Baron Praxus's Story

(For Zee)

As she looked through the window, the class suddenly shattered from a blast of sound, strong enough to cause her to fall back and hold her ears in pain. But, from somewhere inside her own mind she heard a voice. A deep, booming voice that echoed in her own head. The voice came to her as if a war hammer had struck her, crippling her defenses so she couldn't fight back. That was when the voice spoke;

"I smell immortal blood...Mhhh... The mere smell makes my heart race with anticipation. Hear my voice demon, and listen well." As the voice spoke, images started flooding her mind of an island, the sands as black as her hair. Lava poring from almost mini volcanoes. "This is the island of Grim Forge... There, you will find the "assassin" . Mora has put a very high bounty on his head, but not for the reasons you think."

"Here, you will find power. Unlimited power. The ability to craft your destiny into what ever you wish it to be... Join with Mora, darkling. Lead the humans to the island. And i will grant you this power, no strings attached. You know my words are true, and my promise shall be kept, but only if you bring the others to the island. Once there, you will find the assassin. Kill him. He is no longer of use to me. But you, my dear, are full of unlimited potential. I grant you this, a gift from my..." The voice paused for a moment to think before speaking again. "...Armory..."

Use this power to guild them to the island, and that is all you must do. Then, i shall name you my champion, and shall grant you my power... Do not fail me..."

As the voice stopped, a burning went through Zee's hand, as if it were on fire. As she lifted it up to see, she found her veins were corseing with a thick black ink, and she felt stronger. As if the ink increased her powers, possibly giving her new ones. Finally, the ink stopped corseing and what was left was an emblem branded at in the palm of her hand. An ancient symbol, yet a familiar one. That is when it hit her, it was the symbol of the Old God, Baron Praxus.

Staring at her hand, Zee tried to recollect her thoughts. The voice...of course she didn't trust it...but a gift...power...

Grim Forge.

Somehow she knew the path to take, head aching as she envisioned the route, the trails, trees, valleys, rocks, mountains, all of it bleeding together. Nausea overtook her, but she fought against releasing the contents of her stomach to the floor. Once she had settled, she focused on the symbol in the palm of her hand, still burning faintly like an echo. Baron. Praxus. The Old God. Why would someone contact her about him? Was it the God himself that had branded her?

Her Master's voice rang in her head. Don't trust the Gods.

Zee held her hand, cradling it to her chest. She had to go, she knew the way, she had to lead them there...and find the assassin. Something was off about all of this, culminating to this moment moments after the Goddess had been attacked.

Destiny...

She had been taught to disbelieve any talk of destiny, especially from Gods. It mattered not what path the Fates had chosen, but what the heart chooses, the soul. Zee knew her soul in and out, or so she thought, until this very moment. If she joined the band, she would be leading them on their quest for Justice, something she admittedly despised from them. But on the other hand, the journey would prove fruitful for her. Power...gifts...

Could she trust the voice? One with obvious power would be prone to manipulate, surely. Zee carefully stood and checked that all of her belongings were securely fastened to her belt. Somehow, she knew she had no choice. This was where the shadows were calling to her, the image of Grim Forge permanently scarred into her eyelids.

Pulling her hood over her face, she braved the sunlight even in her weak state, to find the band and pledge her allegiance to them in any way that she could.

"Solider..." Suddenly the man doubled over in pain, his back nearly cracking as if something had griped him by his spine and pushed him down to the dirt. "Bask in my presence, mortal, and hear my words..." After wondering who, or what, the voice was, it suddenly hit him. The voice he heard in his mind was none other than the voice of Baron Praxus.

"You, tiny, insignificant mortal, are in great danger. As we speak, a group of humans led by the false-god Caylim walk to the village you stand in. Normaly, i would comand you to destroy the false-god... But now you have a far more important task. This village was destroyed by a creature of my sister, my rival, Lilith. You must find this werewolf, and destroy him. Fill the Void with his blood, mortal. He hides in the forest of Evercrest... Be mindful, Evercrest is a..." He paused for a moment to think before speaking again, "Beacon, for my sister. Here, her powers are strong there because of the creatures deep in the forest are ones of her design. Werewolves, Minotars, and even greater creatures lurk in the forest. Here, you will find him. Be warned mortal, Lilith has been known to use methods that are not... Conventional."

"Leave, human, and make haste. The forces of the false-gods are powerful, but soon no one will be able to stop us... Do not fail." With that the crushing feeling was lifted, and he was soon aloud to stand up once more. He soon found that Barons words were true, because he could sense the creatures of the New Gods approaching.

