The endless skies of Karanos held a crimson hue as the sun was setting on Arkus, towering hardened sandstone spires were casting long shadows upon the sandy dunes. Wind was carving it's way through the sand, creating all manner of patterns in the fine grains. Three sandstone spires reached up into the sky, and almost triangular shaped, smooth platform in the middle of these spires. A male Warlock, dressed in fine red and black robes stepped into the platform, his long black hair billowing in the wind whilst having a slight malevolent grin on his pale face. His elven ears twitched as his eyes fixated on something, his grin faded as it seemed he became filled with anger. Burning red flames appeared in his palms, as opposite him was a Paladin; a female one at that. Dense and heavy armour covered all of her body, she was clearly a high-ranking Paladin due to the certain arrangement of sigils donned on her shoulderpads, possibly a captain of sort. A small slot for her amber eyes was cut out from her helm. She stepped forward in aggression as her silver and gold-lined sabatons slammed against the sandstone platform; wielding her heavy shield in her left hand, whilst equipping a greatsword in the other. "You're a long way from that filthpit you call your 'city'..." She said with an arrogant tone, while she angled her blade towards the Warlock, "... and you've come all this way... just to die."

The Warlock roared as he unleashed a blast of powerful flame towards the Paladin, she swiftly ascended her shield to cover herself for protection; but the projectile was destroyed halfway through making it's way towards her as an entity dropped down from above; it rose from it's kneeling position as it was facing the Warlock, flames enveloped it, but soon dissipated into black smoke. It was a Blademaster, an Orcish, and a very pissed off one. His teeth baring as veins pulsated though it's grey skin, the sound of him inhaling and exhaling was the only sound in the dunes as his shoulders rose up and down, he was tall, very tall, taller than both the Elven Warlock and the steel-covered Paladin. A kilt around his waist as well as leather straps going over his shoulders and around his torso; this was presumably for holding his weapons, however he was unarmed. His piercing green eyes staring directly at the Warlock. "Go back to where you came from. BOTH OF YOU!" he bellowed at the top of his voice as he cocked his head towards the Paladin whilst pointing at her.

The Paladin stepped forward, lowering her blade before saying in a calming voice, "Leave Blademaster, this feud does not concern-"

"Shut your mouth, Paladin bitch!" He growled. "You are tresspassing on OUR territory, and you will NOT bring your petty feuds to our lands!" His dark voice echoed through the valley.

The Warlock stomped forward, clearly distressed from being deprived of a good fight, "As the uhh.. 'Paladin bitch' was saying...", the Warlock came face to face with the Orcish Blademaster as he turned back around, grunting in the process before looking down at the scrawly caster. "This does not concern you; now be a good dog and go back to whatever cave you were hiding in, do so and I may give you a treat later."

The Warlock had just made a huge mistake, the Blademaster roared as he kicked the Warlock in the chest; winding him heavily as well as sending him backwards into the wall, he was temporarily incapacitated. "Enough of this! Let's get this over with." The Paladin yelled before charging straight for the Blademaster, she swung downwards to try catch him off guard; the Orc gazed over his shoulder as he rolled to the left, and her blade clashed into the sandstone. The Orc managed to land a blow on the Paladin, striking her helmet with his heavy fist; clearly denting it. She stumbled to the right as a small trickle of blood came from the bottom of her helmet. Even unarmed, the Blademasters were still incredibly dangerous. The Orc attempted another swing, but she lifted her shield quick enough to deflect; a large amount of skin was ripped from his knuckle as he struck the barbed shield. In a fit of rage, the Blademaster grabbed ahold of the shield and ripped it from her grasp, still dazed from the blow to the head, she attempted to jump backwards, but the Orc had different plans with the shield, instead, he uppercut her with it, dealing another potentially deadly blow, as well as knocking her helmet off her head. The sound of metal clanking echoed as her helmet was scattered across the floor; her golden hair was let loose as her lip had been split open from the first initial strike. She arched over, her eyes set on the Orc as she gripped her greatsword with both hands, before unleashing a battlecry and sprinting straight for the Orc; she gave an arcing swing from the left, whereas the Blademaster had angled the shield that it'd scrape and hit the nearby sandstone pillar, which it did; it gave a metallic ring as the blade shattered, a fragment of which shot directly into one of the the Orc's eye. He batted her hand away as the hilt was thrown across the floor, and jabbed her in the stomach with the shield with immense force. The Blademaster tossed the shield aside as as he grabbed ahold of the Paladin's throat and lifted her up, all with one hand; the Orc's strength could not be matched by anyone within the Council nor the Order. She gasped for air as she reached behind her on the back of her armour, a hidden compartment of sorts? She pulled out a jaggal bowie knife and pierced the Orc's wrist. He reeled in pain as she was dropped back on the floor, she gave a powerful leg sweep, and the Orc fell onto his back; the woman rushed towards the Orc and onto her knees, and she drove the knife into the Orc's throat before he could react.

She withdrew the knife and stood, the dark blood of the Orc seeped onto and soaked into the sand. She cracked her back and neck whilst stretching her limbs; as powerful as Blademasters are, they are reckless, and with a single unseen strike they can be taken down. Her gaze turned itself onto the Warlock, which was still gasping for air, the Warlock was attempting to bring himself to his feet, but kept on sliding back down. The Paladin wiped the blood on the cloth of her tabard before storming over towards the Warlock, grasping him by the wrist to drag him onto his feet, readying the blade in the other hand; the Warlock had different plans, he angled his palm towards her face before unleashing another powerful blast directly in her face. She screamed as she stumbled backwards, the fire burned away her skin and hair; she still however had her grip on the Warlock, and drove the blade into his stomach and leaving it there. The Warlock teleported a short distance behind the Paladin, ripping the blade out from his body to prevent it from dealing more damage; the Paladin however was still groaning in pain, it was time to finish her off. She reached our her hand, growling and covering half of her face with her other hand. The powerful Warlock unleashed a torrent of superheated flame from both his palms, which first enveloped her hand, melting away the metal, the leather, and then her skin; the fire wrapped around her as it burnt her alive, she collapsed onto the floor and onto her stomach. The Warlock began to walk forward, still unleashing a beam of fire on the Paladin, her screaming stopped as her carcass was enveloped in flames. The Warlock stood straight, then looked down at his body, the immense cut in his stomach resulting in a huge loss of blood; and to prevent any more being lost, he ran his finger along the wound, cauterizing it. He'll need to get back to Xanderath quickly if he were to live.

