Co-GMed by Cyclone and Lugubrious.

Most of the information you need to know is in the OOC's first post, so if you're new I recommend you go there.

Map of Elysium

This map contains coordinates and named landmarks. When describing locations, it would be helpful if you incorporated those. Do also account for distance. You're not going to march across 1000 kilometres in only a day.

Also note that major cities have populations between 100,000 and 1,500,000, and a proportionally large military force including spell-casters, so conquest of such a place will invariably be a major undertaking.

Compendium

This is a log of all the information we create in this world, to be used to ensure consistency. It will contain primarily an overview of each of your Keepers and their Dungeons, for the convenience of player interaction, but it shall also contain information on notable locations and NPC groups. It would be greatly appreciated if, when there is cause for there to be a new Compendium entry, you would write it yourself and append it to the end of your post.
The descriptions of locations are presently very basic descriptions. When you visit a location, flesh it out and add more details.

Players
DR_TRAPEZOID

• Viktor - A Keeper. Not held by human chains, Viktor has put his essence into a massive machine adorning his laboratory. The massive machine hangs from the ceiling by various wires and pipes, and is capable of rotating around the room. Many arms branch off of it, each equipped with multiple tools, for the creation of whatever his heart desires. Adorning his neck is a fine mask, pure white, with gently curving features, rather unnerving when looked at directly. Viktor has a very one-track mind, and thinks of little more than conquering everything he can get his hands on. He builds an army of nightmarish beasts, roughly patched together combinations of man, magic, and machine.


• Dungeon - N60°W05°. A small stone castle and town in the tundra some distance north-east from Altearx.


• Imps - These imps stand shorter than most imps, and they slouch. They have rough skin with a mellow grey tone, as opposed to the bright red skin of normal imps. Their limbs are short and stocky, sporting large claws and feet, suited for construction and digging, not combat. Their incessant chatter is a strange garble, mixing multiple languages, and talking far too fast to be understood. Their eyes are hidden behind carved wooden masks, giving them an unsettling stare.


• Ogre - First minion. A hideously contorted being, with calloused skin stretched over a stone skeleton. One arm is a shrivelled stump, the other a massive meaty club-like limb, and the legs are stubby. Clothed in nothing but a loincloth and a narrow-visored metal helmet covering an otherwise exposed brain and skinless face. May be armed with crude metal weapons.


• Stamrad - First construct. Stamrad is little more than a shell of armour, housing the intelligence of 25 soldiers. Tactics is his strong suit, however he can hold his own in battle. His strength is no more than that of a normal soldier, and he has no magical power whatsoever. When standing behind his men, shouting commands, he becomes a force to be reckoned with.


• Skeletons - Second minion. Skeletons sporting pure black bones, and a single arm augmented with metal. Instead of a skull, they have a metal helmet, with a faint glow from with-in. These creatures are designed to strike quickly with their spears. Though weak, they combust upon death, making them lethal in close quarters.


• Minotaurs - Third minion. Beasts made from the corpse of a musk-ox, these heavily muscled bi-pedals have no intelligence above that primal instinct that drives most animals. Their strength has been heavily augmented, making them a force to be reckoned with. They aren't currently armed with anything more than the sharp ivory horns crowning their skull.


• Walking Ballistae - Fourth creature. The walking ballistae are naught more than ballistae resting upon thick pillars of meat, allowing them to move around. This makes them wonderful tools of war, though they are not very bright. They need to be operated by skeletons, and are extremely vulnerable to magic, as is most of Viktor's army.


• The Patchwork Man - Viktor's second construct, this creature is simply cloth draped over machinery and flesh, shaped like a man. Designed to blend with the normal masses, it wears a large brown cloak masking most of its features. In case of hostile confrontation, a great magical light can shine from his flat glass eyes, stunning aggressors momentarily. A large zipper crosses his chest, that can be opened to reveal his insides. He has been enchanted to be able to hold far more within those recesses than one might think. Can hold a large number of minions within his recesses, to be released from within unsuspecting settlements.


• Broken Beasts - Fifth minion. Once the perfect soldier, armed to the teeth, the blueprint was corrupted, leaving them grotesquely deformed. Seemingly just a mass of flesh, charred and burnt with skin calloused and scarred into a stone hard shield. Many bony limbs protrude out, capable of little more locomotion than flailing about angrily. They do keep many remnants of their previous selves in the new marred form. They are very flammable, though unable to control this. Their most noteworthy power is the venom that exudes from their claws and mouths. Imbued with the power from The Rippers meteor, this venom eats through most material, which allows the creatures to burrow through the ground unhindered. They fight by embedding themselves below their enemies feet, before jumping out in the midst of their ranks, flailing poisoned limbs about and causing chaos. Though they are not extremely intelligent by any standards, they are possibly the smartest of Viktor's army, able to strategically lay themselves in the perfect position to ruin the enemies formation.



• Ifrit - Rogue Being. Serves Shaige. A beast of smoke, his horse-like body is augmented by a lizard-like skull with horns, and a massive, twisting tail. His skin is black and glassy like obsidian, and constantly exudes smoke. A faint amethyst light can be seen shining from behind his eyes. Previously known as the scion of the Infernal King, he has gone down in lore as a force to be reckoned with, spreading destruction at his master's whim. Today, he has been dismissed as a fairly tail. The beast is a massive thing, standing taller than many trees. His strength is nothing to be laughed at, however there is no intelligence behind the skull, nothing past obeying orders.

Cyclone

• Shaige - The ghost of a Keeper from another world. He was summoned into Elysium with no memories of his past life, though his extended stay in the Void gave him an unrivalled mastery over the the various types of black magic: blood, shadow, smoke, and soul. He is capable of taking several forms, though as a general rule, he is far weaker when he takes on an ethereal or invisible body. His true form is a humanoid mad of pure, coruscating violet light. Shaige prefers to cloak himself within a robe of pure shadow, though his amethyst eyes always peer out from within the hood. He is manipulative and Machiavellian, keeping everything from his goals to even his name a secret from his followers. Nonetheless, those who serve him are well rewarded and fiercely loyal.


• Dungeon - N44°E12°. Shaige's dungeon is a sprawling, subterranean city. The entrance is in the side of a rocky hill, in the form of a narrow cave concealed with magic. Down below are many twisting corridors and chambers or varying size. Magical lighting is used, so as to not suffocate everyone inside the poorly ventilated cavern. The cave system is massive, and much of it is unused and unexplored. Shaige's dungeon heart is in a shrine room, deep below the surface and all the other rooms. The Heart is a corked bottle, containing a few ritual fragments including some imp blood.


• Imp - Standard imps. The first of Shaige's came directly from Outremar and summoned him.


• Pain Elemental - First minion. Made from a lost soul, cursed to eternal torture. To relieve itself from its suffering the pain elemental can either attack any living thing, temporarily transferring the pain onto their target and draining them of life-force, or kill itself, exploding in a ball of fire and anguish. They typically take the form of a glowing, wailing, fiery ball, and they turn into ghostly flaming forms of what they looked like in life when they attack.


• Soran - First construct, an imp construct. Stands taller and stronger than other imps, with eyes that let out a carmine glow like dying coals. Wears a robe of darkness as a cloak, which might have let him pass for a human, if it weren't for the demon's burning gaze and sulphurous breath. Wields a long, black rod also made of shadows, with the end resembling the wheel of a cart with a small white moonstone gem faintly glowing red. Soft wisps of purplish, nearly ebony smoke drift from the tip of the staff, as if it were a candle. Soran is an emissary, taskmaster, steward and general of Shaige.


• Zealot - Second minion. These are human followers of Shaige, with bodies that have been extremely augmented by magic. They are resilient to damage, and capable of marching for days without halt. Their extreme strength and stamina allows them to fight in heavy plate armour and move just as well as a normal, un-armoured human would. Their minds have also been enhanced, giving them inhuman reaction times as well as the ability to rapidly learn how to fight, if they have someone to teach them. Well trained and equipped, these heavy infantry would be capable of holding their own against any other human soldiers on Elysium, if not outright massacring them.


• The Tormenter - Second construct. This monstrosity takes the form of a tall, gaunt humanoid. It has skin the colour of midnight, huge bat-like wings, and bulbous eyes that give it perfect sight in the dark at the cost of near blindness in daylight. It has a disproportionately large jaw full of dagger-like teeth, as well as razor-sharp talons and claws. Any creature of flesh that is wounded by the Tormenter will soon succumb to its potent venom. This gives the construct the ability to defend itself, though it instinctively hides and attempts to avoid fighting. The Tormenter's greatest power is its ability to dig into their minds. It can probe for information, attempt to possess them to varying degrees, or torment them with whispers and hallucinations in an attempt to induce insanity. The devious monster was created with the collective knowledge and wit of six humans, making its intelligence not to be underestimated.


• Shadow Beasts - Third minion. These are the spirits, called loas, that were formerly worshipped by the Mutig tribe. Now, they are corrupted by black magic and bound into servitude to Shaige, the same Keeper that is now the patron spirit of the Mutig. The shadow beasts are weak to any form of light, and are not particularly resistant to magic. However, fighting them in close quarters would be a terrible mistake. Their ghostly forms are very difficult to damage with physical objects, yet their claws and teeth have no difficulty harming the living. The smallest of wounds from them delivers a deadly poison of magical nature, that quickly leads to unconsciousness and then a death by necrosis. Shadow beasts take the form of various animals, blanketed by writhing clouds of smoke and shadow. They possess the power to enter and exit the spirit realm, but doing so takes time and considerable effort.



• Balon - Rogue Being. Serves Xir'ain. Once a guardian, placed by the creator of Elysium, at the bottom of the deepest part of the ocean to protect an unknown magical artefact. He rebelled numerous times, getting cursed numerous times. He attempted to send a plague to the surface world, but some of it splashed on one of his eyes, blinding that eye. For sending the plague, he was cursed to suffer that plague, and lost a second of his three eyes. Now that the creator is dead, the chains and curses which bound him have faded and he is free again. Balon is a giant, 6 yards tall, with three eyes. He wields an ancient and giant spear and shield. His curse turned his skin as black as coal and withered his muscles, and destroyed two of his eyes. If he gazes upon another being with those blind eyes the being's flesh rots and boils. Since being put under Xir'ain's service, his skin has become even darker and his strength is to some extent restored. A cowl of inky water is sown over his rot-causing eye, only to be removed at Xir'ain's direct command.



• The Ripper - An entity that takes the form of a great, writhing ball of crimson light. His form is composed purely of destructive magic, and being in its presence is enough for matter to crumble and fall apart. Things that touch the Ripper aren't broken down, but rather wiped from existence. It destroys things compulsively and naturally, with a brazen disregard for life and the universe itself. Born from the destruction of the Weaver, a powerful guardian on Outremar tasked with maintaining the fabric of the universe, when the Weaver attempted to destroy the world to save the universe as a whole. The Ripper is the hatred and destruction which was left behind. Currently, the Ripper has corrupted the Source, Elysium's sun, turning it red and chaotic.

Lugubrious

• Clotho the Swarm Keeper - A low-born human girl called Nona was stung by an insect carrying the soul of a Keeper from an age long past, and the fusion of the two minds made her. A tall, lithe physical fighter that prefers speed to brute strength and is a master of bugs and parasites of all kinds. She is a foot taller than most men, with long arms and legs, and has a rather spiny, chitinous exoskeleton that is a dull brown-maroon in colour. Two gossamer rounded wings form into a cloak when not in use. A mohawk of sorts adorns her head, made of a rough, leathery material that resembles scales. Her favoured weapon is a barbed sabre, which goes in cleanly but is very messy coming out. Using the power from the Biomancers' Guild's amulet, she has improved armour and a needle-like protrusion from her arm called the Stinger. The Stinger is full of corrupted life magic, capable of delivering devious toxins once developed as well as being a potent tool for exerting her will.


• Drone Imps - An insectoid form of imp, with mandibles, an extra pair of eyes and an extra pair of arms.


• Dungeon - N16°W12°. A vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree, the King Tree, in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paper-like substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree. Bugs called Macula infest it, functioning as living security cameras and alarms.


• Macula - A living security system. It is approximately a foot across and wide, with traits of both tick and cicada. It sports a thin carapace, murky brown-green in colour, that help to camouflage it, but its dominant feature is the huge eye in its abdomen, facing upward. This startling oculus resembles a human's, but with a sickly yellow hue and orange iris. They sound a large grating song to alert other Maculas when they see any intruders. Has the latent potential to serve as a long-range visual transmitter (ie. scrying).


• Myrmidon - First minion. 6” tall, 4” long ant-centaur sort of thing. Though it does have a humanoid torso, it is still totally enclosed by a carapace that is tough, fibrous, and spiky all in one. Usually outfitted with both body-length shield and long spear, and can fight with claws and mandibles in close quarters. Built for survivability.


• Scutra - first construct. Now deceased. An outstanding imp was remoulded raw by Clotho's newly-acquired Stinger. By using her Heart as a means for controlling the otherwise cancerous transformation, Clotho created an imp with several traits of the mantis, including bladed sickles, sleek shell, bulging eye, and wings. Scutra's main tasks are to lead the relatively mindless drone imps in their projects and to concoct various toxins for use in Clotho's Stinger. Unerringly loyal, but also curious, smart, and a compulsive hoarder. Executed for cowardice and incompetency.


• Antlion – second minion. Living siege engines. Six feet tall, six feet wide, and sixteen feet long, these huge bugs are sturdily built, with multi-coloured splotchy shells. They have four huge mandibles on their heads; these mandibles are incredibly dense and possess extraordinary strength, and are used for digging through the earth or tearing apart structures and enemies. The feet have high traction due their barbs and hairs. Physically powerful, but has negligible mental or magical capability. Though big and intimidating, Antlions' slowness and stupidity make them relatively poor fighters in sustained combat (though they can charge fairly quickly). The head, all muscle and no shell, is the weak spot—if you can get past the mandibles.


