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The Dark Lord

"Only I can rule Aeos."

0 · 2,215 views · located in Aeos

a character in “Aeos: The Dark Lord”, as played by almostinsane

Description

Name: Miernes

Title: Dark Lord

Age: 1025

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Image

Personality: Miernes is a dark person, devoting much of his time to his own goals and pursuits. He is arrogant and proud of his own abilities, at times being blinded by his own ambition or anger. He can, however, be honorable. He rewards those that serve him, but he also leaves a catch in order to lure them into serving him for the rest of their lives. Surprisingly for a Dark Lord, he has a sense of humor and displays biting sarcasm when dealing with servants that displeased him. Miernes enjoys the pleasures of the world: battle, women, riches, and power most of all. Power to control and power to punish those that displease him. His most defining trait, however, happens to be his belief in himself. Though taking the title of Dark Lord and doing terrible things to his enemies, Miernes does not believe himself to be evil. Instead, he arrogantly thinks of himself as a savior and believes in his vision: peace and prosperity under his rule. He will stop at nothing to achieve ultimate power. Miernes also guards his own name, preferring to be called the Dark Lord by all save for those closest to him.

Weapons: A dark grey longsword inscribed with runes upon the blade and a pummel engraved with a skull.

Skills/Magic: Miernes has incredible strength, able to cleave through solid stone with a quality sword. He also knows how to control people, how to inspire fear and awe and, in some cases, even love. Miernes has great power over fire, one notable example being his calling down of a fire storm upon a city that opposed him, though it left him severely drained. Miernes is a master of sorcery, his most notable power being his ability to reach into someone's mind and attack their will and/or uncover all their secrets. Granted, they would have to be in the same room as he or be connected to the Dark Lord in some way. Also, should someone have a strong enough will, they can resist Miernes' intrusion throw him out of their mind. A master of Sorcery, Miernes has many hidden abilities, among them eternal youth, but not immortality. He can die, though this is a fact he conceals zealously.

History: Believe it or not, the man that was to become the Dark Lord was once a normal human being. No one is born evil and Miernes is not the exception. He was born in a peasant family and he loved them dearly. Unfortunately for him, Miernes was born in yet another dark time for Aeos: the time of the Demon Lords. A hundred years prior to his birth, a dark cult of necromancers, dark wizards, and other unsavory magic types attempted a ritual which would give them the powers of the strongest of all demons in the Abyss. Needless to say, they failed and their very life-force was used to open a portal that allowed Seven Demon Lords into the world of Aeos. Born of pure malice and evil, these Demon Lords assaulted the land, gaining the allegiance of the wicked in much the same way Miernes himself would over a thousand years later. They burned, crushed, and destroyed all those that opposed them, throwing the world into chaos as they carved up their own kingdoms, sick parodies of true society. When Miernes was just 13, dark servants of the Demon Lords raided his home village, killing his parents everyone he knew. Miernes himself would have perished were it not for the young mage, Oonar, who had been passing through his village at the time of the attack. With a burst of light, Miernes distracted the demon's minions and whisked Miernes away.

Oonar comforted the boy and took it upon himself to care for him. They traveled together to Falendale, the great Elven hidden city amidst the troubled world and the rest... is legend. There are many tales about how the Great Hero Miernes trained hard to become powerful enough to challenge the Demon Lords, all conflicting with one another. The truth of the matter is that Miernes did somehow defeat the weakest of the Demon Lords and absorb its incredible power upon its death. Then, Mierenes with his mentor, Oonar, hunted the Six remaining Demon Lords one by one and with each victory, Miernes somehow gained the power of the Demon Lord he killed, becoming the most powerful being in the land. With the Last Demon Lord defeated, Miernes departed, traveling for awhile with Oonar and then, at last, alone, never to be heard from again.

For 1000 years, Miernes traveled, seeing the world with all its wonders.... and all its flaws. Whether it was a side effect of the power he acquired, the strain of living hundreds of years past the time he should have died, or a darkness within his own heart, Miernes began to bitterly despise the state the world was in. He grew to believe that only through his rule that the world would be at peace and brought to its fullest potential. So, 1000 years after the final defeat of the Demon Lords, Miernes took on the title of Dark Lord, using his centuries of experience and knowledge to gain power and conquer much of the land, all the while becoming the very thing he once fought against.

So begins...

The Dark Lord's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord
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In the Halls of Halleoth, the Dark Lord sat on his dark throne. "Hala" had been a nice distraction. It was a pity she had turned out to be a spy. He would have to be more cautious in how he took his pleasures for now on. It wouldn't do for him to be assassinated by a concubine. It had been a tiring time, reordering his current plans in order to make sure what information she gathered was useless. The spy herself would be brought before him in time, but she was far from the top of his list. Oonar still evaded him and the person he wanted brought before him the most still remained just outside of his grasp. Then again, that was to be expected from a descendent of Miernes. Behind his helm, the Dark Lord smiled ironically.

His spies had gathered little information on the boy, but from what he had gathered, he was capable. The potential use of his descendent was limitless if only he could be brought before him. His own flesh and blood would surely be able to see what he had seen and feel as he felt. The world was broken and filled with injustice. He had watched many hags burn at the stake. He had seen tribes of orcs become extinct due to the prejudice of humans and other races who looked down upon them. He surveyed the room, eying his servants intently.

"What news is there of the war with the elves? And the boy... The descendent of Miernes must be brought before me."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Coriva of Sarringham Character Portrait: Fathom
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#, as written by Malan
Below the Dark Lord, a man was cutting into a chicken breast with a very fine silver knife. "The boy, eh?" Fathom paused as he took a small bite. "He'll be hard to kill, if that's your angle. You know he's alive in almost all of the dimensions I've visited? He's close to a constant factor. Constants always have a role to play in their universe, in some way or the other. Of course, you could always travel far enough back in time to snuff out his family line." Fathom finished his chicken and pushed the plate off the table. It fizzled out of view before it was able to hit the ground. "I'd say that if you killed Miernes before he sired any children, you'd be able to kill this boy in most universes. Erase him from existence, you understand." The man stood up and brushed off his coat.

