Vestiges Of Darkness

[HappyShackles 886]

Deep in the southern swamps, creatures bound together by their lust for power and their practice of the blackest arts, but find themselves merely a vestige of dim, black light; dulled by that of the return of the dreaded Arch Daemon. Yet if the warriors of Athera are to combat Iblees, this creature of ultimate terror, they must free their soil of any footholds of this blackness.

The winds of Krugmar batter the savannah, the tall grass flowing to and fro as the waves of the Atheran seas. Among these grasses, two brothers and a King stand.

“And now what, Reksam? With peace secured across Athera and the pure mali’aheral scattered… We have but Iblees to battle.”

 

The elven warrior, Phaedrus Lle’hileia clad in bronze, walks alongside Reksam’Kog; the grass on both sides of them obscuring the visage of the distant city of ancients; San’Vitar. Black and white stood before them, the Sovereign of Aesterwald, Voron Rovin. The young Waldenian ruler crosses his arms, letting out a soft breath and looking up to the towering Rex.

“Aye, zhen ve rally to crush him. Ve must strike first before his influence spreads,” mutters the Northerner. “But vhere?”

 

The Young Rex looks to the pale orange sky of the savannah’s twilight, grunting.

“Mi gruk… Da nekrumanzurz ub Ebermuur.”

 

“Necromancers? Are zhey even Iblees’ minions? Should ve not strike first at the Daemon himself, cripple him vhile our strength is at it’s peak?”

 

Reksam shakes his head and waves his hand, looking to the young King and then the elven warrior, seeing the faces of their blessed ancestors, and his patron’s brothers. He lets a grin spread across his face.

“Huw kan wi klomp Ibleez whyl dahknezz fezterz, hiden ewey… Nub. Wi muzt purj owr uwn landz bifur wi kan bi zhur ov da pyuritee ub owr kawz. Wi muzt rimuuv da dahknezz, fer huw kan wi gruk dey am nub Ibleez’?”

They continue walking, the three sovereigns, for quite some time in silence, till they reach finally a blood-soaked shrine of iron and stone, marked ‘Kulthark’. The Rex extends a hand, sliding a hand across the hilt of his skinning knife before tearing it from it’s place, and dragging it across his palm. The scarlet life trickles below onto the altar, the Rex’s blood mingling with the dried red spattered across the structure from hundreds of sacrifices before his own.

Then the three turn, and call their righteous warriors.

[DruinsBane 240]

Under the cold shadow of the obsidian Mountains, lies a land of bleak hills, blasted moorlands and mist-shrouded forests. It is shunned by all sensible travelers and is without doubt the most ill-famed region in Athera. No sane man would venture forth after dark and no questing knight or weary pilgrim ever accepts shelter within the brooding, rotting land. By night, the brutish peasants of the squalid villages lock and bar their doors, and hang bundles of charms and symbols over their shutters to ward against the evils of the night. "Bri-gann-!" the sounds of horns pierces the night skies, the sound of metallic foot steps hitting mud swollen ground. The host of Embermoor coming to unholy life, they would not leave their domain without a fight.

 

---

 

A gaunt skeletal figure stands at the edge of a round stone table, its leather like skin pressed against the round bulb of a skull called a head, spectral flames leaping and dancing from the long since used sockets that once housed its eye's.

 

"We never took more than we needed, we did not leave our quater's to terrify their spawn, we didn't raise no army of the damned and dead, we never took more than we needed. But now they'll know our wrath!" 

 

[Zarsies 6795]

Across the worn, grave mesa of stone sat another figure, albeit this one far less illuminated and only ablaze in the mind. To the glance of those seated it appears a stick-figure, its ebony flesh-draped limbs the bare thickness of twigs and veined bones, too inhumanly narrow be of an eating disorder or near death -- it must be of both. Too the decrepit entity sat upon a tall pillow, allowing it somewhat level sight among the more towering table-dwellers. As shrouded eyes and nonexistent gazes shifted, the brittle and fragile being wrenched up an arm, waving its onyx talons about in a flicker to garner the focus of the lost watches. With a lazy, slowed curl of its wrist the rune-carved hand lifted. It twiddled about before lowering a bit, the digits retracting in an exaggeratedly stiff manner to leave its pointer finger outstretched. The finger directed itself towards the wight, the pointer's blanched eyes locking onto the exposed Heinrich. A groan of cracks and shattering-pops left the boy as the locked posture of its head degraded, the child's head dropping in a singular nod while keeping its hand propped.