• Invicta - second construct and replacement for Scutra. A female Myrmidon augmented chiefly by packing both cerebral and muscular tissue more closely together to increase surface area (and therefore functionality) without necessitating increased volume. As such, a lot of strength and noteworthy intelligence in an ordinary body. Wields two Vices, huge pincers modelled after the mandibles of Trapjaw Ants, situated on her arms. Can strike with incredible force, though equal kinetic force in recoil is dealt to Invicta.


• Lambent - Third minion. Large fireflies with a few human traits. Decently intelligent, strong, and fast, though their dark brown exoskeletons cannot sustain much damage. They wield natural blades extended from their first two pairs of legs. Their bodies are full of chemicals that react to produce intense light. This light can be used to disorient foes, but the chemicals are even more useful when stored in their abdomens for use as glowing, caustic projectiles to rain down on foes from above.



• Conquest - the Immolation of Hope and the First Horseman of the Apocalypse. Known by no other name. An animate golem of obsidian wreathed in flame, with impressive pyromancy. Wields the Cremator, a bound bow capable of firing several different payloads. Previously masqueraded as a travelling fire priest of Caldor; now masquerades as a Rogue Construct in the service of the Keeper Calvartem.


• Famine – the Herald of Despair and the Third Horseman of the Apocalypse. Also called Moros. Taking the form of a pale, emaciated, red-haired northerner from Altearx, he wields the ability to drain the strength of others into himself in his quest to reunite the Horsemen. Carries an urn, which, after an infusion of his power, contains grains of rice that can become weak, skeletal minions called The Host.


• Death – the Fate of Creation and the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. Also called Escre. Little more than a shade at the moment, drawn to the life force of its kin.


• Fury – the Kindling of Vengeance and one of the three Apocrypha of Elysium. Primarily called Eris Contiello. A human who presided over the gladiatorial Sand Pits of Anicetus as its administrator now travelling Elysium to discover her true purpose. Stocky, red of hair, stubborn, and strong of will, she remains somewhat dubious of the tale of the Horsemen, despite the best efforts of her 'brothers'. Wields the Sadist's Lash, a length of rope infused with her magic to become a spiked whip capable of tearing flesh from bone with ease.


• Pestilence – The Scourge of Man and one of the three Apocrypha of Elysium. Primarily called Malady. Former leader of the Blighted Men and a witch doctor. Her black skin is heavily tattooed, and she is garbed in a sleeveless lavender robe accented by leather armor, putrid green lengths of cloth, and stained bandages. Holds an innate trust in the cause. A formidable aegromancer, capable of killing dozens with airborne diseases of her own creation. Wields a barbwire spear infused with her noxious powers.

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• Xir’ain the Dark Abyss - A layer of black skin over a bottomless void, Xir’ain is the soul of an old keeper of the void, but he merged with the first thing he came into contact with in this world: water. Now he is of the abyss, the void at the bottom of the blackened sea. Though his body is close to that of a human, any who see him would be put off by some unnameable wrongness in the fluidity of his movements. His black skin pollutes all it touches, and his mouth is the bottomless pit of the night sky. To look into his eyes is to be reminded of your childhood fears of what lurked in the dark, and to lose the false notion that you had somehow conquered those fears. Considers the best way to figure out how something works is to dissect it.


• Dungeon - S17°E02°. An underwater maze of black water, the only visible sign from above being a black lake with a diameter of a half mile. The tunnels spread just below the ground in all directions. Xir'ain has pretty much total control over the Dungeon, capable of manipulating the very walls and water to bind or tear apart intruders.


• Aquatic Imp - Has same basic form as a normal imp, but its skin is the same as Xir’ain’s: black and oily. It has gills on its neck, its hands and feet are webbed, both made much larger, and it is given a large jaw.


• Eel - First minion. It has the appearance of an eel, with the same black skin and yellow eyes as its creator, but its jaws are larger, made to swallow things much larger than itself. It has the same teeth as well, a thousand sharp needles all pointed inwards, made to pull in and never release out. Its metabolism is unsustainably fast, meaning it is always hungry, eating all that it can, never stopping eating, and not caring what it is that it is eating. Though shaped in the form of a carnivore, it will eat anything to fill its stomach.


• Runner - Second minion. Similar black inky skin and glowing golden eyes as the eels, but smaller, thinner and sleeker than the eels and with legs. Designed from a cheetah, it is very fast, although made to be even faster and much more agile than a cheetah. Like the eels, it can swim through water as fast as it could run on land, and also slip seamlessly from one to the other. Also has a powerful long tail, tipped with a very sharp blade-like crest.


• Enly'air - First Construct. Made to save the live of the dying human girl by the name of Enly. Her body is the same as when she was human, but the skin is more pale, almost white, and the iris of her eyes is grey rimmed with gold. She wears a black dress made from the inky black water of Xir'ain's dungeon. Xir'ain gave her the ability to breathe in the dark waters of his dungeon. When creating her, he unintentionally awoke her latent magical potential and shifted the source of power for her magic from the sun to his own soul.

BBeast

• Calvartem the Necromancer - a Keeper, inhabiting the skeleton of a long-dead wizard, complete with old robes and wooden staff. His eyes burn with a light-less black fire. Specialises in summoning the undead. His magic has the characteristic appearance of black light-less fire like his eyes (although it's not actually fire).


• Ghost Imp - a shadowy ghostly apparition of an imp covered in black flame like that in Calvartem's eyes. Able to materialise ghostly tools on demand. Can be summoned and un-summoned at will by Calvartem.


• Dungeon - N42°E16°. A large crypt underneath a small town south of Paterdomus, in the foothills of the Hindrun Ranges. Features a stone throne with a carved bone motif, which is used as the Heart. When sitting on his Heart, Calvartem can see his domain from all of his Death Spires and can remotely summon undead at a rate and quantity close to that he could achieve if there in person.


• Death Spire - This building marks Calvartem's territory. It is a sturdy stone tower ten metres tall, with five spires protruding from the top around the edge. On top of the tower is a large quartz crystal, enchanted by Calvartem. It expands Calvartem's domain, passively slowly sucks life force from nearby living things and can summon a few undead minions if an intruder is sensed. A Death Spire is built wherever Calvartem conquers.


• Walker - First minion. Little more than a resurrected corpse, these zombies form the backbone of Calvartem's hordes due to their ease of summoning and low drain on his power. Their eyes glow with black fire. The Necromancer is able to summon these Walkers on command, creating them from any corpse (human or otherwise) lying around or buried in the ground, then send them back to the ground when he is done.


• Breaker - First construct. A very muscular zombie, 4 metres tall and 4 metres wide. Twisted flesh forms its thick limbs and broad chest, and its large head is set with disproportionately small eyes which burn with the totally black fire characteristic of Calvartem's undead creatures. Intended as a siege engine. Its sheer size makes it capable of ignoring all but the strongest of attacks. The trade-off was that it wasn't smart or highly mobile, and its size can be unwieldy. For most of the time Breaker's essence is in a darkly glowing fleshy orb on Calvartem's staff, and it can be summoned from that orb using the equivalent of 20 human corpses.


• Shadowmane - Second construct. An undead horse, as tall as Calvartem. His fur coat glows with darkness, giving Shadowmane the appearance of a very solid shadow. He can ride at over 100km/h even over uneven terrain, and can jump both high and far, making him an ideal steed for Calvartem. Shadowmane is little better than an ordinary warhorse in combat. His essence can be condensed into an orb like Breaker, and he can be summoned again using the body of a horse.


• Gremlin - Second minion. Undead, made from a somewhat fresh human corpse. Limbs are elongated and muscle mass on limbs increased, claws on hands and feet, teeth sharpened and jaw strengthened, chest and waist has greatly reduced muscle and fat, spine shortened, and eyes glow black. These agile monsters are built for speed and climbing, and for tearing and biting through flesh. With their pack hunting mentality as well as their agility, they are purposed to break apart enemy formations and bypass defences.



• Zadok - Once an Anti-Keeper of Outremar, Zadok is now here. His body is that of an angel, clothed from the waist down in white, muscled, with brilliant white wings and glowing with a holy aura. He is capable of rapid flight, has an affinity for outer space, is highly skilled in unarmed combat, possesses long-range vision and is capable of performing powerful magic. His purpose is to protect the world and the people of the world from the Keepers or any other such threat.

Dawnon Aeris

• Macaroth - Keeper. Has taken the form of a patrol saint of Deren Abbey in the saint's old armour, with long silver hair, and silver wings of sharp metal feathers with a wingspan of 20 feet. Armed with an enchanted sword called Devourer, which passively drains the souls of those around. Capable of subtle mental manipulation. He much prefers strategy, subtlety and manipulation to more direct approaches. Under the guise of this patron saint, Macaroth attempts to sway the populations of the lands around him to his side, gaining a loyal following rather than fearful slaves.


• Dungeon - N10°E20°. Deren Abbey, a small monastery. Heart is located in the catacombs below. Fortifications and buildings have been assembled around it, forming the fortified town of Akrassa.


• Imps - Like normal imps, but clothed in black and manipulated physically to appear more human.


• Angels - First minion. a.k.a. First Born, Son. Ten feet tall, with a wingspan of 6 feet. Muscular, with silver wings and long silver hair. Capable of flight. Has a glow, which may be mistaken for divinity but is actually Macaroth's own malevolence.

Kangutso

• Dungeon - N15°E24°. Temporary. A mostly dormant volcano. A small spring of lava has been magically converted into a golden, magical form of the molten rock, which serves as the Heart.



• Baudrii - Rogue Being. Having once been human like his mistress, Clotho, Baudrii's appearance is similar to hers in many aspects. He stands at a tall 7'8", leaving him a few inches taller than his mistress, his carapace being a much darker shade compared to Clotho's, almost black with dark-green lines and streaks. His carapace was fashioned into sleek, contiguous plates. and his head and shoulders in particular were shaped to form a chitinous gorget and armet. A large rhinoceros beetle horn grows out of the top of his forehead. His beetle-esque wings are protected by hardened fore-wings that formed a shape very much like a shield when not in use. One his forearms are tiny pores that can be opened at will to secrete an acid venom capable of burning and melting through most materials, that he is also capable of determining just how long the affects of last.

R4inator

• Lord Rain - A Keeper. Lord Rain was previously a Keeper from the Fifth Age of Evil on Outremar, but due to the long time spent in the Void, he lost all of his memories besides the fact he knew his old name began with "Esc", and a bit of basic Keeper knowledge, such as how to make a Heart, and a couple magic spells, mostly focussed around lightning. He resembles a large person wearing an intimidating set of black armour, adorned with a few metal skulls on it. His eyes glow white and his skin crackles with electricity. He charges into the fray of combat with two axes that cackle with dancing electricity, both of them far too heavy for any normal human to wield.


• Dungeon - N20°W06°. A large floating castle covered with a layer of clouds, the only thing leading up to it is an enchanted staircase. Features a Heart made of stone and electricity. The Heart actually beats like a real life heart.


• Imp - A small group of these imps are just average imps. The majority are imps that are coloured grey-ish with a symbol of a blue lightning bolt on their forehead. It is slightly larger than a normal imp.


• Stormer - First minion. A 5 foot tall, humanoid creature made completely out of storm clouds. A Stormer can cast basic lightning magic, and serve as the light infantry of Lord Rain's forces. They are not very strong alone, but when part of a large group they can be quite annoying to whatever they are attacking. They also work well with melee weaponry, such as swords and spears.


• Bolter - Second minion. It stands at 7 feet tall. It looks like a skeleton made of lightning with faint, glowing white eyes. It spawns with a magical lightning bolt as a sword. It can only cast spells just above basic level storm spells and below. It works well as the backbone of an army, as their purpose is exactly that. Also, touching their skeleton will shock you, as their skeleton is made of pure lightning. Their skin is a cover of storm clouds.


• Shock - First Construct. Based off a Stormer. He has steel armour on at all times. He has a steel sword, with a lightning bolt symbol engraved on the blade. He can cast storm magic that is on the same level as a Bolter's magic. His strength is above the strength of a Stormer, but he isn't as strong as a Bolter. When he's on the front lines as a normal soldier, he isn't that hard to deal with. When he's really dangerous is when he's behind the army, shouting orders. His biggest flaw is that he is so loyal to Lord Rain that its hard for him to point out any of the tactical mistakes that his Keeper makes. His favourite hobby is torturing humans, as he really, really hates humans.

darkwolf687

• Kalok the Heartless -A Keeper. Kalok the Wizard was an unnaturally powerful mage born into a noble family. Both his parents died from apparently natural causes in quick succession to his 16th birthday. He fell madly in love with one of the servant girls and offered her riches and power in an attempt to win her affection. When she failed to return his love, he became enraged and murdered her. Vowing that he would never again be made a fool by his emotions, he tore his still beating heart from it's chest and locked it in a chest far below his mansion, declaring himself Kalok the Heartless. It was through this dark ritual that he was corrupted by the Devourer and transformed into a Keeper. Now he has arrived in Elysium to conquer the world for his own.


• Heartless Imps - These Imps have red skin and glowing green eyes, with razor-sharp teeth and dragon like wings sprouting from their back. With the small horns coming from their forehead and a forked tail, one might mistake them for the devil at first glance. They are weak but cunning, and are surprisingly resistant to heat and cold. They have Kaloks mark tattooed onto their forehead, while the higher ranked among them get it carved into their head and then filled with either bronze, silver or gold dependent on rank. There is a single scar on their chest, revealing where their hearts have been removed. They have large hands and feet, which are excellent for digging through the dirt and they often carry pickaxes and shovels strapped to them, though also carry small pitch forks which they use for combat to make them slightly less useless in a fight.


