The Ichor Phantom
many battles have been fought and won in blood and steel. Lives lost, heroes forged, and the same lost all the same. But as men clash, monsters appear as well, some of which are even divine in nature. One of the many monsters of the world is that of an almost phantom-like creature that appears in intense battles, slaying any who get in its path, and even those who attempt to avoid it.
Summary
Few recordings of this event have been written, leading most people to believe it to be nothing more than soldiers legend. The battle of "Avalores Door" is one of the most famous recountings of The Ichor Phantom. The amount of credibility came from the fact that the lords of Avalore saw the phantom slaying first hand from the ramparts. The story the lords told scribes went as follows:
"While the forces of Kimylhyt raged against our ground troops, painting the walls, roads and ground with each others blood, the day suddenly rushed towards night, as if the sun did not wish to watch what was about to occur. The moon raced to take the suns place in what seemed like moment, turning crimson once it had reached its zenith above us. We had noticed that the felines of the Forborne Savannah had Atatators accompanying them if their siege, but we'd thought nothing of it. Even we had a scant few fighting for us with the promise of combat. But it seemed that few were prepared for when one of the Kimlyhyts Atatators, an aged looking dark elf with white hair, suddenly gave off a dim glow under the light of the newly risen blood moon shining overhead. His body seemed to struggle to withstand some unseen force infiltrating his very being. His sword glowed with an almost tangible white, but the familiar flames of the Atatators blade seemed to diminish as well. The dark elf's skin also became ashy, and his armor flourished out, and became elegant white robes, touching the blood soaked earth, but refusing to stain. Thinking it to be little more than magic, the warriors on both sides continued their forward charge, one of our own Atatators even going so far as to attempt to slay the newly transformed dark elf. His blade was stopped short, however, as the new entity struck with a blinding ferocity, destroying not only his blade, but also separating the Atatators head from his shoulders. sprayed with the blood of the fallen, the subtle white glow of the entities blade grew ever so slightly in its intensity. It continued it's assault with reckless abandon, striking down anything that got close, and even those who took caution to stay away, whether it be friend or foe, none were safe from this abhorrent monsters savage bloodlust. The battle was quickly being lost on both fronts, as no man could come close to landing an attack against this monster, and with every soul slain, the thing only seemed to grow in power. His sword glowed an intense white, as if he held a star in the form of a blade before too long. Our archers were even helpless in their assault, as some black magic lit their arrows aflame, turning them to paltry dust before they could hit their mark."
"Hours had past before either side of this bloody battle had realized defeat. Not at the hands of each other, but at the hands of whatever monster had been bore of the red moon, disguised as man. When no more melee warriors stood ready in sight, an ominous calm took the field, and the dark elf. He lowered his blade, and the light faded back into the familiar red flame of an Atatator. His robes melded together and slinked from the blood soaked ground, and took back the shape of dark plate armor, and his skin turned back to the almost coal black color of a dark elf."
"A moment passed, when one of our archers took an unordered shot at the man, but this time his arrow flew true, and struck the Atatator in his neck, piercing all the way through. He faltered for a moment, but refused to die. Seeing what their comrade had accomplished, three dozen archers knocked their arrows into their strings from atop the ramparts, and released a volley of death upon the seemingly uncaring elf. Of the 36 arrows leased, only 15 struck through. And despite the grievous wounds he sustained, the elf refused to fall, standing at his feet, long after his swords flame puffed out. We left his body there until his people came to claim him, whether out of respect for them, or fear of him, many of us know the answer."
"While the forces of Kimylhyt raged against our ground troops, painting the walls, roads and ground with each others blood, the day suddenly rushed towards night, as if the sun did not wish to watch what was about to occur. The moon raced to take the suns place in what seemed like moment, turning crimson once it had reached its zenith above us. We had noticed that the felines of the Forborne Savannah had Atatators accompanying them if their siege, but we'd thought nothing of it. Even we had a scant few fighting for us with the promise of combat. But it seemed that few were prepared for when one of the Kimlyhyts Atatators, an aged looking dark elf with white hair, suddenly gave off a dim glow under the light of the newly risen blood moon shining overhead. His body seemed to struggle to withstand some unseen force infiltrating his very being. His sword glowed with an almost tangible white, but the familiar flames of the Atatators blade seemed to diminish as well. The dark elf's skin also became ashy, and his armor flourished out, and became elegant white robes, touching the blood soaked earth, but refusing to stain. Thinking it to be little more than magic, the warriors on both sides continued their forward charge, one of our own Atatators even going so far as to attempt to slay the newly transformed dark elf. His blade was stopped short, however, as the new entity struck with a blinding ferocity, destroying not only his blade, but also separating the Atatators head from his shoulders. sprayed with the blood of the fallen, the subtle white glow of the entities blade grew ever so slightly in its intensity. It continued it's assault with reckless abandon, striking down anything that got close, and even those who took caution to stay away, whether it be friend or foe, none were safe from this abhorrent monsters savage bloodlust. The battle was quickly being lost on both fronts, as no man could come close to landing an attack against this monster, and with every soul slain, the thing only seemed to grow in power. His sword glowed an intense white, as if he held a star in the form of a blade before too long. Our archers were even helpless in their assault, as some black magic lit their arrows aflame, turning them to paltry dust before they could hit their mark."
"Hours had past before either side of this bloody battle had realized defeat. Not at the hands of each other, but at the hands of whatever monster had been bore of the red moon, disguised as man. When no more melee warriors stood ready in sight, an ominous calm took the field, and the dark elf. He lowered his blade, and the light faded back into the familiar red flame of an Atatator. His robes melded together and slinked from the blood soaked ground, and took back the shape of dark plate armor, and his skin turned back to the almost coal black color of a dark elf."
"A moment passed, when one of our archers took an unordered shot at the man, but this time his arrow flew true, and struck the Atatator in his neck, piercing all the way through. He faltered for a moment, but refused to die. Seeing what their comrade had accomplished, three dozen archers knocked their arrows into their strings from atop the ramparts, and released a volley of death upon the seemingly uncaring elf. Of the 36 arrows leased, only 15 struck through. And despite the grievous wounds he sustained, the elf refused to fall, standing at his feet, long after his swords flame puffed out. We left his body there until his people came to claim him, whether out of respect for them, or fear of him, many of us know the answer."
Spread
Mainly military know about this myth, but many of the Ishmaarian faith also believe it to be true, believing the Ichor Phantom to be the physical manifestation of Ishmaar, taken root in only his most dedicated Atatators.
In Literature
A few books were written by bards on this specific event, even if not everyone believes that the Ichor Phantom appeared. The event was dubbed "The Night of the River Styx". Some display the man as being forcefully consumed by bloodlust and hate, while some display him as being a neutral standpoint, meant to punish all of the war brought about on both sides, slaying any and all who continue their killing spree.
In Art
Ishmaarians will commonly depict this man as a chosen one, keeping paintings of him alongside Ishmaar in their abodes(if they have one)
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