---

Melaron. It was both a place of power as well as a beacon point of light, justice…and attraction for those of a darker allegiance. Yet the callings of forces greater than one’s own mortal coil and flesh beckoned those steeped into the shadows towards the city of radiance and light. It was there that these travelers would be blessed with an unholy moon to guide their way with pale light.

Yes, that was the best word to describe this entire scenario. Unholy. For despite the evil that lay waste in these villain’s paths, all of them lay hallow in comparison to the words of the dark god that had summoned them here. Or so they were led to believe, but one dare not carry their pride and accomplishments lightly in the presence of Kil'threx.

One such denizen who had been summoned forth from the slumber of inactivity walked into the mortal world once more via a portal of great power, accompanied by only another. Unlike some who had partaken in this pilgrimage, Aesir, the Apotheosis of the Court held no fear in his heart. He was much too old and devoted to other goals to let fear permeate his nature; no, instead a burning curiosity had guided his steps on this night.

He had manifested not far from the cottage that was to be their destination and so immediately set forth in that direction. Upon his figure was the mask that solidified his existence as one of the Court’s. Whatever that actually meant. Nevertheless, there was no need to rush on this night of nights, the wind ensuring his path would not falter.

No words were spoken to his most loyal subject for they shared a bond greater than that of love, loyalty, or devotion. Perhaps, in the end, it was merely a pawn walking with its master but that would not discourage Aesir from utilizing said pawn if need be. Musing once more on such thoughts, the armored man had at long last reached the cottage, only to notice a platoon of skeleton warriors already entering.

Interest increasing, the masked man proceeded to walk through one of the cottage’s walls and into the establishment, phasing through like a phantom. Then he rested his back against the very same wall with crossed arms, features hidden and expressionless behind his mask. So then, he was not the first to arrive to their marked beginning? The masked man turned his face towards the pirate and said nothing, merely staring at him with his gaze.

His servant could do as she wished for there was no more reason for her to be at his side. In any case, he could sense the approaching presences of more individuals, each of them headed for the very cottage he found himself residing in. To be called by the famed God of Evil? Well then, things were bound to be interesting.

---

~The Faceless, Nyarlith~

Within the forest, off the beaten path close to the cabin, something stirred. It was subtle at first. A trick of the darkness for those with normal eyes. Then, silent whispers were heard, muttering impossible things to those who heard as a bell tolled somewhere in the distance. The whispers grew louder and louder with each toll of this unseen bell, threatening to deafen any mortal that would have been listening.

And then silence.

Two figures stood in the forest, appearing as if from nowhere right in front of the cottage's door. Both garbed in robes and a mask, all bodily features hidden by the darkness. One inhaled, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air, before turning its head upwards towards the sky. The situation seemed in total, quite surreal. Two figures appearing from nowhere in a dark forest. Someone could have very well thought this was a nightmare or dream had it not been for the fact this was all very, very, real.

Wordlessly, the two entered the cabin, a feeling of slight unease washed over the purple robed being.

It was Exciting.

It was a rare thing when Khata Nyarlith was excited. Over their incredibly long life they had seen many things, communed with a number of great ones, discovered many things within the Unknown. Of course, no matter how deep they dug into the unknown beyond, there was always more. Another great one to find, commune with, and speak with. The same excitement filled the creature now, for they were about to commune directly with an ancient great one themselves. It was enough to make them absolutely joyous. If that expressionless, mask covered face could express emotion, it would be wearing the largest grin man had ever laid eyes on.

"Ahhh, it seems we are not the first to arrive." Nyarlith commented joyfully as they entered the cottage noticing the two others, especially the one with the mask. The black, eyeless sockets in it gazing at the other masked individual for a few seconds, as if trying to discern something about it...before simply laughing and walking to the other side of the room followed by the second masked individual with it who glare at Aesir from beneath their mask, but said nothing and merely accompanied their master to the opposite wall.

"How wonderful!" They spoke again, voice neutral and unable to tell the creatures gender from it alone. It turned to face those currently gathered in the room, likely would have been smiling beneath its mask had it the face to do such an action with. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance future comrades! Especially you, masked one! Such an exquisite, beautiful thing you are. Your eyes are so dull though, it makes me sick. Such a beautiful ornament is wasted on you." They chuckled, though what they could have been thinking beyond their words were nothing but a mystery.

"But I digress! All of us have been beckoned by the Great One here for a reason, no? Ahh, I can see great things will be done in this room! The start of something wonderfully chaotic." The second masked individual simply remained quiet, observing the others in the room, masked features going from the pirate to the impertinent one with the mask. A sword was strapped to their belt, likely ready to be used at any moment.

"Lord Nyarlith, please refrain from such antics. We can not trust any of these...insects." The voice, though muffled by the mask and spoke with obvious disdain, was clearly feminine. At this, the one named Nyarlith laughed, walking away from the center of the room and back towards the wall opposite of Aesir, falling silent as it observed the reactions the others would have to this.

What struck Vortigern most was the cold. Not the chill in the air, as he was well beyond worrying about such things, but rather that cold shadow that hung on the edges of his magical senses, sharply honed even before his transcendence, like the frost on a once-fresh corpse left out in winter. He did not need to guess at the origin.

Vortigern gathered his power about himself. To those with power, pale light clung to his person, waving and flickering about like a flame.

The grass crunched under his boots. There would be no sneaking tonight. While the specifics were unknown to him, there could be only one reason Kil'Threx would speak with him. It may have been couched in pretty words, but the truth of the matter was that his future held servitude. He had made his peace with it.

As he opened the door, he briefly wondered if anyone would recognise his robes. The Order of the Stars had changed their sense of fashion a few times over the past eight centuries, but it might still be recognized.

It could make for amusing conversation as we await our benefactor.

The door opened with a creek, a testament to the cottage's age. He stepped in to find it already occupied in part. Some manner of fel magic clung to each of those already assembled. Nodding to each in turn, Vortigern made his way to the ta le. And took his seat wordlessly.

Niddhogg

At the dead of night, the Blackscale Tyrant himself crawled out from his bed of a molten lake. The beast pondered of this little 'deal' he was offered. By his wisdom and knowing the nature of the God of evil, it was most likely empty promises. Still though, it wouldn't hurt to do it any way, there seemed to be little sacrifices in providing his share of destruction, and after all, what dragon wouldn't want the role of a great destroyer?

