Return to Darkness

[Grand Unified Theory]

Mhaaj finished his briefing with Marshall Datton, fading away into the shadows in farewell as another came to the Marshall’s attention. The only company to the young wizard was his footsteps echoing throughout the Citadel as the light continued to fade in the direction of his destination.

He inhaled deeply the pungent, decrepit air of the Citadel and exhaled in a pleasurable sigh.

"It has been so long..." he said to himself, moving towards his personal chambers in the forbidden bastion. His room was just as he had left it many months ago, only a small film of dust covered his personal items. Mhaaj smiled, feeling reassured that he was back where he belonged.

The mage placed his belongings down on his bed, and moved over to the unassuming table he had placed in the corner. On top of the table was a rather large, pulsating sack from which strange, muffled sounds emanated. Mhaaj’s smile widened as he lifted the sack, revealing a reanimated decaying female head.



"My dear, I have missed you," he said softly, caressing the beheaded zombie, running his fingers through her deteriorating hair. ".. have you missed me?" The disembodied head uttered an otherworldly groan, attempting to bite off the young man’s finger.

"Now, now.. none of that, my love."

He unclasped a small pouch at his side, pulling out small chunks of bloody flesh wrapped in parchment.

"I know it has been a while, and you must be starving," Mhaaj said in a grotesque, loving manner. The disembodied head wailed in ravenous delight as the wizard began to feed it.

".. there we go. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long. But don’t worry. Soon my ascendancy into the 8th circle will be complete, and we will have everything we will need."

The decaying head squealed in response, voraciously chewing chunk after chunk of flesh hand-fed from the mage. Despite being dead, it seemed to understand him. Mhaaj inserted the largest chunk into its decaying maw, and moved over to his window while it finished, enjoying the view.

"I just know you’re going to love feeding on your own two feet again, my love. All we need is a body.


.. I think I know just the perfect one."

[Grand Unified Theory]

The sun began to set over the forested horizon of the viridale.

“It’s been a while..” Mhaaj muttered to himself, walking along the border of the forest toward a different intended destination. He thought for a moment. “.. might be useful to see if she’s still there.”

The wizard entered the forest, quickly searching in areas where he expected the Black Hand traitor to be residing. It was like so many nights recently; completely barren.

“Has she left, then? I wonder…”

Mhaaj relocated to a nearby swamp, deep enough within the treeline to cast an undead companion spell without any worry of intrusion or discovery. The ritual concluded swiftly, resulting in an adult corpse sunk within the bog to rise, killed many weeks ago by the Mossdale. Whatever remained on its body were clear pieces of what the wild beasts couldn’t eat or digest.

The two continued to travel further within the forest, bringing complete annihilation to any Mossdale patrols unfortunate enough to cross their paths. In the midst of allowing his companion to feast on the most recent leader of the gnolls, Mhaaj found nothing. It all seemed rather disappointing.

As the wizard finished destroying what left of the Mossdale presence he had found, an unexpected visitor had decided to make a most interesting entrance.

“Don’t take another move, necromancer!” came a female voice behind the wizard, catching him off guard. “Your choices are against the laws in this land. Prepare to face the consequences and come with me.”

Mhaaj’s eyes widened in excitement, ecstatic at the found of the voice. “So you didn’t leave..!” It wasn’t whom he expected. Just some little female Elf wretch. The wizard’s eyes narrowed into a suspicious glare.

“Where is she?!” he demanded.

The Elf didn’t flinch. Her resolve seemed rather strong, fueling her courage and expertise in the kukris at her sides.

“Have you made your choice, fool?” She drew her weapons, preparing to bring down the law of the land unto the intruding mage. “Prepare yourself!”

The bog zombie waited eagerly to devour the strange woman, but Mhaaj quickly demanded complete submission.

“Hmph. A fool, you say?” The wizard replied in a spiteful tone, taking anger at the attack on his ego. Before the Elf could charge into melee range, he had pulled out a strange wand, a blast completely immobilizing the strange female Elf in a permanent combat stance.

Mhaaj looked to his snarling, hungry companion. He gave the go-ahead nod.


“Only devour the head.. we need the body.”

[Grand Unified Theory]

Even as night fell, the tectonically-active and lava-ridden environment encapsulating the Dark Citadel remained flowing and perpetual, seemingly fueled by the malignance and hatred of the evil gods themselves.

Mhaaj's mind couldn't find rest. New reports came about every day of enemy troop movements; everything rested on the cusp of a new war. Whereas normal sleep would possess the wizard's mind, the possibilities of bad outcomes merely ruminated over and over in his head. The reminder of failure was all too demonstrated and all too clear.

