Nightgaunt's Story

A chorus of screams drifted through the canopy. The shambling dead rampaged across the island like a pack of rapid wolves. Not even the shadows provided safety to the overwhelmed pirates as darkness writhed and gave birth to vicious claws and snarling teeth. Wraiths cloaked in mists of dread stalked the woods and slaughtered indiscriminately with ghostly blades.

The titanic Lord Deathweaver strode purposefully inland. His eldritch eyes pierced the shadows and peered into the minds and souls of the frail mortals that fled from him. The ground beneath his feet withered, blackened, and died in his passing. A single brigand charged at the necromancer. His cutlass was held high and his lips parted with a roar. Deathweaver merely lifted a finger and the cry dissolved into a gurgling scream as the flesh melted off his bones.

Gro'chal stepped over the steaming corpse. Its eyes suddenly burst into blue flames before it rose to its feet and fell in step with its Master.

The necromancer suddenly stopped as a presence pressed against his mind. He reached out with his senses and his mandibles twitched. Gro'chal felt something that gave him pause. An ancient mind of great Power had arrived on the island.

"Nightgaunt, accelerate the seige." Gro'chal telepathically spoke to his servant, "We have drawn attention to ourselves. I will deal with it."

Indeed Gro'chal had been noticed but not by the large hatted wizard who suddenly twirled his staff around only to bring it to the side of one of the many undead abominations that went about killing all that stood in their way. His staffs connection to the necrotic corpse suddenly burst into a bright shinning light and then a wave a force that would send the creatures bones flying in all directions and disrupting any who were caught amongst the blast into oblivion and shards of their former selves. Bigsby began to stride with purpose towards what he felt was the source only to smack a few more undead bastards that rushed him every inch of the way doing what he did to the first like he had to the last he dissipated.

A small girl covered in gore and mud began to sob as she sat on his knees and watched the sad and sorry sight of her people being slaughtered. "Someone, anyone, please help me! My mother is trapped!" The tiny girl piped loudly only to t urn to see that beside her now was a large hatted man who quickly forced the wood of her now condemned home to explode into a bountiful bounty of multicolored butterflies. Once cleared and knowing that the child could get to her mother Bigsby turned to face the undead hoard only to shake his head.

"To you all this will be the greatest day of your interestingly notable lives. But for me it will always be a Tuesday, I hate Tuesdays." The large hatted wizard simply pointed the head of his staff out before him and began to trace a circle in the air which seemed to reverberate with a strange eldritch energy. It was from this circle that several thousand blue orbs of energy shot forward and pierced even more of the undead army causing some to explode and others to change their shape into harmless trinkets or bobbles that could be picked up later.

Meanwhile, as the dread lich Gro'chal Deathweaver and the planeswalking wizard Bigsby Big Hat did battle, the siege continued on the inner-most compound of Yggor's Island...

"I said brace the door you landlubbin' yellerbellied excuse fer seamen!" roared a rugged brigand as his boots dug into the earth. "Brace it!"

Half a dozen men pressed their shoulders against the wooden door of the chamber. Wooden beams and rocks were braced and piled against the door while a thunderous sea of screeching and moaning resonated from outside. The door shook like the waves of an encroaching tide as skeletal hands poked through the boards and clawed grooves into the stone frame.

A barricade of refuse and stone pillars was erected only scant meters away from the door. Two dozen men and women armed with crossbows and blunderbusses knelt behind the jurryrigged cover. Some fingered their triggers with sweaty palms and glanced at each other nervously. A few openly wept and whispered prayers to whatever deity would listen.

It happened so quickly. A meteor fell from the heavens and set the sky ablaze. The resulting tsunami was not that devestating, since the islanders were victims of sea storms every other month. The air was calm for a few moments, then all of Tartarus, Hell, and every other dark afterlife broke loose.

The dead arose from their watery graves and slaughtered the living.

Flesh-eating ghouls, soul-eating spirits, and cackling skeletons rampaged across the island - killing anyone in their path. Men, women, children... The old and sick... None were spared. Those that barricaded themselves in the throne room of the ruins knew not the fate of those outside. Though perhaps they were the ones trying to break down the door that very moment.

The symphony of death seeped into their bones and ate away at their spirits. Their cries were like rabid animals that were cursed with a never-ending hunger. A paralyzing chill hung in the air. Distant cackling intertwined with the song as it rose to a crescendo.

And it stopped.

Silence.

Stillness.

The song was silent, and the door was still. The survivors glanced at each other in confusion and barely restrained terror. No one spoke. No one dared to speak. Was it over? Did they give up and move on? Were they already dead and simply awaiting whatever twisted afterlife that was reserved for them?

The whistle of wind blew through the chamber.

One of the men slowly lowered their crossbow.

A frigid gale blew through the ruins.

The door suddenly exploded in a shower of splinters, sending its defenders flying through the air like ragdolls. Darkness - pure, writhing, living darkness - filled the doorway. An ear-splitting scream intermingled with the whimpering wails of countless souls, and the blood of the island defenders turned to ice in its echo. Several of them dropped to their knees and added their voices to the chorus as they tried to tear out their ears.

The darkness poured into the room like a churning black fog. It squirmed with the rattling of chains as the writhing mass of dark tendrils, smoke, and shadows shot out like murderous hands. Three men fell apart with an explosion of gore and viscera. Blackened entrails and icy blood was spewed across the ground as a line of defenders were shredded, flayed, and cleaved like butter against a glowing hot knife.

A crossbowman shot his bolt at the darkness only for it to clatter uselessly against the back wall. He had little time to contemplate the futility of his weapon before he was sailing across the room like a toy tossed by an enraged child. Another brigand - a woman covered in tattoos and holding a musket - was hoisted into the air at an awkward angle by the living smoke. Half-frozen blood poured from her neck like a fountain. The firearm clattered to the ground and went off with a bang.