With wings stretched, and letting out a mighty roar that echoed around his domain and the forests beyond that in a hellish manner, the dragon soared out from the gaping hole of the summit, flying to the directions he had been given.

Hours later after his take off, the loud beating of his wings could be heard from inside the cottage. The dragon spotted the small woodland house, an unusual place for a meeting, especially for something as large as he. The dragon would swoop down, landing in front of the small house with an earth shattering thud. His very shadow would cover the cottage entirely. The eye of the great dragon glowed, and his form would then rapidly shrink.

From a massive reptilian to a rather handsome male of flowing black hair and Caucasian skin did he transform too, albeit his hair was strange, wings still present over his back, and an eye patch over where the right eye would be, he otherwise resemble a typical paladin in terms of the cliche appearance. However, the strangest part of his human form was that his left eye was still that of his dragons form, large and reptilian, with a strange slit for an iris. This eye glowed once more with crosshair-shaped red light as the dragon-turned human was suddenly incased with the legendary armor he obtained long ago, and armed with the lance that went with it.

Now he entered the cottage, still huge for a human as he stood 6'5 in height. One could assume that a holy paladin would have invaded on there little get together if not for the bat-like wings and the faintly glow magical eye barely visible beneath the helmet.

He took a seat with the other 'pawns'. Taking a brief look at the several others and giving minor opinions to each one in his head. A silence and studying glare he gave.

Deos was far from the first one to make his way to the deary cottage, but he wouldn't be shown up for it. While not alone, he was the only human-ish look man present but flanked on either side of him was one of his special War-Beasts, the Varleth. Large beasts of many claws and barbed tail that stood about five feet tall. Gladly keeping pace with their master as he suddenly found himself engulfed in a large shadow, peering up to see the great from of a dragon on approach for a landing. Almost in awe he gave an approving nod as the beast not only landed at the same location he was going to, but also shapeshifted to be a man just a few inches taller than he was. Seeing such a sight made him pick up the pace to see who else would be coming to this little pow-wow.

Upon reaching the door to the cottage he stepped in as his pets flanked him one by one to be able to fit through the rotted frame to fit inside. Their eyeless heads glancing around as if they could see sniffing at the air to gather those around him, snarling at everyone involved save Deos himself. A soothing hand on each of their heads made them simmer down before Deos spoke his first words, looking directly at Niddhog as he did, being rather active with his gesturing hands, "I don't know what you are, but I want one. Actually... fuck it, I want like three. I don't mean any offense. Just... I must have one of you in my collection of soldiers." He excitedly said, already taking pleasure in the cast around him.

Though after he said that his attention rotated back around to see the others, many of whom didn't look like anything special, but some looked rather... unique and by gauging their dress code he almost wanted to armor himself to match the crowd. Though in his mind it was arbitrary. Besides showing off his beautiful necklace felt like a good idea currently.

One thing he could note though was that nobody here seemed to be in any sort of "power" as it were. Such they had loads of power and it was clear to see some had some titles to their face, but none of them seemed to be the one who called to him, they didn't feel familiar in that sense. So the host had yet to arrive and make his true appearance apparently. In that case though, "Quiet the cast we have today, anybody feel up for a wee chat till our gracious host arrives?" Pointing to Nyarlith he continued, "You look like fun, got anything to say for yourself?"

Mist crawled through the dark forest. It was the kind of fog wise men evaded and fools ran into with swords drawn. A bad omen in a time of darkness on the horizon. It was unnaturally thick and seemed unaffected by the small gusts of wind. Slowly it creeped up the cottage. Surrounding it completely. From the sky a few bats came down and hung themselves upside down on the branches of a few trees. These bats, however, were nothing like their smaller cousins. A fellbat could grow half the size of a man, and had a taste for blood. To see them in the human kingdom was incredibly rare. For long ago they were deemed dangerous enough to kill all of them. But some had survived. Under the dark protection of the Vampire King.

Now they were his slaves. His spies. In the dark of night they flew out and on their hunt they fed their master with visions of patrols, villages and people. Even now they had spot those who came and had already entered the shack. With no screams or the clashing sound of blades, Aborath assumed that the others kept to peace for now. How dull. From the mist, he materialized. Dressed in his simple black robes, trimmed with scarlet. The only thing that could indicate to anything remarkable about him was the small circlet on his head. With the delicacy of an elf he entered the small place. Giving himself a moment to take it all in. Oh yeah, either something great would happen soon. Or they’d all lose patience and draw blades. For a moment he kept silent, trying to decide what was more likely. This ‘God of Evil’ actually appearing, or this strange band going at each other's throat. For a moment he had his doubts. But he dismissed them swiftly enough. Should they start attacking one another, he could simply pull back into the fog still surrounding the place.

He observed the faceless… thing. What an ugly mass. And did that thing’s servant really all just call them insects? Aborath had heard the creature talk from outside. “I can assure you, I am not an insect.” The Vampire King said. While he himself may look the least intimidating of the brood, he liked to keep that façade just so enemies would underestimate him. But when this petty thing called him an insect too, he let the invisible façade of magic surrounding him drop. Revealing his true aura. Drenched in the blood of the innocent and surrounded by the agonizing souls of the forsaken. Before covering it all up in a glamour. “You’d do well to remember that you’re in the company of mighty creatures. So hold that tongue before I take it from you.” All threats were only aimed at Nyarlith’s servant. After which Aborath looked up at the faceless thing, touched his forehead with two fingers and then lifted them off slightly. As a manner of greeting he picked up from an old culture far down south. With the exchange done, he took his own seat at the table.

~The Faceless, Nyarlith~

"I have many things to say, for those with eyes perceptive enough to see beyond." Nyarlith replied to Deos, ignoring the two newcomers Niddhogg and Vortigen, though the Faceless graced latter with an odd gesture at least indicating it recognized his presence. The dragon, was simply ignored like the beast Nyarlith perceived it to be. "Do you have the eyes to see, I wonder? I can't tell. This moonless night as beautiful as it is, dulls the sight. The sweet, sticky whispers are dull, drowned under the a mighty sea. All speaking at once, can not hear or see their words." The creatures voice was oddly serious, before it tilted its head and laughed as Aborath entered the room, obviously insulted by their Enlightened's words.