"I could do it for you, you know. All you have to do is say the word," Fathom said casually, as if discussing the weather. "I'll be waiting with baited breath, of course."

-------

In a small town, in a small tavern, in a backwater sheep-herding country too insignificant to name, Coriva of Sarringham took a drink from a beaten up wooden flask. She had not bothered to disguise her identity, but she didn't think it would matter. None of the Dark Lord's spies would think to find her here. Surely they would look in caves, covens or dark wizard towers for her. She did, however, wear very demure clothing: a brown wool sweater and a tan skirt. Her black hair was done up in a bun, and she was wearing no makeup. Right now, the Raven Witch looked like an average housewife. Her real robes were stuffed into a bag at her feet. Coriva had decided to follow up on what she had heard whispers of around Halleoth castle. A tactician had mentioned that the Dark Lord was looking for an old bearded wizard. Pretty generic, but Coriva had her search narrowed down. This man was old, very old, and had a personal vendetta against the Dark Lord. He was definitely a man Coriva would like to talk to.

Just thinking about her time in the castle sent shivers up Coriva's spine. Those two days were some of the most terrifying of her life. As it turned out, the Dark Lord kept a whole variety of interesting characters at his castle. Wraiths, orcs, and Coriva even thought she saw a basilisk slipping into a gap in the walls. She never thought she could have escaped on her own.

That's when the strangest thing happened. There was a lone man, looking out a large window. Coriva saw an opportunity, but as it turns out, the man was actually waiting for her. He was dressed in a blue coat, very noble looking. Altogether out of place among the other horrors, and he acted like it too. "Ah, Halleoth's guest of honor has arrived. I'm guessing you want out of this castle. I'll allow you to leave, but you have to make a deal with me."

"I don't have to ask your permission," Coriva said. "You will step aside or I will kill you." The nobleman took Coriva's hands, and suddenly they were levitating over an active volcano, on a desolate planet. The next moment, they were back in the Dark Lord's castle.

"You leave through this window, or I banish you to the volcano's planet. I'll repeat, Coriva. Are you willing to deal?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Coriva of Sarringham Character Portrait: Vesznar Character Portrait: Solana of House Valiner Character Portrait: Ossian Character Portrait: Fathom
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The Dark Lord glanced at the man seated below him, for all appearances unperturbed by the man's suggestion. Fathom was one of the few people in Aeos whom he could could not read. Other beings' fears, hopes, and desires were his for the probing, but this man did not appear to desire anything. He had proven useful for him, but at times, he could be bothersome.

"No, Fathom. I desire the boy alive. Besides, Miernes' quest was a necessary one. Though some grumble about my rule, the Demon Lords would have destroyed all life had they been left unchecked. Besides. I knew Miernes. His descendent will not be too different. I will know what to offer him and he will join me and, on the slim chance he does not, he will die," the Dark Lord declared.

***

A cloaked man sat in the back of a tavern, inhaling smoke from a tobacco pipe and staring at a mug of ale pensively. Doriath was a small, out of the way village near the border between Halleoth and the wooded territory of the elves. From what he heard, the borders might be pushed back further. The Dark Lord's war with the elves was going well, he heard. The Drow fought with greater malice than usual, it was whispered, and that was saying something. Still, the High Elves of Falendale held out even as their Wood Elf cousins sought refuge with their cousins. Of course, even within the empire, the threat of violence was never far. Ossian clenched his fists.

His home was destroy. Everyone was dead. He couldn't even identify the body of his mother among the burned bodies of the slain. His friends in the War Hawks were definitely dead or captured. He had discovered their camp not along ago and barely managed to escape the ambush that had been laying in wait for him. He had been on the run from a warband led by an orcish thug ever since. He had been laying low ever since then, hiding his identity in order to spare whatever villages he visited the swift punishment for "treason". He did not know why the Dark Lord was so interested in him, but Ossian knew that it wasn't anything good, but where could he go? The Dark Lord's men were everywhere and even outside the Empire, the free countries were always under threat from his armies.

He took one last puff of his pipe before it went out and turned his attention to his drink. Come what may, he would find a way to avenge his kith and kin, if only on the orc that hunted him.

***

Oonar had lived many centuries within Aeos, but there were still some things that made the old mage's stomach turn. Lady Nienna of the Leaflit Woods had been a dear friend of his for many centuries. To see her defiled, humiliated, and murdered like this grieved his heart, but his long years on this earth had taught him the virtue of patience. Patience which he needed to calm the war band of elves and humans that accompanied him as they hid amidst the trees bordering the drow camp.

"We should strike, Oonar. This insult cannot be endured," an elf beside him growled. Oonar nodded. Elys was the Captain of the Silver Guard, charged with the protection of his lady and his realm. To find that they had arrived too later was a greater wound to him than the rest of the war band.

"She is at rest, Elys. If we are to prevail in this battle and lose as few men as possible, we must strike when the time is right and then," he continued firmly, "When we have routed them from these lands, return to Falendale. We cannot hold these woods, but we can make sure the Drow do not dig either."

The elf took in his words reluctantly, but deferred to the wizard. Truthfully, Oonar could destroy the whole host of enemies with a whirlwind of fire, but that would destroy the woods wich Lady Nienna had loved. It would also clear the way for additional enemies to march ever closer to Falendale. The woods were their friends. Instead, a different strategy had been devised. When he saw the Sun shine through the leaves of the tree, causing the leaves to shine in response to it. He smiled. Light was no friend to the Drow and he would use this. He raised his hands and murmured.

