Archaeon, nothing but an ordinary man, found his life content. A simple farm of his own, a lovely wife Lustria, a wonderful pair of sons to continue his legacy after him, and another child on the way, he thought to himself, smiling at his expectant wife.

However, the Gods had their own agenda.

It was at the time that the legendary war of the Gods was being held, with God battling God, their struggle creating turmoil in the upper planes of existence.

Archaeon heard of the mages that were trying to achieve immortality, but dismissed it as quackery. After all, his grandpappy had lived to 86, which seemed like an eternity.

Then, in accordance with Fate, the Rod was set off. Such was the explosion that it shattered the magical Rod, sending shards flying through the air, striking God, plant and animal at random. Ytrewtsu, being in such close proximity, got peppered with multiple fragments, some of them passing right through his physical form. One of these slivers that passed through Ytrewtsu struck Archaeon in the back, and smote him to the ground. His sons rushed over to check on him. Rolling him over, they discovered that, although he was still alive, he appeared to be in some sort of sleep, with eyes and mouth open in exclamation.

Getting him into a bed, Lustria noticed a sliver of wood sticking out of his back, the source of his pain. As she watched, it was sucked into his body and the wound closed up without a mark left.

With the sliver fully assimilated into his body, Archaeon blinked once and sat up, slow, all the while looking around the room as if for the first time.

" What…what happened to me?" he asked Lustria.

" You were hit, in the back, by a flying piece of wood. I…its gone now" she finished, still looking at her lap.

Archaeon reached out with one hand and gently lifted her gaze to him. She gasped when she looked him in the eyes.

" Your…your eyes. They have changed colour!" she exclaimed.

His eyes, once a lovely shade of light blue, were now the colour of ashes.

" What? No, that' s imposs…" spasms wracked his body, cutting him off in mid-sentence. Lustria eased him down and mopped his brow with a damp cloth. Noticing that he had fallen asleep again, she left him to prepare food for the others.

Several hours later, drawn by his cries, she hurried back to him, only to find that he had fallen out of bed, tangled in the sheets, rolling in the ground.

Holding him still, she found that he was still asleep, that he was only having a nightmare. She continued to hold him still until she fell asleep.

The next morning showed a change in Archaeon. He no longer ate museli and bread for breakfast but now wanted bacon, eggs, chicken, pork, steak, veal and ham. In fact, he now only ate meat from freshly killed animals. But Lustria thought that seemed to be a fair price to pay, as he now had the strength of four men, and could work all day in the harsh sun without discomfort.

The physical changes started to become obvious over the next couple of days, as what was once an average build and height drastically filled out until he was as bulky as an ox and stood head and shoulders above all else.

But, as with all gifts of Gods, they had plans of their own for him, for they wanted a champion among men, not a mere farmhand.

One day, about ten days after the accident, a messenger arrived, bearing news of a great war host of Ytrewtsu' s attacking from the south and all able-bodied men were to gather themselves and meet to stop it.

Upon hearing the news, Archaeon consoled Lustria and, along with his oldest son Melech, took up their weapons and armour and left to fight the evil Ytrewtsu' s forces.

Two weeks passed by, and not one word had been heard. Then, late one afternoon, a lone horseman stopped outside and delivered a message. Lustria gasped, for her darkest fears had been confirmed. Both Archaeon and Melech were dead, slain as they single-handedly defended the fortress gate, allowing hundreds to seal the gates and prevent the horde from breaching the border of these lands. The messenger also informed her that neither body has been recovered, that they appear to have been taken away by Ytrewtsu' s troops.

" They were brave men, your son and husband. They gave their lives so that others may be saved. You should be proud of their actions."

And she was, but at such a mournful time Lustria could not show it. She bade the horseman farewell and set about making preparations for a service to be held later in the week.

A lot of people from the surrounding homes came, as some of their menfolk had been saved by Archaeon and Melech' s actions. But their consolidations meant little to Lustria, as she now had to find someone to work the farm or be forced to sell it.

While she was still deciding, a young man came up and said that he had experience working on farms and if it wasn' t to soon, he could assist. Lustria asked for a couple of days to think things over and settle the affairs, which was fine by the stranger.

Saying that his name was Durell, he mentioned that he was staying at the Cracked Mug Inn for a week or so.

Four days passed, and Lustria went to see Durell about the job. He was delighted to be employed once again, and came over immediately.