"Ahh, Greetings." The creature returned the greeting, seemingly amused at the gesture. "Forgive little Amelia. As fun as it would be seeing that tongue of hers ripped out, she puts it to such good use! It'd be a shame for it to go to waste." Nyarlith chuckled lightly at the comment, though the loss of a tongue wasn't too much of a deal. They could replace it easily enough.

"Silence." A simple command, which quickly caused Amelia to cease any further attempts at communication, muttering a quiet apology only to Nyarlith. "Your words are annoying. Drowning out their whispers. Makes it difficult to think." Turning back to Aborath, the creature continued.

"I am Nyarlith, Seeker of Knowledge, delver of the unknown, and messenger of the Great Old Ones." He bowed, deeply extending her arms to their side as it did so. "Who are you, o sightless one?" That was of course, an insult though. Whether Aborath would know it was an entirely different matter however. It probably wasn't much of a stretch to say Nyarlith didn't think very highly of anyone here.

The night had long since fell when Iona and her master, Aesir, arrived at the place were their meeting with none other than Kil'Threx, the God of Evil and Iona's creator, would be held. Naturally, Iona didn't expected to be faced to face with her former master, given that his presence probably couldn't be made physical just yet. Furthermore, they wouldn't be the only ones called to the Conqueror's presence, a slew of the world's most powerful beings, by either might or influence, were called by the Dark One as well. Knowing her creator like no one else, Iona was certain of what that meant.

It was time for the darkness to rise again. The God of Evil had slumbered for too long, now was time for the Children of Light to quake in their heels and Iona would once more serve as the testament that not even light would save them. However, there was a difference this time. The former Ahwaan was dead, in her place only Iona remained and Iona would fight only for Aesir even if it meant to go against Kil'Threx's own words.

It wouldn't be long before the two of them reached the cottage where their meeting was supposed to take place. Iona was asking herself why this place of all have been chosen, perhaps only because it was close enough to Melaron, which meant that Kil'Threx wished to begin his campaign anew, starting from the site of their fall, eons ago. Actually, the battle had happened so long ago that the God of Evil and his armies, led by the Chaos Archangel Ahwaan, were nothing but myth even to the most long lived of mortal beings. Secretly, Iona wondered if any of those assembled by her creator would even recognize her? Not that i would be important, but it could lead to a good guess of their opinions about Kil'Threx.

Iona remained silent, beside her master as the other guests filtered in, only ever sparing the time to nod in acknowledgement of their presence as she felt no use for further pleasantry exchanges. The dichotomy of the presence of a being so pure and untarnished as Iona within a hive of evil such as this was such that the angel expected the less savvy between them to turn their blades and spells against her at any moment, thinking that a servant of the heavens had somehow wound up between them. It would
be a foolish move, but an understandable one.

The Angel of Chaos remained quiet even as the Faceless being berated Aesir, seeing no need to retaliate to such a childish provocation but, sending a death glare to the creature and its master(?) as a reminder that no further offenses would be tolerated. When Deos came asking all sorts of improper questions and generally being an annoying chatterbox, Iona gave him the cold shoulder, hoping that he would get the message that she wasn't interested in wasting words before the meeting even began. When Aboreth came in, Iona acknowledged his presence in the same manner as the others, nodding in agreement to his words to Nyalith.

Well now, was it all of them, or there was someone else yet to arrive? The night was young, but when so many spots of darkness pooled together in a single place, one could ask "Will it ever end?"

---

@TheWizardLizard@TheWindel@Rune_Alchemist@Zendrelax@dragonmancer@FrozenPhoenix@Legion02

---

Much like Aesir had predicted, many numerous beings of power had appeared within this small cottage space. Most, if not all of them, quite frankly bored him and did nothing more to pique his interest further. The sole exceptions were a woman who also wore a mask, the resident bringer of war aptly named Deos that he had found an ally in, and of course his own servant in the form of Iona, the Chaos Angel. Though Iona’s reactions were something not all surprising by this point.

Surely the duo had seen much stranger beings in their presence, though they kept that fact, if any truth was brought up for it, to themselves only. Indeed, the being that had truly caught his attention was the Faceless One, a woman who bore a crest and symbol much similar to his own. And while Iona sought to defend her master’s namesake, Aesir merely nodded, as if to confirm Nyarlith’s curiosities.

“You bear a mask yet you are not one as am I of the Court. How very interesting,” Aesir said for the first time since his appearance. “Seeing as you are a creature of knowledge, surely then you must know already of my namesake and title. I am Aesir, the Apotheosis of the Court.”

To what the Court actually was, he did not say though that was perhaps the point of it. Sensing more than seeing Iona’s growing irritation, he gave a dismissive wave of his hand to quell her troubles. A summoning of this caliber would not end in them fighting on another. Or at least, if it was then this so called dark god was doing a poor job of assembling them together.

“And how are you doing Deos?” the masked man asked, turning his featureless gaze upon the fellow denizen of war. It was no secret they had some sort of pact between them given the drive that defined their very existences. Still, Aesir was calm and collective so far, merely bring up chat to pass the time as they awaited their long overdue host.

---

You have brought him in with you,
For he dwells within you waiting,
Both the first to come and the last.

Can you hear the music? The faint whispers of the desert wind? The tambour of the drums? Hear the taught skin rumble, hear it drone forever to the rhythms of eternity. The plucking of strings pulling at the soul, weaving the melody into the will of fate. And then the desert awakens, the sandswept skies rising the cloud to blot out the starlight night. The desert wind blows to the entrancing legato of the spindle. Become mesmerized, feel the music in your very chest. Each grain and note brushed across your skin to strip it to the bone, your blood runs dry, and your organs shift like the sand. Bursting, wanting, clawing itself out ask it seeks to be freed, unleashed upon the world. So listen, and you may hear the call of the desert.