The smoke and smoldering shadows churned and solidified. Long arms and hands with clawed fingers materialized from the darkness. A monstrous demonic face formed from the smoke, revealing a sadistic grin filled with several rows of razor sharp teeth that sank deeply into the woman's flesh. Glowing crimson eyes glared, unblinking, at the rest of the islanders. They radiated with hunger for spilled blood, violence, murder, and for anyone - anyone - to dare stand against him.

"Unhand her, demon!" cried out one of the defenders. The man's dark blue coat trailed behind him as he sprinted forward with his pistol and rapier drawn. A three-corner hat sat on his head while piercing green eyes glared defiantly at the dark spirit. He slid to a stop and leveled the pistol at the creature's semi-corporeal form. His thick leather boots kicked up a small cloud of dust.

Captain Cooper fired his pistol at the monstrosity. It pounced like a viper, leaving its previous prey dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Cooper dove into a roll, narrowly escaping a swipe of the monster's shadowy claws. He retaliated with a thrust of his rapier, but the shadow twisted around the blade with a snarl. The creature's blood-red eyes burned with murderous glee as it snapped at the pirate with its powerful jaws. However, Nightgaunt merely bit into empty air.

Cooper ducked beneath the attack and drove his rapier deep into Nightgaunt's shadowy mass. The shadow unleashed a terrifying roar of pain and rage as the blade sizzled. His grip faltered as an icy numbness crawled up his arm, but Cooper redoubled his efforts and pressed the blade deeper into the monster's phantasmal chest.

Nightgaunt shrieked in fury and his fiery eyes narrowed like a predator. Ice coated the rapier's hilt and slithered up Cooper's hand. The King of Shadows sneered wickedly before grabbing the pirate's hand with his own and squeezing. His hand shattered like a bundle of twigs beneath the dark spirit's strength, and he fell to one knee in a suppressed groan. Finally, Nightgaunt swiped a clawed hand across Cooper's exposed back.

Captain Cooper screamed as the spectral claws rent flesh and scraped bone. They were like whips laced with razor blades being struck by a goblin slavedriver. An impossibly cold chill reached deep within him. It was colder than arctic rain of the northern sea and more oppressive than the darkest abyss. Nightgaunt's cursed claws were suffering given form - Death made manifest.

His claws drove deeper into Cooper's back and emerged through the front of his shirt. Blackened blood soaked the cloth as his scream was drowned out by the blood dripping from his mouth. Nightgaunt lifted his quivering body from the ground and tossed him several meters away. The rapier, with the guard currently entangled with Cooper's crushed fingers, slid out of Nightgaunt's chest and followed his trajectory.

"Well now..." Nightgaunt hissed as he watched the nearly-lifeless body of Captain Cooper struggle for breath on the ground. "I haven't had a decent fight like that in ages. I will save you for last..."

"Now..." Nightgaunt turned and sneered at the trembling survivors. "Where were we?"

"Heel, Nightgaunt." a voice caused the ruins to tremble.

Nightgaunt and the remaining islanders turned towards the shattered remains of the door. Shadows writhed and groaned as a massive humanoid figure stepped into the room. He stood nearly twice the height of a man, and an aura of pure malice and suffocating despair radiated from him. Tattered dark robes were draped over his desiccated body while he held a long black staff in his right hand. The burning skull of a demon lay impaled on its spear-like tip. Glowing blue eyes peered at each of the islanders through the concealing shadows that clung to his body.

"You have done well, my servant." he said. "Now go forth and ensure the rest of the island has been cleansed. Return to me when your task is complete."

"Yesss, Lord Deathweaver." Nightgaunt replied before vanishing like a whiff of smoke in the breeze.

"Now..." he addressed the islanders. "Which one of you is the leader of this little band of misfit children, hmm?"

None of the islanders spoke in their paralyzed fear.

None of them needed to.

"I'm... hurk... Right 'ere, ya waterlogged..." Captain Cooper groaned as he slowly stood up while supporting himself against a fallen pillar. "... Davy reject!"

Cooper's face was nearly as pale as the skeletons that now huddled outside the doorway. Blood dripped from his belly, mouth, and broken hand as his eyes glared at the lich with steely determination.

"Such spirit..." the lich sneered. "So much hatred... So much restrained rage... You will do nicely, but first..."

He stretched out his hand and pointed a skeletal finger at Cooper. "...You must be broken."

Captain Cooper's body suddenly went rigid. An agonizing hiss escaped from his mouth, but he continued to lock gazes with the lich. The lich in turn curled his finger back, and Cooper's stiff body levitated towards the skeletal abomination. His ghostly blue orbs met Cooper's defiant emerald eyes, and he sneered.

"I am Gro'chal Deathweaver," the lich began, "Master of the Ancient Dead, Bearer of a Thousand Souls, and the Voice of the Damned. Death itself kneels to my will. Who are you to challenge me?"

Deathweaver clenched his fingers into a rigid bowl and Cooper's chest lurched forward. He let out a loud gasp as his eyes widened to diner plates.

"Do you feel that?..." Deathweaver whispered as his clenched hand pulsated. "That is the feeling of your life at my mercy. Do you sense the fear creeping through your mind like a swarm of spiders? Do you finally realize how just frail you really are? Such a fragile shell..." Deathweaver stopped the pulsating for a moment, and Cooper groaned in agony.

"But I will make you STRONG!" he said before clenching his hand into a fist. Cooper let out a gurgled scream as his body convulsed.

Then he was still.

Deathweaver turned to face the other islanders.

The jungle drowned out their screams.