Dark Riders

Overview

Once noble elven warriors sworn to protect the Gloomwood, the Dark Riders have become monstrous, terrifying agents of corruption. Entirely consumed by the malevolent entity, they ride forth from shadows upon great, decaying beasts—mounts as twisted and corrupted as their masters. Ruthless, precise, and nearly unstoppable, Dark Riders wield darkened weapons and foul magic, spreading terror and corruption in their wake. Few can withstand their power alone, and fewer still survive direct encounters.

Appearance and Behavior

Dark Riders appear cloaked in ragged black garments, their armor tarnished and corrupted by unnatural rust and grime. Faces hidden beneath shadowed hoods, their eyes burn red with an unquenchable hatred. They move swiftly and silently, striking from shadows with lethal efficiency. Their corrupted mounts, grotesque amalgamations of bone, sinew, and shadow, enhance their power, allowing devastating charges that break through even the strongest defenses.

Vaelor crouched low among tangled roots, breath steady despite the fire burning in his chest. Ahead, the glade lay stained in blood and shadow, two of his closest companions already fallen. His knuckles whitened, fingers tightening around the hilt of his long, gleaming blade—Ghostfang.

The Dark Rider stood among the fallen, silent and terrible atop its corrupted beast, eyes blazing cruelly beneath its hood. Slowly, deliberately, it raised its sword—a blade stained black, dripping corruption. A taunt, daring Vaelor to emerge.

Heart beating fiercely, Vaelor rose, stepping from the shadows. He felt no fear—only cold rage and steady determination. He met the Rider’s burning gaze without flinching.

"You will pay for their blood," he growled softly, voice sharp as steel.

The Rider laughed—a hollow, cruel sound—and charged forward, blade swinging in a swift, lethal arc. Vaelor sidestepped narrowly, sword clashing against darkened steel. Sparks flashed, and he spun gracefully away, turning quickly to counterstrike.

Their duel became a dance of deadly precision. The Dark Rider's corrupted strength and relentless speed were terrifying, blows heavy and crushing, driving Vaelor back step by step. Pain flared as the Rider’s sword cut deep, opening gashes along Vaelor's arm and chest, wounds burning with foul corruption. Yet he refused to yield, his blade flashing like lightning, meeting each blow with fierce determination.

In a sudden surge, Vaelor slipped inside the Rider’s guard, Ghostfang biting deep into corrupted flesh. The Dark Rider staggered, snarling viciously, blade swinging back in retaliation. Vaelor parried desperately, steel ringing out, their struggle locked in tense equilibrium.

"Enough!" Vaelor roared, plunging forward with desperate resolve. Ghostfang sliced through dark armor, piercing through the Rider’s chest in a burst of shadow and flame. With a final, strangled cry, the Rider fell from its beast, collapsing heavily into dust and shadow.

Vaelor stood gasping, bleeding from deep wounds. Blood and corruption burned across his skin, pain fierce and raw. Yet he remained standing, blade firm in hand, victorious but forever marked. He knelt briefly beside his fallen comrades, whispering a quiet prayer for their spirits, before rising once more, resolute.

The forest whispered around him—dark, grieving, and respectful. He had proven strength and earned new scars this day, reminders of the cost of protecting Gloomwood against the growing darkness.