"Nara, Lady of the Sun, lend me your power. Please."

With that said, the woods exploded in sunlight and the horns of the Host of Men and Elves rang out in defiance. Arrows were loosed upon the Drow encampment and the magic users among them sang to the trees and the plants to strike out at the enemy.

"For Lady Nienna's sake, sends these abominations to the pit that spawned them!" Elys cried, drawing two longswords and charging with his kin. Oonar frowned and signaled the archers to watch for their comrades. At the very least, he mused, the battlefield conditions did not favor the drow. They had spent much of their strength in cruelty the night before and the battlefield, filled with plants and light, was as different from their home as it could be. The wizard raised his staff up, murmuring as he kept up the spell, their biggest advantage.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Tharac Galbash Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock Character Portrait: Fathom
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The intermingling smells of blood and flowery perfume filled the air. Dozens of flickering candles dimly lit the room, casting shadows that danced across the four walls. In the middle of the room, Hel stood in front of a cold slab of marble, sorting through the organs of a fresh corpse. He had only been completely dead for two minutes if Hel was correct. She had been picking through his body for about five.

She looked at his face with slight pity. He had been a pretty man. Fit, young, and strong. He had been a prince or knight of some kingdom before Hel's coven lured him to the Red Palace to become part of an archaic divination ritual. Apparently, he had little tolerance for pain as he had screamed louder than anyone who had ever previously had the misfortune of being Hel's sacrifice. She chuckled darkly as she plucked out his crystal blue eyes and placed them in a golden bowl next to another containing his heart and liver. She had no idea that a man's voice could reach that pitch.

The witch opened his mouth and placed her blade, Alecto, in it with the other hand, swiftly cutting out his tongue. She grinned. Hel considered the tongue a delicacy, especially when it came from a charismatic man. All good leaders at least held some power within their tongue and Hel always had to resist the temptation to nibble on it before it was cooked. She placed it in a bowl with the eyes. She moved down to his flayed abdomen and took a deep breath. "Mother Mal," she called. "I offer you this life in exchange for your guidance."

This is why she needed this man in the first place. The Dark Lord was becoming anxious about the descendent of Miernes and Hel sought answers from her patroness. She reached into the corpse and closely examined his entrails. She pondered them, her golden eyes flickering with interest. "Jezebel!" She called, dropping the innards within her grip and walking away from the tablet. "Grab my broom for me and prepare a party to depart for the Dark Lord's palace. Mal has answered my request."

Within the hour, Hel entered Halls of Halleoth along with a small group of her coven, a sly grin on her face as she saw her master. "Hello Darling!" She greeted dramatically. Her girls walked behind her in their human forms, all appearing as charming and beautiful creatures. She disregarded the others in the room, as all of them, besides Fathom and the Dark Lord himself, did not matter to her. She smiled at Fathom, though he confused her greatly. "I bring the word of Mother Mal, my lord." She kneeled before his thrown, as her girls did behind her.

"Firstly, I'd like to relay that Tharac has yet again failed at capturing the descendent of Miernes." Though it seemed impossible, Hel's grin seemed to widen. There was a bit of rivalry among the commanders of the Dark Lord's army. There was a underlying respect between them, but that was overshadowed by their desire to prove themselves superior. "The boy sensed the danger and fled before the orc had a chance to grab him." She shook her head. "As your advisor, I believe that the wisest move would to dispatch more forces to look for the boy as the entrails indicated that he could become a very large thorn in your side."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock Character Portrait: Fathom Character Portrait: Megan
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#, as written by Miyer
Megan hadn't expected to not be able to escape the party before they entered the dark lords castle, she had done it so many times in the past it was almost shocking. However, there was nothing she could do about it now, she was already inside the castle, all her weapons and clothing replaced by that of a simple slave and stored away, probably to be burned or maybe even gifted to someone if anyone noticed how rare and dangerous her daggers were.

She hated her new life as a slave, she was marches around to clean floors or windows and ordered to do the most mundane tasks, there was no variety, nothing new or interesting to enjoy. Until today that is, her normal duties were to simple clean the dark lords castle, but today they had been short of serving maids and Megan had just been lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time for her to be chosen. She followed the other girls into a hall and stood at one of the many pillars holding the room up, waiting to be called and to serve.

Megan watched as the dark lord entered the room, dressed in all his glory and intimidating armour. He was also followed by another man who had nothing covering his face, he looked old and worn, and held such a serious look in his eyes he was almost as frightening in his own right, his eyes spoke of age unbound and knowledge unchallenged. They began to speak of the descendent of Miernes, and though it was fun to eavesdrop on the conversation, hearing what it was that the dark lord want, Megan quickly found herself wishing she had just remained a cleaner, at least that involved doing things instead of just standing around twiddling her thumbs.

A red haired women entered the room next, followed by a group of beautiful girls, approaching the dark lord with a sly grin and confident stride, ignoring the rest of the room without a second thought, as though she was used to disregarding those she thought 'irrelevant' and 'inferior'.

"Hello Darling! I bring the word of Mother Mal, my lord." As the women kneeled before his thrown, as her girls followed her example and did the same behind her. Megan jumped a bit at the mention of 'Mother Mel' she remembered hearing the name before, some type of god or deity that witches or something's worshiped. She didn't remember the specifics as it had never interested her and she was probably wrong, but she did remember one thing that came with the name, all the carnage of her sacrifices when her name was first told to Megan.

"Firstly, I'd like to relay that Tharac has yet again failed at capturing the descendent of Miernes." Her words drew Megan from her thoughts, glancing at the small group in front of the dark lord she couldn't help the look of utmost disgust that crossed her face, killers and murders and yet they treat it almost like a game. At least when she was given an assassination job she had the respect to pray for the dead target and bury it.