• Kasi'dur - N16°W50°. Dungeon. A fortress constructed within the caverns of a dormant volcano, Kasi'dur was home to a small group of mages before they accidentally summoned forth Kalok, who enslaved them and bent them to his will. Along with the other volcanic islands, it is relatively isolated from the mainland and, given the general danger of scouting out active volcanoes for ones foes, allows Kalok and his minions to hide while they build up their power to besiege the world. The heart of this dungeon is Kalok's own heart, sealed within a lock-box in the heart of the volcano.


• Orc - First minion. Orcs are usually cruel, wicked, and bad-hearted, and hate almost everyone and everything. They are humanoids with powerful muscles, that stand tall, have wide mouths and slant crimson eyes, long arms, dark blackish-green skin, and fangs. They have a tendency to be berserkers, and if they do go berserk then it is generally advised to run in the other direction, for they are merciless and powerful, especially in numbers. Despite their abominable nature, they are not dim-witted and are clever and crafty and make good tools, weapons, and machines of war but produce no beautiful things and rarely do they trade or share anything with others, unless ordered to by their master. They are powerful, capable fighters who serve with undying loyalty to their master and are capable of tactics when required, even if they may seem extremely crude and brutal at a glance. Anything they make, which ugly, is often well made and fit for purpose despite it's appearance, and as such they make strong armour and brutally effective blades for usage in war.


• Wyvern - Second minion. Large, hulking two legged dragons, these powerful and proud beasts are not to be trifled with. They have scaly skin and emerald green eyes, that are similar in composition to that of a snake. Their teeth are sharp fangs that can tear through some of the heaviest armours of man, and their powerful tail can kill a man in a single, powerful swipe. They are massive creatures many dozens times the size of a man and can fly at speeds of up to 85 mph. The talons on their feet are as strong as steel and they can breath both fire and ice, making them deadly foes. They are proud and arrogant, seeing the mortal races and the "Lesser servants", which refers to almost every creature other than themselves, as being below them and subservient. When placed in a position of power, they may be either benevolent or cruel. They are not inherently evil, despite their arrogance and appearance. They are carnivorous, and thus see killing and eating as merely part of the food chain rather than any evil on their own part.

The 42nd Gecko

• The Emperor of Peace - Keeper. The Emperor's origins are not yet widely known, but he made his appearance, standing tall above mortal men, graced with a halo, clad in white and gold armour, armed with advanced weaponry and healing magic. Saving the people of Hallowsdown from certain destruction, he has inspired many to service in his march for peace for all Elysium.


• Dungeon - S13°W05°. Built in the small town of Hallowsdown. Has good farms and full iron mines. A battlefield altar with a barn chapel is central.


• Follower - Imp Replacement. These Followers of the Emperor, many of whom have lost their families in battle, devote themselves solely to him. Prayers and labour, these humble servants grant him their service. Though they would gladly fight for him, they are not exactly trained combatants.


• Faithful - First Minion. A soldier armed with a musket, bayonets, light armour, and the Emperor’s Word, these soldiers are nightmares in formation on an open field. Volleys of musket fire decimate most normal forces at range and disciplined bayonet walls prove adequate though not exceptional in close quarters. However, in rough terrain, wet weather, or mixed up with enemy forces, the Faithful quickly fall apart compared to monstrous minions. They are forced to stay in formation to be of use, which renders them vulnerable to spells or other area weapons as well as being cumbersome to manoeuvre around the field, despite their light armour. While the Faithful excel at defending positions, they would be very hard pressed to successfully attack an enemy position. Their armour has a metal helmet that covers the skull and eyes, though there is a large vulnerable slit for each eye. Then, they wear an armoured coat, long sleeves and four tails, with a thin metal plate over the chest, one over the legs on each of the forward tails, and one on the upper arms outside. They wear sturdy boots and gloves.

Locations

• Altearx - N50°W13°. Major city. Perched atop a tall cliff overlooking the bay which the Ledovek River empties into. Climate is very cold, often snowy. Altearx is a fortress city, a challenge for any invader from land or sea. It is also a major hub for the inhabitants for the tundra-covered northern tip of Elysium. Anyone in that tundra who wants to contact the south normally goes through Altearx.


• Paterdomus - N44°E16°. Major city. Sprawls along the delta of the Suri River. Climate is chilly and wet. Population is well over a million people. Is a highly religious city, with a large (and fortified) granite cathedral dominating its centre. The cathedral has two towers, one black for the fire priests, the Anointed of Caldor, and one white for the water priests, the Disciples of Unda. Inside the temple is a powerful holy artefact, which tends to repel Keepers. The streets are wide and white, and the architecture is mostly ancient. The fire priests are currently embarked on a holy war against the 'barbarian' tribes to the west. The water priests are currently embarked on defending against their enemies to the north, maintaining a failing enchantment which prevented their enemies from crossing the Suri River. Has very widespread influence, especially southwards of it.


• Anicetus - N40°W6°. Major city. On the floodplains of the Myra River, in the dry heat of the Erimos desert. Farms off the floodplains of the river, which floods each summer when some of the ice in the Hindrun Ranges melts. It has control over the best inland route from the north of the continent to the equator ie. the Myra River, and taxes vessels passing through. While most of the city is dry, dull and almost empty, the banks of the river are home to bustling trade and a cosmopolitan shanty town. Has a lot of ancient history, which the dry sand has preserved nicely. Recently, fighting in the 'Sand Pits', which were disused ancient ruins, has become a popular spectator sport.


• Moltuspons - N10°W37°. Major city. Built on a large island in the middle of the delta of the Ghura River. Climate is tropical. A hub connecting the trade routes through Oerwoud to the ocean. A major feature is the two gigantic stone bridges connecting the city to the mainland, made using an incredible feat of earth magic.


• Virens - N11°W13°. Major city. On the fork of the Saplaya and Ghura Rivers, in a clearing in the Oerwoud jungle. Climate is tropical. Exports high-quality wood logged from the jungle. The Biomancers' Guild ensures that the logged trees are replaced by saplings, which have their growth magically accelerated. Leadership is generally corrupted by the influence of underground Mafia-like figures.


• Serenus - N16°W05°. Major city. On the banks of the Saplaya lake. Climate is cool tropical, due to altitude. A peaceful place, although that doesn't make it completely defenceless.


• Opes Fluvium - N04°E24°. Major city. On the fork of the Ruziti and Alira Rivers. Climate is tropical. A wealthy trade hub, bringing trade to and from the Hindrun Ranges, Izvor Ranges and the ocean to the east. Sugar cane and rice farms are widespread around it. City is divided into an inner walled wealthy sector and an outer poorer and merchant sector. The leaders of the city tax every part of the production and trade in the lucrative crops, granting them great wealth and letting them live in pompous prosperity. The religions of Paterdomus have a very strong influence in the city. The native magic in the area is wind magic, although due to the Paterdomans they also have access to fire and water magic.


• Portus Cruor - N02°E30°. Major city. Situated by the ocean at the mouth of the Ruziti River. Climate is tropical. Commands a strong navy and maritime economy. Also has a high amount of crime, which is countered by a notably well-trained guard force.


• Ensis'Lucas - S22°E16°. Major city. Along the delta of the Verlang River. Climate is temperate. Well-known for its skilled blacksmiths, who often use magic to make their creations immune to wear. A major point of call for those in the southern tip of Elysium. Defended by four strong, tiered walls, and a port filled with metal spikes which can be magically risen to sink ships. The Order of Steel, a small army of magic-wielding knights, and their very powerful leaders the Trivital, also defend the city. They worship Aphistos, the god of earth and fire (a perfect complement for blacksmithing). The high priest purportedly has very powerful magic, but this is not confirmed.


• Nostera - S30°W20°. Major city. On the island of Viridi. Climate is cool. Sometimes ships making the trip around the southern end of Elysium will stop in the naturally sheltered port here. The inhabitants of Nostera either fish, farm the rolling hills of Viridi or mine precious volcanic stones from the neighbouring island.


• Pracll - N59°W01°. A deceivingly small town. A massive population is cramped tight within the tight buildings that make up the town. It has a booming economy, based on fish. The town is based around a large cluster of smaller lakes, spread sporadically around. The town considers itself rather safe, protected by the military might of Altearx below, though they have had problems with savages from the north. The town is extremely traditional, and has very little to do with technology and magic, sticking to a small guard of citizens armed with simple steel weapons.


• The Source - Very far away in the sky. Astronomical body. The Source is Elysium's sun. It provides light, warmth and also magic to the world below. Unlike conventional suns, which are colossal balls of plasma undergoing nuclear fusion (ie. stars), or even classical suns, which are tiny balls of fire orbiting a world's sky, the Source is a massive gas giant. Magic is generated in its deepest layers in such great concentrations that matter itself is distorted and converted into primal elements. The light and magic filter through the many layers of gaseous clouds until it exits the Source and shines upon Elysium and the rest of space. The very core of the source is surrounded by a virtually impenetrable physical ward, sealing everything on the outside from whatever powerful holy thing lies within. From Elysium, the Source usually looks much like an ordinary Sun. Normally, the Source's gases are blue, and its light white. However, at present, due to the corrupting presence of the Ripper, both the gases and the light are crimson red.


• Spirit Realm - Alternate plane of existence. In it everything is like in the world of the living, but dead. Mounds of bones, petrified trees, rubble where cities should be, even the sun is dead. The land is coloured in blacks, whites and greys. Spirits and revenants roam the spirit realm, and will happily feast on the soul of any who enter. Generally inaccessible to those who aren't spirits themselves.

NPCs

• Biomancers' Guild - Situated in Virens. Building is ornately decorated, with woven grass carpet, marble steps and flamboyant exterior. Biomancers are responsible for accelerating the growth of trees which have been replanted, so they may be chopped down and sold for wood sooner. This lucrative business means the Biomancers are quite rich. This gives them some authority. Among their civil powers are the conducting of marriages and divorces. Much of their power came from an amulet filled with intense life magic energy called the Biosphere Stone, although this has since been stolen by Clotho the Swarm Keeper.


• The Anointed of Caldor - The so-called 'fire priests'. They are based in Paterdomus and rule from its fortress of a cathedral, in conjunction with the water priests. They worship Caldor, a god of conquest, life, and warmth. As fire is said to be Caldor's gift, and a means of worshipping and communing with him, they worship it by extension as well. The Anointed of Caldor do not possess any holy magic as the rest of Elysium would know it, in the sense that it is divine or angelic. Instead, they see their fire magic, supposedly a gift from Caldor, as being the holy magic. Any other forms of 'holy magic', with the sole exception of what the water priests use, are considered evil and forbidden forms of witchery.
  While the water priests tend to only involve themselves with civil affairs, research, trade, and the defence of the realm, the Anointed of Caldor are expansionist and militant. Missionaries and embassies have been established in nearly every city or nation of importance that will allow it. The fire priests have fought numerous crusades to the south in the past, seeking to spread their beliefs by force when necessary, as well as to conquer new lands to further establish Paterdomus' power. Currently they seek to expand further inland, into the foothills and mountains to Paterdomus' west.
  Though the Anointed of Rhuax are technically only the temple clergy and savants themselves, the fire mages and crusaders are sworn into Caldor's service and are practically part of the same organisation. While Paterdomus' crusaders and fire mages usually come from orphans adopted by the temple or landed knights who join on their own volition, all the nobles of Paterdomus and its hinterlands are vassals of the temple itself, rather than a monarch. This effectively gives the fire priests indirect command over all the realm's standing armies, in addition to the power to levy citizens into militias if necessary. As such, if the fire priests deemed it necessary, they could raise one of the largest armies in Elysium to fight one of their crusades.


• High Prophet of Caldor - The leader of the Anointed of Caldor, and a direct descendant of the god himself. As a Child of the Flame, he is not human. His flesh smolders and emits smoke, which he attempts to hide by wearing a suit of incredibly ornate armor with a red cloak draped over it. He is an incredibly powerful pyromancer, his magic more potent than any mere man could ever hope to wield. Though he is undoubtedly the most powerful figure in Paterdomus, he has always spent close to all of his time in the basalt chambers deep below the temple, attending to the sacred Rhuax, performing auguries and prayers to ensure that the kingdom is well, and looking for signs that it is time for the fire priests to help Caldor return. He has not made a public appearance in decades, and his council of advisers ruled the city without him for the most part.


• The Disciples of Unda - The so-called 'water priests'. They rule Paterdomus in conjunction with the fire priests. They worship Unda, sister goddess of Caldor. They see her as the bringer of rains, good fortune, and protection. Though she was once largely ignored by Paterdomus, with Caldor being their main deity, her following gained considerable respect hundreds of years ago when they blessed the Suri river with her power, dooming any of Paterdomus' foes to drown if they attempted to cross. This action undoubtedly saved the city from the ice witches and their savage hordes to the North, some of Paterdomus' oldest and most hated enemies.
  The Disciples of Unda are not nearly as aggressive as the the Anointed of Caldor, and their influence is the sole reason that the fire priests do not unleash the nation's full might on every tiny tribe that opposes their rule and religion. Though they try to discourage wars and crusades, seeking wealth elsewhere, they nonetheless do contribute to most crusades by sending small groups of their sorcerers, mainly to serve as healers but occasionally as diplomats, for those few times that the fire priests seek to negotiate. Currently the water priests are terrified that the Suri river's enchantment has been weakening as of late, and are desperately trying to repair it in fear that if it fails, Paterdomus will be in grave danger once more. The fire priests, however, dismiss the old legends as myth and continue waging their crusades, doubtful that Paterdomus' ancient enemies still remain a threat.


• Blighted Men - inhabitants of a swamp in the western plains and followers of the witch doctor Malady. Twisted and contorted by constant sickness, they more resemble goblins than humans and act more like animals than people. Their matriarch took them in as outcasts, lepers, orphans, and wounded soldiers, and while she kept them alive she forever corrupted them. Recently, their numbers have been reduced by a third due to the sudden defection of their leader to a band of intruders claiming to be her kin. Without their leader, however malicious and manipulative, they've come to rely upon a much more aggressive leader styling himself the Pandemic Chieftain. Exposure to the saliva or blood of a Blighted Man will almost always spread the affliction to the victim, affecting mind as well as body.