[Swgrclan 2682]

Standing a distance from the which the Wight stood at was the Deathstalker, Nax'Ram, whom was raised but a short time ago to vanguard the Covenant and assure it's darkness was kept alive. Stepping from the shade of the chamber, the Deathstalker rasped as it spoke calm words og wisdom despite bearing no silver tongue, or any tongue at all for that matter--

"Venerable God-Defier, this only leads we beings of shadow to the path of ruin, to shatter the work you had toiled upon for many ages in the abscence of Iblees, the one that Wrothgar's innovations deviated and rebelled against. Surely we must fight against the higher power, for if there were ever an enemy to face, it is not the abundance of mortality, but the old plight that threatens them - and us for our open defiance to the Fallen One's influences."

[Tom_Whiteman 949]

 

"So be it," says Kraal.

[Sky 0]

Virak nods to his master before dismissing himself and heading out to his assigned task.

 

[Watyll 1104]

The Nightmare Weaver lets out a cackle.

 

 

"A daz'kyoni volr pelosr narn Ikuras." he says within the minds of his cultists, still giggling.

[Mephistophelian 977]

Lorien lets out an unbelieving chuckle as he hears of the war against the Necromancers.

To the man who had told him, he shakes his head and mutters;

 

"They are attacking the wrong thing! I swear, these people have rocks for brains!"

[Dromui 755]

A lone figure stands atop the Spire of Embermoor, peering out at the surrounding swamp-lands, contemplating the latest news of the apparent war claim. As the sun begins to set, the lone magi would turn his attention from the gnarled and overgrown trees, and instead focus his gaze upon that of the rapidly darkening sky, as well as the sun as it crests the horizon. A smile tugs at his features, his thin lips slowly curling upwards as he witnesses the ever-present spectacle that is the rising and setting sun. As the night descends upon the land, his robe would begin to whip about him as the chill winds of the night begin to blow through the swamp.

 

The magi would remain for only a short time, soon deciding to turn and descend the large tower. As he goes, he would pass by dozens of working undead and the other, much more living creatures that inhabit the desolate land within the Embermoor. Through his descent, the darkly-garbed figure would not cease his thoughts and considerations of this sudden change. With Iblees upon the world, the magi is easily baffled by the choices made by this group. 

 

Upon reaching the bottom of the Spire, he'd descend deeper into the Embermoor, moving further and further underground. Slowly the chill leaves his form and instead, is replaced by the heat of the underground world. After many minutes of traveling through the twisting and twirling underground world, he would come upon a lone room, one he intended to claim for his allies. Shortly after getting comfortabl, birds of various species would be sent out, all with a note tied firmly to their legs.

 

"If they choose to comes, then chaos will descend faster than the Betrayer intended..."

[susitsu 871]

"Bring war between the darkness and the light...of course, I don't really consider these nations of the light anymore...but to wage war on the darkness that combats other darkness...foolishness."

[Panashea 3326]

                     Kugar tilts his head up at the words, taking a deep sigh at the words, "Nubhozh mojo unly brings nubhozh tings."

 

 

                  He stands up, taking the now sharped, greatsword onto his shoulder, "Mi juzt bekum Baur'goth, agh nuw Nubded kum twu klomp. Den again, Urukz alwaiz flat nubhozh tings." 

 

 

                 He steps out from the Uzg, leaving his brother's behind, heading out for the Kulthark altar. He stabs the large, black iron greatsword down in the ground in front of the altar, leaning his head against the newly built structure, fresh with the blood of a sacrifice, "Kulthark, mi am latz Ushatar, agh latz iz da hozhezt spirid. Lez skah ub da nub'hozh tugeder." Kugar pricks his finger, letting a drop of blood press down onto the iron pillar. He slowly steps down, turning his head in the direction of the swamp, a strange feeling in his stomach.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Elorna grips her branch staff firmly as she stands on the walls of the elven city, staring out in the direction of the swamp of Embermore. The wind stirs her hair and shivers through the forest below her, memories of the recent attack on the Druid's Grove running through her head. She grins her teeth, the staff twitching in her hands, as if anticipating the coming conflict.

 

~~~

 

Meanwhile, deep within the bowels of the Convenant base, a frost witch sits and chats with a lich over a glass of dark red blood.

[Black Label 13]

 

 

The three buffed out dark knights travel all the way to the Embermoor on foot, as the swamp makes it impossible for horses to navigate through. While walking towards the gate they observe the defenses and fortifications that the builders have made, sometimes nodding to each other and smiling behind their black masks if they see something that interests them. Then after some rounds around the encampment, they start to set up a small camp inside the walls. Making sure that they don't take up too much space with their customized Black Label Society tents. After they are finished with the tents they continue inspecting the fortress and training for some hours. Then they slowly descend into the depths, following the same road that the wizard took just a few hours ago. 

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.