Drakenvold eyed the realm of Lilith from the mouth of his cave. It was quite clear she was causing a ruckus, and he didn't like the look of it. He ambled back down into the cave's depths until he came across a rune etched upon the oily wall. He mumbled a single, unrecognisable word and the wall slid back, revealing a secret room. There sat his latest creation, the ruby crown. As it happened, Drakenvold, a highly intellectual black dragon, was a highly gifted telepath, able to read minds, send messages to them using his own or influence them (though he could not control them outright). However, this wasn't the case for the gods, old, new or true, he could never enter their minds even if he wanted to. Humans? Pah! Easy! But a god? Not so much. But with the ruby crown he could, although, he hadn't tested it yet, but he was confident that he could even bypass the prison of the old gods and talk to them! Slowly, he searched for the traces of Mora's confounded blade using his mind. He eventually found it, although he noticed it was on the move, which he found odd, but he locked onto it, searching for the mind of his old friend trapped within. At last, he found what he was looking for. He smiled.

"Praxxus, old boy, how have you been keeping?" he implied. He couldn't be more pleased with himself, for it was clear from the Baron's brainwaves that he had caught him off guard

The party was short lived, only lasting a few minutes before suddenly the spell was broken. There, in front of the goddess, werewolves, Conall, and Draken, was the 10 foot tall Baron, in the flesh. As all looked upon him, his hand gripped the throat of the lustful goddess, witch startled her. But after a moment, it clicked to her it wasn't him. Only an illusion, though it was real enough for the rest of the viewers.

"...Whore..." Even though it was one voice, it echoed inside of his helmet like 1000. "I admit, the years of being stuffed inside a rock with out a single pleasurable thought has treated you well...And your pathetic little spell even seamed to work on me..." Slowly, the barons hand and eyes fallowed down the goddesses body until it reached between her legs." [/b]

"But, I should have crushed the life from your body 1000 years ago...You have made a grave error, whore mother, one that has jeopardized my accention to the throne once more, you have alerted the false gods of our presence. The mortals are stronger than you remember, they are not the weak bags of flesh you used to please yourself with thousands of years ago. With each step towards the fires of the Black Anvil, i grow stronger. The only reason i dont crush the life from you now is because you would simply forge yourself another body. We, the true gods, will give you another chance. With your little spell, you now know the number of enemy's we face, and where they are."

"If you use your... Children... To find my ax, and bring it to me. Your power will be restored to is full potential, and when i am done with the humans of this world, i will allow you to rule whats left of it. A fair trade i believe, an ax for a dominion of mankind...Each human simply fucking there brains out, carrying out there must primal feelings freely." With that, the Baron dropped the goddess and stared down at her. "Do not fail me, whore, or i shall find the ax myself, and use it to crush the life from your immortal body."

Then, the illusion faded away into dust in a breeze.

Drakenvold turned and did not look back.

He was off to his cave, his home, to think and drink. He had seen a fair deal of crap that day, he needed time to digest it all.

One good thing had occured though, his faith in Praxus had been rekindled. The god had truly exerted his authority upon that no good whore. It had felt good when her spell wore off and her vulgar form dissipated from his mind. He would tell Praxus if she went back on her word, that much was certain.

Once he arrived at his cave he began to drink heavily. He had just drank another barrelful when he heard an extremley flat voice outside

Here wolfy, wolfy, wolfy!

"Oh bloody hell, not another weirdo!" he moaned, slightly irritable from the ale.

Oh well, free meal, he thought to himself, poised ready to strike

Ghosts.

She fought back a laugh, the human knelt before her. He showed due respect though...and for that he was spared.

"Now, tell me. For what reason has the master of Winter's Chill released me?" she purred, standing from her seat upon the wounded lycan's back. Just in time, as the beast collapses, dead, from it's wounds. She moves forward, noting with disdain the absent look about the dragon-thing's eyes. Daydreaming it would seem.

Further inquires were interrupted as a shade appeared. Barron.

His attempts to grasp her throat were in vain, as his ethereal fingers simply passed through her flesh. With a mocking laugh she steps back from the illusion and spins in a circle. "Old ghost. See me NOW. Made flesh, while you and those who wronged me...slumber in steel. Fitting. You banished me...now you are banished in turn." she grinned and rolled her eyes. "Why yes. I may find your toy...only to cast it into a volcano or some other fitting place. Now BEGONE!"

With that, or maybe simply due to the Baron's limited power, the illusion fades.

What is revealed however is something that causes instant rage in the Mother. That...dragon-thing...simply thinking it could IGNORE her, and walk back into it's cave.

"Whelp, stop. Stand and face me. Or my WRATH will leave little for the carrion birds to play with." her tone had turned cold. There was no questioning it, Drakenvold had made a mistake.

Cauld could see everything around him but not from his eyes. It was as though he was no longer using his eyes but all the other eyes on his body. It was strange and new to him to see the blood flowing though the veins of all the creatures nearby. He was so confused by the turn of events in his psyche. But all in all it was exciting to a new extreme. All his attention focused on to large source of blood in the cave near him. He felt his body moving, crouching towards the ground. The voice was soft in his mind, "If memory serves there is a 'god' in this world who can feel the animals." Cauld felt something soft and furry in his hand. The eyes turn to the hand and he could see a mole in his hand. The voice spoke softly, "Let us have some fun using the void..." The soft chuckle frighten Cauld as an eye burned into the forehead of the creature making it scream in pain. Then the voice came again more powerful this time flooding his mind completely.