• Forest Tribes - These tribal civilisations make their home in the forests west of Paterdomus. There are five tribes: the Mutig, Ruhig, Heftig, Feige, and Klug. There has been feuding and fighting between the tribes that reaches back generations, and as a result they mistrust and hate each other. However, the tribes are very similar: each is ruled by shamans, druids, witch doctors, or some other caste of magic users. They all used to worship their bestial tribal spirits and loas, however the Mutig have recently abandoned their spirits and taken to worshipping a new patron spirit, the keeper Shaige.
  Nestled in the foothills of the Hindrun ranges, they have long been isolated from the rest of the world and are thus technologically primitive. However, their isolation has ended: as Paterdomus's hinterlands spread and farms began to appear on the outskirts of the forests, raiders emerged. The Paterdomans are now in the process of launching a crusade to rid themselves of the tribes and gain new territory further inland. Thus far only the Mutig have been attacked, though the result was worrying. Their village was razed, and just a third of the tribesmen managed to escape to a cave system in their territory. The rest of the Mutig were slain or enslaved, but that third that escaped is now under the protection and leadership of Shaige.


• The Righteous Guild of Industry and Commerce - Commonly called simply 'The Guild', this guild is based only in Pracll, and has an iron grip over the city. When it was founded, it brought the towns wealth, and none have been brave enough to oppose it. They keep the trade going strong, thus ensuring a steady flow of revenue. They care very little for those who do the dirty work. Though their decisions are often greedy, they will, more often than not, look out for the greater good, be it of the town, or of themselves.


• The Northern Giants - Once a tribe of proud warriors that ruled the lands, they have fallen behind the larger cities in the area of combat. Because of their nomadic ways, they have no way of keeping up with the military prowess of today. These men are tall and muscular, often towering above regular men, because of them having been bred to be only the strongest for the longest time. Though they no longer are a significant threat, those caught off guard can be devastated by their wild fury, sheer strength, and numbers. They have camps spread all over the northern tundra.

To start, choose a location, using the map and compendium to help, and have your Keeper (or Rogue Being) appear/spawn/materialise/whatever there. Preferably not too close to another Keeper without their consent.

A cold wind whipped through the tundra North West of Altearx. Flecks of snow blurred almost everything out of view. A nearby small town stood strong under the flurry, a small castle-like fortress topping the 'cake', imposing over any invader. Many of the guards in the city began to shiver under their cold steel armor, rattling about, making quite the racket. They began to shiver even more violently when they saw it happen. Lightning struck, extremely close to them, accompanied by- was that a laugh? Surely enough, they soon saw a man-like figure striding towards them.

Viktor stood at a height taller than many men, augmented by the steel that coated his body. The steel appeared to be armor, however it was rather welded to his very body. Electricity arced across his figure as he strode forward, an air of power about him. As he walked, he began to summon imps, calling six of the lithe creatures from the void. Naturally, by now the guards had soiled themselves, and were blowing a warning out to their fellow guards.

Viktor chuckled as he walked up to their main gates, not once breaking his stride. He was met with many guards, each toting a spear, and each shivering.

"Gentlemen! I come in peace! I simply request an audience with whoever is in charge of your wonderful town!"

Viktor called out over the intense howling of the wind. He raised up his hands to indicate that he came in peace.

"Now, let us drop this foolishness, and enter somewhere warm, where peaceful discussion can be held."

Viktor said, his steel face remaining emotionless. Soon enough, after being frisked, and forced to leave his imps outside, he was given an audience with the mayor.

"My friend. I have only recently been given the pleasure of visiting this great land. I currently am unsure of who I am, or where I come from, but I do know one thing. We both have something to gain here. I request simply that your men build me a fortress, similar to this that we currently stand in, and in return, I shall make your army immortal. Steel will fix their flaws, they will rise above human laws. All will drop to worship at your feet. I will make you forget the shame of defeat."

As he spoke, he allowed magic to influence the mans weak mind. It did not take much after that to elicit just the response Viktor needed. The mayor, a greedy man, suggested that Viktor simply made his so-called 'Dungeon' out of the already existing fortress, rather than leaving.The mayor offered even to make him general, so long as his promises rang true.

And so they did. It wasn't long before the small towns army was more machine and magic than man. That was the mayor mistake. Viktor, now having full control of the towns army, had them slaughter the townspeople, in fact, anyone who wasn't a part of the army. It was rather easy for them to slaughter untrained peasants, but Viktor knew that this tactic wouldn't work in any other situation.Viktor himself cut down the mayor, laughing at how easily he had ruined the town.

"Goodbye, fool"

He said, taking a sword, and decapitating the portly man. Viktor looked around the room, scanning it. The mayors office seemed to be one of the most heavily fortified rooms in this fortress, and as such, Viktor adopted it to be his own, magically augmenting it, so he could use it as his Dungeon Heart.

Viktor sighed as he walked around his new home. It was impressive, but it was not big enough. He needed more than 10 rooms, and more power. Currently, he only had a prison, barracks, and the Heart. Grunting, he assigned some of his men to break down some of the walls in the living areas of the fortess, they were tiny areas, but perhaps combined, he would be able to make a sufficient Summoning room.

While his men began to work on that, he dismissed the rest, making sure he wouldn't be bothered. Viktor had, only a few hours ago appeared, materializing out of the Void, and he now sat in a rather impressive dungeon. He didn't know why he was doing this, but he knew he had to. He also knew that his dungeon would easily fall without an army. So, not wasting any time, he sat down in the mayors chair, still splattered with blood, and began to work on a blueprint for a creature that can actually stand up in battle.

Steel weapons cut through the air and clashed with armor and shields, singing their song. The low groans of the dying and the twangs of crossbows were faintly audible in the background, if one was listening. Somewhere, perhaps not so far away, there were grazing animals and warm cottages. But here, there was only blood. The red trickled away from the battlefield, staining the dirt and grass.

It was an odd thing to have your first memory be another being's last. Tumbling to the ground with a hundred arrows perforating your body, after being impaled by perhaps the sixth or seventh polearm, was hardly a heartfelt welcome. The great brute of a creature must have been ancient and powerful, as upon dying his soul was split in twain. And so it was that one spirit was created, with the knowledge of an entire lifetime yet not even a name or any memories. The other spirits that were created simply drifted around, having no real intelligence they either followed their erratic impulses or mindlessly roamed. However, that was not of importance, as the spirit of knowledge felt no bond or kinship. They all had come from one dying thing, brothers and sisters of the mind, but that meant nothing unless one wanted it to.

With no memories or urges to tie it to this land, the spirit simply vanished into the void. Forgotten spirits from every world that ever existed could be found here, condemned to go insane waiting until the end of time. However, without any memories save his creation, the spirit of knowledge had no sense of time perception. The spirit gathered its thoughts. It soon realized that it had no name. Perhaps out of greed and desire to own something, rather than anything else, the spirit tried to name itself. It mashed syllables together until it found a combination it was content with. Shaige.

After that, there was waiting. Other spirits came and went. For every one that was summoned back into a world of the living, countless more souls came in. Still, Shaige was more powerful than many of the others. Perhaps it was a few moments, or perhaps it was millennia. Did it matter? Eventually, Shaige was summoned.

The imps stood in a small cave. In the center were candles, a makeshift altar, and chalk summoning circles and glyphs of every kind. Carelessly strewn along the cavern walls were bags of tools, food, and anything else that the imps had managed to snatch from the unsuspecting locals. They had chanted in their demonic tongue and danced for hours, and their summoning ritual was finally done; but to no avail, it seemed. There had been a nervous air in the room as their ritual finished and the glyphs began glowing. Any keeper, from a terrible giant to a withered crone could have appeared, but after several moments of waiting the imps saw nothing.

One of the small, red demons croaked, "The ritual has never failed us. We have done something wrong."

Another rasped, "Can you fools not feel it? There are no Keepers on this world. We have no master to reawaken. Why would we come to this world, with no masters, in search of a master?"

The first one retorted, "If there are no dormant masters, the ritual will find one from another world, or bring back a dead one. It has never failed us."

The imps soon concluded that the ritual must have been done wrong, and started pointing fingers at each other for ruining it. Without any leader, the imps were an unruly mob of demons that were growing closer and closer to the verge of killing each other. So in the chaos nobody noticed that the tiny wisps of smoke from the candles was being blown around by some unseen force. As tempers rose, none of the demons felt the cold touch of Shaige's ghostly form. So it was with hesitation and annoyance that Shaige decided he had to speak to the imps, which would be no small task. Without any physical form he would have to use what little magical powers he had to manipulate the air in such a precise way.

The imps stopped when the air around them began whistling and moving. They could make out the words, "I...am not...of...the...sort...that...can be.......seeeeeeeen." The imps couldn't help but look around the room for the Keeper, despite his words. Indeed, Shaige was all but invisible, but the air around his ghostly form felt cold and seemed to simmer if one looked closely enough. Shaige hovered over the altar, and after a few moments the imps understood what he wanted without having to hear any more. They ransacked their bags of loot until they found an amulet encrusted with a small handful of gems. They pried the jewels out and enchanted them over the altar, then dropped them in a small glass vial. One of the imps then made an incision on his wrist and let him demonic blood drip into the vial. The imps had expected their master to touch the makeshift dungeon heart, to attune it, but instead the ghost managed to squeeze its entire form into the vial through the cork.

The blood inside began to bubble, and foul vapors began seeping through the cork and up into the air. Realizing that their new master was working some sort of magic, the imps were quick to scuttle out of the cave. It was a terrible idea to distract a Keeper in a dungeon heart. Shaige began to imagine a creature, and as he did so, the vapors from the vial began to coalesce into a minion.

First Creature: 0/3 Posts

Shaige's Stuff:
Minions: 10 imps
Resources: A few bags of tools and food for the imps.
Infrastructure: A dungeon heart, the imps' makeshift altar

Compendium Info:

Shaige- Ghost of a Keeper on another world. Has no real memories of his life, just facts and general knowledge. Without a corporeal form he is almost invisible and practically immune to everything except to magic. However, this goes both ways, as it takes an enormous amount of effort for him to do the smallest of things to the physical world.

"Are...you sure about this?"

Theo always questioned Nona, wherever she asked him to be or whatever she asked him to do. The real question, underlying it all, was why a well-to-do youth like him from one of Virens' oldest and most prominent families would waste his time with a lowborn urchin like herself. Nona knew the answer: he saw a decently pretty face in a bad situation and had decided that, as the poor are often the most easily manipulated, to win her heart with acts of kindness. However, the boy wasn't nearly as clever as he thought he was, and Nona's quick wit continually managed to keep him at arm's length. His conviction had softened, and now he second-guessed her all the time, wanting to regain control of their interactions. Today, however, was different. Rather than grudgingly consent to what the awkward teenager thought was a relationship-building outing, Nona had herself requested his presence.

There were depths to this girl Theo couldn't fathom. Though tall, painfully thin, and flat as a board, Nona maintained a sort of quirky mystique that proved to be her number-one asset in stringing Theo along. She didn't like using people, even just accepting the hospitality of Theo's home to avoid sleeping in the streets or -worse- the stigmatized poor house, but today it was necessary. For about a month now a low, urgent voice had pleaded with her in her dark, contorted dreams, and last night they had called out for aid. That was why she and her reluctant companion journeyed through the jungle a few miles northeast of the bustling logging town of Virens, loosely following the Saploya river. Already they had passed rows and rows of stumps, slated for removal and to be replaced by new saplings, courtesy of the conscientious Virens city officials. The Biomancers' Guild would see to it that the new shoots would grow up in a range of a few months, rather than decades, and Nona loved to watch them pump radiant green magics into the soil. Magic was something she had always desired but never attained, whether by lack of schooling in the arcane arts or by not being born with the gift.

A few hours after the young pair began their trek, they stopped at a little lumber yard deep in the smothering, humid jungle interior. Both were panting and sweating as Theo knocked on the door of the hut at the yard's center. After a few minutes passed with no response, Nona, with blank eyes and face, simply pushed open the door and strode in. The voice of her dreams was here, coaxing her in. Theo began to felt a twinge of unease, but he followed her nevertheless. "What is this place..?" he whispered, and Nona rolled her eyes.

She instantly found the source of the voice. It was hard to miss: on the top shelf of a roughly-hewn cabinet (probably harvested and constructed right here) was a corked amber jug with a bug inside. This was no normal bug, however; it was easily the size of Nona's hand, wasplike in its form, but covered with nasty-looking greenish carapace and spikes. It had four glowing orange eyes, legs reminiscent of blades, and a huge stinger, from which some sort of venom had leaked to pool on the jug's bottom. As Nona's entrances gaze fell upon it, the insect beat its wings and buzzed around the jug. Theo, fascinated and disgusted by the creature, was shocked to realize that he, too, was hearing a voice from within the jug. Free me...

Theo recoiled but Nona stepped forward. Ignoring his irksome, berating inquiry of "What the hell are you doing?", Nona stretched up to the jug, seized it from the shelf, and threw it to the floor in a huge crash. Now free, the insect darted upward, zooming around the room, filling it with its ominous, droning buzz. With a shake of his head, Theo ran from the hut, muttering to himself, "Screw it. She's not worth it." Nona, meanwhile, was staring into the eyes of the bug, and it back at her. She heard it one last time, a smug thanks, before it darted forward and sank its huge stinger into her neck. Its essence passed from arthropod to human and the lifeless shell fell to the floor.