From the skies they came. Bearing their music. The droning sounds of millions of wings vibrating at once, the chorus of the desert for this was their song. And though the dark storm clouds brooded and brewed, it was not their thundering rumbles which shook the air but those of the swarm. It was the swarm which veiled the stars, swallowing up the light as a darker darkness overtook the skies. A living darkness, a breathing blackness, a hungry void. What dared to stand before them? For the might of millions upon millions upon million and more would devour all who resisted the will of the world. For hunger ran the world in many ways, and those sated are deluded or empty, far too empty. And where there was once a forest and mists, food and drink, now stands nothing more than a cobblestone path to a rotting shack.

Could they, the others, hear it? The symphony of cacophony just outside their secret sanctum, roaring with the might of the living sandstorm? So many seated, so many called, but none so far collected. The Evil Eye had assembled quite the team, but what reason did they answer the summons? Why have they all come? Each a powerful lord or master in their own accord, why would they gather to kneel before something? Perhaps it was an intrigue which motivated them, to simply sate their curiosity and move on. Or perhaps it was ennui which plagues the immortals quite commonly, so much so that they would stoop so low. Or better yet, and perhaps most accurately, it was a hunger which compelled them all. A drive which kept the universe flowing towards the end, whatever end it may be, it is hunger which chases down the need. Or is there no end at all, for it may never end and all that is left is for the universe to consume itself. So to feast upon hunger, that is why He came.

Bursting into room, through the cracks in the walls, the door, the roof, and whatever space there was to assemble the myriad. Thousands of jaws making swift work of the chair until nothing was left of the last seat which marked the place of the which had yet to come, but had already came, and just came now. There it was, the writhing mass of insects, desert locusts which devoured the chair as their wriggling bodies climbed over each other again and again. Crawling upon their brethren and forming a wretched lump that began to resemble a chair. Then, the rest from rose, hopping forth and revealing themselves into an emerging mass that formed from the seat of the chair. Slowly an arm, made of skittering locusts, shaped itself from the mass, a head crafted itself next from the swarm. Another arm, legs, a humanoid body which sat upon the infesting throne.

"My old friend, what is it you desire?" The buzzing sounds made from the many, reverberated through the throne as this thing, whatever it was to those unfamiliar, and curious to those who knew better. It spoke to no one in particular, directed at none of the others as a few of its number fell and rose to crawl again upon its form. Of all those who attend only Zhystkrexas had not physically manifested himself, merely deciding to send an avatar, or in this case a vestige of himself to this dark meeting place. It was not out of fear, but rather of courtesy. For if indeed Kil'threx had wanted to gather an army for his cause, Zhystkrexas' presence, and what it caused, would not be needed. Only a scroll need be signed by all parties involved.

And once the pact was made, what force of good may stand before them?

Trenton Baker

The pirate captain did not rise from his seat, merely eyeing each new arrival in turn, feigning the same kind of wise, knowing air that the others greeted each newcomer with. In truth, he didn't know shit about any of these people - not the dragon, not the mist-man, not the masked man or the masked... whatever.

He observed with bored interest as tempers flared amongst the motley lot - the pale mist-man had something to say to the thing in the mask, and he made his point with a fairly banal show of force. "Oooh, scary," the pirate called out at the Vampire Lord's aura filled the room with the stench and the feel of blood and fear. "That must really get all the old women and little girls wherever you're from, yeah? Bet it knocks 'em dead." Trenton guffawed loudly and put his boots up on the table. "I'm sure we're all above fancy magic tricks here, though."

For all his talk, though, it would be a lie to say Trenton didn't jerk back a bit when the locusts started pouring in, more from shock than anything. The writhing swarm slowly formed together, took the shape of a throne, a man, and Trenton relaxed. This one, at least, he knew.
"Zyrthrexas!" he shouted, a broad grin forming on his face. "Just the horrific beast I was hoping to see here. I swear I was just thinking, 'If only this was fuckin' weirder,' but now here you..."

The pirate's words were interrupted by the loudest rumbling he had ever heard.

Kil'threx, God of Evil

Slowly, tendrils of black smoke began to worm their way into the cottage from underneath the walls. The trickle turned into a flow, and then a flood, as gouts of the wispy substance poured forth and swirled through the air with a will of their own, encircling each one of the assembled company in turn. The rumbling from the floor changed in pitch and rhythm, became a steady, beating sound; laughter. But this was not the giggle of a madwoman, the chuckle of banal evil, or the mocking pitch of the conqueror. This laughter was low, and slow, and almost... grandfatherly.

"My friends," the laughing voice spoke, booming from every direction. "My family. When your father calls you, you come. You... honor me." The smoke swirled into the center of the room, forming a long column equidistant from each of the assembled company. "My sweet children, I have come home to you. Father is here, father has returned, and I aim to set right this blasted world and remake it as it always should have been. For I am Kil'threx, Father of Evil. It was my hand that seeded the edges of the world with spirits and demons, who placed the fire of war and greed in men's hearts and filled the black seas with unknowable terrors. It was under my banner that the mightiest army ever known was raised, a legion of the foul and corrupted that was toppled only narrowly, and will not be toppled again. But... I cannot yet manifest my true glory. Not unaided."

"Ten thousand years ago, my army was shattered, my power sealed away by holy magics. My might was too great for any conventional binding and so the Children of the Light locked it away in a great black statue of mine own image, and sealed it deep in a dungeon. They raised a great city atop of it to better keep me jailed... a city known as Melaron. You may know it."

"This is my charge to you - in seven day's time, the loathsomely 'good' denizens of this city will hold a festival; they know it not, but this celebration marks the ten-thousandth anniversary of my defeat. The nine of you will destroy the city, slaughter its forces, recover the statue and destroy it. Only then will I be free to manifest... and you shall be rewarded as my most trusted servants. The instruments of my vengeance. My Harbingers."

The smoke coalesced, forming into a dense orb in the center of the room. From this ball three tendrils emerged, shifting their hue between black as night and red as fire. They extended, gradually, towards the Blackscale Tyrant, the man who was no man. "Niddhogg..." the voice rumbled again. "My mighty son, the breaker of kingdoms and devourer of heroes, who has carved his kingdom from fire and mayhem. I can offer you more. All the glinting treasures of heaven and earth, the power to take and to rule and to dominate this land. Take the offer. Become my Harbinger of Dominion, and I will make you a force that none could oppose."

