Swamp of Dread

This is a chronicle of Phantomoks adventures in a huge swamp 1000 years after being alerted to his true power by his brother Ranitor.

Chapter 1: Death can Dance
One might begin to relize, after a while in this swamp, that life can get hard after a while.

As a matter of fact, Phantomok though to himself, At the moment, life turning into a slave driver. He looked around, and then muttered quietly to himself "And I am the slave".

He had been stuck, lost in this swamp for a year now. Sure, life in this unending abode of evil could be eventful. It could be exciting. But, Phantomok had discovered, above all, life in this place was Dangerous.

He truged through a pile of mud, and looked from side to side. His sheild had a chance to protect him from ambush, but the foes could be powerful enough... Phantomok turned back to the scratch across the ground the the matoran at the last camp called a trail...  And started walking. Again.

He then was alerted by another beings pressence by his streght growing. Not good. He would only absorb energy naturally if a being was very close. Very very close. He looked from side to side again, and saw what the being was that was near to him. All hope of a usefull guide or a hut that contained someone as gernerous as to give him food vanished. c The stranger was plated in shining armour, and wore a cut and worn traveling cloak. He floated a foot into the air, poised to strike at him with a huge, golden, scythe. Phantomok instinctivly pulled out his own blade. Hopeing to scare this being off. No luck there.

Then the figure lurched forward in and agressive sideslash. Green fire trailed from the scythe as it sung towards his head, in a blow that would pass through his sheild like it wasn't there. Phantomok ducked, and the blade cut through more air, and then hit a tree, igniting the twisted thing into a blaze of green light. He took a step backwards, and sent an invisible bolt of energy searing towards the Scythe-Wielders chest. It hit with an ominous thud, and the being lurched backwards, right into a tree.

The battle wore on for another five minutes before something interesting happened again. The being raised its scythe as if to lunge again, but instead, something else happend. It started with a feeling of terror, something that did not come easliy into the mind of Phantomok. After that, huge amounts of spirits came, in a dangerous dance around him, sending bolts of dark energy criss-crosssing the clearing here and there, barely missing him.

This require evasive action. Phantomok took a cautious step backwards, and then looked up at the sky, which seemed to be just as twisted as the trees that dotted the swamp. He then looked around at the ghosts, and then at the Scythe-Wielder.

The Being that menaced him looked on, and did not notice the energy until it was to late. His armour was crushed by Phantomoks power on all sides, and the concentration that was spent to keep the ghosts under his control was lost in and instant. And in that instant, Phantomok was gone.

Several miles away, Phantomok though the same thoughts that had gone through his mind so many times befor.

Welcome to the Swamp of Dread, get used to this.