Nona screamed, her mind and body alike wracked by massive pain. With her eyes screwed shut and teeth clamped tight, she didn't see the changes coming over her. Her skin hardened and grew into a murky brownish-maroon carapace, jointed and armored. Her arms and legs grew in length, the fingers becoming clawlike digits and her five toes fusing together into three long ones, one of which faces backward. Her borrowed clothes ripped away as her exoskeleton grew, and she gained two feet of height. A pair of gossamer, beetle-like wings erupted from her back and settled into a vague cloak shape to remain protected until they could be used. Two stag beetle horns reached upward from the sides of her head. As her exterior transformed, her mind changed as well. The memories, knowledge and personality of some malevolent being, stored within the bug that had stung her, flowed through her brain. There, they fused with her own, producing neither human girl nor eldritch monstrosity but something in between. Neither of them mattered any longer--only what existed now truly mattered. With a final crack of bones dissolving, the change was complete.

Slowly, clumsily, the new Keeper pushed herself to her feet from the place on the hut's floor where she had fallen in the throes of her change. She felt confused, but very powerful. As she regained her footing, she noticed a hilt embedded in the ground, and she reached down to pluck it. The hilt belonged to a rapier, a very thin, flexible blade, covered with barbs and made of the same chitinous material as her own carapace. It was a glorious weapon, one that suited her perfectly, and just the tool to boss around some imps. She had to duck to leave the hut, as she was now taller than the doorway. There was no sign of Theo, but every sign of a glorious reign soon to begin. A passing butterfly alighted on the tip of her rapier, and the Keeper watched it with cruel, yellow eyes. "At last," she told the jungle, "I am free. My name...is Clotho."

After gently flicking the butterfly from the tip of her blade, Clotho lashed it around, cutting the earth and staining it a vile yellow-green with magic. The discoloration spread until it was about two feet in diameter, bubbling and hissing. A minute passed. Then, a small red claw reached up from one of the puddles, grabbed the edge, and hauled out an imp. Four more arose, and the puddles vanished after they did so. They looked inquisitively at the Keeper that had summoned them, sizing up their master with crossed arms. They didn't expect Clotho to quickly jab each of their necks with a finger, injecting a weaker strain of the same venom that had changed her into them. As she watched with pride, the imps fell to the ground, writhing and changing, into more insectoid forms. Afterward, they still resembled imps, but had mandibles, an extra pair of eyes, and an extra pair of arms. "Drones," she hissed. "Come with me deeper into the jungle. We have a lair to make."

Status
Location: Tiny lumber yard along the Saploya River, northeast of Virens
Dungeon: N/A
Forces: 5 Drone Imps
Compendium
Clotho - the Swarm Keeper. A lowborn human girl called Nona was stung by an insect carry the soul of a Keeper from an age long past, and the fusion of the two minds made her. A tall, lithe physical fighter that prefers speed to brute strength and is a master of bugs and parasites of all kinds. She is a foot taller than most men, with long arms and legs, and has a chitinous exoskeleton that is a dull brown-maroon in color. Two gossamer rounded wings form into a cloak when not in use.

A golden sea, bathed in the golden light of the sun, moved into waves by the unseen tremors of some great leviathan deep below. In the center of these golden grasses was a small lake, a pond really. Perfectly round, perfectly still, guarded from the wind by the tall grasses on every side, fed from below by an underground spring. The golden grasses waved lazily back and forth in the gentle breeze, without a care in the world. Though there was no cloud in the sky to interrupt the golden sun’s rays, a shadow fell over the grassland nonetheless. The great airy leviathan with his tides of wind stilled, and not a blade of grass dared move. And all of a sudden, it was as if a hurricane had appeared over the grassland. Air was grabbed and pulled toward the eye; all the grasses fell towards the center of the storm, its eye the pond. A black shape bubbled into existence where the wind was pulled into, growing as it pulled in the world around it. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the gale stilled, and the dark shape fell through the air to splash down in the center of the small lake.

The water stilled, a perfectly round mirror of the sky above, and then a plume of black darkened the water. In the middle of the day, sun burning down on the world below, the small pond in the center of the golden sea reflected the darkest night sky. Deep in the darkened water, as black as a sea of ink, Xir’ain opened his eyes. They were like windows into the heart of a supernova, their golden light cutting through the darkness, illuminating the black waters. He might have been human, at some point, or at least that’s what his body’s shape seemed to suggest, but if so it was long ago. Eyes of gold, skin of pitch black, smooth, hairless, oily, like ink in the shape of a man, no mouth, no nose visible, so signs of being either man or woman, though he thought himself the former.

Xir’ain knew not who he was, nor where he was, yet he knew what he had to do. The black creature pulled an imp from the void and watched how it struggled to free itself from his grasp. Could it not breathe in the black water? Xir’ain pondered the idea for a while, long after the imp had grown still and cold. Did he breathe? Xir’ain felt his face, but found no nose, no gills, no marks of any kind beyond his eyes. He ordered his body to breathe, and his face split open, where there would be a mouth there was a void lined by thousands and thousands of needle-like teeth. Black water fell into the void and disappeared, and earth from the edge of lake was likewise pulled in. Xir’ain closed his mouth, and the lake refilled with the black water that seemed to be coming from Xir’ain himself. No, he did not breathe.

Pulling another imp from the void, he held it close and ripped it’s skin from its body, letting the black pollution enter it. It still had the basic form of the imp it had been, but its new skin was the same as Xir’ain’s: black and oily. It has gills on its neck, its hands and feet were webbed, both made much larger, and it was given a large jaw. Xir’ain released the new imp, watching it dart about in the black water to test out its newly amphibious body. “Dig, down, out, spread.” His body showed no change, but Xir’ain’s subtle voice echoed through the dark water clearly. The imp darted toward the edge of the small pond, tearing and ripping at the earth with shovel-like hands and bucket-like jaws. More imps Xir’ain pulled from the void, each transformed and set to work. As more and more earth fell into the lake, more black water rose up to take its place. The pond became a true lake, and the lake grew as it swallowed up the sea of golden grass. When it grew to half a mile in diameter, the imps stopped digging out along the surface and instead dug down, carving out a maze of watery tunnels, filled with narrow gaps and huge caverns that held large pockets of air. They dug and dug, and they would continue to do so without end. When they finished digging down, they would resume spreading outwards, just below the ground, a network of black, inky water spreading its tentacles in every direction.

In the deepest part of the submerged maze, Xir’ain stood where the pond had been fed by untainted water from deep below. Clear water flowed into the small cavern, brushed against his skin, and up it rose through the cracks in the bedrock ceiling, black water polluted by Xir’ain’s inky skin. Here would be his dungeon’s heart, where all the water that filled its halls originated and was corrupted, directly below the center of the black lake, below where the original pond had been. In this lightless room of black water and bedrock, Xir’ain began to make his army. He knew not why, or what it was he was fighting. But he knew that he had to fight. Some whisper in his head told him that this world he had appeared in was meant to fall by his hands, and to this whisper he chose to listen.

Golden light shattered the darkness and bathed the room in its glow, not of fear or maliciousness, but in the gentle light of creation. Cold dark water boiled, and ink was combined with water and thought and golden light, and Xir’ain stood there in his dungeon’s heart and created life, as above him and in all directions his imps ate away at the earth. Not a soul took notice of the black lake, so isolated as it was in that endless sea of gold.

It was the dead of night and the moon cast its faint silvery glow on a small village somewhere south of Paterdomus, in the foothills of the Hindrun Ranges. In the town was a small church, and next to it was the sealed stone entrance into an underground crypt. Inside the crypt was total darkness, but if it wasn't dark one would see coffins stacked efficiently into stone shelves in the walls with engravings beneath them detailing the name, date of birth, date of death and perhaps a little note about family or community contributions of each person in each coffin. The crypt was set out with a 30 meter long corridor which branched every 5 meters, giving more room to stack coffins. For such a small town it was no small crypt, so it must have been around for a very long time. It was evident that it had been extended numerous times since its initial development, as the stonework differed in quality and wear from section to section. Dust lightly coated most of the place, but not all of it as it becomes unsettled whenever a new body is added or someone comes to check on their deceased relative. There was also the obligatory cobwebs, present in small quantities. At the far end of the hallway was a rather ornate tomb, which clearly belonged to someone who had been held in great regard by the people of the town. Whoever lay in there had been there for a very long time.

Thud

The muffled noise of something hitting stone came from within the tomb at the end of the crypt.

Thud

Dust on the lid of the tomb jumped as it shuddered.

Thud

A light sprinkling of dust fell from the edges of nearby coffins.

Thud!

More dust scattered as the tomb began to succumb to the strain.

Crack!

The stone lid of the tomb split apart as a skeletal hand broke its way through. The hand gripped the edge of the tomb and pulled itself out, along with a whole skeleton. The flesh of the corpse had long rotted away, leaving only rot-grey bones. An ancient robe dressed the skeleton, so old it looked ready to crumble to dust at the slightest breeze. The robe revealed that the man had probably been a wizard when he was alive, a hypothesis confirmed when the skeleton reached into the tomb and pulled out an engraved wooden staff which had been buried with him. Then there was the eyes, or eye sockets. Instead of being empty holes in the skull, the eyes of this skeleton was ablaze with a black, shadowy fire which cast no light. The face, made entirely of bone, was locked in an eternal skeletal grin, as there was no flesh to make expressions with.

The skeleton stood and looked around the crypt. The darkness did not inhibit his vision. On the contrary, he felt right at home, in the darkness among the dead. The skeleton struck the cold stone floor with the base of his staff and the black flame burst forth from that point for a moment. A few seconds later dark figures rose from the floor, although they would be indistinguishable from the darkness of the crypt to the human eye. When they finished rising there were four shadowy apparitions standing before the skeleton, no taller than three feet, and each was in the shape of an imp. However, they had no features, for they were merely ghostly shadows, made from black flame like that in the skeleton's eyes.

A hollow, inhuman voice resonated from within the skeleton. "I am Calvartem the Necromancer. Turn this tomb into a throne fit for me so I may have a place to call my Heart."

The imps, voiceless, nodded and glided towards the tomb. In their ghostly hands ghostly tools materialised, but the tools were more than able to chisel away the stone. As the imps chipped away, Calvartem walked slowly through the crypt, inspecting the coffins and looking at the bodies within. Although the prior occupant of this body may have known some of the names, that prior occupant was no more so he knew not and cared not of the people of this town other than their potential as an army or a threat. His bony feet clicked on the stone floor, the sounds echoing around the crypt with its hard stone walls. After a while of patient waiting the chiselling stopped and the crypt was suddenly quieter, signalling that the imps had finished their work. Calvartem turned and looked upon his new throne. It was stone, which would make it uncomfortable for any creature of flesh, but that did not matter to the Necromancer. The armrests and the headrest was decorated with a carved bone motif- an impressive addition in such a short period of time.

Calvartem walked towards the throne and sat down approvingly. Then, at a wave of his hand, two of the four imps simply dissolved into the darkness from which they came. To the remaining two imps he commanded, "Guard the entrance. Make sure I am not disturbed at any cost." The imps simply went off and did as they were told, while the Necromancer sat and released his spirit from the bounds of his body. There he began designing and creating the first being which would be part of his undead horde.


First minion: 0/3

Calvartem the Necromancer- a Keeper, inhabiting the skeleton of a long-dead wizard, complete with old robes and wooden staff. His eyes burn with a light-less black fire.

Viktor took a step back, marveling in his masterpiece. Well... even he wouldn't stoop so low as to call it a masterpiece. The beast was a mangled corpse of flesh, the calloused skin stretched tight over a skeleton of stone. One arm was a shriveled stub, the other a massive, meaty thing, club like in appearance. It was clothed in naught more than a simple loincloth in its lower region, just above its stubby legs.

The monsters head was adorned in a steel helmet, one with a rather small visor, giving the beast tunnel vision. Not much laid under the helmet. The brain and eyes were left, misshapen, no skin left to cover them. There was no armor on the ogre, save the helmet, but it boasted a twisted cleaver, recycled from various scrap metal found about the town.

Viktor raised his hand, almost touching the metal forehead of the creature. A spark travelled through the Keepers finger, sending electricity arcing through the monsters body. It jerked around, before coming to a rest, living, but confused. It let out a mighty roar, it's deep, scratchy voice echoing through the halls.

"Now you, my magnificent monster, are a being worth of battle and bloodshed." Viktor said, motioning for it to follow him.

Viktor strode quickly to where his minions had been left to create his summoning room. He was impressed by their work, it hadn't taken them long to shape the five useless rooms into something he could work with. He congratulated them, knowing that humans enjoyed such trivial compliments. He dismissed nine of them, but invited- no, commanded the other 15 stay, to watch him work.

Many lost limbs, and screams of pain later, the rag-tag group of humans had been transformed to abominations, likenesses of their blueprint. Viktor felt much safer with beings such as these to guard him. He ordered them to separate posts around his dungeon, having them work in pairs.

Viktor left the summoning room, ordering two of his nine remaining humans to continue working on it. He would spend a great deal of time there, he would like it to be more than stone walls lined with rubble. He then strode out into the cold, atop one of the many fortress walls that lined his new home. He stared off into the unforgiving cold, his eyes unable to penetrate the pure white that enveloped the sky.

Lightning seethed through his veins as he returned to his dungeon heart, his metal body still retaining the cold. He had his humans gathered before him.
"M-m-master" One sheepishly spoke up. "There is a c-city not far from here- a few days South West. Their army is far larger than ours, sire, and their fortress much stronger. T-they may not be happy to hear of your h-hostile takeover." He said, stuttering out of sheer fear.

"Perfect. Let their puny armies come. We shall destroy them, then build them anew. But not now. They do not know of us yet, and that is to our advantage. We are not ready... Yet." Viktor said, chuckling to himself as a plan came together in his head. "Now go! Build! There is work to be done! We must expand, downwards my acolytes!" He ordered. The seven men quickly scrambled to work.