Then the tendrils snaked away and shifted their color again - a dark blue dotted with points of gleaming light, like the night sky, as they wrapped around He of Whisper and Shadow, the Spiritbinder. "Vortigern, oh clever child! Long have I watched you, and admired the skill and the knowledge with which you assail the spirit and dominate the will. You who has learned to call the young spirits of this world and win them to your power. What is it you desire, my son? Do you wish to unravel all the mysteries of this world, of all worlds? Do you crave power, greater power, the power to take vengeance for every slight, every wrong ever dealt you? Recognition - worship, even? I could make you a god-king, Vortigern, lord of a million loyal subjects, the object of their adoration, their praise, the vessel of the true god as his Harbinger of Magic."

Once more the tendrils shifted - becoming the color of burnt bronze, reaching towards the masked man, the Apotheosis of the Court. "Aesir, who has won the day on a thousand fields, the warrior who will never feel the sting of death. To you I offer the chance to lead the greatest army this world will ever seen - a host of villains and monsters, a single battle line miles long marching ceaselessly across the world. I would make you the general who conquered the world, whose soldiers overthrew every castle and bloodied every battlefield. My Harbinger of Conquest."

Then, slowly, haltingly, and almost shyly, the orange tendrils turned to the woman by Aesir's side, reaching forward as though they might stroke her cheek before pulling back. "Ahwaan..." the voice spoke, seeming almost heavy with emotion, "My most beautiful daughter. Who sang my praises and slaughtered my foes on a dozen battlefields, my perfect creation, my Angel of Chaos. But you are no longer my Ahwaan, are you, Iona? The Children of the Light have... taken this from you. You serve a new master now - but serve me too, Iona, the memory of my daughter. Take up your blades once more in my name and regain the glory and the power that was yours... and be my angel again. My Harbinger of Chaos.

The tendrils retreated back into the ball, and now the entire mass of smoke moved, sinuous and rope like, slithering through the air towards the Sovereign of War. "Deos Risleth, the burning beast of the battlefield. You have slain numbers beyond counting, made brave men rout in terror of your blood-soaked might. Turn your power to my cause, and fight in the greatest battles this world will ever seen, that all may bear witness to your fury and the joy of bloodshed. Do this, and when this world is mine you may build a new Yirthalx, in this world, where you may sit on a throne of a million skulls while all the finest warriors in the world spill each other's blood in your name. Become my death dealer, Deos Risleth - my Harbinger of Battle."

"And you, my brother..." Kil'threx rumbled as the smoke swirled and mingled with the swarm of locusts, passing in and out of their humanoid shape freely. "Zyrthrexas, my first friend, who walked by my side in a young world. Time has been far kinder to you than me - but still, your appetite is nowhere near sated, is it? I know what you are, Zyrthrexas - inevitable. It is into your great maw that all things will one day pass, a truth greater and deeper than any other. Aid me, brother - bend your cunning and your power to my cause, and in return I will open the very heavens to your desire. No deal will be too great, nothing beyond your reach - my Harbinger of Hunger, to whom my world shall someday pass."

The smoke coalesced once again, shimmering and rolling in an almost liquid like state as it curled towards the pirate, regarding him coolly. "Trenton Baker, the mad dog of the seas, the only man who ever heard the sweet music I taught to the things of the next world. You have mastered life and death as no other has, and I have need of your talents. Serve me, baker. Conquer the seas in my name and raise an army from the bones of my enemies, and in return you shall be granted everything you might hunger for - all that is needed to whet your every appetite. I will make you strong, unconquerable, beholden to none save me; my Harbinger of Death."

The gaze of the coiling material moved again, circling around the Grave Knight and lunging for his neck before halting. "Aborath, the bloodsoaked. Heir of the power granted to Cain, the lord of the night, the bloodsoaked king who slaughtered dozens of the light's children and lapped the blood that ran through the streets. I offer you power, prestige, but most of all a new world - where the children of Cain, your children, shall be worshipped like the gods they are from one corner of the world to the other, where not even the smallest fledgling of the blood will fear the rising sun or the torches of his cattle. In return I need only your power, and your wickedness - to destroy all who would oppose me, openly or not, and paint this blighted world red with their gore. My Harbinger of Slaughter."

Finally, the gel-like substance that floated through the air budded, splitting into a thousand lashing tendrils that stormed and raged aroung the masked thing. "Khata Nyarlith, my strangest child. You have heard the sweet whispers and the wracking cries of the things that claw at this world, and you have turned them to glorious wickedness. Serve me, child - reveal the hidden horrors to this world and you will be granted power, insight, and the chance to raze this world of walls and laws and wretched order. You will be beautiful, Harbinger of the Unknown."

Finally the substance began to dissipate, whispy tendrils flying out in every direction as the whole became more and more translucent. "Reflect on the gifts I offer, children," the voice of Kil'threx purred, "And know that it is best to serve. I am Kil'threx, the Eldest Evil, and I will reward loyalty just as soon as I will punish any wayward child. Slay the humans - turn their city to rubble and their gods to ash. Set me free, my Harbingers. Set me free."

And just like that, the cottage was silent again.

@FrozenPhoenix@TheWizardLizard

Niddhogg, The Blackscale Tyrant

Few of these associatiates caught the dragon's attention, aside from one who spoke to him directly

"I don't know what you are, but I want one. Actually... fuck it, I want like three. I don't mean any offense. Just... I must have one of you in my collection of soldiers."

Niddhogg stared at the stranger, his single eye glowing like beams of a crimson crosshair from beneath the helmet, parting some darkness away from his concealed face, the dragon could see right away the demonic aura that followed him, as if the man was the very essence of war and hellfire. Even seeing this though, the dragon's pride was not so much as impressed, rather it was more of acknowledgement that at best the demon could be near his strength. However the fact that the demon could reckognize his greatness, and desired his servitude, gave some flattery to the dragon.

"Your words please me, however suffice to say that I am no one's tool." The dragon spoke calmly and matter-of-fact like, though in a way of tone were it would be almost as if he was spreading 'great' wisdom to a child. "Unfortunately, there is only one of me, I made sure of it." Niddhogg emphasized one as if to make a crucial point, either that he had slain his equals or that he is far too unique for a second.