"The boy sensed the danger and fled before the orc had a chance to grab him. As your advisor, I believe that the wisest move would to dispatch more forces to look for the boy as the entrails indicated that he could become a very large thorn in your side. The women finished and Megan decided she had enough of listening to this, she had never cared for the dark lord or what he did, however listening to this women speak was quickly changing her mind and to be honest Megan didn't want that, it was an easier life not caring about what the dark lord did and picking sides.

It was rather easy to slip away, she had done it so many times in much more crowded areas were a lot more people were focusing on her, now no one was and even the serving girls were not paying her any mind, to slip away from the hall was like taking candy from a baby. Sadly the same could not be said for the castle, she found herself in a dilemma, she needed to find her stuff that was taken, they were important and held a lot of sentimental value to the girl. Sighing she began to walk down the halls, not even thinking of escape, she NEEDED her stuff and the probability of one of the guard doing patrol finding her now would be to high for the escape to ever be successful, looks like she was free for a few hours though, at least until she was found and forced back to work.

Slipping though the halls silently, she finally exited out onto a vary small roof garden, it was intended and probably forgotten but Megan had found it one day while cleaning, the door was partly hidden so it was highly unlikely that anyone would find her here. She treated the garden has her small sanctum in the castle, it was her only way to feel the air brushing against her and the only way too feel the sense of freedom currently, and Megan found herself craving the stuff, so desperate she would do anything to gain her freedom.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Otsana Character Portrait: Oonar Character Portrait: Coriva of Sarringham Character Portrait: Vesznar Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock
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#, as written by Malan
As a spymistress, Coriva had trained herself to be ever vigilant of anything unusual. In a crowded room, the slightest irregularity could be an assassin after her King. Although the expansive spy network she had set up in Sarringham was lost with the invasion (partly by Coriva, who had to cut a few loose ends to prevent her capture), the Raven Witch still knew when something was... off. And a half-naked woman with a tail walking into the tavern was definitely off. As she always thought, the best approach was a direct one. Coriva grabbed her mug and rose from her seat. She kept the bag which contained her robes close to her body and walked over to Otsana. "Thirsty?" Coriva asked, sitting down next to the woman without asking permission. "You can have my drink, if you want. It tastes like lukewarm shit, but I doubt that you're a connoisseur of beer." Coriva, even when sitting, had to look up at Otsana. "Nice tail, by the way. I've been thinking of getting one myself. Who are you wearing? Matilda the Spinster in the next town over works wonders with fur, or so I've heard." Coriva smiled and took another sip of her drink. "Sorry, sorry, I know I offered it to you. But lukewarm shit is really hitting the spot right now."

____

"Oh, he will join you. And he won't. He will die before he ever meets you. And he will kill you. All of these universes exist. You just need to make sure you're living in the right one."

Fathom frowned when he saw Hel. "Are you still participating in those foul rituals?" He asked, making a tsk-tsk sound. "Barbaric and fruitless, I say. If there is anything that I can not tolerate, it is actions that lead nowhere. That, and horses. They are miserable creatures. But at least they make sense." Fathom reached into his pocket and pulled out two eyes. They were crystal blue in color, and in perfect condition. "These belonged to your latest sacrificial lamb, witch. I am of the opinion that you do not deserve to possess them."

____

Teleri sat in a tree overlooking the Drow. She had been observing them for some time now, but she hadn't actually made a move against them. She found the Drow very interesting. On several occasions she wanted to go down and introduce herself, but always decided against it. She couldn't trust the Drow to not kill her. She cried out when the arrows began to fall on them, but her scream was lost in the sound of battle. She spotted the old human among the elves a little farther off. She had heard their approaching but never thought they would resort to such a crude blitz attack.

The blast of sunlight hit her like a punch to the gut. Teleri instinctively shot her hands up to cover her eyes, and fell from her precarious spot on the top of her tree. She tumbled through the thick branches until she was nearing the ground, and finally caught herself on a thick branch only around six feet from the ground. She held her breath, hoping none of the Drow heard her, and also hoping she wasn't caught with a stray arrow.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Tharac Galbash Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock Character Portrait: Fathom
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Though she smiled pleasantly, a primal growl rumbled at the back of Hel's throat when Fathom denounced her magic and pulled out a pair of eyes from his pocket. She stood up and narrowed her eyes at Fathom, still wearing a thin smile on her lips. "My magic is many things, but fruitless is not one of them." Her eyes flickered. "And it's only barbaric when necessary." She took several steps towards him, almost in a challenging manner.

"You have my permission to keep the eyes, Darling. Perhaps they'll help you gain some true insight into the future of this world." Her voice was sickeningly sweet and dripping with sarcasm. "Blue eyes aren't very hard to come by anyways. Not like white eyes." She wondered what his innards would have to tell. No doubt they'd be full of information on various worlds and dimensions. However, if they were anything like their owner, they'd just spout useless and obvious possibilities without any real advice.

When the Dark Lord spoke, Hel turned her attention completely onto him. She was disappointed that he wasn't going to send more men, but she was slightly horrified at the suggestion of creating an elite team with both Hel and Fathom as members. She had no idea how long she could tolerate the mad man without turning him into stew. But she didn't let that show.

"My Lord," she began. "Tharac was nearly successful. Perhaps Fathom and I, along with others of your choosing, should join him to make sure that things run smoothly." She looked at Fathom through the corner of her eyes. "My 'fruitless' ritual allowed me to see that." She looked back to the lord. "I'd be more than willing to help my fellow commander on his mission."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Otsana Character Portrait: Coriva of Sarringham Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock Character Portrait: Ossian Character Portrait: Fathom
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#, as written by Malan
Coriva smiled in a playful manner, yet moved her bag closer to her body. She had come over to see if the Lycan was a spy of the Dark Lord. She certainly stuck out like a sore thumb, similar to the majority of those the Dark Lord employed. Right now, she wasn't quite sure either way. "Ah, yes, those Lycan noses do have a good sense of smell, don't they?" Coriva asked. "The problem is, you could be smelling anything in the mile's radius for all we know. Maybe a raven has made a nest on top of this very tavern. You just don't know." After rejecting the mug, Coriva began to drink it again. "But you can get a name. Iona. I'm surely not as interesting as you think I am. But you, a Lycan, must have so many tales to share..."