A sense of victory filled the Warlock as he gazed around, the Paladin's burning corpse, and the Blademaster's- Wait. Where did his body go? There was a visible pool of blood, but no body. Fear filled the Warlock as he turned his head in every direction to see where he was, then he appeared in the distance... a gaping wound in his throat as blood still dripped down his chest, his eyes burning with the fires of rage, baring his blood-soaked teeth as his veins glowed with an eerie red hue. The sun was nearly set, for both the Warlock and for the day. The Warlock began to panic as he limped away in attempts to run away from the Blademaster who was in a Blood Frenzy, a final act to inflict as much damage as possible, they are neither dead nor living, they are outside the cycle; though their time is limited before they finally kick the bucket. The Orc unleashed a terrifying roar as he began to charge, kicking up sand in his wake. The Warlock didn't want to look back, all he was doing was muttering something himself, if it isn't him praying to the Gods that the berserker doesn't catch him, he should be. The Blademaster knocked his shoulder, spinning the Warlock around to face the deathly Blademaster, he slammed the Warlock by his throat and pressed him against the jagged sandstone pillar. Locked in his hold, the Blademaster began to tear at the Warlock's flesh, reopening the stomach wound that the Paladin inflicted, but doing so much more; his stomach was ripped open as his intestines were torn from his body and strewn across the floor; while the Orc was biting chunks of his flesh out of the Warlock's throat. More internal organs were thrown about as blood splattered everywhere, the Warlock's incomprehensible wheezing as he stared up at the sky, clawing at the Orc's grip. His limbs were next, an immense force pulled on the Warlock's left arm, his flesh, tendons and muscles tore as it was ripped from his body and thrown elsewhere. Finally, the Orc applied incredible pressure to the Warlock's skull with both hands, caving it in and crushing it; everything was splattered against the pillar. The Warlock's lifeless and desecrated body collapsed to the floor, and the burning rage in the Blademaster's eyes had faded as he too collapsed onto his back as his life ended.

This is a war that has been going on for decades, and it has yet to cease. The Council of the Damned fight against the expansive Order of the Three Lights, and the Blademasters fight with the highest bidder. Three lives, all of each different origin, entered this place, and none of them left to go back home and see their family. Never underestimate your enemies.

Hall of the Innocent Blade, Arkham, Aeolus

The headquarters of the ancient Order of the Innocent Blade were a relatively recent construction. A cathedral-like receiving building was the most that it seemed to be to most visitors, as the majority of its facilities were subterranean. The Hall was largely constructed out of the necessity for housing that the Deus Machina of the Order presented; a secure location which they could be stored and then deployed from was of the utmost necessity when it came to the artifact gods. When the Hall was built, the manning required for its maintenance was drawn from surrounding settlements, and so a town grew around the Hall. It became known as Arkham, and its origins were lost to time. Now a bustling urban center, complete with a reputable university of magical study, Arkham's arcane origins still permeate the streets and its peoples. A certain mystique or miasma surrounds the city like an impermeable mist. Anyone with magical sensitivity could tell what lurked in Arkham: something ancient, something powerful, something not meant for mortal men.

Even so, mortal men still served the Order of the Innocent Blade. The Order's illustrious Grand Master patrolled the Deus Machina hangar, inspecting the ongoing repairs to the machine gods themselves, as well as the their facilities. Leviathan Corex watched as workmen welded steel and adamantium, and filled the fuel lines of the Deus Machina with Azoth and Phlogiston. The Deus Machina were something of a "poorly-kept secret" by the Order. The threat of them served their purposes far more than actually utilizing them did, and to have a threat, there must be rumors. As such, common workmen completed the most mundane repairs and maintenance on them and their housing facilities, with the finer and more complex tasks fulfilled by Doctor Weiss and his team.

Levi turned on his heel to leave the hangar, his cloak billowing behind him. Even a year after his brother's betrayal, the Order was still recovering. The damage that had been done to the Hall and the inert Deus Machina had been overwhelming, and Levi had spent months fearing the Order's collapse. Thanks to the tremendous efforts of the Seven Emperors, his sister and Doctor Weiss, they had managed to hold together in those perilous months, but the damage to the Order was now having repercussions far outside of the harm done to their staff and their facility. Two upstart organizations in the continent, the Council of the Damned and the Order of the Three Lights, now growled at the Order's doors. Neither had posed a threat to the Order until Therion's betrayal, and as such they had not so much as bothered to acknowledge either one. But now as the Order stood on shaky legs with minimal capabilities, it seems that the vultures now flew overhead. They were a few months too late, Levi was relieved to acknowledge, as the Order was now back on the upswing, but they were still a nuisance.

Patrolling through the underground passages of the Hall had become a strange thing to Levi. Throughout his youth he had run amuck down here, weaving between the legs of workers and sorcerers, only acknowledged as a playful rascal. Now, wherever he went, the workers and sorcerers stopped to acknowledge and bow to him. They called him "Grand Master," as they passed, with what almost sounded like reverence. It still sounded strange to Levi's ears. Was he the Grand Master? The reality of the situation perhaps still evaded him. Did he deserve their respect and admiration? He didn't feel like he did. If the Seven Emperors had any say in the matter, he most certainly didn't. But Levi did what he could. He bowed in return and reflected their good will and tidings, and continued on his way, feeling like he was lying to these people as he wished them well.

The halls were not the only once-familiar place now alien to Levi. He arrived at his destination; the chambers of the Grand Master. A spacious room, mostly filled with books, schematics and various trophies and other miscellany. This was his room now, ostensibly, but to Levi it was still his father's room. A thick layer of dust covered most of the room; while his father maintained his quarters immaculately with various magical familiars and routines, Levi had entered this room only a handful of times over the last year, preferring to sleep and work in his old quarters. Entering this place, he still felt as though he were a child, barging into his father's sanctum to ask some triviality of him. Levi sighed deeply as he stepped gingerly through the room, stirring up dust as he walked. A framed photograph caught his eye; Levi walked to it and wiped the dust from the glass. An old photo of Levi, Babs, Theo-... Therion, and their father. All stood uncomfortably, obviously waiting for the photographer to go about his work. Babs was only a baby, and looked cranky from the flash. Levi had some mischief in his eyes, and from what he could tell, his father had a tight grip on his suspenders to keep him from bolting. Therion looked as bored as ever, with that same expression that he always had. As though life were only a game that he had mastered years ago, and he was forced to play among novices. Their father, Therion Corex the Elder, looked just as Levi always remembered him being; a stern, bearded face with eyes that sparked with hope and imagination.

Levi set the photograph down. That was enough reminiscence for today. His eyes stung, but he assured himself that it was from the dust in the room. Levi took to looking through the journals of the previous Grand Masters, organized impeccably by his father. These archives stretched back thousands of years, and into several different languages as the centuries turned backwards through paper. Levi had a particular name that he was on the lookout for; the warlock Ko'roth.

---

The Black Lodge, Parts Unknown

A golden-haired young man sat in a throne far too large for his modest stature. His legs hung over one side impetuously as he rested his chin on the other armrest. The throne sat in the middle of a large chamber, the only light shining down on him, keeping the rest cloaked in darkness. Even so, small lights began to fill the area around him. Was it an arena? No, an ampitheater. Shadows in the shape of men filled the seats of the chamber, all watching the bored young man expectantly. He didn't seem to notice. Rather, his attention was turned to a length of dark, silken ribbon, which he ran between his fingers idly. An aura of corruption and malice permeated the audience, but no such aura was found around the man. His was the power ultimate; the darkness made pure, the primordial chaos.

Eventually, the crowd settled, and the young man spoke, still not turning his attention away from the ribbon. "Who are you?" His voice, though dry and bored, was golden and melodious, carrying through the chamber as though he was speaking in all places at once.