As they left him, Viktor went back to his Dungeon Heart. In the cozy room, a tall mirror stood in the corner. Viktor stood before it, his tall frame barley fitting into the reflective surface. His metallic skin was scarred, dented, and in a few places, rusting. Hardly a body fitting of an overlord. He leaned down to the mayors decapitated body, and removed the mans red cloak, draping it around his own shoulders.

"It shall do... For now" He said to himself, sitting down, and beginning to plot. He was, at the moment, more than happy with his forces, so begun no new work on minions.

Before an hour had passed Clotho found herself in the shadow of a massive jungle tree. This gnarled, centuries-old colossus loomed out of the vibrant, tropical forest around it like a stone bastion looms over a muddy town of huts. Its bark, stained by countless events over the course of its massive lifespan, resembled a grand mosaic of life. Though ages old the tree still thrived, ripping open the clouds of the sky and replacing it with its own viridian masses. Vines hung down from the tree, long, limp fingers reaching down from above, the politician's tendrils of influence. They ensnared other trees in the vicinity, keeping them in the firm hold of their elder and preventing them from ever being able to ascend to the same heights. This wondrous plant was a jealous lord. No lord, however, could boast immunity to the usurper.

The tree enraptured Clotho, from the majesty of its height to the incredible life that it sustained. Primates, birds, reptiles, and billions of insects, unaware of the conqueror standing in the shade of their vertical kingdom, carried out their daily routines. Clotho caught the enticing scent of magic on the wind, seeping from the timber and every creature that called it home. There could be no better opportunity than this to establish a Dungeon and start creating her own legacy. “Drones.”

Her five minions, intent on devouring the corpse of an unfortunate anteater, abandoned their kill to heed her call. They gargled and rasped slightly as they approached. “Follow me.” Clotho held her rapier aloft, briefly running a clawed finger along its length. The weapon flushed with the repulsive yellow-green, black-speckled magic that she had used to summon her imps, which then spread to her hand like a tiny tide of ants. She stared intently at her left hand, molding the magic between her armored claws, and finally turned her palm outward to release it. A jet of sticky, beige fluid launched at high pressure from the outstretched limb toward the great tree, where it lodged with a wet sploge. Upon exposure to air, the secretion expanded and dried, forming a rigid, paperlike substance several feet in diameter, very much like the hive-material of the yellowjacket wasp. Panicked wildlife fled from it as it hardened, turning a smooth cocoa brown interspersed with tan stripes. Clotho flung her end of the tether to the ground, anchoring it there and thereby connecting earth and tree.

After a few seconds, five more jets were fired at the tree, each from one of the mandibled maws of Clotho's imps. They didn't have quite the same strength as their masters, but performed their job efficiently nonetheless. Three of the strands crossed as they were expanding, forming strange shapes. Once the initial six strands solidified, the imps climbed them, heading toward the king tree. Clotho watched them go, exhilarated. They would continue creating these strands, linking the king tree to the ground, other trees, and even other strands to create an elaborate, gigantic nest. In a few hours the basic structure of the hive would be complete and real construction could begin. Until then, Clotho did have a few ideas on how to keep herself occupied. She moved out from the king tree's shade into the sunlight, lightly stepping over the mooring point of one of her soon-to-be hive's support strands.

With a few, fitful flutters, her wings unfurled from their inactive 'cloak' position and spread for use. The afternoon sunlight caught them perfectly, streaming through the transparent green membrane while glinting off the orange pigmentation that bordered it. Clotho beat her wings several times, building up enough speed to generate lift, and then rose into the air. She made a beeline for the apex of the king tree, which -as of yet- was unperturbed by the imps' work. Grinning wildly, Clotho held out a hand and sprayed a broad swath of the tree with the material, creating a surface and then a canopy to cover it. Once it hardened, Clotho charged at it with rapier extended, and broke into the canopy from above.

She quickly took stock of the structure she had made. She now hovered in a domelike chamber, complete with floor riddled with holes through which the rest of the tree could be accessed. Far below she could hear her imps at work, noisily slaving away to finish the hive. With only five imps, though, it would be a long and arduous task. Clotho landed on a branch protruding through the paper floor and lashed it with her rapier, creating a dozen more rifts through which new drone imps would claw their way into her service. Leaving the imps to their job, Clotho jammed the tip of the rapier into the crunchy floor to keep it hand before employing more magic to transform the barren dome into an acceptable Dungeon Heart.

Half an hour later, the only flaw remaining with the chamber was the high-altitude wind whining through the hole Clotho had entered by. Using a seemingly uncharacteristic amount of precision, she had fashioned chairs, tables, shelves, and (most important of all) a comfy cocoon in the room's center, anchored by a vast amount of thin strands in all directions, that hummed with Clotho's life force—her Heart. Deeply satisfied, she climbed into the open cocoon, which closed around her as she entered the requisite trance to create her first minion.

Status:
First Minion: 0/3
Location: King Tree, jungle north of Saploya River, N16°W12°
Dungeon: An incomplete and unfurnished yet vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paperlike substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree.
Forces: 15 Drone Imps

Xir’ain watched his new creation float languidly in the inky black. It was small now, but he knew that was temporary. Given food, it would grow. It had the appearance of an eel, with the same black skin and yellow eyes as its creator, but its jaws were larger, made to swallow things much larger than itself. It had the same teeth as well, a thousand sharp needles all pointed inwards, made to pull in and never release out. Its metabolism was unsustainably fast, meaning it would always be hungry, eating all that it could, never stopping eating, and not caring what it was that it was eating. Though shaped in the form of a carnivore, it would eat anything to fill its stomach. That was exactly what Xir’ain had wanted.

Xir’ain held the creature back from eating the first imp it saw, telling the ravenous thing to not touch the imps unless he told it otherwise. The imp would spread this act of benevolence to the others later, but it had come to the master with new. “Master, the room you commanded is this way,” it spoke in a garbled voice, not used to speaking underwater yet. None of the imps were, but they would get used to it with time. Xir’ain followed the imp into a large cavern, part natural cave and part excavated by the imps while he had been in the heart. The cavern was huge. Most of it was underwater, a giant tunnel that went straight down to the bedrock and all the way up to nearing the surface, a roof of rock all that separated the sunlight from the dark. Above the water was the rest of the cavern, a series of ledges and crags and steps, ending with a rocky sloped beach into the bottomless water.

“Perfect,” Xir’ain praised. Black water whirled and boiled around his outstretched hand, and he grabbed the eel in the other and plunged it into the frothing blend wholly. The eels’ black body was shredded and blended, deconstructed in the whirl. Xir’ain added his golden light to the mix, and yellow lightning from inside the mess of water and ink and eel body marked the creation of the first piece of Xir’ain’s army. A second later, another flash, and another eel emerged from the swirling mass, and then another, and another, and another. With each flash of golden lighting in the black water, more was changed into more and more ravenous black eels.

The eels darted through the blackness, melting into and out of it with the absolute camouflage of total blackness. They rubbed up against Xir’ain, whether out of curiosity, gratitude, or affection he did not know nor care. “Go now my beauties, down the tunnels. I know you must be hungry, but you must work for the feasts this world has to offer. For now, eat the earth to satiate the pains, and later you will be rewarded.” The writhing mass of newborn eels charged through the small opening to the huge summoning chamber and outwards in every direction. With the eels and the imps both at work, the tunnels would spread even further, faster.

Another imp swam into the chamber, obviously disturbed by the swarm of eels that had just passed it by, the command on the original all that kept them from decimating the working imps. The imp reported to Xir’ain,” Master, a creature has been seen about the surface. We know not what it is, but it circles the lake.”

“Finally, to find out what it is this world has to put forth in defiance,” Xir’ain hissed eagerly. Faster than the mass of eels had, he darted through the black water, going up, down, around, and through the maze of tunnels until he reached the lake far above. Waiting just below the surface, he watched and waited. Sure enough, not an hour later, he saw the creature as it came to the edge of the lake. It was small, about the size of one of the newborn eels, but golden in color, like his eyes, with black dots all about its skin. No, that wasn’t skin; it was fur, like the grass but on a creature’s body. It looked unpleasant. Then again, almost everything about the world above seemed unpleasant through Xir’ain’s golden eyes.

Xir’ain pulled himself up onto the surface of the lake, startling the creature. “What are you?” he asked it. The creature crouched low, an act of submission? No, for the next second the creature was gone, darting away at a blinding speed. He followed it with his eyes and then sent an order through the water below. The ground in front of the creature fell away, a plume of black water splashing up as the earth fell in. The creature, unable to stop or turn in time, fell in and sunk beneath the surface. “Do not eat,” he ordered the eels. He wanted to know what it was first. Such a quick creature on land, but dead the moment it lost the ground beneath it. A design flaw for sure. “I will know what you are,” Xir’ain decided, slipping beneath the surface once more. He ordered the drowned body of the creature brought to him, and then he shut himself up in the heart once more. The eels, denied the meal from above, instead were forced to fill their stomachs with rock and dirt, ever expanding the dungeon’s reach.

Calvartem spent a couple of hours having his spirit work on a number of different corpses. The idea he had been working on was very simple, one of the most straight-forwards in necromancy, but he needed time to make sure it would work reliably. The freshly dead are easy to resurrect as they still have most of their muscles, but a disjointed skeleton takes a lot more work, requiring necromantic energies to replace its missing muscles, tendons and ligaments. The matter of having a proper connection to his will and being somewhat coordinated also takes extra time, but now the first being to form his undead hordes was ready.

Calvartem's spirit returned to his skeletal body where his ethereal eyes saw the creatures before him. Three corpses stood before him, all in various states of decay. One still mostly resembled a human, just with dry wrinkled skin and little hair. One was rotten, its flesh falling apart but still mostly attached. The last was ancient, nothing but a skeleton with a few scraps of shrivelled dried flesh which were missed by the process of decay. All of them stood with slumped posture, looking around, their arms dangling. The occasional faint moan or growl came from the first two, although the third was silent on account of the absence of lungs. The one feature which made them all stand out was that their eyes glowed faintly with black fire, revealing Calvartem's link to them.

These three standing corpses represented the Necromancer's Walkers. Little more than a resurrected corpse, these zombies would form the backbone of Calvartem's hordes due to their ease of summoning and low drain on his power. The Necromancer would be able to summon these Walkers on command, creating them from any corpse lying around or buried in the ground, then send them back to the ground when he was done.

"This is just the beginning," Calvartem announced, although the Walkers paid little attention, "We swarm upon the town immediately, so I will control this region. Then we expand." Walking forwards, he struck the ground with his staff and tendrils of black fire spread from that point to the coffins lining the walls. After a few seconds the coffins rattled and moved until more zombies broke their way out, following behind Calvartem. To the two imps guarding the door, he commanded, "Open the door." The imps responded swiftly. They had found a mechanism to open the door and the now operated it, the stone slab grinding away, letting the moonlight flood into the chamber.

When the door was fully open Calvartem stepped through and stood two meters in front of it, looking at the town. It looked like a peaceful town. They probably only had a sheriff and deputy, no army or guard force or night watch. It didn't even have walls. They were defenceless against this undead assault which would strike them while they slept, and that was exactly how Calvartem liked it. His Walkers need no commands, for they knew what to do- swarm through the town and kill every living being in sight. The Walkers poured out of the dark crypt behind him, all 40 of them, and limped and lunged into the village beyond.



Walker - First minion. Little more than a resurrected corpse, these zombies form the backbone of Calvartem's hordes due to their ease of summoning and low drain on his power. Their eyes glow with black fire. The Necromancer is able to summon these Walkers on command, creating them from any corpse lying around or buried in the ground, then send them back to the ground when he is done.

Even in death, it was wracked with agony. Ghastly flames the color of a bleeding sunset licked at the wailing phantasm's body. As the sepulchral blaze danced about, it gave off a gentle glow and a small amount of warmth. Despite that substantial warmth, to look at the apparition was the feel a chill in your heart. Before melting into tallow, the pale, translucent flesh blackened like crops left to wither in the frost. Then, the flames leaped to another position, and the apparition's flesh was restored so that it could burn again another million times.

Shaige peered through the glass of the vial that was his heart, armor, and home. It was satisfying to gaze at the pain elemental, his first minion. Its creation had been simple enough; he simply found a lost soul and with a few mere thoughts, cursed it to torture unending. The pain elemental had only two forms of salvation: one could give into its destructive urges and attack any living beings, earning a temporary respite as it transferred its own suffering onto the mortal and utterly drained its victim of lifeforce. The other way was to die a second time, exploding into a ball of fire and anguish before moving on to the eternal peace that waited in the void.

The pain elemental shaped itself into a glowing sphere that from a distance might resemble a firefly. It could glide effortlessly through the air as swift as any bird, though its glow and the eery sound of the tortured soul's wailing would warn any potential victims of an impending attack. Still, with only a partially corporeal form, fighting the pain elementals would be difficult. Upon cornering their prey, they would transform from the fiery spheres into the ghostly, burning figures of what they had looked like in life. Arrows and swords could harm them, though it would take more than a few swings or shots to make a pain elemental dissipate. In any case, attacking them would only make them more likely to martyr themselves, exploding in order to end their torment and strike down a few more of their master's foes.

Shaige examined his pain elemental for a few brief moments before using the imps' crude altar to quickly bind more to his service. There was a limited number of lost souls in the area, so only another six could be made. Still, seven would be more than enough to fend off a few foolish humans. The seven drifted to the walls of the room, standing vigil in their humanoid forms. Then, Shaige willed the dirt and gravel outside to tremble before his power. The earth obeyed. Pebbles suddenly began bouncing and shaking as if there was an earthquake, and the imps' attention was gained. The lot of them ran into the cave, aware that their master was the source of the disturbance. The ten imps knelt before the vial in the room's center, looking at the pain elementals surrounding them. Even from across the cave, the imps felt uncomfortable; it hurt to be anywhere near their master's wretched minions.