The conversation changed when the very entity that orchestrated this little 'get together' appeared in a sudden display of his godhoodly powers. As he began speaking, he began to understand more of his father's motives. His eye narrowed, questioning this philosophy. He dared not interrupt his speech, but the though ran through his head. What happens when we live in a world where there is no 'good', Our sins will have us turn on each other.
He remembered the very day that his father was defeated, he was there, of course, he was born even before that war, though that was also the last day he served the very god that created him until perhaps now.

his thoughts were broken when the God spoke to him.

Kil'threx, God of Evil

"My mighty son, the breaker of kingdoms and devourer of heroes, who has carved his kingdom from fire and mayhem. I can offer you more. All the glinting treasures of heaven and earth, the power to take and to rule and to dominate this land. Take the offer. Become my Harbinger of Dominion, and I will make you a force that none could oppose."

His choice of words seemed to have been very carefully crafted to dig right into the dragon's pride and stroke his ego. The prized son of the god so was suggested, any oppositions he had to the idea faded. The god promised power and riches, riches beyond the mortal world and power that supposedly none could rival. It was an upgrade to the say least, and could be perhaps the very goal he wishes to achieve. And besides, if this little plan his father had was successful, there would be few gods to compete with anyway. This little 'team' needed the legendary power of a great and ancient dragon, one blessed by evil. Harbinger of Dominion, yes, he would deliver his destruction and ire upon the light, and those that stand by it

As the God moved to each individual, the dragon started to think back to his original question to this little orchestrated event. What will happen indeed, if these creatures of darkness have no light to challenge them and their sin. The balance would crumble and soon they will turn onto each other to satisfy their own personal sins. At least, that is what the dragon thought for a prediction. He did not share this idea, instead he had a solution.

When that happens, He will be sure that none will oppose him. He started to plan ahead, particularly towards his fellow Harbingers, and study them closer. For now little information could be harvested other then the god's speech for the moment. But of course, there was plenty of time to prepare for this situation that takes place after they destroy all that is light and reshape the world as their father wants it.

Vortigern was caught off guard by Kil'threx's arrival. It fit the mode by which one might expect the God of Evil to make their appearance, but at the time, he had been observing the brewing tensions amongst his future associates—both to learn more about them, and for some measure of amusement. The rumbling that announced Kil'threx's presence knocked him from that stupor.

And what a presence it was. Every person that had gathered there was powerful, of that there could be no doubt, but Kil'threx was on another level. Beyond what he knew, beyond what he could see, he could feel the power radiating from even this simple manifestation of the Father of all Evil, and he knew that Kil'Threx was in another class entirely.

And then there were the promises he had made. Vortigern precisely what it was that Kil'threx foretold; Vortigern's future was one of servitude, however it had been smothered in fine words.

Yet, would the servitude not also be then smothered in something fine? Even accomplishing one of the things that he promised would be nigh impossible for me to accomplish on my own. If we free him, then, absent complication, it would mean that he would give me everything.

And all Kil'threx promised was sorely tempting. He had made his peace with servitude before his arrival, as he had no delusions about contesting the God of Evil, but now, he thought, servitude may not be so horrible a fate.

Of course, before that could come to pass, they had a task to accomplish. Vortigern smiled from deep inside his hood.

"I am not truly familiar with any of you, not beyond what stories have reached my corner of the world—pale imitations of reality that they may happen to be—but I would say that between the nine of us, we have more than enough power to destroy Melaron. I would dare to say the only possibility of failure is if we get in each others' way." There was an audible tremor of excitement in his voice. "I propose, thus, that we make some measure of a plan for our assault."

Aborath remained silent through the entire speech of the god of Evil. His offer was certainly tempting. The world free from the tyranny of the sun. With his children unafraid of their own cattle. The Vampiric Kingdom, but then everywhere. His children worshipped as gods and free to choose from their cattle. Without having to cling to the shadows or hunt their pathetic prey. If Kil’threx would have offered anything less, Aborath would have left. But the promised rewards were plenty. For sure, the one who actually managed to free the Dark Lord would receive the favor of their new Master. Maybe even a boon. Bloody greed filled Aborath. If he was going to join in on this insane task, he would be the one freeing the God of Evil.

But then Vortigern, the former human mage and now apparition of shadows spoke. With truth, if one would ask Aborath. The only way they’d fail was when they’d get in each other’s way. And how, with the nine of them, could that not happen? He watched the many heads within the room. So much wickedness, but obviously greed too. He saw it in their eyes, the hunger for power like he hungered for blood. If anything, he knew many of them would deliberately sabotage one another just so they could get a shot at freeing Kil’threx. He couldn’t allow some other fool to stand in his way.

“Truth. We should set up a battle plan. We are with nine, so I’d suggest we split up in groups of 2 each and attack from a direction on the compass. One would be left to support whatever side would require it.” Aborath stretched out his hand over the central table. Blood pulled up from the ground and crawled up on the legs of the table. Once on the table, it began to make a crude map of Melaron. There it remained, the blood getting pumped around as if the lines were veins. With the central keep and palace as the heart. “So gentlemen. I suggest we get to work.” Aborath had, in fact, no desire what so ever to join up with any of the individuals sitting at the table. He’d send out word this very night yet. His main army of vampires would start marching. Covens spread throughout the world heed his call. But most importantly, the Mistwalkers of Lake Hysrine would arrive earlier. In four days at the most. The Mistwalkers were a dreaded coven of vampires specialized in deception and stealth. Since their creation, many elven cities had fallen in old Lothorian. They’d infiltrate the city under the cover of night. When the siege would start, they’d plunge whole districts in a confusing thick mist and commence their search for the dungeon entrance. Yes, Aborath would be the first to march down and shatter the statue. This he vowed. All under the guise of looking ready to cooperate with the ramble that stood before him.

~The Faceless, Nyarlith~

Nyarlith simply ignored Zhystkrexas and his rather...grandiose entrance. They were too focused on something else entirely. He was coming. They could feel it. That same, sticky evil that permeated their most recent dreams was coming closer. All others at that point were deemed irrelevant to the Great One that would soon grace their presence. As soon as the dark presence manifested itself, the Faceless creature bowed deeply, showing nothing bur reverence for the God of Evil as he began speaking. Amelia simply remained silent, as this was not her place to speak.