"Who are we?" The crowd echoed.

"You are the absolute of darkness. My eternal corruptors. My anticross."

"Anticross." Again the crowd echoed.

"The embodiment of this world's truth. The Anima Mundi. The damned soul of this blighted Arkus."

The crowd stood silent.

"Who am I?" He asked once more.

"Master Therion." The crowd this time answered.

"The Beast of the Apocalypse. The Black King. The Holy Corruptor. Yes, Master Therion."

"Master Therion." The crowd repeated.

"Though you, and through us, this world shall know chaos, and through it peace. It shall know death, and through it, hope."

A dark angel descended from the rafters of the chamber, landing noiselessly beside Master Therion. His aura radiated the purest hate that only the mad could ever glimpse.

"Hope..." Growled the angel. "Is naught but an illusion. A lie. A fairy tale."

The smallest hint of a smile rising to Master Therion's lips, he rose from his seat. Looking to the dark angel, he set a hand on his armored shoulder. "Well then, let us begin a fairy tale." And with that, set out into the darkness beyond his throne.

Bane stood upon the grass facing the tent flap to which he was about to open. Inside the tent was familiar, his home away from home, a place where he could be himself and not him. Outside the tent and in the world, was a far fetched place that was beginning to blur. Who was him though? The soldier, the warrior, the champion and worst of all, hero. A completely different person then his true self Bane thought and he hated it. That's not to say he hadn't liked who he was but everything changed when Frelion died. On the contrary before that event he was most noble and in many ways the embodiment of all the Order of the Three lights stood for against the threat of its enemies. Afterwards and even now he did not feel right. This feeling did not effect him physically but mentally he was fighting for the truth behind his very purpose.

He let these thoughts slip from his mind as he became him again. Maybe even for the last time, then he chuckled, like that was going to happen. He pushed aside the tent flap to face the encampment to which he was stationed too. In truth he commanded some of these men along with several other generals and officers. The camp itself was incredibly large and located on a hill that overlooked the plains of Discord. On odd name given the fact that it was perfectly normal besides the fact that it housed a Warlock city called Scar'eltah. Rumor had it that it contained something vitally important the the cause and what better way to get at it then raiding the place.

"Commander Bane! Commander Bane is that you? Lord Bane! Why are you ignoring me?!" A feminine voice called out from the already noisy camp, to which he tried to ignore but alas it was too late, his trainee had found him and her name was Lordath.

To be more precise she was thrown at him and told to obey whatever he said. She seldom did that when it came to important matters saying that "It is vital for me to learn everything that you do so that one day we have more soldiers like you!" Which was complete bullshit because there already was soldiers like him. The real deal was that she was from some noble family who thought the idea of having a paladin for a daughter was a grand idea. The Order had no choice but to accept because the family payed and a lot. She knew how to fight just like Bane did but she had a lot more to learn before she would actually be on par with him. The real problem was that she was just annoying and didn't know when to be quiet.

Lordath caught up to Bane in a couple of seconds within in sighting him and a volley of questions were fired like; Where are we going? When does the fighting start? Does this breastplate look good on me? And on and on. Bane would never get use to the fact that she was annoying but he was learning to tolerate it, somewhat. After awhile of this they neared the main tent where the final battle plans would be told and then the raid. Joy.

--------------------------------

A mile away in the city of Scar'eltah stood a women with blazing eyes. Her delicate frame was leaning up against a railing overlooking the walls and the plain of Discord. A smile etched onto her beautifully pale face then as the steady breeze blew through her hair.
"They'll be here soon.." Said Kiara, Mistress of Flame.

Geros looked up from his book and gazed out the window, interest barely touched. He couldn't actually see anything from where he was sitting but then again he hardly ever needed to see things what with the imps he idly instructed. Their reports confirmed that Kiara, as usual, was right.

"Speaking of instructing..." Geros muttered to himself as he looked over to the grandfather clock. He had a class to teach in about half an hour and began internally debating the merits of ignoring the up coming battle in favor of it. While he was loathed to neglect his students he could use the battle to test his newest spell theory in a "safe" environment. However he probably would not be needed, and if everything went well with the class he could sneak a short nap into his schedule.

"You sound excited" Geros calls to the Mistress of Flame, both hiding his internal debate and not bothering to move his gaze, "Not that you don't always get excited when something flammable walks proudly in your general direction. Wanting to tackle them yourself?"

"EXR112 Anti-Behemoth test 14!" Tenshi yelled towards his fellow engineers, they were all running in all sorts of directions, kicking up previous debris in their wake. The Incubus strolled over towards an almost oversized gun balanced on top of a tripod. He lifted it with moderate ease, which normal humans wound definitely have trouble with, Tenshi aimed down the scope with a smile on his face, he pulled down protective tinted goggles over his eyes; meanwhile Roseaver was stood a few meters away from the demon. Tenshi, arose aver and the engineers seemed to be in a fairly expansive room, possibly underground, hangars and chains from the ceiling with prototype weaponry hanging from them. It was well lit, burning braziers were dotted almost everywhere. Tenshi fidgeted his feet to get into the correct position, whilst also doing quite a bit of fingerwork to get the kinks of the powerful weapon into the correct status, feeling the heavy trigger with his index finger, dark blasting powder wiped off onto his delicate fingers from the metal. He ascended the weapon and focused it towards a hunk of metal, possibly a decommissioned project deemed useless, nonetheless it is now serving its purpose as target practice.

"First handheld attempt, wish me luck." Tenshi turned his head and looked over his shoulder and gave a meek smile to Roseaver. He turned back to his previous position before yelling " Firing in three... two... one!" He pulled the trigger, as a visible shock wave made its way out of the end of the barrel, an echoing and deafening blast was emitted. Tenshi was sent backwards flying into Roseaver's chest as he too was pushed backwards before they both collapsed backwards onto the floor, whilst the gun itself was thrown quite a distance across the floor. Roseaver gave an audible groan as he was winded whilst Tenshi sat up, almost sitting on the vampire's stomach as he gazed at the result; the target was completely obliterated, now nothing more than a pile of melted metal. A massive grin formed on his face as he lifted the goggles, as well as wiping off black substance marks off his face, two visibly clean circles where his eyes were protected from gunpowder markings. His fangs showed as his smile grew, "YES!! Precise!" He wailed with his light voice as he brushed his red messy hair out of the way. "Guh.. uhh, Tenshi?" A voice came from below, Roseaver was still being sat on my the destructive Incubus. "Oh! Sorry!" Tenshi immediately jumped up, taking a quick scan of Roseaver before looking back at the hunk of molten junk that had just been annihilated. The vampire stood directly next to Tenshi to take a gander, he was still dazed, meanwhile Tenshi was clapping his hands and almost bouncing up and down in joy, still with a smile on his face. Roseaver's eyes widened as he said, " Bloody hell... Behemoths stand no chance, I'm rather impressed." He gave a crooked smile while ruffling the demon's hair. This immense weapon was crafted solely for taking down Behemoths, and not for anything else, right?