"Oh Baron. You don't know who I am but it seems my host have undying devotion to you. So I've decided to make a deal with you. If I use the Void to help with your overall goals then maybe you might throw some of the blood that you spill my way. Huh? Sounds pretty delicious if you ask me. So when you have an answer tell Cauld I'll get the message."

After the voice faded Cauld found himself back in control. The tattoos faded back to the ink they were. He turned to the cave and started towards it. "Oh um hello? I could see your blood so I know your in here. So could you tell me who you are with, Baron or Lilith or the false gods? If you are to align yourself with the Baron then I am a friend otherwise I'll just have to kill you because Void Splitter is starving for blood or even a soul."

From his prison within Banatrix the God of Death and source of all evil watched with amusement as his brothers attempted to bully and intimidate Lilith with their hollow displays of power. Arktorius was never one for such displays, he had no reason to show others how powerful he was by puffing up his chest and making a pretty exhibit of it. He was Death Incarnate, they all knew his power for it was the only absolute. None could escape him for he would come to all in due time. Mortal and demon and immortal and even the Gods themselves would feel his icy touch when their time came. When all the wars had been raged, death would remain. When all the rage of every storm had blown itself out, death would remain. When every monster in every corner of the world had finally met it's end either from the blade of a champion or the slow decay of time, death would remain. He would always be there even when mortal kind forgot about them and turned to even newer Gods or even more absurd, abandoned worship altogether, He would still be there watching from the shadows and waiting. Suddenly a pang of energy found it's way to the imprisoned Lord of The Underworld and a dark grin etched it's way onto his grim face. The power fluctuation could mean only one thing. Arktorius released a thought into the nether, intended for the Soul of War itself and his brother, Baron Praxus the King of the Gods.

"Brother... the sword nears the Grim Forge..."

Within the blade Banatrix the long buried fury of the God of the Underworld had been invoked. Lilith, the Mother of Monsters had betrayed Arktorius Malakath and his rage had been pulled fourth by the one called Lust. Once lovers and occasional allies but this most recent transgression threatened everything. The God of Death felt regret for the first time in centuries. Regret he had not heeded his brothers request and dealt with Lilith in the way Baron Praxus had originally designed. Now however he had another problem all together. The problem of the behemoth she had unleashed upon Athera to stop the thief from bringing the blade to the Grim Forge.

Alone in his quarters in the Temple of Malakath Inglip sat in silent prayer. Before him was Frostmourne, on it's pedestal it radiated dark power. The air in the room was chilled to the point where every breath that left Inglip's lungs could be seen as vapor from his lips. The Ancient Sword itself was emanating raw power as the eyes on the hilt continuously glowed with bluish light and icy vapor swirled around it slowly. Suddenly the glowing increased and the room began to violently shake with the fury of a God.

"SHE DARES?!"

The roar of the God of Evil caused blinding pain to explode in the mind of the elven head of the Church of Arktorius. He fell to the ground clutching his skull in agony as the only response he could muster was a scream of pure torment.

"AFTER WHAT I DID?! SHE THINKS SHE CAN BETRAY THE GOD OF DEATH?! I SHOULD HAVE RIPPED HER SOUL FROM BLEEDING CORPSE AND CAST IT INTO OBLIVION!!!"

The rage of Arktorius was a pain unlike any Inglip had ever experienced before. He feared if he could not calm his lord and master at least a small amount he would surely die here, curled up in a ball on the floor of his room.

"M-Master! Please! I-I can't take much more!"

The voice in Inglip's mind let loose a low growl as if ready to sheer his consciousness in half but instead showed restraint.

"Through Frostmourne you are my sole connection to the outside world... count yourself fortunate for that Inglip."

"I do Great Lord of the Dead."

Inglip pushed himself to a kneeling position as his head beaded with sweat from the subsiding pain.

"J-Just tell me what I must do my lord and it shall be done."

"The harlot seeks to ensure our permanent imprisonment. She has unleashed a titan to kill the thief my brother had steal the blade Banatrix. The beast is in flight as we speak."

Inglip swallowed hard at the ghostly words of his master. The Titan's of old were powerful beasts beyond imagining. Rivaled only by the Gods themselves they could wipe the world clean of life should the Gods not keep them beneath their heels.

"I sense your fear my minion..."

Arktorius warned dangerously within the elf's mind. Inglip nodded slowly yet set his jaw in determination.

"I am afraid great master of Darkness but I shall face any fear, even the Titans themselves for you."

The God of Death was pleased with his servants conviction and his words reflected that. They abandoned some of the demonic snarl they once had and adopted a more ghostly yet calm sound to them.

"Cast a sigil. I will guide you to the thief. Take the blade then cast a second sigil, this one to the Grim Forge. Do this and you shall finally receive the reward you so rightfully earned."

A grin of pure exhalation and joy dawned on Inglip's face as he leapt to his feet.

"Your will, my hands."