Their masked visage looked up only when they were addressed, mask not giving away any emotion other than its normal blank stare. The offer was incredibly tempting. That had been their goal for so long, after all. Bring those that were banished to the edges of reality back into this world. But it wasn't such an easy thing. The distance between this realm and the outer realms were both great and near, but with each creature that slipped between that barrier it weakened. This was their chance. The Creatures that existed out there were fickle beings, and summoning them without reason only earned their ire. This war, though? Oh certainly certainly...this was going to be oh so incredibly chaotically fun!

When the Great Old One left their presence, only then did the creature straighten itself once again and observe the others. Vortigen suggested they make a plan. That was certainly something they should have, though in the end no plan ever went according to plan. With the nine of them? Well, a plan was simply bound to not go right. They could see it. Their eyes knew the others were greedy even if they weren't the most particularly greedy one themselves. Aborath, was likely included with that.

"Wohoho, that is a decent strategy indeed!" Nyarlith replied to Aborath. "Though, some of us do not quite have the same tactics as simply squeeze the heart until it turns into a deliciously fine bloody pulp." In truth, Nyarlith did not have a large standing army at the moment. Their agents were scattered across the cities. Sleeper agents, one might call them. They were their eyes and ears in this realm whilst they sat upon their throne. Melaron was no exception, either, for their agents had their eyes shut until the moment they were needed.

"Large scale war is not something me and my kin are suited for. No no, we will creep upon them like a silent, churning sea. Infiltrate the city, for my Kin are already within it. All I must do is open their eyes, give them their orders and they will cause chaos within the city during the siege. Cripple defenses...chaos utter beautiful chaos among their ranks. Their soldiers fighting one another, their citizens working against them! Such a delicious and beautiful sight for my eyes and such a delicious feast for the Great Ones!" The creature known as Nyarlith laughed at the idea, growing more and more delighted as it envisioned the grand chaos that would spread from this action. "Seven days is enough time to prepare my Enlightened for such a task. Of course, without the threat of a mighty army bearing down on them, then this would be a sightless beasts errand."

She of course, did not mention what exactly she would be doing in this time. She had no thoughts of betrayal, but there was no way in the cosmos that the others didn't have thoughts. Revealing their entire hand here, would be the folly of a sightless.

---

The last of their expected attendance manifested in the form of some eldritch abomination, a cyclone of putrid and quite literal insects buzzing their way into the cottage before settling in one place. Aesir, like the others no doubt, watched on as the creatures began to squirm and swarm over the last remaining chair before soon taking physical shape before them. And with that shape came the overarching presence of hunger that was Zhystkrexas. How typical.

The pirate from before seemed to have welcomed the embodiment with open arms, and it could be deducted that the two entities were of acquaintance to each other. Ironic that the theme of the day seemed to be pairs, numbers of twos in all things. Aesir kept to himself as there was no need for further greetings among his fellow black hearts; that, and because something new was being stirred.

The air began to shift with power and an overtly dramatic chuckle that almost made Aesir laugh in turn to how childish and unnecessary it was. Before long, all of them were shown the form of the one being who had summoned them all here. Kil'threx, the God of Evil, or so his title would advertise. As an orb of inky blackness, Aesir assumed the reason for their gathering was to bring about his physical form once more into this world.

And once again he was correct, Kil'threx detailing the markings of his own tale before highlighting the tasks that needed to be done. But first, an insurance policy to keep his followers loyal to him alone. A common trick but admirable and effective all the same. As the dark one flitted to each individual, he soon appeared before Aesir himself with a dark orange coloration in his tendrils.

The greatest army ever? There was irony in that statement and Aesir saw reason to smile beneath his mask. Yes, very ironic indeed…but nothing that would not dissuade him from committing to this task. After all, he cared not for spoils and riches anymore, let alone glory. Perhaps he never did. All he desired was for the euphoria that was everlasting conflict to spread throughout all things.

When the dark god moved towards his servant, Iona, his tone took on a more gentle approach. Aesir listened with interest, noting the even deeper irony that ran in this scenario. To think he was under command of Kil'threx’s former ally…most interesting indeed.

Just as he had spoken to Iona and himself, Kil'threx shifted onward to speak to all nine of the gathered beings before departing with whispers in the shadows. The answer was obvious, Aesir noting that Kil'threx did just promise to punish them if they rebelled. Besides, what harm would there be in going along with this little play? It would at least sate his boredom.

The notion of a plan was thankfully acknowledged; good, because that meant Aesir did not have to speak himself. It would seem the others were doing all the talking for him and that prompted the masked man to continue hanging back with crossed arms and his servant by his side.

Oh yes, he could tell this group was going to get along just right, the light of greed and intention of betrayal so obvious that it could cut the tension in the room in half. They were villains after all so it was to be expected. Creatures steeped in blood and darkness who sought to overturn one another. Frankly, Aesir cared not as long as he got his conflict but seeing how everyone else was on edge….

“I suppose the Harbinger of Conquest will do just that then, yes? Someone has to become the face of our allegiance and strife is all I know,” he said, sweeping his masked gaze to all in the cottage. “Perhaps then I should leave the schemes to all of you while I actively and publicly enact war on Melaron. While their forces are focused upon me, the rest of you are kept in the shadows, free to do what you will without restriction or discovery from the forces of Light.”

A bold move, but certainly one that was achievable by the immortal conqueror. After all, it wasn’t like he could be killed and so the armies of Melaron would have to spend much time and many resources to combat his own. Meanwhile, that would at least give the other seven the time and preparation they needed to enact their grand plan against the capital city.

“In any case, perhaps we should also address the elephant in the room, yes? Can we all assume that each of us harbors the desire to betray the other?” he asked smoothly, waiting for the response to his simple question.

---

To say that Vortigern had been caught off guard by the latter statement would be an understatement. He had been organizing the resources they had before them—limited as his knowledge of that may be—into the skeleton of a workable plan. That said, the words rung with truth. He himself did not presently harbor such intentions, but such conflict was bound to fester amongst this group. And yet...