The Coast of Aeolus

Dark ships drift in from the see in the midst of the heavy rain. They are moored in the natural jetties of the bay. The crew of the ships are not of the living. Anchors are dropped and the figure come ashore with goods. Tents are pitched and fortifications are set up. The dead keep pouring out of the ships until almost the entire shore of the bay are covered with skeletal or other undead figures. Then it is the living who come from the ships, the orc walk down the gangplanks with there belonging towards the camps that have been set up. But they stride without fear, for these are there eternal guard, vigilant, relentless and with do all to ensure their safety. A lone orc surveys the disembark, then stride down to the shore and enters his tent. The keenest of eyes may have noticed that this orc cast two shadows rather than one. The undead are finishing moving all the equipment into his tent and soon stride out. Another orc enters and bows deeply.

"My chief," the orc is clothed with a earth green cloak. "It was as you said. The powers that be here are lazy and ill-prepared. They focus on one another and draw their soldiers to the borders and fortresses. Leaving many towns almost unguarded. It will be a slaughter!"

The orc looks up and grins, the chief does not.

"We cannot assume that... They can easily send word out if we where discovered." The chief sighs. "Gahn, assemble the rest of your scouts, survey the nearby settlements. See how they communicate, if they have horses or mages. Report back, we will need time for my army to craft proper siege equipment."

"But my chie-"

The orc glares and the scout falls silent.

"You have your orders."

The scout bows and quickly leaves. It is at this point that the chief's second show twists and contorts. Shifting into a tall veiled form.

"A wise decision young master, an outright assault would end in disaster."

The orc's shoulders relaxes and he sits on a furred wooden chair. The orc sighs again and a smile crosses his lips.

"Yuri, there are no living around to hear, please stop with this chief nonsense."

The necrotic elemental glides silently until rests in front of the orc. Grass shrivels and dies beneath it.

"But you are a chief now young one, and your people look to you for that."

"Please Yuri, just call me by my name."

"Very well Cahlou."

"Everything is ready, yet..."

The elemental glides closer, and places a hand on Cahlou's shoulder, unlike the forage, the orc is unaffected.

"Your judgement is sound, don't worry. You will be a great force in these lands. It is time to address your people."

The orc nods and the elemental morphs back into a second shadow. The orc leaves the tent, ready to speak to his people of conquest and victory.

Hall of the Innocent Blade, Arkham, Aeolus

The Council of Emperors was underway. In a small room, furnished floor to ceiling with dark, mirrored tiles, and dominated by a large, round meeting table, seven of the most powerful sorcerers alive met to begin the proceedings. They gathered around the circular table at equal intervals, leaving a conspicuous space open between the the sixth and seventh person at the table. Still dressed in his usual attire from earlier in the day, the Grand Master of the Order of the Innocent Blade, Leviathan Corex, began the proceedings.

"I call this meeting of the Seven Emperors to order." He spoke the usual ceremonial dialogue. Some considered it a waste of time, but it was a tradition as old as the Order itself, and troubled times rested well on tradition. "I summon the Seven Emperors, who may now make themselves known."

To his right, a tall, thin man with dark skin and golden hair spoke. "Augustus, Emperor of Gold, answers your summons, Grand Master." His rich was tremendously deep, his accent casting a growl over his well-enunciated speech. Augustus dressed in his usual suit, complete with his favorite articles of jewelry and other such effects. He casually smoked a cigar, but otherwise granted the meeting his full attention.

To the right of Augustus, a shorter, more heavily set man in a fine, grey suit spoke. "Vespasianus, Emperor of Beasts, answers your summons, Grand Master." Vespasianus stood with one hand on his gnarled cane, the other stroking his bright, red beard. A man fond of embellishment such as this, he was clearly in no rush to get through the opening ceremonies.

To his right, a much older, muscular man in a hooded robe and sunglasses spoke. "Claudius, Emperor of Wind, answers your summons, Grand Master." Claudius had a harsh, dry voice, and had no trouble expressing his exasperation with these time-wasting traditions in his tone.

To the right of Claudius was a man in simple, dark clothes, built lithely like a predatory beast, and with no fewer than four swords hanging at his waist. "Titus, Emperor of Steel, answers your summons, Grand Master." He, too, seemed to be at odds with this ritual, and stroked his chin in an irritated manner as he announced himself.

A towering man in a skull-shaped mask and a harlequin coat stood to the right of Titus, and spoke next. "Caligula, Emperor of Fury, answers your summons, Grand Master." Caligula's booming voice held an obvious sense of reverence for the ceremony, as he owed to the Order all he had in life.

To Caligula's right stood- well, bounced- a moldering, fly-ridden clown. "Tiberius, Emperor of Worms, answers your summons, Grand Master." Tiberius bounced from one foot to the other as he stood, making him look as though he were dancing in a sense. His voice was horrific to hear, sounding like oil being poured through gravel. Luckily, none of his corpulent, rotting flesh was visible, his face covered by a reptilian, grinning, green mask.

To the right of Tiberius was an empty space, left open out of reverence for Nero, who lay bound in her dungeon at the deepest level of the Hall. All turned their attention to the empty space expectantly, as though still expecting her to announce herself. Rather, a sort of psychic distortion permeated the room, like a static buzz in each of their minds. This signified that the Emperor of Secrets was present at the meeting, if only spiritually.

Attention now turning back to Levi, he recited the next part of the ceremony. "The Seven Emperors have assembled, and our council may now begin."

Before the actual start of the meeting, however, each attendant continued to stand, and recited the Oath of the Innocent Blade, together as one.

"From the hate-scorched sky.
With righteous anger in our hearts.
We draw forth the sword that smites evil.
Thou art the Innocent Blade."

The Seven Emperors took their seats, and the council began.

Augustus spoke first, as he was wont to do in recent days. "I will get straight to the point. This meeting was called due to the looming threats on the horizon. This 'Council of the Damned,' and to a lesser extent, 'the Order of Three Lights.' Yesterday we caught another of the 'Council's' spies. That makes three this month. The 'Order' has been somewhat more polite, sending couriers, but they grow more aggressive with each message. I suspect they will soon begin to take matters into their own hands."

Vespasianus, another figure of authority among the Seven Emperors, was next to speak. "I have made my own inquiries into these organizations, yes, my own inquiries. The 'Council' seems to be more at odds with our own goals, at odds, yet this 'Order' could be an ally, an ally yet."

Claudius spoke, moving down the line of senior members of the Order, "The 'Order' will turn on us the moment they find us at odds with their own ideals. We cannot afford to trust zealots."

Vespasianus rebutted, "We cannot afford to trust anyone at the present moment, anyone. I merely suggest we focus on the more pressing threat, merely suggest."

"A preemptive attack?" Offered Titus, now curious.

"I would say not." Declared Augustus. "We only have six functional Deus Machina, and Crusade is currently tracking down Therion and Conquest. Our offensive capabilities are too limited to rush into a blind assault. They are too numerous and too well-resourced to attack without information, not to mention that we would leave ourselves widely open to counterattack."

The mention of Therion stung Levi's heart, but he had an idea. "So a reconnaissance mission would be best? Perhaps plant our own spy?"