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

The thief stumbled forward, the bloodied stump where his arm once was dripped the precious life blood that he was now in short supply of. He had hastily bandaged it days prior yet it had done little to save him. The human's skin had a pale complection to it and his body was covered in cold, sickly sweat. His eyes were set in and dark circles had formed around them as the fever wracked his body.

"You are close to my masters realm now..."

The voice startled the thief to the core of his being and he whirled on it, knife in hand ready to skewer whoever had spoken. To his surprise there stood an elf, with long chestnut hair and flowing robes hanging from his thin frame. On his hip was a large scabbard that held a ornate looking sword that seemed to be pouring magical energies from it. Inglip stepped forward with a confident smile on his face.

"Rest easy servant of Baron Praxus, I have come to aid you."

"I need no help from you elf! Leave me be!"

The thief shouted in return. His weak state of mind and body had left him delusional and irrational. Inglip stepped forward unphased.

"If you are truly the servant of the King of the Gods then you would recognize this."

Inglip said as his hand went to the sword on his hip. Slowly he drew the ancient blade and the ringing sound of the sword leaving it's scabbard filled the air between the two servants of the Old Gods.

"Behold... Frostmourne. The blade of my master. The King of the Damned and Bringer of Darkness. Arktorius Malakath."

The sight of the blade of the Death God gave the thief pause as he stared at it in awe. The haunting whispers of the Lord of the Dead began drifting out from the blade yet only Inglip could understand it's words.

"The beast nears... Take the blade."

Inglip's eyes flicked up and locked onto the wavering gaze of the thief.

"As we speak a hell on leathery wings comes for you on the winds. Sent by the Goddess of Lust it will devour you whole and take Banatrix back to it's sultry mistress. I cannot allow that to come to pass."

He said darkly. The thief seemed to finally be hearing reason.

"T-Then what must I do?"

Inglip crossed the distance between the two, Frostmourne whispering in his hand.

"Die..."

With that he sunk the blade deep into the gut of the one who had stabbed the Goddess of Justice and stolen her legendary sword. The thief cried out in pain as he fell to the dirt, the last of his life force leaving his body. Inglip turned as a deafening screech broke through the clouds. He turned to look back at the distant black shape on the horizon.

"Too late Lady Lust."

He said with a smile as he grabbed Banatrix from the corpse and created a second sigil. In the next instant he stood before the Black Anvil. On the Island off the coast of the 5 holds Inglip stood in the Grim Forge with the prison blade of the Old Gods in his hands. The power swelling around the blade was at a fever pitch as the Gods within could feel how close they were to achieving what they've wanted above all else for the past 100 years. The sword in Inglips other had was humming with power as well as the essence of it's dark master called out to his servant.

"Destroy it! Release me!"

Inglip stepped forward to look down on the pit of lava with the only heat strong enough to destroy Banatrix, the fires that created so too could destroy. Inglip held out the blade, it hovered over the key to the Old Gods release in the hands of the elf. His eyes stared deep into the blade, the ancient and powerful magic that keapt the Old Gods enthralled resonated with energy.

"With this action, I bring about a new era that will shake the very foundations of the world."

With that he released his hold on Banatrix and it fell into the fiery chasm. In that moment time seemed to slow. The world stood still and all knew what was coming. The sacrifice of the New Gods led by Mora Ven had been undone in that moment as the blade met the flame. Banatrix met it's end and the prison that held the Old Gods was destroyed. To whatever fate may come, The Old Gods were once again... Free...

Caylim felt it. Long before the voices echoed around her, the voices of their faithful cackling at her failure. She felt it within the wind, within the sudden change of the moon's presence. Her Mother Moon was no longer hers, but another's.

She climbed.

Grabbing onto the nearest branch of the nearest tree she pulled herself up. She needed to see, to be closer to her Mother. She continued, higher and higher, the tree bending under her weight, but it still held her. She reached the top and could see. The darkness, completely invisible to anyone's eye, but Caylim could see it. Spreading, faster and faster until it was on top of them, covering every inch of the forest.

She coughed, her body lurching underneath the pressure, but she continued to watch it spread. She could hear the voices of creatures, mocking her. Digging inside of her company's head and revealing the truth behind them. Digging into her skin and mocking her for failing to protect her people, and the peace she craved for.

Mocking her Mother and her respect for her. Looking up at the Moon, Caylim could feel it. She was changing, no longer the Moon that sought to help people and guide them, but to be the bearer of monsters. The reminder that every night, something evil would come. Something would attack, and it was brought on by the Moon's power.

Caylim could feel it inside her. The connection between the her and the darkness that seeped from the Grim Forge, tugging at her stomach. It was calling her. Her own Mother, teasing her with promises of power and greatness. All she had to do was bring the Baron his ax. The mightiest weapon known in history. And the Moon had tasked her with finding it.

She could feel the Baron calling out to her. Knowing she knew of their arrival, and he taunted and teased alongside her Mother. Crying out, shouting for the entire world to hear, she armed her bow and raised it high. Releasing an arrow into the sky, it exploded in the Moon's light and rained down among the forest. The darkness dispersed, the wave of evil leaving the mind's of her company.