After almost a minute of silence, one of the imps walked over to the vial. Perhaps that imp had tired of the silence, or couldn't bear the pain. Tentatively, and to gasps of shock and nervousness from the others, the imp touched the heart of its master. A surge of energy rushed through the demon's pathetic form, Shaige's willpower the only thing stemming the flow enough to prevent the imp from being disintegrated. Through the smooth glass of the small container, the Keeper's thoughts resonated into the imp's mind, "I see your bravery. I feel your potential. I bestow upon you the power with which you might rise to greater heights, under my tutelage."

Imp Construct: 0/1 Posts

Shaige's Stuff:
Minions: 10 imps, 7 pain elementals
Resources: A few bags of tools and food for the imps.
Infrastructure: A dungeon heart, the imps' makeshift altar

Location on the map- A small cave located in the foothills of the mountains, due east of Paterdomus.

Nestled in the warm, restrictive binds of her cocoon, Clotho finished her plan. She had wasted no time in her design, favoring function over form and exhibiting a clear lack of patience or mercy in her design. The first creatures fabricated by Keepers were, as a rule, weak, dumb, and unremarkable, but nevertheless Clotho had put her every effort into the blueprint. She reasoned that while her ability to endow her primary minion with offensive prowess was limited, she could somewhat resist the equally fragile stereotypes of cannon fodder and glass cannon by focusing primarily on defense. Intelligence and strategy were, contrary to all impressions, two of Clotho's most prized qualities. The semblance of a raging, mindless bug queen would undoubtedly be useful later.

Strategy was, in fact, the number one asset of the Myrmidon. Though Clotho's eyes were screwed shut, she visualized it perfectly. Standing at six feet tall, four feet long, and weighing four hundred pounds, the Myrmidons featured the lower body of ants and rather humanesque torsos—a twisted sort of centaur. Their dark yellow carapaces, tough, edged with small spikes, and extremely fibrous, would be able to take most conventional means of attack with little damage. Moreover, Clotho planned to equip them with huge chitin shields and long, barbed spears for maximum defensive prowess. In close quarters, Though Myrmidons wouldn't be particularly threatening in terms of raw power, they served excellently as protectors and enforcers; other creatures would be created down the road for raw destructive might.

With a wet crunch Clotho tore out of her cocoon, leaving half of it in shreds. In her clawed left hand she held a little yellow egg, hard-shelled and spiky. After a brief stretch, she extended her wings and took off through the hole in the ceiling, zooming from the King Tree's zenith toward its base. When she arrived, she could only confess herself pleased with what she saw. The undercanopy of her arboreal home was a chaotic, frightening tangle of paper and plant. Large amounts of this jungle's native arthropods had gathered everywhere, a phenomenon Clotho hadn't foreseen. Perhaps their instincts had guided them to their knew home, or their tiny minds had sensed the Swarm Keeper's potential. In the span of only a few moments, Clotho recognized an ant hill, several picturesque spiderwebs, and a bustling beehive. She couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with -or perhaps subconscious urge to rule- all these bugs, but there would be bigger, better bugs to nurture. The Myrmidon was exactly that, and the species needed a chamber to call home.

Clotho landed on the leaf litter outside a huge crevice at the tree's base. Here a drone imp had constructed a shelter, like the dwelling of a trapdoor spider, that fed into the root-strewn cave. Perfect. Clotho strolled in, egg in hand, and promptly evicted the imp. It left its own nest without protest, standing silently nearby should its master require its service. Clotho placed the egg in the imp's nest before stepping back and poking it with a magic-infused rapier. Instantly the egg rocked, wreathed in the same vile energies Clotho had used in her previous summonings. A minute later, it hatched in an explosion of magic, growing to full size in the span of seconds. The Myrmidon was everything Clotho had hoped, six feet of durable, spiked shell built like a tank. Beneath its feet, the magic spread throughout the chamber, converting what used to be an imp's habitation into the spawning grounds for the Myrmidon race. New eggs swelled into existence from creepy, plantlike veins as a thick fume filled the air. More than satisfied, Clotho pushed her way out of the trapdoor and into the shade cast by her half-built hive.

Status:
First Minion: 3/3
Location: King Tree, jungle north of Saploya River, N16°W12°
Dungeon: An incomplete and unfurnished yet vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paperlike substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree. Currently has: Dungeon Heart, Myrmidon Spawner.
Forces: 15 Drone Imps, 1 Myrmidon
Compendium
First Creature – the Myrmidon. 6” tall, 4” long ant-centaur sort of thing. Though it does have a humanoid torso, it is still totally enclosed by a carapace that is tough, fibrous, and spiky all in one. Usually outfitted with both body-length shield and long spear, and can fight with claws and mandibles in close quarters. Built for survivability.

A chanting chorus rose, a song about purity and virtue and fable.

The human Monks sang their song as they did every day for generations, however lately a corruption has been spreading in their ranks for months now. Macaroth found his way to Elysium following the swelling of keepers, biding his time and waiting. Strategy was always Macaroths way of doing things, thinking ahead of his allies and of his enemies, he observed the formation of several dungeons from the ethereal plain before deciding to join in himself, he would do that a bit more subtly though.

He begun assaulting the minds of the Monks of a secluded monastery in a forest, steadily and slowly dripping his essence into their being, corrupting them gently to his will. If he did it by mere force, well there is no splendor in that. Feeding of their purity and replacing it with his own will and malice, today was the day he would be brought into their world almost willingly.

The song that started as a praise twisted abruptly into a dark and profane chanting followed by the destruction of their reliquary on a pyre outside the monastery with unnatural smoke rising from it into the air save for the armor set of some patron saint of theirs which they prepared for him to inhabit. The chanting grew in volume and poise and the monks bowed down to the armor as a stirring in the air opened a dimensional rift as Macaroth poured forth into the armor and gave it life, taking on the appearance of one of the humans he raised the old sword in hand to the air and proclaimed "I have come, I am here. The Bane of all existence has arrived upon you.."

He summoned a few imps and set the enslaved monks with them to build his Dungeon Heart in the depths of the monastery catacombs. So does his reign begin.

Status:
First Minions:
Location: Deren Abbey 10 degrees by 20 degrees north east of the center on the equator
Dungeon: Heart in progress in the Catacombs of a monastery
Force: 6 Monks, 5 Imps

Shaige's raw power filled the imp. Using blood magic, he warped the tiny demon's flesh and bones. Soon, the imp stood taller and stronger than his peers, with eyes that let out a carmine glow like dying coals. With even older and more forgotten powers, he manipulated and wove the darkness itself into a robe that cloaked the imp, which might have let him pass for a human, if it weren't for the demon's burning gaze and sulfurous breath. Finally, Shaige made a long, black rod out of the coalescing shadows. The end had a circle that resembled the wheel of a cart, spokes and all. In the middle was room for one small stone. Shaige forced the cork to pop off the vial of demon blood that was his dungeon heart. One of the small, enchanted gems in the bottom of the ampul floated out and wriggled into the staff's socket. The gem, a moonstone white as bone, had a faint red air shimmering around it from prolonged contact with unholy blood. Soft wisps of purplish, nearly ebony smoke drifted from the tip of the staff, as if it were a candle.

A hand, now more like a human's rather than a demonic claw, still rested on the vial. Shaige could sense every fiber of the imp's being. This servant of his, once one of the lowliest of demons, was now so much more. He would make a fine emissary, taskmaster, steward, or perhaps even general. No, he would be all four, doing whatever was required of him by his new master. Shaige's voice echoed in the imp's mind, "I know that amongst demons, one must earn his name. By serving me, you have done as much. Rise now, and be known as Soran. You need not remain on your knees clasping my vial, for now you shall be able to hear me always."

Soran, ever so bold, tried to inquire, "And of your name? What shall your devotees call you?"

Soran alone heard the response that reverberated back, "Names hold power over my kind, and yours. I have no doubt that those who follow me shall invent their own names for me, and that shall be enough."

With that, Shaige squeezed out of his open vial and drifted out of the cave entrance, for the first time. His ghostly eyes pierced through the magic laden in this land's very soil. The pain elementals and imps filed out of the cave as well, to stand by their master's side. Or, at least by where they thought their master's side was. They still had difficulty seeing the translucent wraith, even in the sunlight.

Soran spoke, "As we went through the countryside looking for a suitable site, we found many things scattered about. Pickaxes, shovels, chisels. We could begin construction immediately."

A cold eddy of air was all the construct received as a response, as Shaige had already flewn off to explore the area. The pain elementals and imps were left to their own devices, guarding the cave until their master's return.

Shaige's Stuff:
Minions: Soran the imp construct, 9 other imps, 7 pain elementals
Resources: A few bags of tools and food for the imps.
Infrastructure: A dungeon heart, the imps' makeshift altar

Viktor stood straight, commanding the attention of his two personal 'ogre' guards. He turned to them, ordering them to leave their post, and instead patrol the halls. He turned to one of the wooden walls, rather shoddily made, in all aspects. After momentarily inspecting the wall, Viktor reached out to the wall, and took a solid hold of one of the looser boards. Taking a moment to brace himself, Viktor began to pull on the board, his rusted body creaking under the pressure. It wasn't long before the wood gave way, splintering at the nails. Viktor looked down at the wooden board, contemplating for a moment.

Turning, he went back to his desk, leaving the bare patch of stone wall. He laid down the board, taking a knife, one the Mayor had kept for emergencies. The small knife was weak, not worthy of being called a weapon. Viktor carefully carved away the wood, creating a few vaguely circular shapes, five to be precise. As he continued to carve, the circles became more solid shapes, symmetrical. As the shapes became crisper, he began to carve two slits in the wood, angled downwards, just wide enough to support vision.

After seemingly hours of work, Viktor raised five masks, carved from smooth wood. He stared at them, satisfied. He then closed the bright orange lights that served as his eyes, concentrating. The sky outside darkened, and thunder rumbled, cracking across the sky. A bright flash of electricity split across the sky as Viktor worked his magic. Surely enough, smoke began to curl up, seeming to fill the solid form of five small humanoid creatures. As skin formed, the imps began to look around, confused as to why they were suspended in the air. As the creatures were completed, they thudded to the floor, in no way prepared for their sudden descent.

The imps made a slight chattering. They stood shorter than most imps, which was not helped by their slouching. They had rough skin, a mellow gray tone, as opposed to the bright red skin of normal imps. Their limbs were short and stocky, sporting large claws and feet, suited for construction and digging, not combat. Their incessant chatter was a strange garble, mixing multiple languages, and talking far too fast to be understood. Their eyes were hidden behind the wooden masks, giving them an unsettling stare.

Viktor stamped his foot to the floor, shaking the imps. "Listen now my children. We have much work ahead of us, so listen well, and waste no time." Said Viktor, an intense, yet still friendly tone, in his voice. "You three" He said, pointing to the three imps farthest right. "I require a quarry. Dig deep and dig well, for I shall require large amounts of stone and steel. I wish to see no sign of you until my halls are overflowing with what I need. Now, you two. Go now, and be fleet. Scout around, find something- anything worthy of populating our army." Viktor said, before turning away from the small creatures. They stood dazed for a moment, until Viktor began to turn his head. Before it turned all the way, they had scuttled away, fear propelling them.

Viktor strolled out into the halls, surveying the area, when something caught his eye. In the hall stood a decorative set of plate armor. "Perfect." He said, taking a hold of the armor, and carting it down to his dungeons heart. "No matter how large it is, an army is useless without a general, and I cannot be bothered with such trifles when I must expand my forces at the same time..." Viktor explained to his ogre guards, who simply grunted back at him, not understanding. Viktor turned away from them, allowing magic to pulsate through his hands, transferring life to the armor.

That first yellow creature was not unique. A few days later, more appeared on the surface. The first had been unable to speak, and that turned out to be true for the others of its kind. Xir'ain may not have been able to gleam any usable information from then, but that could still be of use to him. Xir'ain ordered the creature that floated next to him in the black water to strike, and it lept from the water.

The new type of creature Xir'ain had born was not unlike the first. It looked like the eels that drifted through the black waters below, but this creature was smaller, thinner, sleeker, and it had legs. Build from the body of the first yellow speed creature, it had inherited the original's speed, and Xir'ain's alteration had made it even faster and more agile, eliminating the original's inability to turn at top speed. He had also given it qualities of his first creations, making it able to swim through water as fast as it could run on land, and slip seamlessly from one to the other.

The sleek black runner was propelled out of the water by a powerful snap of its long tail, tipped with a sharp blade-like crest. It landed in the golden grass, and in three steps it had already accelerated to top speed. The three cheetahs that had been lounging around the black lake sprinted away in three yellow blurs, their coloration making them invisible in the golden grasses. The black runner overtook the first yellow cat in seconds, matching its speed for the moment it took to bite off the cat's head. As the golden body continued forward from pure momentum, the black runner darted off in the opposite direction after the other two golden blurs. The runner's stride grew longer and longer, and as it was about to catch up to the two golden cats, it lept into the air. The first cat barely changed course int time to avoid having its spine broken by the black runner's landing, but the runner's powerful jaws closing around its back made that small victory null. The second cat must have thought it had escaped, but an instant later it collapsed to the ground, both its legs on one side gone from the joint down, removed by one sweeping pass of the runner's deadly tail. The black runner ate the cat it already had in its jaws first, shaking its head until the creature's spine shattered apart in its mouth, eating the rest whole. The runner stalked over to the still-living cat, opened its mouth full of thousands of needle-like teeth around the creature's head, and closed its mouth again without touching a hair on the terrified cat's head. As the runner turned to walk back into the black pool of water, it's tail came out of nowhere, detaching the golden cat's head from its body before it knew that it had not been spared.