The entire council "hmmm"ed at this, but Claudius spoke up. "Yes, that is a possibility. We wouldn't gain enough information by infiltrating their lowest levels, but a spy at their higher strata would yield a sufficient amount of information."

"So one of us, is what you're saying." Caligula had a talent for saying what everyone else was thinking.

"From my research," Levi spoke up, "This 'Council' is quite a foul and malevolent body. One would need to pass as the lowest sort of warlock to infiltrate their ranks."

All eyes in the room turned to one person. Tiberius looked around, momentarily confused as to why everyone was staring at them. Realization hit him like a brick. "What? Oh, me? Well, I'm flattered, really, but I can't say I'm much of a spy. I don't seem the subtle type to you, do I?"

Titus spoke. "Only you would be foul and vile enough to not be seen as conspicuous among their ranks."

"As well," added Caligula, "Should you be captured, they would have an easier time getting blood from a stone than information from you."

"Ah, well, I suppose that's true." Tiberius seemed bashful and still hesitant, though the rictus grin on his lizard-like mask still betrayed nothing.

"We'll finalize these details at a later point, Tiberius, but in any case, I would start packing." Levi closed that issue, and the council seemed satisfied with it. "Now, regarding these espionage attempts... Augustus?"

Turning the discussion back a page, Augustus elaborated on the matter. "Yes, we've caught three of their spies so far, trying to access our schematic records. Each was posing as one of our hired metalworkers, and had stolen Weiss Industries identification papers. Mind you, these have only been the spies we've caught. There are likely still more, among our general staff and hired sorcerers."

"I'll discuss the matter with Doctor Weiss soon, perhaps he can instate some control measures in the more sensitive levels of the Hall, and we can install some more proactive security." Only members of the Seven Emperors were traditionally permitted to attend these meetings, which meant that this discussion with the Chief Artificer would have to be held in another secured, debugged and magically warded room separate to this one.

"Very well. The rest of us will just have to keep vigilant. If you must discuss sensitive matters outside of a secure location, use Sending rather than talking aloud about it." Augustus closed that discussion.

Levi brought up a new point. "Now, you mentioned Crusade earlier. Have we heard any word from her regarding... Therion and Conquest?" It was almost difficult for Levi to say, and he felt as though the others knew it. Still, he couldn't show weakness to them. Whereas the rest of the Order was very impressed by his title of Grand Master, these men were not, and knew him for exactly what he was.

Claudius answered. "I received a brief report from her the day before last. Still no sign of them. Wherever they are, they must be either deep underground, or masking Liber Legis' presence." A Deus Machina was a difficult thing to hide, but if anyone could do it, Therion could. "She says that she will cancel her search by the end of the month if she has not made any further progress, and return her to reevaluate her tracking algorithm."

The search was dead cold, they all knew it, but Crusade wasn't even close to being willing to give up on her brother. It scared Levi; he had always known the angel to be as willful as iron, but this was different. She wasn't just being stubborn, this was obsession. He had never seen her like this.

"Hmm. Very well." Levi would have to speak to her when she returned. "In other matters, how is your grandson, Claudius. Is Domitian's training proceeding smoothly?"

Claudius harrumphed. "That eager to get rid of me, eh? Well, don't get too comfortable with the idea. The little bastard's training is giving me more difficulty than your own, which is no mean feat, I can tell you." Some members of the council rolled their eyes. Claudius the Sorcerer was gone, Dr. Shrewsbury the professor now sat at the table. "Still, he has a decent handle on his toy Deus Machina. Not anywhere as fast as Ambrose, but he could give any of you a run for your money."

"I see." Levi said, slightly perturbed by the sudden scolding. "Are there any other matters to discuss.?" The council expressed a negative to him. "Very well." He stood. "I call this meeting adjourned."

---

A Secretive Cave, Karanos

Deep beneath the earth, Azrad worked steadily. Locked in a pose of deep meditation in an expansive, subterranean chamber, the sounds of metal and machinery echoed all around him. It had been difficult to persuade the Ifrit of the desert to assist him in this project, but the payoff had been well worth it. He would never be able to assemble a Deus Machina on his own. The schematics he had acquired shortly after his excommunication from the Order of the Innocent Blade; apparently some discarded project that the previous Doctor Weiss had concocted.

While being forced to abandon Deus Machina Ogre was an unfortunate setback, Azrad was more than pleased by the advantages this new machine god would bring. All of those blades... and some manner of clock? Only another few months or so, and it would be in working order. However, he was still missing a vital component; a Grimoire to power it. While Deus Machina were fairly well-known entities, their inner workings were closely-guarded secrets. One of these secrets was that of the Grimoire, the arcane power source at the heart of each Deus Machina; a wellspring of magical power, these ancient and legendary tomes could fill a single sorcerer with apocalyptic power... or bring to life an artifact god.

For now, he meditated in the bowels of the earth, feeling out for tendrils of power that could lead him to such a Grimoire worthy of his Deus Machina Al Azif. His white robes swayed as the ether flowed through him; his usual fine suit that he was so fond of was far from practical in his hot, sandy homeland. He was progressing steadily, but he could not afford to slack. Great things loomed on the horizon, great and terrible things, and he was not one to miss out on them.

The Coast of Aeolus

The orcs have gathered together in the center of camp, awaiting their chief's words. The rain continues to pour down, drenching the ground and quickly turning it to mud. Cahlou walks to a wooden litter, soon as he step onto it skeletal soldiers grab onto the iron rods and hold the litter aloft. The procession carries Cahlou to the center of the camp and allows him to look upon all of his subjects. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the orc scouts already suited up and are starting to move out into the surrounding forest. Cahlou's gazes turns back to his tribe, they all look up at him. Some smile, some are steeling themselves for the coming battles and a couple even look somewhat fearful of what may come. Cahlou knew he must put these fears to rest.

The crowd murmurs.

"...-is land is rife with humans, we are alon-..."

"... It seems that the rain never ends, could this place truly become our new hom-..."

"...-ee it's like I said! This place is bountiful! We can easy slaught-..."

"...-eah! I see it too! You were right, the chief does have two shad-..."

"... Killing these humans will be easy, they are fat and slow..."

"...ere he is. Hush young one, you must show the chief respect!..."

The undertone grew quiet as the skeleton ceased their march. Cahlou cleared his throat before addressing his tribe.

They all watched expectantly.

"My people!" Standing upon the raised litter Cahlou's voice carried over the crowd. "We have fought long and hard to sail to this new land! We have all made sacrifices! Lost family! Lost those who are close to you! We left our barren home of Karanos in search of a better one! So that we, the Tribe of the Deathless may grow and expand! Until all land falls under orc kind!"

There is a rousing cheer from the crowd. Cahlou waits a moment before raising his hands for silence.

"But for now we must practice patients, stockpile on food and materials. The eternal guard will craft the ladders we'll need, for now settle in and steel yourselves for the battle to come. But remain vigilant! The humans are fat and lazy! Do not let yourselves become just as complacent! Make no fires nor lights! Our concealment is our greatest ally now."

Cahlou pauses to allow his words to sink it.

"Many of you should still have rations for yourselves. Those of you who don't, ask an eternal and food will be provided. Rest for now my tribe! And do not despair! For we will revel in the houses and castles of enemies!"