____

Fathom didn't budge when Hel advanced. "Sacrificial divination is the least effective type of divination, sweetheart." Fathom threw the eyes up into the air, where they vanished. "Those eyes will go to a place where they can be used as fertilizer. That will give some sort of meaning to your actions." Fathom watched Hel react to the Dark Lord.

"I have a few choice words to give to the Orc general of yours, Dark Lord. That man is like a blind bull in an antique shop. Destruction for the sake of destruction is hardly the correct way to go about eliminating your enemies. I will join this team, if only to tame your beast."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Anvarwel
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#, as written by claw
In the distant mountains to the east lay a valley. Inside this valley lay a bustling city. At the end of this city lay a castle, in truth it was more of an impenetrable fortress, by far the most well defended place in all of the east, this was Castle Miraz, home of one of the tyrannical Lich Anvarwel. This fortress sat on a hill and had a single dark but well maintained road leading up to the heavy wooden drawbridge, through there lay a large and carefully watched courtyard. The casual observer would notice a handful of warlocks idling around or moving off to find books for their studies, the more careful observer would notice the dozens of undead thralls hiding under the cover of darkness in alcoves set into the outer and inner wall. Past this courtyard was a heavy yet delicately crafted iron and brass door, just beyond this doorway was the throne hall, a red velvet carpet was flanked by a number of armoured black knights and behind them with their faces exposed were a larger number of undead fallen knights. At the end of this carpet was currently a scarred looking messenger boy, wearing the colours of Halleoth. Just beyond him was five large curved steps at the top was a large onyx and golden throne, the crest of which was decorated with a large white gem, which had a large number of faces.

Sat in his throne, looking every bit the part of the ancient ruler he was, was the Lich Anvarwel himself, casually reading through the scroll which the boy had brought to him, a though struck him. He turned his head slightly to look at the azure armoured knight to his left and just behind the throne, the knight had his gauntleted hands placed on the pommel of a two handed rune sword, which seemed to emit pure malice. This Azure Knight rarely left his side and was widely accepted to be both the Lich's aide and right hand man even though next to nothing was known about him.

"How many times has this Dark Lord sent messages desiring alliance and servitude now?" Anvarwel having no flesh and therefore no lips had a whispering and echoy yet terrifyingly deep voice, this voice was projected from the centre of his skull through simple force of will. The Azure Knight turned his head ever so slightly and replied in a voice that was certainly human, if without the major part of emotion. "This would be the seventh my lord."

The Lich turned back to the scroll and then looked at the boy again, before rolling up the scroll and handing it to an ageing necromancer who had hurried to take the scroll to be catalogued, Anvarwel loved to catalogue information. "Tell your master to stop sending pointless messages, he will have to meet me in person." He paused for a second to consider something. "There are some plains a few miles to the south from here, a neutral grounds for both of us. Tell him to be there in say... Five days time, should be do-able if you're legs don't give out trying to get home, if they do make sure you pass the message before you expire." Though the members of the court knew this to be a joke the messenger promptly panicked and began running for his life, leaving a cheerful Anvarwel in his wake.

The Lich stood up after a few minutes and turned to one of his aides. "Have my carriage prepared to leave in an hour." He turned his head to look over his knights, he had to admit he had a bit of a soft spot for these men who served willing instead of the undead thralls behind who served because he willed it. "A dozen of you are to accompany me, I'll leave you fine men to decide who gets to tag along here." As he made his way down the carpet to the courtyard the Azure Knight kept half a pace behind him. "I take it you are not truly going to bend knee to this Dark Lord from the west my lord?". Anvarwel half turned around "I'm almost surprised at you, if I started calling myself the Dark Lord do you think I would order everyone to surrender to me?" He paused as he realised that for the last few hundred years he had practically done that exact thing, the Azure Knight didn't comment so he continued. "No, I would rather learn how this Dark Lord has come to such power so easily, and how much he is willing to give for my aid."

Just over an hour later the convoy set out from Castle Miraz, at its head was the Azure Knight, riding on a strange undead horse. Behind the knight came the black and red iron armoured carriage, pulled by six large horses and with a trio of undead archers perched on top of it Anvarwel was both perfectly comfortable and safe. Behind the carriage came the dozen black knights, each riding horses of their own. It took nearly a full day for the convoy to come to the meeting place, at his place the Azure Knight placed Anvarwels banner to mark his encampment, this banner is of a human skull biting on a vertical hourglass on a black field. It was here that the convoy would wait, thankfully Anvarwel had brought some books so he wouldn't be bored if the Dark Lord failed to arrive.

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Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Belladonna Hemlock Character Portrait: Anvarwel
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"Mortiphone, Goddess of Love and Death, please allow your energy to cleanse us of impurities and protect us from evil. Lord Espiritus, Shepard of Souls and King of Spirits, please guide us in our time of need. Sweet Trinity, Sisters of Fate-"

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, My Queen, but Avia has seen something of interest." A small white fox and golden tom cat rubbed against Belladonna's side as she kneeled before the altars of her gods. She had been praying for over an hour at this point, but a part of her still feared that her pleas fell on deaf ears. She opened her eyes and they drifted to the furry figures near her. "It's of no trouble, Darling." She smiled softly, stroking the feline in a gentle manner.