Seasons came and went, and Lustria found herself falling for Durell. It had been many months since she lost her husband, and he would have wanted her to move on with her life once he was gone.

So, in the fall of the following year they wed in a private ceremony attended by family and close friends only.

Someone, or something, must have been watching them, for as they declared their love for each other that night, a lone figure watched the house from upon a hill. He could be seen quite easily, as he seemed to glow with an unearthly, dark light. His eyes glowed with a light so dark, the blackness around him seemed pale in comparison. With a simple gesture, a stead appeared out of a burst of fire from the ground.

This was no ordinary horseman. This was Archaeon, now a changed man, for he had seen his destiny unfold before him. He was bourn aloft by the Orc' s and Goblin' s, not killed, while the rest of the army covered their retreat, Archaeon being the only goal. They had taken him back to their fortress and shackled him on an unholy altar to Ytrewtsu. A dark priest then forced foul-tasting potions down his throat, causing him to fall into a trance-like state. Visions of him in the future filled his mind, fully unlocked from the potions and the sliver that had become embedded in him. For he was chosen by the Dark Gods to be their champion, a champion so great that leaders of their existing armies would have no choice but to offer him their services.

Realising that his life so far had been a waste, Archaeon set about training up his new abilities. He journeyed far and wide, recovering artefacts of previous Dark Champions, artefacts that had been lost to all for what seemed like all times.

In the Underdark, guarded by the powerful Demon clan, he recovered the Armour of Morkor from its resting place. He wrestled the power blade, The Slayer Of Kings, from the evil Orc Warlord on top of the infernal war machine. He killed the powerful ‘Gol' Mage at the height of the ‘Gol' tower and took the Eye of Sheerian from his corpse.

It was the Eye that guided him to the last hiding place of the only artefact that stood between him and conquering the world: The Crown of Domination.

Gathering his ever-increasing army, Archaeon journeyed to Terrason, city of the Titans, for he had learned of a secret temple inside the palace walls.

Entering the city at dawn, Archaeon and his minions slaughtered all they could find. Men, women, children; none were spared of his wrath. He was so very close to his goal that nothing should stand in his way. Storming the palace, he slew the royal guards personally and then advanced upon the King and Queen of Terrason.

" You!" he said, pointing at the King " You will tell me where it is!"

" I have no idea what you are talking about," said the King, as regally as possible.

Archaeon turned, smiling slightly, and, in one swift motion, decapitated the Queen.

" Really?" Archaeon smirked " She thinks differently"

The King looked down in defeat, sadly staring at his feet. He jerked him thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the wall behind his throne.

" It' s in there"

Archaeon nodded him head stiffly in acknowledgement. Motioning with his arm, he carefully moved the King away from his throne.

The clamour of bricks falling down exploded around them as Archaeon' s mages shattered the wall with various magic spells.

‘A bit loud, don' t you think?" the King shouted over the dim, hands clasped firmly over his ears.

" Here, I' ll do something about that for you" said Archaeon and clicked his fingers.

The room went silent, even though his click could not have been heard over the racket his followers were making.

" That' s much bet…" a gurgle cut the King off as he felt a dagger plunge into his spine and the tip come out his stomach. He had just enough time to see the dagger before keeling over and dying. Archaeon prodded him a couple of times with his boot before signalling for a couple of men.

" Clean this mess up, will you" The guards dragged the body away and cast it upon the steps of the palace to be eaten by vultures during the day.

A mage came up to his side and made a respectful gesture to capture his attention.

" Lord Archaeon, we have found it."

Disregarding all else, Archaeon strode to the back of the hall and peered through the gaping hole.

An obsidian portal stood in the centre of the room, humming with dark power.

A pale shadow detached itself from the wall and glided over.

" Only one may enter, so choose well " It whispered, the sound seeming to come from everywhere at once.

Archaeon took one step forward.

" I am Archaeon, Lord of the End Times, and I will take the Tests."

The ghostly figure bowed its head slightly.

" Very well, follow me" it said, one finger beckoning Archaeon to follow it into the portal. They entered and Archaeon found himself in a great cavern, the walls barely visible in the semi-gloom.

Suddenly a bright light shone directly at Archaeon, forcing him to shield his eyes with one gauntleted hand. When he removed his head, the room had disappeared and he was now outside, on the edge of a small town. A young boy was skipping along, headed his way.

" Boy " said Archaeon, stopping the lad in his tracks, " Where am I?"