".. What if they find a way?"

He rose from his bed, sleep a complete impossibility at this point. Moonlight barely shined through the dark, damning clouds in the sky, illuminating a recent parchment illustrating an exchange between himself and the Dread Marshall Hashart Datton. Mhaaj quickly replaced his thoughts on future anxieties to responding to the Marshall. The mage reminisced on all the positive praise that the Marshall had awarded him throughout his newfound career as he wet the pen with brimstone ink, writing each letter in an extolling manner to show his due respect.

Marshall Datton,

Your trust is highly appreciated. I am honored that you would present me with this opportunity.

Mhaaj thought carefully over each word prescribed unto the parchment, choosing each word with succinct accolade.

I will begin immediately. Any further details will be relayed directly to you.

Mhaaj's thoughts again returned to overwhelmingly unfortunate possibilities. Many hours passed as the wizard looked through all the new books in his personal library, provided by the Ancient One. Sleep was long gone as the wizard spent further hours copying diagrams and delineating details for an accompanying letter to the Dread Marshall.

Along with this message you will be provided with what I have chosen. Should you see to any personal changes, please respond immediately.

Mhaaj wrote the last line of his response with extra pressure on the pen, giving the line a more distinct look among the entire letter.

I will not let you down.
~ M

[Grand Unified Theory]

Following his period of rest, Mhaaj joined his two fellow Brothers in darkness at the site of captivity for the caged ogre. Deathbringer Urlok's foul disease had further incubated in the giant creature, turning its flesh a morbidly pallid shade of white.

"Brothers.. I have a new idea. It will be messy, but it just may work."



The malevolent glow surrounding them danced among Mhaaj's midnight robes, seemingly coming from his eyes as well. The Deathbringer and the Ancient One sensed something different about the wizard now - had the possibility of such a torturous experiment further liberated the mage to a darker side of himself?

Mhaaj dropped a nearly 100 lb. sack in front of the two, his strength magically enhanced with abyssal power. Small miscellaneous objects spilled onto the floor; forks, spoons, bandages, fabics, small blunt weapons.

"I want that thing tied down. Make sure it's secure." Mhaaj collected the spilled items back into the sack, while the two stronger Black Hand officers took swift control of the sickly ogre. With the beast effortlessly subdued, the next phase would begin. He pulled out a large spool of string and a large needle from the sack.

".. and so begins the worst part of it all. I can only imagine your thoughts, Brothers, but I feel it is the only way. Make sure it doesn't move."

Guttural screams of pain resounded throughout the chambers as the wizard dedicated the next hour or so to sewing the ogre's anal cavity shut with intentionally crude and harmful dexterity in effort to appeal to the description in the tome from the day before. Mhaaj wiped his hands of the oozing blood emanating from the creature's behind, moving the sack closer to the creature and motioning for Urlok and Landristin to release their hold.

Knowing full well the foul brute wouldn't do as told after such an experience, Mhaaj initiated a spell synergy of feeblemind, charm, and delusions of grandeur spells to massage the creature's mind into his dark desires. The two assistants stood back and watched in sadistic glee.

The wizard moved his hand into the sack, pulling out a second-rate oversized bronze necklace. Clearing his throat, a new voice came from his lips:

" 'U ohan, 'u hago kuut." Mhaaj spoke in a growling, inarticulate speech pattern akin to some of the Mossdale orc tribes. He moved closer to the ogre, bringing the necklace to its lips and forcing it into its mouth. The wizard wasn't sure if the ogre even understood, but all this damn junk was going in one way or another. He looked up to Landristin and Urlok, returning to his normal voice.

"If it resists or bites, I want this thing dead." Smiles moved across their faces at the thought of destroying a helpless beast. Mhaaj spent hours half-coercing/half-enticing the tied ogre into consuming the entire 100 lb. sack of assorted garbage, trinkets, trash, weapons, and other useless wreckage. With the magical dumbing-down and delusions of succulent, delicious food, it wasn't too difficult.

As the hours passed, the swallowed rubbish began to cause an internal blockage in the ogre's body, causing a large swelling bulge to protrude from its lower abdomen. The inability to pass the items through had caused a devastating barricade of debris to collect in the creature's intestinal track, causing it to howl in anguish.

Mhaaj motioned for the other two to stand back, the wizard readying himself to flood the immediate area with the noxious vapors he had intended to use. The creature was clearly ready to pass into death; it was now or never.