"While we can be certain that those in this room will be at odds with each other at some point, we would do well to remember that our... Father is unlikely to take well to us causing too great an upset to his desires. It would be wise to refrain from doing such things until Kil'threx's wishes can be more accurately understood." Vortigern himself had no desire to stab anyone in the back, [reoccupied with loyalty as he was, but he could not deny the likelihood of others engaging in such activity. "I hope that, at the very least, we can accomplish our appointed task before we start at each others' throats."

That speech complete, he turned to the map that Aborath had made. "Kil'threx was light on details, but there is one chief dungeon in Melaron." He waved a hand, and a translucent pillar of blue light rose from what was clearly the King's Palace was on the map—technically an illusion, being a manipulation of light, but not truly masking anything. "Otherwise, there is a decreasing possibility that the statue is held by the Order of the Sun," a paler pillar over said Order's headquarters, "and of it being held by the Order of the Stars." An even paler pillar rose over said Order's complex. "Those agents I possess which have infiltrated the Order of the Moon have not identified any facility that would fit the description of a dungeon, save the King's own. That does not, however, mean one does not exist. In any case, it is imperative that our adversaries do not suspect our primary strategic objective."

Vortigern looked up from the map at Aesir. "Your army could, thus, serve a double purpose: distracting their own forces from imminent internal attacks, and keeping them penned inside the city walls. Triple, if accounting for the standard benefits brought by a besieging army."

He looked back to the map. "Even then, should someone guess our purpose, they might seek escape with the statue by means of magic. Even lacking such a realization, the sheer utility and power provided by their magic could cause problems for us. As such," the palest blue pillar was intertwined with streaks of bright, burning red, "one of our foremost tactical objectives should be the destruction of the Order of the Stars." There was some small part of Vortigern, shriveled and dry, that cringed at this. Even being what he was now, he remembered his time in the Order fondly.

I shall have those memories forevermore. Now I must work towards the future.

"I have personally infiltrated the Order of the Stars in the past, and shall be able to do so again." Any defenses they might put up around themselves, Vortigern's flesh was of their Order, as was the cloth that flesh bore. More like as not, they would recognize him as one of their own. "While I and my spirits could hold them in place, and ultimately destroy them, it would tie me up for a considerable length of time—even after the more competent of the Order is dealt with, the entire complex would need to be searched. Some form of backup may be desirable. Or at least something to corral them inside." He glanced over at Khata Nyarlith. "Some sport of barrier over their own defenses, erected once I was inside." He did not address the other former-mage by name, but the implicated request of her—or perhaps her servants—was definitely there.

Looking back to the map, he continued. "The mages receiving some form of aid would be... inconvenient, if not detrimental to that particular attack. As much of Melaron's ordinary forces would be tied down with the siege, and with keeping the peace, it would likely fall to the Order of the Sun." Bright red light, identical to that marking the Order of the Stars, wound its way into the pillar marking the Order of the Sun. "As such, a simultaneous assault on their facilities to tie them down might also be in order. Yes, there interference in any of our operations could prove most vexing." He leaned back in his chair. "Any one of us—or probably two, as Aboreth suggested—could likely handle them. Those whom their powers affect the least could be the most effective." He looked to the roof, reaching one hand to his chin. "Iona's presence alone could seriously demoralize them, if she isn't otherwise occupied." At this point, he had near enough forgotten that he was not alone in the room. It was a wonder that he hadn't just moved his tactical analysis into his thoughts.

"It would likely also be effective if we attacked the Palace at the same time as well, to add to the confusion. In fact, capturing it, or else turning that which is above ground to rubble, would be quite useful in demoralizing the enemy, making battle even easier. Yes, three simultaneous attacks could be the way to go."

He leaned forward again, placing both hands on the map. "Even still, once we find the statue, it is unlikely that it will be unguarded. Whoever stowed it underground is likely to have left some form of arcane defense behind. And enchanted it such that destroying it will be more difficult than smacking it about with a mace. And they may well have left some unknown contingency behind that will trigger in the case of Kil'threx's release." Vortigern let out a sound resembled a cross between a hum and a growl as he stared at the map, discontented with the presence of uncertain variables.

Leaning back again, he caught sight of his compatriots, and realized that he had been the only one talking for some time. "Ah, yes, I'm sure that some of you have thoughts on our mission."

Does watched as those he spoke to respond in sequence, though mostly to his dismay. But it didn't really matter too much as their gracious host had shown up, though not particularly in the flesh. He shifted on his heels watching as Kil'threx spoke to each person in particular. When his turn came and the single rope of energy came towards him he perked up, taking a half step forward to listen to what he would be offered and what he was told made him quiet literally giddy. To have his realm grow and spread across all of the known mortal world. Letting everybody enjoy the satisfaction of war and to see what it is like to feel red, hot blood flowing through your fingers... Perfect...

As he continued and eventually left, Deos spoke up once more but unlike his fellows his mind did not stray to betrayal and deceit but instead was damn near blinded by the thrill and idea of battle, "Fuck sake, this prospect of war has got me harder than Hell-Plate. Who cares about all this sneaking and conniving. Let's just fucking kill them! I say that we start far away and close in on them, trapping them in their owns walls." He commented, though his words were less focused on actually helping and more towards getting to the bloodshed. Which in a sense was a good thing as his bloodthirsty armies could do wonders for distractions, assaults, and supply disruptions. Perhaps even taking out Meloran's neighboring allies to separate them from getting reinforcements. And for Deos as long as swords are drawn he'd happily partake in the events there...

Many of his new 'allies' in this little quest had already voiced their opinions about betrayal and sabotage which was a disgrace regardless as actions such as that were just... pathetic. If you can't beat your foe in combat you have no right to try and sneak behind them anyway. Though at the same time he didn't share the goals as they did. He existed to bring war to teh world, once that was done he would be a happy man reveling in the constant conflict. He had his goal and his drive, which may not particularly be said for some of his fellows. Regardless it didn't leave him much of care as what he had, stood to gain, and wanted could be reached easily by just participating in this little adventure...

Patting his beasts on the head they both reared and started to walk towards the blood map with their master leading the way, looking to see what madness could be discovered from their collective minds looking at the situation.