" It is not a matter of where you are " the boy replied cryptically " but one of where you should be."

" All right then " said Archaeon, slightly puzzled " Where do I want to be?"

" The forest of Irrail" came the answer " because you seek something of value."

Archaeon knelt down and grasped the lad' s shoulders firmly.

" Yes, I do seek something of value. Can you tell me the way to the forest?"

The boy shook his head slowly

" One cannot be lead to the forest, one must find it for themselves."

Upon saying this, the lad slipped out from Archaeon' s grasp and deftly evaded him.

" You do not need me for this part of your journey" the boy shouted as he skipped away, " You can find the way on your own."

Archaeon looked around, puzzled. He had not heard of The Forest of Irrail, or anyplace like it. He lent against the wall, head bowed in thought, thumb and one finger scratching his chin. He racked his brain for memories of Irrail that he had heard during his life. He vaguely remembered something that his mother told him when he was young, about Irrail and how she was killed by Ytrewtsu.

Standing bolt upright, Archaeon realised that Irrail no longer lived in the realm of the Gods any longer, that she had passed on from mortal sight. She now lived in he own realm, one that others should not be able to enter.

But Archaeon was not one of the others.

Summoning his infernal stead, Archaeon leapt on to him and commanded him to lead on to Irrail' s realm. The stead whinnied and leapt into the air, hoofs' leaving glowing imprints in the sky as it rose up and vanished with a flash of light.

Archaeon and his mount reappeared above a clearing in a large forest. As the descended, he noticed a woman sitting on a rock, humming to herself.

Archaeon made a point of landing his mount heavily, as to attract her attention, but she didn' t even flinch. He dismounted and was about to step closer when she spoke, her voice clear as day.

" No ordinary mortal should have been able to journey here. How did you arrive?"

" I am not ordinary, for I have been chosen by the Gods as their champion. One of their gifts was my stead. He can go to many realms that are hidden from plain sight."

She turns around slowly, and looks at Archaeon with sad eyes, eyes that have seen their own death and not gotten over the pain it caused.

" What is it that they sent you here for?"

" I was sent to find the forest of Irrail. Is this it?"

The woman nods her head once, carefully, as if it may fall off.

" I am Irrail, and this is my forest. Take this branch back to your Gods as proof."

With that statement, she broke a small branch off a tree that leant over her. Wordlessly she handed it to Archaeon and, without a further glance, walked quietly into the trees and disappearing from sight.

Archaeon looked down at the branch and saw that the ground below his feet had returned to stone, the same stone that was in the cavern. He looked about quickly, just to be sure.

The ghostly figure smirked.

" Shall we continue with the tour?" it asked mockingly.

Archaeon growled quietly and strode after the figure as it drifted noiselessly ahead.

A sharp sound behind him, almost like a twig snapping, caused Archaeon to look around sharply. Seeing nothing, he flicked his gaze forwards and was surprised to find himself back in a forest, although this one was different, with more low-hanging ferns and moss-covered tree stumps.

A noise ahead of him focused his attention.

A stag, as tall as a man, could be seen through the foliage ahead. Feeling a weight in his hands, Archaeon noticed he was holding a crossbow, but had only one bolt. Automatically reaching for his sword, U' zuhl, he found it to be missing. Looking around for it in case it had fallen off, Archaeon heard a voice ring out, seeming to come from the sky.

" You must hunt the deer, for time grows short. You have until the next full moon to do so."

Archaeon paid heed to the words, for he knew that judging by the position the moon could be seen in now, he had but three days to do so.

Realising that the voice must have been Sylune, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt, Archaeon knew that this had to be the next task, and that the Gods were watching him closely.

Steadying his crossbow, Archaeon was about to let his only bolt fly when the stag suddenly sprang away and charged off into the brush.

Cursing for not firing sooner, he had no choice now but to follow it. The deer was making an awful amount of noise as it ploughed through the scrub, but it was also fast, and Archaeon knew he had to pick up the pace if he was to track it.

For two days he followed its trail without rest or sustenance, and his mighty constitution was wearing out. He knew that the deer had to be around here somewhere as the noise had stopped and there was less of a trail to follow.

And there he was, sides heaving from exhaustion and sweat pouring off his skin. He could run no more as Archaeon walked calmly up to him. His large, brown eyes meet with Archaeon' s, but he could not sway him with pity. Archaeon fired. It was a good shot. There was no need to be cruel to an animal, for they had no feelings.