But she could still feel him. The Baron was still teasing her, pacing inside her mind with ease. Caylim climbed down from the tree just as the moon went black. No longer visible in the sky, an outline of where she once stood.

Light was still coming from the fire, however, and Caylim stood by it. She could feel the Moon still within her, and the goddess stabbed an arrow into her arm to relive the temptation. She felt her blood dribble down her fingers as several droplets sizzled into the fire. The Moon no longer was with her. No more temptation to be heard, no more calls to darkness.

Caylim and the Moon were now two different beings. One of the darkness and one of the light. Saying one final farewell to her Mother Moon, Caylim kissing her bloodied fingers and touched the fire. It burned, the pain an after thought to the reality of her situation.

Without the Moon as guidance, they were walking blind. Men and women who blindly followed her without knowing their true purpose, were now looking to her for answers. They knew the Old Gods were back, and now the Moon wasn't even on their side.

"Go home." She said to them. "Rolaf, Athos, Alexy, you may stay. I will need your skills." She said looking to the three individuals. "As for you, Zee. I knew there was something fishy about you. I will leave it up to the party to decide what to do with you."

"Once a decision is made we will be heading off. The Old Gods have awoken, and I know exactly where they are heading. We must move quickly. They will find us soon enough, we need to make sure we have the upper hand."

Ignore

Cauld flew back on to his ass as the dragon flew over him. He quickly stood back up and watched it fly away. After the shock wore off he decided to return to his mission. He started sprinting knowing the Baron would not be pleased with the time he had wasted. Only one thing needed to be done in his mind he needed to destroy the Mother of Monsters for his master. His lungs grew heavy in his chest as he lost energy, all his power had gone into Void Splitter but he kept running. As he ran he considered all the facts he knew at the moment: First Lilith was a god so the best he could do is beat her into submission, Second he knew he was mortal and would be killed by her the second he raised his sword, Third Void Splitter was not an ordinary sword. It was not as powerful as Beatrix or the Baron's mighty axe, but as far as Cauld knew it was the only sword in existence that could hurt a god in anyway. Though most importantly to Cauld was that Void Splitter was alive and knew of Lilith and the other gods in this world.

So Cauld let Void Splitter lead him to the dark mother. He kept running through the trees dispatching any creature that got in his way feeding his sword with their blood. When he saw the eclipse of the moon it was for a second from the corner of his eye. He shook it away needing to concentrate on reaching Lilith. Finally as his strength and energy completely faded he reached the ancient prison. He stood there starring at her, the darkest of creatures, then Void Splitter spoke to him softly just prodding his mind with its intoxicating presence, "Do not be fooled by her beauty Cauld she is not as powerful as you'd think. Her power stems from her beauty but the beautiful are nothing to the Void. Remember that and you'll do fine."

Cauld watched her speak to the dog-men beneath her. He could not make out her words but he assumed they were vile and tricky. Hi fear gargled up in his stomach but Void Splitter cooled his mood. With this new feeling he walked towards the monsters and their queen. He pulled the massive sword from its place then he started to shout to the crowd and their host, "Dearest Lilith Mother of Monsters! I have come to kill you by the order of his supremacy Baron Praxus!"

Drakenvold could feel the power of the almighty creature behind him. It was at this time he thanked the power of creation for giving him wings, for the journey would have been long and taxing on foot, and he would have been lunch by then. Even the allied forces situated at the grim forge would be hard pressed to knock such a beast from the skies. When he arrived at the volcanic island after a few days of travelling he felt a pang of dissapointment as he looked at his men. Hordes of gibbering darklings just stood there idly, some lowering themselves to scratch their backsides while some just stared blankly at a wall. Idiots, he thought to himself , they were supposed to be all ready and organised by the time he got there. "What the hell are you worthless meat bags doing? Get back to work, you slackers! Man those cannons! Archers, take your positions! Elites, man the ballistae! Those without a designated task, go lug back as much ammunition as you possibly can, lug till your backs break, unless you are keen on the idea of us using YOU as spare ammo!"
His horde began to make a mad dash as they strove to accomplish the tasks their master had set them. With his eyepatch, his bloodied features and the crazed glint in his one good eye made him look the part of a wily sea captain, except his ship was an island, and it could not move.

With bated breath, the Old Ones awaited the arrival of the almost unstoppable beast.

76 years ago,

Mora Ven and sealed some of the old god's inside Banatrix with the help of other new gods. One of the new gods was her brother Aron. After reaching peace, Aron went into a long slumber under the House of Mora.

Today,
Multiple dark energies hits the House of Mora and brought chaos to humanity. Those dark energies is felt by Aron and he awakens.

Aron was in a room under the House of Mora, lying on a rock bed and rock pillow. He has been that way for 76years but seems to be untouched by any stains or dusts. The room had no door and no windows. The room was bright as it was filled with orbs of soft lights. It was a closed room underground with no way of getting in or out. The room was protected by wards so that no mortal can intrude through the walls.