"She claims that the Lich King is to meet with the Dark Lord." Belladonna sighed, rising from her kneeling position. She didn't know what to make of this. She had sent Avia to follow any messengers leaving the Dark Lord's palace and it seemed that he deeply desired Anvarwel to join his ranks. Belladonna had not yet received a request, but she was positive that it would eventually come. The Dark Lord would come to desire every piece of land in his reach.

The queen sighed and rubbed her temples. She knew the Undead King would not bend so easily, but still, if the Dark Lord added his hordes to his already endless army, she knew that the Black Forest would be no match for his power. "Please bring me the mirror. I need to see for myself." The animals nodded at her and scurried off, only to reappear after several moments with an ornate golden hand mirror.

Belladonna smiled at them, nodding graciously as she took the item. "Please" She whispered to it. "Allow me to see." She lifted her left hand, bringing the ebony claw on her ring finger to the mirror's surface. The reflection morphed and changed, replaced by the image of a red and black carriage pulled large horses and protected by undead soldiers. A feeling of fear gripped her stomach and dragged it down. Belladonna swallowed slightly. What could she do?

She put the mirror down on the altar and sighed once more. She turned and began walking out of the room. "I need to request a council with the Undead King before he speaks with the Dark Lord." The fox's ears pricked up. "How? He's on his way to meet with him at this very moment." Belladonna smiled. "You should know that when a witch wants something, she'll find a way to get it. Let us see what the Lich King has planned."

A heavy white fog drifted over the road on which Anvarwel's carriage traveled. His horses and men with silently engulfed by the mist, which clouded their slightly. They panicked, but there was nothing to fear. Some of the white whisp seeped into the carriage, slowly taking a feminine shape. After several moments, a ghostly apparition of the Witch Mother sat across from the Undead King. "Hello, Darling." She said with a polite smile. "Sorry about the fog, it might delay your journey a bit, but it's the only way I could make sure the spell would catch up with you."

Her golden eyes stared deeply into the red pits that were his. "I just wanted to pay you a visit. See if your kingdom was faring. Just a queen checking in on her fellow monarch." Her eyes traveled the interior of the carriage as she spoke. "Also, I've heard that you're currently on your way to speak with the Dark Lord. Now, I know you aren't one to submit to another, so I'm curious of your plans." Her smile grew ever so slightly. "I'd like to know just in case he tries to recruit the Black Forest into his ranks."

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Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Belladonna Hemlock Character Portrait: Anvarwel
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#, as written by claw
Anvarwel had in fact gotten bored and already started to read some of the books that were in his carriage. Right now he was reading a book on the correct application of certain types of toadstools to hallucinogenic potions, a book he had little interest in frankly though he was subscripted to the belief that information was power, and there were few more powerful than him in that respect.

Despite having little interest in his book he was engrossed enough to hardly notice the magical mist entering his carriage chamber, that was until it talked to him. 'Hello, Darling' came a pleasant and familiar voice from just across from him, which made him look up over the lip of the book, which he quickly placed back down on the pile next to him.

"Lady Belladonna, it has been far too long since we last spoke." He said in a voice of genuine surprise and delight. He had always enjoyed the company of the Witch Queen, and not just because it sounded good next to his own title of Lich King. He inclined his head as a way of forgiving Belladonna's explanation of why his journey would be slower than expected. "I can hardly be angered now can I? If memory serves I pulled much the same trick on you the last time we spoke." It was here he would have given a smile, if he possessed flesh.

The Lich leaned back into his chair, though not needing comfort he did not enjoy the feeling of hard wood underneath him. "I think you would be pleased to learn that my kingdom has grown in recent years, I'm sure you heard of the Goblin clans that live out in the Eastern Waste beyond the mountains?" He casually raised a hand to inspect the back of his knuckles. "Suffice to say that I now enjoy a larger realm and a greater number of Thralls. I myself am most curious as to hear what is happening to the north, seeing as your realm borders mine from there and the Elves in my employment have been getting rather... Jumpy of late, I was hoping you could shed some light on that patch of grey. Which I remember as a skill of yours."

It was with some disappointment on his part that the meeting was moved on as swiftly as it was, but then again immortals didn't have all the time in the world. "Your ability to find out important details never ends does it? Indeed I am planning on meeting this upstart Dark Lord from the west, I am most curios how he has been able to achieve in 100 years what took me 300 to accomplish." He leaned forwards here to look the Witch Queen in the pits of her golden eyes. "So far I wish to discover who he is, as best I can. To learn the extent of his power, and of course how much he is willing to give away to earn my aid. I after all recently came across a rather juicy piece of information." He paused for a second. "Of course this information has little impact on one such as yourself, but for me it is the most important thing I have ever encountered." He watched her smile grow, knowing full well where her mind was going. "My Lady, if you think after this time I am simply going to betray you, I'm utterly hurt. You should after all know we are the powers here in the east, and if this Dark Lord decides to wage war on one of us, it is with both of us he fights." He put particular emphasis on this, to demonstrate that he if he could not defeat an invasion then Belladonna would have little more hope. "No. I am simply here to make the initial demands and political trading of blows that must of course happen, I'll of course inform you before I make any decision, what would a tyrant be without advice after all?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Otsana Character Portrait: Oonar Character Portrait: Coriva of Sarringham Character Portrait: Vesznar Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock
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The Dark Lord pondered on the suggestions of his servants. It appeared that he had erred in sendin Tharac alone. Reports of his savagery had reached his ears and he was not pleased. Cruelty brooked fear, which was useful, but also hatred. It was better to be feared than loved if one could not achieve both, but hatred was counterpoductive. It led to pointless rebellions and disorder.

"Very well. You will rendezvous with Tharac and assist him in hunting down the descendent of Miernes. Reign in his excesses and bring me the boy. Alive."

A messenger entered the throne room and bowed before his lord.

"The.... Lich wants a personal meeting, milord, before he will treat with you."