The forest seemed to draw back, as if it was now being seen from a distant perspective, like the moon. The forest became so small that it became a stain on the ground, a stain on the floor of the cavern, with the ghastly spectre waiting for him.

He walked on for what seemed like hours until a towering throne appeared almost out of nowhere. Archaeon felt drawn to it with a complete lack of choice. As he drew nearer his heart skipped a beat and his breath became heavy. The figure sitting upon the throne could only be the Dark Mistress herself, Jirah, radiating power, glory and absolution perfection. Archaeon' s mind was clouded by the intensity of this divine manifestation, and he fell to his knees in adoration.

The Mistress of Pain reached out with a pale, delicate hand and gently laid it on Archaeon' s armoured shoulder. The warrior felt a thrill pass through his body, a feeling unlike anything he had ever felt. The soft, throaty voice of the Goddess made him want to weep, and he almost begged the Dark Mistress to allow him to stay by her side, to be her new plaything.

With a force of will that no other living mortal could hope to achieve, Archaeon resisted this temptation, although he knew that Jirah could give him all he ever desired: fame, power, adoration. He also knew this was a test, and that the Gods wanted a champion that would bring glory to them, not to himself.

In an instant the vision cleared, and Archaeon found himself standing in a carved tunnel, opening into an immense chamber.

Battered, weary and drained, Archaeon dragged himself into the room. Far on the other side of the chamber, Archaeon could see a pedestal with a floating object above it, the object glowing with a dull light. His head turned from left to right as he sought out danger around the Crown, and he wasn' t disappointed.

Burning brightly, a pair of eyes appeared in the darkness above the crown. Recognising what is must be, Archaeon took a step backwards, sword held in front to ward it off.

The Daemon dropped to the ground, feet indenting the ground as it landed. It screamed a deafening scream, one that sounded like metal scraping on metal while a lion is roaring in the background.

" You will bow down and surrender to Ytrewtsu, or suffer at my hands!" the Daemon yelled at Archaeon, breath making the air around him steamy.

Archaeon grinned slightly.

" You know as well as I did that I will only bow down once I have the Crown of Domination."

The Daemon gave another great bellow and moved sideways slightly to hide the Crown from Archaeon' s view.

Archaeon stared the Daemon right in the eyes, just long enough for it to become uncomfortable.

" Get. Out. Of. The. Way. NOW!"

With that Archaeon charged, the sword rose over his head and began to sweep down as he approached the Daemon.

For a large creature, the Daemon was unnaturally fast. It leapt over Archaeon and knocked him down, while still rising in the air. It came to land far behind him, feet tearing up the concrete as it struggled to stay upright while skidding.

Archaeon picked himself up and recovered him sword.

" I can see this is going to be one of those battles, right?" he asked, a faint smile on his face.

He pointed the tip of his sword at the Daemon and, looking deeply into the blades surface, spoke the name of the entity trapped in there.

A high-pitched shriek was heard as the trapped demon in the blade flew out of the metal and into Archaeon' s chest.

Archaeon staggered around for a second or two and then stood up straight, straighter than before, for he now was empowered with the energy of the demon U' zuhl, the being that was imprisoned in the blade.

This time when he charged the Daemon, it had to take a step back and defend against the power of his strikes.

Hundreds of attacks were traded between the pair in the first few minutes, each carefully matching the strength and skill of the other, testing for week points in the defences.

But it was Archaeon who found a weak spot first.

Aiming a high shot targeted at the Daemon' s head, he expected it to be blocked easily. But what the Daemon wasn' t expecting was that Archaeon also lashed out with his foot at its knee, sending to the ground with a permanently crippled knee.

Slashing quickly, Archaeon severed the leg at the crippled knee and lashed out quick strokes at its head, trying desperately to kill it. Finally, one hit made it through and the Daemon died, its body disintegrating as the magic that held it in this plane.

He walked forward, banishing U' zuhl back into the sword, as he no longer needed its power. He reached the pedestal and gazed upon the Crown of Domination, the object that had eluded him for so long.

The ghostly figure sidled up to him and bowed to him. Archaeon removed him helm and placed it on the ground beside him. The figure lifted up the Crown and placed it carefully on Archaeon' s head.

With the final piece of Archaeon' s puzzle in place, the world was once again ready to play out the drama that had enveloped it last time evil had amassed. But will good be able to stop it once again, or is this evil too much for the pathetic forces of good to stop? Only time will tell…