Aron was lying still, not moving. There were only some movements from his chest, the beating of his slowly beating heart.

After the second and third dark wave, Aron opened his eyes. Suddenly vanishing from the rock bed and rock. .... Aron had teleported.

Aron appeared at his big sister side, Mora Ven, on the highest point of the House of Mora. Mora Ven's counter for the dark wave isn't good enough. He unleashed his peaceful aura and tried and neutralize the dark waves that resonates from Grim Forge. two white wave doesn't counter three darkwave much but it helps. The sky was a little brighter than before. Most people can resist what they couldn't before. Aron caught Mora Ven before she collapse....

Drakenvold bowed respectfully to Azazel as he entered the shrine which housed the Grim Forge. He was bedecked in a ceremonial robe covered in the spiteful words of the ancient scriptures of the old gods, this robe was custom fit to his size and shape but was a tad too long at the back, meaning the end had to be carried by his extremely nervous darkling squire, whom he had lovingly dubbed "Speck". He noticed Arktorious had gone to do better things, whilst the Baron had still not fully emerged. Drakenvold smiled to himself, fashionably late, as always, he thought.

"My lord Azazel, you may not remember me, it has been so long, but you were the one who brought me into this dangerous game. My name is Drakenvold, longstanding ally and friend of your brother, Baron Praxus, who has still not shown his face, I see. A pity, I was hoping to play a good game of chess with the old boy!" Drakenvold paused and cursed, realising he was getting carried away, which isnt the best thing to do in the presence of a god. "Anyway." he continued "The reason i have come here to adress the matter of Lilith's creature. As you know it is headed this way, and while in my opinion the inevitable clash will be a tad one sided, as we have two gods on our side with a third on the way, I feel a.....connection to Lilith's older monsters and know of their unspeakable power. If we allow overconfidence to get the better of us then, especially in your, and i hope you dont mind me saying this, 'weakened' states then it could cause us more grievance than we had expected." He straightened up, looking straight at the handsome god, and could not help noticing how expertly chiselled his features were. He looked at his own scaly body from beneath his robe. He had really let himself go, all that food and ale hed had since he got here, he had to commend the darklings, for all their incompetence they made excellent cooks, especially when it came to red meat, which said a lot.

"As i was saying my lord, we dont know the full power of this beastie. We need to know exactly what we are up against so we can find any weaknesses and form an attack plan. Of course this will have to be done on the spot, as we need to get a glimpse of the beast first before we can identify it, which will be when it attacks. That is why i have a request, and it is understandable if you deny it." He motioned to the dark tower in the distance, situated in the middle of the island. A building that had been denied access to for many a century due to the sheer lunacy written between the pages of the books housed inside. He knew the old gods were not want to sticking their noses into books when there was enemies to cull, but Drakenvold was.

"Lord Azazel, god of the neverending storms of destruction and the tides of rage, my request is to be granted access to the forbidden library."

The steel of Banatrix was strong, but no metal was strong enough to withstand the fires of the Black Anvil. As the steel melted, the other 2 gods were released. But as a percotion, Mora had sealed the final and most frightening foe deep inside the sword. It wasnt until hours after it had been thrown in that the steel finaly melted away, the final ward preventing Barons escape finally broken.

The crowd of the Old Gods army chanted and shouted for the grand finally, the release of Baron Praxus. Suddenly, from the lava of the Anvil, an eruption cracked through the air like 1000 lightning bolts, the ground of Grim Forge shaking from the explosion. The crowd fell silent for a moment, watching the Black Anvil with anticipation. Again, the forge cracked the earth, this time harder than the last. Multan earth rose from the ground like springs, scorching and burning all they touched. Some fled, but the deticated waited still by the anvil until finally, a hand grasped the edge of the pool. A hand made of pure black magma, that slowly started to cool and rise from the pool still.

What was a hand, was now also an arm. From there, another hand and another arm while the springs started to fill with lava once more, shooting it every witch way, as if the island was breaking apart. Suddenly, the body, now taking shape as it still rose form the pool, let out a bestial scream of anger unlike any that even Azazel could even imagine. From the pool, the beast rose completely. Dripping the black magma of the forge, it stud 10 feet tall, a body far to large for any humanoid creature known to any of the realms. Again it roared out to the world, silencing anyone that made a sound. Even the island stopped its apocalyptic eruption, and fell completely silent.

As the lava covering him cooled, it hardened, making him a huge statue. There he stood for a few moments, before suddenly breaking through the encasing to reveal the Baron himself. With his first steps in Atherea in almost 100 years, the crowds started to chant again. But he himself didnt make a word before walking forward to his brother Malakath. "Brother...." He growled out in a deep tone before grabbing Malakath's throat, lifting him up high into the by only his throat. "YOU have done well brother...Without you, it may not have been possible that we stand in this accursed realm now." Suddenly he dropped his brother and turned to his dominion, all of them silent with excitement, then back to him. "When we crush this realm, and the false goddess, the souls of the mortals shall fill your Void, for you to take. The soul of Mora is the only one i require..."