The Dark Lord rose from his throne and the messenger shrank away in fear, but the Dark Lord smiled.

"Understandable. Ready my bodyguard. We set out at once."

***

The battle had turned into a route. With the enemy's numbers increasing the longer the battle lasted. There was one Drow warrior that was of particular concern. Oonar grimaced as he chopped off the head Elys. He did not have time to mourn, however, as his forces began to route, starting with the humans. Even the elven forces were wavering. He frowned as cloaked figures appeared around him. He signaled for his fellow mages to dispel the illusion.

"Stay in formation! We must retreat in an orderly fashion!" he cried, murmuring a spell to himself as he joined the other spellcasters into dispelling the cloaked figures. However, it appeared that a few were real and already had cut down many of their forces. The battle was lost. There were simply too many undead and Drider.

***

"What is it you want?" Ossian asked in annoyance, "Are you a bounty hunter? Some cur looking for interesting trophies to bring to your master's feet? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut you here and now for asking such nosy questions."

Normally, Ossian was a lot more diplomatic, but he was tired. He was being hunted by every sellsword and thug in the Empire along with the Orc bastard and he was sick o playing nice. I he had to fight another battle, then so be it. At least it would be an honest one.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Belladonna Hemlock Character Portrait: Tharac Galbash Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock Character Portrait: Anvarwel Character Portrait: Fathom
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Hel held her smile, though she was less than ecstatic about having to spend more time than necessary with Fathom, who was increasingly annoying her. Sacrificial divination was the least effective? Not a single one of her predictions had been wrong during her time as an advisor to the Dark Lord or as a servant of Mother Mal. And even Hel had to admit that Tharac, as savage as he could be, was far more cunning than others gave him credit for. It took more than brute strength and a knack for destruction to get to the rank he had risen too.

But, regardless of her feelings, she bowed to her lord. "As you wish, my Lord. I'll return to the Red Palace and put together a party of my best before departing for the Orc's forces." She stood as the messenger came in, relaying news of the Lich King. Hel raised an eyebrow. "My Lord, what are your plans of negotiating with the Lich King?" Her voice was filled with sincere concern, though she didn't intend for it to sound as feeble as it did. She swallowed, composing herself. "The Lich King is unlike the other monarchs you've faced. I'm not questioning your strength or wisdom, but-" Her voice drifted off. "I simply wish for you to be careful. He's a crafty creature, my Lord."
_________________________________________________________________________________

Belladonna smiled at the Lich King, laughing softly as he recounted the last time they had spoken. "Yes, I suppose you did use this same trick, didn't you?" She listened intently to his words, taking a small sigh of relief when he said that their kingdoms would fight together should the Dark Lord attack either of them. That certainly put her mind at ease.

The Witch Mother sat up straight and pushed a strand of her fair blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm glad your land is faring so well. Those goblins must have been nasty to deal with at first. I remember several centuries back when the little buggers invaded the Black Forest. Killed a good number of my people before we drove them out." She looked out of the carriage window, seeing nothing but the screen of white fog she had summoned. "Things in the North are well. We've had successful crops, healthy babes being born, and the Forest itself is stronger than ever." Belladonna's hand went to her crown, which connected her to her land. She could feel the pulse of every creature, the growth of every plant, and the vibrations of the magic within it's borders.

"Oh yes," Belladonna began. "Tensions are high between my subjects and your elves, but nothing extremely out of hand has happened. A couple of scuffles here and there along the border, but they're usually quick and there's been no casualties." The Witch Queen chuckled. "Some of them have discovered that hags may appear like fragile flowers at first, but we're forces to be reckoned with." She toyed with the gold chain around her neck as she looked to the Lich King.

"It gives me great relief that my kingdom is still not alone in the shadow of the Dark Lord's army. Our numbers are growing, but we're still not strong enough to stand a chance against a force such as his by ourselves." Belladonna's hand went to her bosom, right over her heart. "As a ruler, I hope you can understand my concern. It's comforting to have an ally like the Bywnans Boragweyth." She glanced coolly into Anvarwel's eyes. "The Black Forest will support any decision you make." She paused, thinking about the piece of 'juicy information' that he had. "I'm curious, old friend, what is this knowledge you possess?" She leaned forward. "Perhaps we can make an exchange of knowledge? I've caught wind of a certain item that the Lord is looking for. Well, not exactly an item and more of a person, but I digress."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Belladonna Hemlock Character Portrait: Anvarwel
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#, as written by claw
The Lich had remained in the same casual position whilst he and Belladonna were speaking. Now he leaned back a bit, the talk of Goblins was bringing back enjoyable memories, he had not fought a true war in decades and the Goblin conquests were little more than pest control after the first few months. That was after he was able to get past their fortifications of course. The Goblin invasions were however an interesting time for both of the Eastern Realms.

He leaned forwards slightly as his fellow monarch discussed the goings on in her own realm, he had no concern for the lives of newborns, after all the deeper on dug the more skeletons they were likely to find, and who has time to wait to train a soldier when you can simply raise one? It took a second for him to remember that not every magic wielder was a powerful necromancer such as he. The talk of scuffles however intrigued him. "I personally think Elves have always found something... Unsettling about Hags, then again I have yet to see an Elf not of use to me. Until that day I think we can stand a little racial tension, it always keeps things fresh when there has been no wars." He would however make a note of that bit of information, for one he would have to add some knights to the northern patrols to keep things in check, or maybe he would let the Azure Knight deal with them.

He had to agree with Belladonna that they could not stand alone here. No doubt that the two nations standing together would draw others to them, maybe even powerful allies. He had almost fazed out when he realised Belladonna was still talking. "The Black Forest will support any decision you make." He bowed his head slightly "An alliance as old and powerful as ours, well now. We cannot allow a simply difference of opinion to tear us apart, neither of us wishes to loose power here. Immortality is rather dull without something like politics to pass the time I find."