The crowd cheers and with a nod from Cahlou the eternal guard turn the litter and proceed back to his tent. The living disperse, both emboldened and tempered.

Soon Cahlou is resting upon his chair once more.

"The pieces are in motion Cahlou," says Yuri, visible once more. "All we must do is await the scouts return."

"If this attack fails, I will lead my tribe to ruin. All I have done will be for naught."

"Cahlou."

Yuri's voice is sharp, as he unfurls to his full height. The white orbs of his eyes flare brightly.

"I have taught you all I know, your power is unparalleled among orcs, let alone wizards! As we speak your minions, who number in the thousands are performing the complex task of creating ladders! Yes you will make mistakes! But you will learn as you always have!
Now..."

Shrinking back down Yuri softens his tone.

"I can still sense your power growing, you could perhaps summon another handful more of undead since yesterday. Just listen to the same words you told your people, they are wise."

"I... thank you Yuri. I will."

"There, you will be fine."

Yuri's gaze fell upon a cage in the corner of the tent, a couple of song birds quietly sleep inside.

"Umm... you don't mind if..?"

"I had them caught specifically for you."

With a nod Yuri glides forwards towards cage. A bird wakes and screeches frantically, the others are stirred and do the same. They take flight and claw frantically at the bars with their feet. Yuri leans down, the birds' attempts at escape intensifies.

And then... nothing.

The birds freeze, go limp and then fall to the bottom of the cage. Yuri withdraws from the cage.

"Thank you Cahlou."

"I was nothing Yuri, now... I must get some sleep..."

Cahlou's brow furrows as he frowns. He places a hand to his face, sighing heavily.

"Don't worry Cahlou, I will be here. I always am."

Kiara turned to face Geros, folding her arms in the process saying, "Now now Geros, I'm not so rash like Aydin. There will be plenty of burning in the battle to come so no use wasting it now. Besides there only coming to Scar'eltah for this." She then went to the table Geros was sitting at and pulled away fine red silk which was covering a small white diamond. "They are here for this, " she presided to pick it up and gaze into its brilliance, "The jewel of Syar."

She set the jewel back down upon the cloth and looked at Geros again saying, "You might be wondering why we have this and what it does. To answer your inevitable question it contains pure ether and when put into a weapon socket the weapon in question becomes very powerful." Kiara went back over the window continuing her tale by saying that, "We found the pretty thing in a cave of all places, near the Wall of Noduz. Fate would be that its coming as triggered a massive assault by the paladins to get it, I even heard the paladin they call the Sunbringer is here. It will be very interesting to see what happens." Kiara finished as she leaned back on the railing, looking in the distance at the approaching army.

Giving up any hope of teaching today and put his book away, Geros turned to Kiara and asked, "Surely both sides have enough in the way of powerful weapons? There is something else to this diamond of Aether yes? Some form of ancient prophecy? A holy ritual that will cleanse the world? Or has the war really gotten so trivial that armies march for such thing?"

Slowly rising to his feet Geros moved so that he could see the army, their white armor standing out against the landscape. It was almost comical how they put their tradition above common sense.

"If it does any of that then I wouldn't know Geros. All I do know is that they are coming for it and whether they get it or not depends on our ability to ward of this siege. Now, lets go get ready." Kiara said to Geros as she walked towards the door.

----------------

Bane grumbled, why'd it have to be him? The meeting was basically by the book, with no special plans for attacking besides his mission. He and a select few now had to get into the city secretly and grab the artifact. Secrecy was the hard part as there was a wall surrounding the damn thing with no visible entry points other then blowing one up. He was prepared however for anything at this point, nothing could really surprise him, he'd seen too much already as he thought about Frelion.

He was snapped out of it by Lordath who, with great anticipation, was asking her questions again. When will we get there? What are we after? Are you scared? And on and on like always, though this time Bane was somewhat happy for her companionship. To be alone in battle is one of the only things that ever really bothered him but he usually shrugs it aside.

The wall was getting closer and closer and it loomed before them. He felt like an ant up against a mountain but then the siege weapons started to fire and that wall started to turn into a hill.

Geros didn't move as Kiara left the room, he was more of a general after all. Besides his own personal retinue and the army of frankly pathetic imps that worked as a mobile intelligence network there weren't many of his demons in the general area, something to rectify while the wall still held.

The garrison was surprised as Geros's forces surged onto the battlements but living in a land of warlocks had a way of bending perceptions. Soon enough the barrage of combines arrows and magic regained its momentum, bolstered by an entire platoon of greater demons.

Cackling silently to themselves the imps crept through the fields behind the siege lines, despite being weak compared even to a human there was always a certain strategic advantage to conjuring hell-fire, and what was a siege with no encampment.

The Orcish scout came sprinting back panting, heading straight towards Cahlou; he seemed to be covered in numerous severe burns that seemed to be imprinted chain marks. "Chief!" He howled. The scout stumbled before collapsing to the floor, or most likely tripped accidentally, he was clearly the only one who made it back. The scout was lifted to his feet, barely summoning the strength to stand as the searing pain of these unknown burns coarsed through his body.

"There... are four nearby towns; all swarming with Paladins... though..." He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing, "... they are recruits, weaklings, unskilled wretches." The scout gazed down, staring at the scorch marks on his torso before gazing back up at his famed Chief. "Exorcists... several of them guard these villages... they... butchered us, some of us may still be alive... but... scattered." He finished his report before barely maintaining his balance.

Exorcists are nasty fuckers, creations of the Order of the Three Lights, or so it seems. Crafted by the High Scarlet, as well as possibly outside help. They are psychologically and physically tortured to months on end, chains wrapped around one of their arms; holy ones in fact, tampered with fury and hatred. And secondly, a retractable blade embedded in the other arm, essentially wedged into their bones. Exorcists are the bane of the Council, and the bane of the living, they are stripped of all recognition of their previous selves, and charged with the order of annihilating anything that opposes them, holy or unholy. Exorcists are not to be taken dead on, they require tactics in order to defeat them properly; failing to do so will result in a slow, and agonizing death, and even if you do happen to survive an Exorcist... the after effects are catastrophic.

Standing from his seat Cahlou curses under his breath.

"And you were seen!? You had no reason or order to engage! You were to evade any encounter!"

Cahlou sighs deeply as the scout fumbles for an answer.

"No! No more words, just go."

The orc hesitates.

"GO!"

The scout scrambles out of the tent before a swift kick could follow. Rubbing his brow, Cahlou curses again. What horrid luck, not even a week on this new continent and they were discovered. And Exorcists of all things, yes, Cahlou remembered them...

"It seems as though time is no longer on our side." An ever-present elemental states. Cahlou scoffs.

"That is putting it lightly. But why would the paladin have such elite troops here? Surely they would be needed to guard the border?"

"Perhaps the locals were not cooperating with... the recruiting practices."

Cahlou strides to the tent's flap and gazes outside, the eternal guard continue working on the ladders without relent. The sun is now high in the sky, remaining as a stark spotlight upon the camp itself. Cahlou closes the tent flap again. Yuri floating behind his chair waits, allowing Cahlou to ponder.