Xir'ain watched the runner's first field test with a dark sense of pride. It was perfect. Six dots of golden light emerged from the darkness behind the dark master: three more runners. At Xir'ain's allowance, these new runners emerged from the black lake to consume the bodies of the other two golden runners. The first black runner returned to Xir'ain's side, its stomach bulging from the meal it had gorged itself on. "You did well," was all Xir'ain said to it. The creature, much to the master's pleasure, only flicked its tail in acknowledgement.

An imp swam out of a side tunnel. "Master, we have-" The imp stopped short at the sight of the black runner that drifted in the inky water next to the master. The imps were afraid of the eels because they looked at the imps as they did everything else: like food. But the runners were different; they were filled with the same hunger as the eels, but they were even more dangerous because they were intelligent enough to be able to suppress the hunger and control it.

"What is it," Xir'ain hissed at the imp.

The imp swallowed and started again. "We have found a structure. It is unnatural in origin, exactly as you predicted." The imp relaxed as the golden light from the master's eyes engulfed his body. The master was pleased, and in his golden light the imp's weariness faded and his body was healed anew. Those who pleased the master were rewarded, and those who displeased him were destroyed. The imp's eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened the golden light was gone, and the master along with it. The black runner was gone as well; the imp was alone in the black waters beneath the black lake. The imp sighed, and swam back to its station to resume excavation work. A dozen pinpricks of golden light followed its movements as a half-dozen black eels watched the imp with hungry eyes.

Xir'ain rushed down the pitch black tunnel toward the location of the found structure, the black runner darting behind like a shadow in the darkness. It took half an hour for the pair to reach the structure, and Xir'ain was amazed in how far the dark tunnels had spread as he was worked in the heart. He would have to reward the imps and the eels soon. Perhaps meeting this structure-building creature would tell him more about this world he was in. If the golden runners were all this world had to attack him with, then it would fall to him without contest. Xir'ain didn't want that. Xir'ain very much wanted contest.

Macaroth reveled in the creation of his dungeon heart beneath the monastery, it pulsated with his life force, closed behind a large door in the catacombs where bodies would be embalmed, further widened and made larger by the tireless imps that looked more human than demon for that would be his strategy, using humans against one another and against potential enemies.

With his essence now fortified on the world Macaroth spawned several more black clothed imps and ordered the fortification of the surface area outside the monastery. Being left alone with his thoughts churning on the endless possibilities of conquest, how sweet it will be.

He set out the monks that he now corrupted from the inside but who still looked like normal humans out to find him new servants, weak willed bandits, highwaymen, murderers and all the scum from the nearest lands to tell them that their saint had come to save their souls and repent their sinning.

Force: 6 reapers, 10 imps
Dungeon: Dungeon heart, fort in progress
Resources: monastery pantry filled with fine foods and drink and a tool shed well stocked

The town stood no chance against the onslaught. The Walkers were easily able to open doors and climb through windows to enter the houses, and then kill those who were within. The occupants of the town had little to no combat experience, so even though the Walkers had only their fists and teeth the people were mostly unable to beat them. A few were capable enough to keep the Walkers at bay for a little while, but the noise only drew the attention of more and they were quickly overwhelmed. Although many had access to farming implements which could have easily incapacitated a Walker if used correctly the people had too little warning and not enough skill to pull off such resistance. The numbers of the hoard was simply too great.

There was one young man that did manage to outperform Calvartem's walkers, though. The Necromancer saw him fleeing from a building with a hunting bow, with several zombies following. Those zombies had several arrows in them, hindering their movement, not enough to stop them but enough so that they were losing ground to the man now in the fields. So Calvartem began his pursuit, but his body did not allow him to match the speed of the hunter, so Calvartem tapped the ground with the base of his staff and a tendril of black fire snaked its way out in front of the hunter. The tendril found no human corpse nearby, but it did find the corpse of a fox, which it resurrected into a small fox Walker in front of the hunter. The fox leaped teeth bearing at the man, who was surprised by this attack and retaliated by flicking the base of his bow at the fox, knocking it aside. The fox picked itself up and leapt again, but this time the hunter had drawn his hunting knife and slashed at the fox, leaving a deep gash in the rotted side of the fox, severing many of its muscles and rendering it practically harmless.

By now, however, Calvartem had closed in to a distance of 20 metres. The hunter scrambled for his bow but was not fast enough to stop Calvartem from sending out a bolt of black fire from his outstretched hand, which snaked through the hunter. The hunter went pale as his life was taken from him, the point where the magic had struck left the cloth of his clothes thin and worn, and the hunter simply collapsed to the ground, dead.

By the time the Necromancer returned to the town the Walkers had finished their job. The town was now empty, save for the many slain corpses scattered around the streets and inside homes. Dawn was breaking, casting a dim light over the town as the stars and moon faded from the encroaching sunlight. The Walkers amassed in front of Calvartem, who sent them back to their place in the crypt save for one. This one he kept. He summoned sixteen shadowy imps and divided them into tasks. 2 he sent to make a special tomb in the crypt to store the Walker he had saved. 10 he tasked to building a tower in the middle of his town, which he would imbue with his power to expand his domain. Then remaining 4 he sent to scout the region and find more human settlements. While they were off doing that, Calvartem returned to his throne in the darkness of the crypt. Although sunlight was not actually harmful to him, he still did not like it.

A whisper echoed through the small temple, genuinely confusing the two lost wanderers trapped inside. They looked around, waving their torches, seeing nothing but cobwebs and dust. "This must've been abandoned for years, boy. It's best we not disturb anything." Said the older of the two men, his voice rich with a deep, harsh accent. "Quite the find indeed, I'd be surprised if we didn't stumble on a veritable gold mine of knowledge..." He said, his voice trailing off as he walked into the next room. A gasp of awe escaped the mans throat.

The younger man, a squire in training, was a bit less calm than the man. "A-a-are you okay?" He asked, hearing the gasp. He walked up closer to the old man, his grandfather, and dropped his torch, in as much, if not more, awe. He managed to let out some words, unlike his stunned grandfather. "We need to get out of here and show this to the others-" He said, only to be silenced by his grandfather, who wished to take in the awe of the moment.

The scene, however, was truly nothing special to be beheld, not to any others eye. It was a small dank cavern, protruding from the otherwise elaganley carved halls. In the center of the small cavern was a slab of marble stone, dripping a crimson substance, presumably blood. It pooled in a puddle around the altar, surprisingly fresh, considering the amount of cobwebs and dust around. Atop the altar stood a skull, inlaid with gold and gems. A sacrifice perhaps?

But no, the skull was not that awe inspiring in itself. Instead, the air rippled with a diving magic, that of a higher power than most mortal sorcerers. The enchantment allured those of weak will and weak mind. To those who gazed upon it, gold ran in rivers through a massive room, gems and finely crafted weapons dotting the ocean of riches. It was too much for any man to resist, especially those with a magical greed imposed upon them.

The old man stepped forward, kneeling before the altar. Just below the deep cover of dust, you could see a faint inscription. The man let loose a concentrated breath, sweeping away the thin layer of grime. A cloud settled in the room, displaced dirt getting everywhere. The younger man coughed, a bit allergic. "Come closer, my boy. I need help reading this." Said the old man, his bristly beard wavering. The grandson was still hesitant, but could not resist the allure as his eyes met those of the skull atop the altar.

"It appears to be written in an older dialect, but the characters are familiar..." The young boy said, remembering lettering of the same language written atop many family crests. "I do believe that I can decipher it." He said. He began to read off the characters carved deep into the marble, pausing every now and then when he got to a difficult spot. As he spoke, a large breeze ran through the cave, and the whispers again filled their ears, but went unnoticed.

Finally, the boy finished reading off the incantation. That was when they both realized their mistake. The disillusionment of the cave dissipated, and the blood atop the altar glowed. A deep chuckle reverberated through their bodies, chilling them to the bone. The old man convulsed in front of his helpless grandson, smoke pouring from every orifice as he writhed. The flesh began to melt from the mans bones, leaving naught but a skeleton.

The boy, realizing that he could do nothing for his uncle, ran for his life. He made a fair distance with little resistance. However, he soon saw the smoke creeping closer, following him. A flaming pair of eyes appeared from the darkness, followed by a grin. The boy sped up, even more. The light of the exit was not far now. He made a dive, feeling that he was almost consumed by the darkness. As he looked up, he saw that he had made it, the sun shining down on him. Shadows boiled, pressing up against the exit of the temple, unable to pass through, some ward stopping them. The boy let out a prayer of thanks.

DOOM

DOOM

DOOM

The chant repeated, shaking the temple. The boy began to shiver again, horrified. A bright light engulfed him, as he screamed. The temple fell, crumbling to pieces beneath the might of the creature. From the smithereens, smoke rose, slowly taking shape, a fire igniting beneath. The beast, still not quite complete, let out a mighty roar, shaking the mountains, audible for miles. It turned its's fiery eyes, setting off at a gallop for the nearest civilization- Paterdomus.

Af opened his fish-like eyes, and for a moment he panicked as he thought he had gone blind, but no, then he began to pick out shapes, patches of deeper blackness in the dark. Not for the first time, Af wished the master had given him the same golden eyes that he had given the eels and the newborn runners. They with their golden eyes had no problem seeing in the absolute blackness of the murky ink. As he had created his imps first, the master had not thought of everything as he had made them. So the imps had weaker eyesight than the master’s other creations. Still, that they could see at all in such perfect darkness meant that their night vision was many times stronger than any natural-born creature.

Af pushed himself out of the rocky crevice in the tunnel wall that was his sleeping space and stretched his long, thin arms to prepare for the work ahead. All around him, he saw other imps crawling out of the walls and doing the same. Their eyes glowed gold, the sign of being born of their master’s life force, but theirs only glowed very dimly. It looked as if many pairs of barely-lit candles had filled the tunnel.

A cold ripple preceded the eel as it came around the corner and upon the wakening imps. The eel’s golden eyes narrowed, the knowledge that the master had forbidden the eating of imps was all that kept them from feasting on the small creatures. The master had only forbid things that would hamper the imps working though, and anything else the eels wanted to do to them was fair game. This eel decided to play a game with one of the smaller imps, spinning it around with his tail, pushing it back if it tried to get away. When the eel finally stopped with that, it opened its mouth wide, flaring its many teeth as far out as they would go, closing its jaws around the imp. At the last second, it folded back its teeth and hissed at the imp, swimming away but leaving the unspoken promise of returning to play again.

The unfortunate imp just floated, paralyzed with fear and helplessness, knowing that it was powerless against the master’s deadly creations. Next to them, the imps were… unnecessary. What the imps feared most, constantly, was that the master would stop needing them, that he would get rid of them, allow the eels to finally consume them in a frenzy of death and black blood.

Af stirred himself from his stupor of helplessness and swam over to where the eel’s victim floated. He brought his face close to the other imp’s looking into the other’s eye and forcing the other to do the same. “You see that? Do you see that golden light in my eye? That light means that the master created us, and the master loves all of his creations. Be strong now, the master loves us, loves you.” Pulling back and looking around at the other imps, Af spoke to them, “Remember, back when it was just the master? Who did he create first? Us. Who did he rely on when he was alone and found himself in a world that he knew nothing about? Us.” The other imps just stared at him blankly, wondering what his point was. “Well right now, the master needs us. He may have moved away from us, and he may have created monsters that terrify us, but why do you think he created those monsters?” None of the other imps made any move to answer their vocal friend’s question. Af went on, “To protect us, don’t you see? The master still loves us most. The eels and the runners may scare us now, but the things that stalk the surface are even more terrifying. When those things try to attack us, it is the eels and the runners that will protect us on the master’s orders.”

Now a few of the gathered imps seemed to think, and they found that they quite liked what the loud imp was saying. The master still loved them and thought of them first. The imps cheered for their master who loved them, and they rallied behind their new imp leader. Af and his words had become the hope that kept the imps happy, content, strong, and most importantly, working. The imps attacked the rocky walls of the tunnels with renewed vigor, tearing, clawing, crushing the earth with a new sense of purpose.

When the next eel came to torment the imps, it was Af who came forward to speak out against it, and he who it redirected its malevolence towards, but he did not flinch. Af was confident in the knowledge that the eel could not hurt him. "You only hate us because you were born for the sole purpose to die protecting us," is what he said to the eel as it threatened to rip his body apart. The eel reeled back in shock and confusion. Shocked that a lowly imp would speak at it in such a manner, confused at what it said. Born to die? Protecting imps? What was it saying? Could it be true? The eel, distracted from the sport of tormenting the imps, swam back to the home, the chamber where all eels and runners were born, with its head full of uncertainty and questions.

"Where is the master?" it asked the others, but the master was gone down one of the long tunnels and none knew when he might return. It could have followed, but instead the eel chose to ask the runners about the imp's words. The eels and runners were so similar in many ways that they acted more like two forms of the same creature than as two completely unrelated ones. Xir'ain had built the runners using many of the same parts as the eels, so that may have had something to do with their kinship-like bond. The eel knew that the runners had faster minds than he and the other eels; perhaps they could make sense of the imp's claims. The runners that lounged along the shore of the home chamber could not, and indeed they were as perplexed as the eels by the imp's words. Was it true? Were they really mere fortifications for the master's favorites? The runners and the eels together decided to ask the master upon his return if this was true.

Af may have believed his powerful words, but that didn’t make them any more true. Xir’ain hadn’t given the imps a thought since he had created the first of the eels. The eels did everything the imps did, but unlike the imps, the eels could fight. Why he had ordered the eels not to eat the imps Xir’ain wasn’t really sure, so in some degree, maybe Af wasn’t entirely wrong about his master’s heart. Maybe. All the creatures of his creation, imp, eel, and runner, awaited the master's return with apprehension. All could sense that something had changed that couldn't be undone, but none was sure what this change meant. Xir'ain, and his runner companion, was completely unaware of the tension that was gathering behind him. He was too focused on seeing what was ahead to feel what threatened from behind.