"Ordan, Chapter 1"

The wind blew quietly across the clearing, picking up a few drops of water from a nearby bubbling stream. Rising daylight, obscured by a few clouds, reflected off the rising droplets. Brushing around scattered branches through a few burned trees, the wind passed through the browning grass as it crossed the clearing. On the other side, Ordan's muscles twitched slightly as he felt the moistened air, and sniffed quietly. From memory, he recited Them.

"Formanis, Dulmei, Csaldi, Ordos." The Gods of Air, Water, Fire, and Death. Four of one thousand and one Gods. He could sense their touch, feel their gentle and sometimes deadly caress on the world. And he could feel their pain. Irrevocably damaged from the resurrection of those that should be awaiting their final Judgement, the demonic forces of the Burning Hells themselves had torn their virtue apart. It had resulted in nearly the complete destruction of their Purity. Above all the sadness, above the loss and regret, above the fear and anxiety, there was one burning desire of these Gods. Ordan could almost taste the intensity of their desparation, and it filled him nearly to bursting. Beads of sweat began to appear on the monk's arms, legs, and shirtless chest. Those beads silently rose from his body as two swords attached to a blunt club rose above the monk's head. The air turned thick and the wind slowed to a crawl. Ordan snapped his eyes open.

"Worship us." The though exploded in his head and struck him like a thousand ocean waves. In a swift motion he spun, catching the bottom of the Fallen Commander's club with his forearm. He continued the motion through the thick air, directing the air outward as he rose up. Although his fist never touched the demon, Ordan's motion pushed the air directly its chest, and the force of it launched the demon upward and off the floor. The monk raised his legs around as he spun, and the air ignited in a torrent of fire. As he came down, feet catching the heads of smaller red demons beginning to swarm, his mind suddenly emptied. Confused screams echoed around him as the Fallen minions who rushed the monk stabbed their swords wildly into a faint silhouette. Without warning the image of Ordan vanished.

The wind blew quietly once again across the clearing in the brief, eerie silence that followed, picking up a few drops of blood from the mangled bodies littered across the floor. Rising daylight, obscured by ominous storm clouds, reflected off the sweat of the demonic forces.

"Ytar!" Ordan bellowed the name of the God of War as he appeared next to a Fallen shaman with its staff raised in the air. A punch with the force of a thunderstorm exploded into it's chest, crushing ribs and obliterating the heart. The shaman slumped over lifeless as the image or Ordan materialized next to the slightly twitching leader of this pack of demons.

"Break beneath the endless tide." The monk whispered, silently thanking the Gods for their strength and watchfulness over their faithful servant. He gently touched the Reverent Beads decorating his shoulders. Today, more Gods would be honored.