When it came to fighting the living, the Exorcists may not fair as well against the dead, but even then such a gambit would be foolish. He would have to take another approach. The night would be his ally, no doubt of that. Cahlou knew that he had access to barely over one hundred ladder made, which was formidable, but it may not be enough to allow easy flow of his troops onto the wall. Finally there was the problem of the missing scouts...

Many must still be wandering and some must have been captured in the skirmish, this area was no longer safe. Unlikely as it is that the Exorcists would keep hostages Cahlou would have to factor that in as well. He did not have the living to spare to let them die left and right as well as his image would take the hit if they were killed because of him. He needed more information...

"This will require extensive thought Yuri."

"It would be foolish to assume otherwise Cahlou."

"..."

"Don't worry you have practiced the technique many times, I know you can perform it successful this time."

With a nod, Cahlou sat in the center of his tent. With a deep breath Cahlou crosses his legs and closed his eyes. He let the world fade away from around him, allow himself to reach far beyond his grasp.

Cahlou knew his eternal guard, knew how to command them and make them perform given tasks. But they were like small disposable tools that could only be sent out to work or fight. With this technique though, he could receive information back from them and control them more finely. With this technique they became an extension of both his body and will.

Cahlou's breathing caught when the twinges of pain and pressure began to build up in the back of his skull. He could feel them, every bony finger and cracked tooth! It was all to much! The sensations every noise, every sight! Whenever a hammer struck the wooden nail of a ladder Cahlou could feel the reverberations tenfold. Cahlou grunted and the pain started to swell and intensify. He couldn't handle all of this feedback, it was crushing!

"Focus Cahlou! You've practiced! Remember that you are in control!" [i]Yuri's voice seemed like a faint cry in a sea of sound.

But luckily Cahlou had heard it. He didn't need to see and hear everything, a few vessels will do. Drawing in a deep ragged breath, Cahlou pushed away the extraneous feelings, honing in a few throughout his camp. The pain subsided, his breathing normalized.

There, now. He needed to check if any of those foolish scouts had the foresight to at least make a map.

To all those outside nothing seems to happen. Save that a single skeleton, of several working or patrolling, lays down it's tools and strides to where the orc scouts are being treated. No one moves or even notices as the skeleton approaches, it is one of the eternal guard, their protectors. Attention is only garnered when said skeleton strides into the medical tent.

"...is that? Um, you seemed to be confused, this a treatment area."

One of the healers stand and take hold of one of the skeleton's shoulders. Attempting to steer it back to the door.

"Odd, they don't wander off that often. I wonder-" the other orc is cut off as the skeleton slowly and carefully, but still with some force removes the healer's hand from its shoulder. They recognize that this eternal guard is on specific business.

They quickly stand aside, bowing and apologizing. The skeleton walks over to one of the conscious scouts. The scout blinks in shock but doesn't flinch or whimper, knowing that he must comply with the eternal guard's objective. Through the skeleton, Cahlou points and the scout's bag currently being used to prop up his leg. One of the healers quickly runs over with some extra blankets and swaps out the bag.

With bag in hand, the skeleton searches the contents of the bags. The canteen, tools and personal effects of the scout are quickly taken out and cast out onto the bed as the eternal continues searching. Soon Cahlou finds what he is looking for. At least one of the scout had be diligent. A handful of crude maps drawn of bark laid at the bottom of the pack. Delicately these are retrieved and through the empty sockets of the skeleton Cahlou examines them.

They detail the location on the human towns and the rough road network between them. Cahlou could defiantly use this. The maps and items are replaced into the bag and a curt nod is given to the attentive scout. Without further delay the skeleton leaves and returns to its work.

"We can cut off their communications," says Cahlou opening his eyes. I can station a large amount of undead along all the roads stop work of attack from spreading between the villages. Thus giving me the time I need."

"I sense that you won't be mounting for a battle Cahlou."

"No Yuri, with Exorcists involved, I'll have to try something a bit more clever."

Moving out of the tent Cahlou gives the order to the living to get ready to move, and to bring only some of the tents. And only some of the eternal guard.

Woe to the vanguard who step into the ruins of this camp.

Kiara watched diligently from the sidelines and from where she stood the battle wasn't going in their favor. Not yet anyway. The paladins siege weapons were crushing the wall breaking it down in several key points where their troops who had a death wish were already pooling in. Out where the siege weapons were encamped a few started to erupt in green flame, looks like Geros had joined, well his demons anyways. The paladins would charge soon and when they did they would burn.

--------------

Bane watched and waited. He needed the bulk of their forces to enter before he could safely break off and search for the artifact. Progress was continuing at a steady paste with large chunks of the wall crumbling over. Unlike other major warlock cities this one was poorly structured and easy to break. They would be inside soon, very soon.

The paladins were stronger and more determined than Geros had given them credit for, and he recognized this, but was none the less put off by it. These men were fighting like the heavens themselves depended on it, not some gemstone of questionable value.

"Perhaps their general gives them this determination? Bah, it matters little." Geros mumbled to himself. While stronger than anticipated the enemy still could only move normally, even with the walls breached he still had time to complete the summoning, he would have the results of this new spell by the time the paladins took the base of the tower.

----- ((When suddenly)) -----

Hell-fire and slag exploded out of the room and over the balcony, shock wave shaking the battle and magic quickly consuming the entire upper half of the stone structure. Where the stones burned a darkness flowed, warped, and deposed reality. The base of the tower collapsed under the strain but everything from the room up remained floating even as the debris gathered into miniature, fluctuating hell portals. Demons climbed into reality, gathering beneath the now demonic floating tower. Where the balcony had been there was now an eye.

----- ((Meanwhile)) -----

Geros strained to sit up, he wasn't in the tower, in fact he wasn't sure where he was. It looked and felt roughly like one of the hells, but it wasn't one he knew.

"That ancient scroll did say "surely" instead of "shall not". Guess I owe that student an apology." Geros mused before collapsing.

"My name is Captain Ryan Pandorum of the Order of the Three Lights, and I am leading the 184th expedition to go beyond the Wall of Noduz and search for the lair of the infamous Tor'qux."

"Sir? Do you have to narrate yourself as we ride?"

"Of course, someone could be watching us right now, our every move, even what's going on in our heads. I'd like them to know who we are."

Ryan was clearly a Crusader, thick armour covered every inch of his body, he was atop of possibly a specifically bred larger horse to support his weight, a large flail on his back banged against his shield, most likely denting it every now and then. Atleast 220 Paladins accompanied the Captain, forming in rows of four, two regular fighters in the middle, and Lightbearers on their sides to light the way in the forest. It was named the "Black Forest" not only by it's dark hued trees, but for the canopy atop the trees that block out almost all sunlight. The Captain and his small battalion were nearing the wall on horseback, every last person in this small force was mesmerised by the sheer height of the ancient construct; several hundred meters in height, stretching on for miles on either side, however the Wall had been shattered in one location that made it very noticeable, this was the only way in and out of the Black Forest. The Wall itself had been standing for well over 13,000 years, and it's done it's job well; it is chipped in thousands of places, roots and vines of the darkened trees pierce the wall, and even the trees themselves stretch higher than the Wall...

