice along with him: their magic.
These ten figures would go down in history as the ones who finally defeated the God King of Scorinthian.
At least that's the way it would seem.
The true repercussions of that day would not be felt by the ten, formerly enslaved Scorinthians, nor those they liberated, but by a group of innocent teenage humans on another world.
This story will record the true events that took place before, during, and after the vanquishing of Sharlon.