Slowly he turned back to the masses witch watched his every move, and raised his hand high into the sky so his voice could be heard; "MY SERVANTS! You, have done well for a group of mortals. Now... The time has almost come... The only thing stopping us, is my ax... As soon as we posses it, we will CRUSH the false gods... And rain supreme!"

With his final statement, the whole island shook with the stomps of 1000's of warriors, and countless war crys.

Azazel stood as still as a statue with the golden staff in crossed arms, he hadn't moved anything but his arms since arriving as he waited patiently for his brother to finally arrive, while waiting patiently he came to be visited by the familiar maw of the mortal creature known as Drakenvold.

"My lord Azazel, you may not remember me, it has been so long, but you were the one who brought me into this dangerous game. My name is Drakenvold, longstanding ally and friend of your brother, Baron Praxus, who has still not shown his face, I see. A pity, I was hoping to play a good game of chess with the old boy!"

Said the dragon, it had been long since he appeared before the dragon but time for the Gods held not the same meaning as it did for mortals, events that took place what seemed like many years to the dragon were fresh in his mind as if only moments had past. Even know he did not move a muscle nor did he bat an eye to acknowledge the existence of the dragon when he arrived, until he spoke however, a single brow rose as he heard the casual manner in which the dragon spoke of Baron Praxus though he did not feel the need to address it for it seemed the dragon realized his blunder. IT would seem even though the respect was still there, mortals such as he had forgotten how momentous it was to be in the presence of the old God, perhaps it was due to the casualness of being around the pathetically mortal " New " Gods, blemishes on their great history that was soon to be unwritten.

" Yes yes, I am very aware of my current state of weakness and I am all to aware that the creations of our hateful sister are not to be taken lightly, it is taking my brother far longer to rise no doubt that they attempted to take extra measure to ensure he would never be freed from that cursed blade, whatever wards they used will inevitably crumble under the pressure of the Grim Forge's legendary flames and when they do there is no hope for whatever beast comes our way. After being locked away so long even Lilith should be weakened though she will not show it, awakening her beast will undoubtedly take a great deal out of her and it will reflect directly on her creations , whatever attack dog she has let loose stands little chance "

Even as he spoke he could feel the earth beneath him rumble as his brother stirred, slowly he rose from the depths of the Grim Forge raising all manners of hell as he did so, as his body began to take shape Praxus let out an intense bestial roar of pure anger that shook the hearts of the mortal servants that stood awaiting the return of the " God of Gods ".

" That is an honer I cannot grant you alone, the forbidden library is not a place for mortals and the very fabric of a mortals being can come undone in moments just from stepping inside " He informed the dragon grimly, the earth continued to quake as Praxus went straight to harass Malakath.

"YOU have done well brother...Without you, it may not have been possible that we stand in this accursed realm now." he heard him say, after that Azazel sighed and shut his eyes to drown out his brothers shouting coupled with the noisy mortals that cheered him on. Finally making another move he turned to face his brothers

" Well met brother, well met, but let us not forget that we have other more pressing matters to deal with that may require us to put our vengeance and conquering on the back burner. We have to deal with our favorite little sister, not even a day of freedom and she's already throwing one of her infamous temper tantrums, she has let loose one of her abomination on us and frankly I do not wish to take responsibility for the actions of you two "

He said, referring of course to the idea to deceive Lilith and lock her away, no one can argue that it was a necessary action but he never fully agreed with it. As he said this he was fully prepared to blast Praxus to calm him down a little, he was fully aware of his brothers thirst for revenge as they all felt the same, even though Azazel was the god of rage his brother showed far less restraint on many many occasions. Example A being him lifting Malakath by his throat the moment he was fully mobile, Praxus was considered to be the God of Gods so it was easy for him to forget that they were not obligated to bow or submit to his whims, and Azazel was not prepared to deal with any acts of aggression such as that so soon after being released, as he himself was fighting to remain calm.

Drakenvold was dissapointed at first, but knew that Azazel was probably right. Still, all that forbidden knowledge crammed in there......

But then he felt the tremors, and his doubts vanished, Baron Praxus had returned, and he let out a vicious cry to war;

"MY SERVANTS! You, have done well for a group of mortals. Now.....the time has almost come...The only thing stopping us, is my ax. As soon as we possess it, will we CRUSH the false gods.... and reign supreme!