If Anvarwel had possessed any flesh it would be now that he would have grinned, the posse sing and sometimes sharing of information was something of a joy of his, particularly when that piece of information was thousands of years old. "Some time ago I came across a legend, well several legends with one major connection actually. You do not want to know how I found them nor how long it took me to get them. Tell me, have you ever heard the of the God of Undeath?" He paused for a moment to let the title sink in. "It is said many millennia ago an ancient Lich discovered, through dark magic, a way of becoming a creature of dark power. To do this it searched for decades, eventually discovering the last piece of the puzzle, a black Dragon. It was here were the lines between fiction and legend begin to become harder to define, the most realistic source I could find was this God of Undeath began to rule a mighty empire. A common theme that seems to repeat on a cycle, but I'm distracting myself. This so called god was eventually defeated after nearly 1000 years ruling by an unnamed saviour, who seemed to simply vanish into time itself. Of course, the likelihood of this tale being true is small, but stranger things have happened even in the last 100 years and the rewards... Well I think you get the picture." He stopped for a moment to look out of the window, he considered whether this Dark Lord would listen or simply think he was being mocked, at least he could come up with a secondary bargain, he turned back to Belladonna. "I believe that holding an edge over this Dark Lord when I go to meet him may work in our favour. If I am aware of secret knowledge it may unnerve him into making a foolish decision. So tell me, what does the man who has everything but us seek?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Otsana Character Portrait: Oonar Character Portrait: Coriva of Sarringham Character Portrait: Teleri Little-Scout Character Portrait: Ossian
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#, as written by Malan
Coriva smiled at Ossian's words and leaned back in her seat. "Now, now, why would someone like you be afraid of a bounty hunter? Done anything illegal lately? Or perhaps someone with a streak of rebellion in them has the opinion that you're working with the Dark Lord?" Coriva cast Otsana a glance. "I here that he employs all sorts of magical creatures. Including Lycans. I'd hate for that rumor to get out." The Witch rose from her seat. "Something does scream 'Dark Lord' about this whole situation, though." She turned to walk away in order to hide the smile on her face. Actually, Coriva of Sarringham knew that they weren't working for the Dark Lord. She had met his spies before. They were some of the most arrogant people in Aeos. Ossian's defensiveness was proof that he was innocent.

------

Fathom smiled and bowed. "I will report there immediately. No, wait, I'll do better than that. I'll report to the Orc yesterday. Although I'm not completely sure how much help I'll be to him. He doesn't strike me as one who would accept my help. Come to think of it, I likely wouldn't accept my own help. But, to each his own. We'll see how he responded. Good day." Fathom disappeared in a flash of white light.

------

Teleri was on the ground, near tears, when a man stepped over her. She didn't have much time to react when he pulled her to her feet and began to drag her through the woods, covering her with a shield from arrows. "The Drow -" she began.

"You have much to learn. The Drow are evil creatures, child. You've been blinded by your desire to see the good in people." He continued his pace until he was running, and dragged Teleri when she couldn't keep up. "There are people you need to meet in these woods. They will set you on your path." Teleri didn't respond. She tried to look at the man, but he turned his face away. She did see the sharp ears of an Elf, however, and just before he turned his head she thought she saw pale, colorless eyes. Although he was an Elf he wore dark, unrecognizable armor. It was foreign in nature, unlike anything she had ever seen. "We will not meet again for a very long time, child. Your path should not be set for you, by myself nor anyone else. We're coming close to the men that you must meet with."

The man lifted the shield from Teleri's body and pushed her forward into a clearing, where she stood in front of the wizard Oonar. She looked behind her for the man, but he was already gone. "Who are you?" Teleri asked. She had never felt more helpless.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dark Lord Character Portrait: Otsana Character Portrait: Oonar Character Portrait: Hel Hemlock Character Portrait: Teleri Little-Scout Character Portrait: Anvarwel
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The Dark Lord smiled beneath his helm at Hel's warning about the Lich. In his long life, he had encountered Lichs and self-proclaimed "Lich Kings" before. They were rather predictable, unconcerned with the lives of their own allies and minions even as they sought more knoweldge and power. Their disconnection to their former humanity was both a strength and a weakness. On one hand, they did not need to worry about petty emotions or attachments, but on the other hand, they inevitably lost the ability to take in account those said motivations in others. Thus, they were prone to grave strategic error when anticipating the actions of others.

"I am much more powerful and older than this Anvarwel," he stated, gently caressing her cheek with a gauntleted hand, "Your loyalty is commendable, Hel, but I can also promise him far more than what he can gain in opposing me. And if he should oppose me..."

He strode past his servant with a smirk on his face.

"He wouldn't be the first Lich King I have killed."

***
"If we were working for the Dark Lord, we wouldn't be drinking in a cheap tavern, would we?" Ossian asked the woman with a sigh. He was beginning to feel his lack of sleep over the past two days catch up to him. Still gripping his dagger, he said, "Just tell us what you want or leave us alone. I don't feel like playing games."

***

The counterattack had been a disaster, Oonar reflected as he eyed the camp his men were setting up. They numbered less than half the force they had been when they first attacked the Drow. The old mage didn't even want to think about the number of elves slaughtered when the Leaflit Woods were taken. He absentmindledly nodded his approval as the trees formed a living wall around their encampment and what able-bodied soldiers among them drew lots for the hours they would take for tonight's watch. He himself was standing guard at the moment

However, Oonar shot out his staff and began to murmur an incantation instinctively as he heard the rustling of the leaves in the vegetation before him, ceasing the spell when he saw it was only an elven child. He eyed her form. She appeared unhurt physically, but he could not speak for her emotional well-being.

"I had thought all the children had been spirited away. Are you okay, young one?" he asked gently. He smiled tiredly at her, "I am Oonar."