The faces of wonder soon turned to fear as they edged closer to the forest that had damned hundreds of thousands of innocent souls to eternal suffering, yet they still pressed on as the horses kicked up grass from the plains beneath them.

"Steel your hearts, men! We are delving into the depths of the black abyss!"

"Is it true... sir? What they say about the Forest?"

"What do 'they' say exactly?"

"That.. once we enter, we cannot leave. Ever."

The captain began to cackle as the Paladin next to him grew worried, his laughing died down as they neared the Wall.

"That is merely a scare tactic to keep people like us from ever going in there! You've nothing to worry about, we'll be in and out in a jiffy."

A faint shimmer could be seen from within the Wall's breach, it was Gia's barrier that she had put up hundreds of years ago to keep the horrors that lie beyond here at bay. A faint hum could be heard as each one of them passed the barrier and into the Black Forest, there was no turning back. The light dimmed rapidly to a faint glow, they sped up their pace to go deeper, in order to avoid anything they no one should have to encounter. The trees, when at their largest could be up to a dozen meters in thickness. Several minutes had passed, as any sight of the Wall behind them had dissipated, everything was silent... too much so, the crows that they had heard before fell deathly quiet. The Captain raised his hand high enough so it was visible for everyone, and gave a signal; in reaction, every Paladin that followed him withdrew their weapons, the Captain himself withdrew his gargantuan flail and held it by his side. They came to the entrance to a large opening, Ryan rapidly raised his hand in order to halt his force, as they stopped, he dismounted his horse... his gaze was fixated on something, or someone. A Crusader was directly in the centre of the opening, rocking his head back and forth, oddly enough, the Crusader was wearing the exact identical armour as the Captain, but he didn't dare approach him; they knew what horrifying traps rest in the Black Forest. The most noticeable thing about this opening was the writing scratched into the trees. "Don't look at the eyes" mostly.

"We're moving on..."

One Paladin dismounted as well as the Captain.

"We can't just leave him here!"

The Paladin stormed towards the suspicious Crusader, making his way across the opening.

"Get back here! Now!" Ryan said without making too much noise.

The Crusader had his back turned to the Paladin, he reached out his arm to place on the Crusader's shoulder, but was immediately halted by a voice.

"Go back. That's an order." The Crusader spoke in the exact same voice as the Captain, still not turning around. The Paladin, horrified, turned his gaze back towards his group, but they were gone? Instead a new tree was in their place, he turned back towards the Crusader only to find that the Crusader itself had turned around to the Paladin's direction, the front plate of it's helmet removed as he held no emotion whatsoever, but the eyes... they were hollow, black and empty, staring directly into the Paladin's eyes.

Nothing was as it seemed, the Captain and the rest of his Paladins were still there, the Crusader was still facing away and the disobeying Paladin was just stood there. Was it all an illusion going on inside his head? He lowered his arm towards his waist and pulled out a small blade, making a blank face staring at the back of the Crusader's head. The Paladin pressed the end of the knife up against his own throat, and thrusted it, still holding no emotion, showing no pain as the blade pierced his throat; pushing it further in and dragging it across to create further damage. Blood spurted from his mouth and the gaping wound in his throat. Everyone watched as one of their own was forced to end their own life, but the attention was drawn to someone in the back starting to panic, before yelling "CENTIPEDE!" They had little time to react. As quick as lightning, the monstrous centipede slammed down onto a dozen Paladins, crushing them and most likely killing them instantly. Paladins scattered into the Black Forest to avoid the terror, which unleashed a deafening roar before aiming itself towards Captain Ryan who was dismounted by the shockwave, he quickly withdrew a greatsword that another Paladin had sheathed. As he gripped it, light pulsated through his wrist and into the blade; the Centipede lunged for him at an unfathomable speed, he lifted his blade as he dropped down to avoid the attack, the monstrosity slowed down drastically as it was cut clean in half; innards of the behemoth covered the Captain from head to toe, he stood back up and examined the faces of his minions before shuddering in disgust and almost gagged from the smell.

"Eughh.. fuckin' hate centipedes." He said as he scraped the black blood off his armour, and wiped it on the Paladin next to him. "We're going back, we'll do this another day. Mount up!" His previous force had diminished to just under half of it's original status, some were crushed by the Centipede, others were scattered and lost within the Black Forest, and one slit his own throat. The Captain turned his horse around and rushed past the Paladins just starting to mount up to get ahead and lead the way for them, he had memorized the path, despite each tree being identical, he recognized the roots in the ground and the scattered remains of those that had previously died in there. Paladins followed him, some had accidentally been separated, but the wall was in his sight now, hope filled those that had seen horrors that they should never have seen once again. They came to the edge of the Black Forest, coming to an immediate halt.

"Impossible.." The Captain muttered under his breath as he lifted his helmet and dropped it onto the floor, he had extremely short hair, to the point where you couldn't tell what colour hair he has, it had been cut down as it was most likely an obstruction; he was young, very much so, couldn't be barely over 20. There was no exit, there was a visible pathway on the floor where many people had worn down the flora, but it was as if the wall had been completely fixed. His bottom lip quivered as he rode up to the wall and placed his hand on the wall to see if it was just an optical illusion, but nothing, it was solid, he dismounted as his sabatons crashed into the dirt. "Five of you, go towards the left, and another five of you go to your right! We have to find the exit." He pointed in both directions as five Paladins rode each side. The Captain sat down by his horse and rubbed his eyes, angling his head back and gazing up at the border of the Black Forest, he could barely see the light.

Hours passed, and the sun was getting close to setting, the pounding noise of horses riding increased as the Captain rose from his position, both scouting parties were returning. He was greeted by saddened faces, "Nothing... sir, not even a single exit." One spoke in a dull tole, it was hopeless, there was no way out. The Captain mounted his horse once again and aimed towards the Black Forest. "Then we're going to deal as much damage to that insect bastard until we all either become a part of the Black Forest or devoured by the darker creatures that lurk in this place." He rode once again into the dense forest where even the light may die. Some followed him, some decided to stay at the wall, he did not care... all hope had died within the Captain, there was no escape from his horrible fate, and he had spent the last few hours wrapping his head around the fact that his own demise was inevitable, and instead of waiting for it; be it starvation or viciously butchered at the wall, he decided to face death head on, and deal as much damage to it as he could before it broke him in half.

((Gonna finish the rest of this short story later in another post, just too stressed to finish the rest of it right now.))

The wall was breached and the horns sounded. Those glorious horns that rang out through the battleground and pierced the souls of the enemy and brought cheers from the attackers. Kiara did not care either way as this only meant that'd they be coming for the artifact. She quickly glanced around and saw things were going favorably enough so she would go back to the gem and save guard it, any that tried to get at it would be disposed of. A portal to Xerrath would be here soon and with it the gem would be safe from the Paladins, least for now.

--------

Bane charged, his elite band went with him. They were situated in the middle of the a large column headed directly for the breach, once in their mission was clear, get the artifact. The battle was about to really begin and the only question he could think of, was if he was truly ready.