And then the island erupted in a chilling chorus of proud war cries and stomping. Pride welled into Drakenvold's black heart, though he did not join in with the whooping and hollering, instead he burst into song. A deep, melodious tune taught to him by his mother, whom he murdered. It was a song that spoke of the legendary Draconus, the first free dragon leader, who led his kin to battle with Lilith's hordes eons ago, to show their true independence. When his mother had sang it to him, the melody was soft and filled with pride and a sense of courage. When Drakenvold sang it, the melody was deep and haunting, with a rugged, warlike quality. Drakenvold felt the back of his robe flutter as a shiver was sent down little Speck's spine as his master sang the sinister tune. His voice was not as loud as the Baron's, but most on the island heard the tune, the Baron himself included. This was Drakenvold's way of showing true respect to his old friend, not with some feet kissing, or some sucky -uppity speech of unyielding devotion, but with a melody of rage, death and war. He laughed at himself for fretting about Liliths monster, the Baron and his brothers could easily handle it. The beast could go stuff itself, the main priority was the ax, and the fall of the new gods. Drakenvold eagerly awaited the knowledge of his part to play in the coming battle. He had still not forgotten his promise to Caylim's splintered company;

"If we ever meet again on the fields of battle, I shall crush you. Farewell, my little failures."

Still, he found it odd that Lilith would send a single beast to deal with three immortal gods, a raging army of cultists, hordes of incompetent but highly strong Darklings and himself, a dragon who had aged slower than most and lived for many more years than most of his kin. The beast did not stand a chance, so why had the whore sent it? Drakenvold had a nagging doubt that she was up to something, as usual.

The God of the Dead watched with eerie pleasure as the battle continued. The Nightmare carved it's way through the undead only for more to rise up in the place of their fallen brethren. For every one that fell ten pulled themselves from the Underworld. A fate befallen many an adventurer, hero and demon alike. One Draugar was hardly a challenge for any skilled enough with a blade but ten of them. Twenty, fifty, one hundred, one hundred thousand. To be overwhelmed by the moaning forces of the dead as they come for your flesh was an end many have met to the silent approval of the Lord of the Void. The Nightmare pet of his sister was soon realizing its folly for its tireless work to eradicate the dead only served to bolster their numbers. The horde swarmed around it with wicked looking ancient weapons in their ghoulish hands. Axe's forged eons ago bit into the shifting form of the beast. Rusted blades made in forges long since forgotten to time stabbed the beasts writhing body. Nasty looking bludgeons struck the monster without mercy again and again. The beasts pain pleased the God of Death as he watched on without a word. With the constantly growing horde of the undead fighting beside him Cauld launched his attack with his newly formed blade in his hands. Back in the land of the Dead Arktorius ceased his vigil on the battle with Lilith's creature just long enough to hear his brothers call.

"Brother...YOU have done well brother...Without you, it may not have been possible that we stand in this accursed realm now. When we crush this realm, and the false goddess, the souls of the mortals shall fill your Void, for you to take. The soul of Mora is the only one i require..."

Baron Praxus' voice echoed in the mind of the Death God and a hollow smile of pride etched it's way onto Malakath's face.

"Dearest brother... As passionate as ever..."

He said aloud to no one, his words getting carried away in the cold winds of the Underworld. It was then that his eyes flicked up to stare off into the cold and snow as he sensed the approach of a figure he had not seen since his imprisonment. A celestial being of power that watches over the world. A being of light as well as darkness. The mothermoon herself.

"My Dark Lord, how I've awaited your return."

She spoke, her words a lusty cooing as only a lover can make. Her body adorned with a tantalizing black ensemble. So different from the elegant flowing white one she wore during Arktorius' imprisonment. Malakath's body shifted and became shadow as it darted toward her, speeds unimaginable the Moon Mother was unable to track it with her celestial gaze before he appeared before her. His massive hulking form so different to her lithe, curvaceous one. His hand rose slowly and cupped her cheek as he spoke.

"Luna..."

He said, his voice a dark whisper. She nuzzled her head into his hand tenderly.

"My King of-"

Her words were cut off as the hand that was lovingly caressing her cheek then sent her flying with a rough slap that wracked her body with pain. The Moon mother crashed into an ice mountain with such force, cracks shot up from the epicenter. She collapsed to the cold ground with a whimper as her body trembled in pain.

"You dare enter my realm after that thing you spawned from your womb called itself a God and took part in my imprisonment?"

Arktorious asked, his voice taking on a low and haunting ghost like tone as it drifted to Luna and enveloped her. She gritted her teeth in pain as the blood of the moon dripped from the side of her perfectly lusheous lips and stained the snow of the underworld.

"Words cannot express my shame Great Master of Death. With your absence I lost my way, lost myself. My daughter was a fool. Caylim is... No child of mine if she thinks herself your equal."

The eyes of the Death God glared at her suspiciously. Luna was always much too afraid of him to betray him but during his imprisonment the lack of his dark influence left her free to make her own choices, and her choice was to ally herself with her daughter and the New Gods. She would need to learn her place.

"A fact you can prove to me, in time for when I take Caylim Grace's soul you will have the chance to tell her yourself. Now... what to do with you?..."

He asked forebodingly as he slowly made his way to stand before her. She looked up at him with wanting eyes as her demeanor took on a much more sensual nature.

"Your stresses must be great my Lord after all those years cooped up in that blade, allow me to show you what won me your favor upon our first meeting."

She said seductively as she ran her hands up his thighs to his chest. She started to rise but his cold grip on her shoulder halted her.

"For that.... You should remains on your knees..."