Macaroth stood outside the chapel and cringed as he felt a shock of magical energy enter this world, and then another and then it left almost as abruptly. What was that? He thought to himself, this world seems to be a beacon for trouble it would seem, that made a dent in his plans somewhat but on the other hand his performance will be that much more enhanced when he saves the humans from their nightmares only to impose his own will in their blind spots.

He walked over to the now working forges and inspected the swords being made, they were not as handsomely crafted as his own blade but that didn't matter, they were fine strong steel and they would be the instrument of his enemies demise. The swords were made to be wielded both one handed and two handed with two sharp edges and a keen point. His sons were armed now, though only wearing rough clothes as of yet the swords were their only means of defense other than their ability to fly.

Once they were armed Macaroth had his sons fly up and start patroling the woods, all this activity has made him wary. He is not yet at his full strength, he needs many more followers for that to be the case.

The brigand followers came to him gravely concerned about the changing in the sun, their leader Sabel, a woman warrior came up to her patron with a worried but still stern expression "what is the meaning of this Lord? Is this your doing?" Macaroth gazed up at the foreboding sun and sighed "It is not of my doing my children, but it is a sign that great changes are looming over us. These will be times that will test our strength and our resolve but we will stand strong and survive" The woman smiled and saluted her in some pagan abstract symbolism and returned the people to work bolstered by his words. He gazed up at the sun and gripped his blade tightly, he really didn't know what to expect but he had a feeling it is hardly anything good.