Pernicious vapors seeped from a well coming from Mhaaj's hand into the torture chamber, their virulent tendrils seeking the orifices of the subdued ogre shrieking in torment. The vapors quickly encapsulated the beast, adding the effects of a thickening suffocation effect as the beast began to choke uncontrollably, losing its ability to use its senses and move. Myrkul's embrace was quickly closing in.

The ogre's head rolled back into a submissive position, its eyes nearly glossing over unto death. Mhaaj raised his arms into the air, chanting with a monotone-like drone.

"Ade due Myrkula.. give me the power I beg of you.. Secoise entienne mais pois de morte.."

The ogre attempted one final resist, knowing full well it rested on the razor's edge of death. The internal pressure of the buildup of garbage in its abdomen had increased demonstrably, and was on the verge of bursting through the ogre's flesh. Mhaaj increased the pace in his chant, becoming more fervent as the wizard looked onward unto the suffering creature in glee.

"Morteisma lieu de vocuier de mieu vochette! Endoline pour de boisette Myrkula!"

The ogre's eyes fluttered and seized one last time - the end had come.

"Secoise entienne mais pois de morte! Endelieu pour de boisette Myrkula!!"

Rays of blackened lightning flew into the ogre's corpse, causing it to seize several times more. The three Black Hand members stood back and watched.. waiting to see if anything would happen..

[Grand Unified Theory]

What once was filled with life was now replaced with darkness. With a sudden jerk, the deceased creature lurched; its arm flailed upward in a frightening fashion. Mhaaj watched the recently killed creature with a great intensity, eager to garnish any final efforts from the nearly two weeks spent on his project with his dark brothers. Its eyes flared open as a noxious tendrils of stench emanated from the bulging body. The creature rose to its feet.

"Halt, foul thing! Do not move!" Mhaaj raised his arms, preparing himself to cast a spell.

A pair of empty eyes fell back on the wizard. A deep, fluidy-thick growl echoed through the halls in response. It began to loom closer.

Mhaaj stepped back, readying a disintegrate spell. He hesitated, distraught by the thought of losing all the resources and time for nothing. Among the final invocations, the mage closed his eyes at the last moment, bracing for the upcoming disappointment. The cackling arcane energies surged in the air, zooming past the undead ogre barreling straight toward him. He quickly dodged out of the way, readying himself again.

The beast stopped and turned once again towards Mhaaj. The look on the thing's face was frightening - the eyes stared deep; it was as though it could remember the endless hours of torture and intentional suffering. Even to an archmage of the Myrkulites, the gaze was unnerving.

The wizard quickly began another incantation, readying another destructive spell. As the fearsome undead ogre began to charge once more, dozens of arcane bursts of energy burst forth from Mhaaj's palms, spearheading their way forcefully into the creature's physical shell. Not less but a second later, a violent explosion of creature entrails, acidic bile, miscellaneous junk, and noxious vapors filled the chamber halls.



Mhaaj wiped a layer of entrails, partially-liquified garbage, and vapor residue from his face. Despite the mess, he had an insidious grin spread from eye to eye.

".. time to tell Datton."

[Grand Unified Theory]

The young man’s head tilted back towards the wooden headboard of his chair, only the sounds of burning wax from candles and a pungent aroma of decay and nightshade lingered in the air. All other senses were darkened from the blindfold and bindings.



“You mentioned you had troubles… tell them to me.”

The blindfolded fellow sighed, not displaying any noticeable features of fear or anxiety given his current situation.

“Come now. Speak of it.”

The glass-like clinking of various bottles, and assorted background noise reverberated among the area. Wherever he was taken, the area he was now in sounded fairly large in depth.

“Things just… haven’t been good lately, mi’lord. The farm hasn’t done very well, and the kids haven’t been eating much...”

Mhaaj continued with his business from the other side of the blindfold. A faint noise ebbed on occasion into the chamber, hinting at the sounds of a group of something nearby. Perhaps people? It was impossible to tell. Many seconds of silence followed the man’s answer before Mhaaj retorted. Feigning his concern and empathy for the fellow was much easier without having to go through the facial motions and intentionalizing particular body language.

“Ah yes, my dear friend… I understand. You and your family are suffering. Your poor, poor girls...” Mhaaj lifted a small hook-like serrated blade intended for torture to his eye for inspection, allowing the gleam of candlelight to dance upon it in a beautiful ephemeral manner.

“.. do you feel your adoration of the gods slipping away into nothingness?”

The blindfolded man hesitated to answer, his devoutness clear in the face. Even behind a blackened blindfold in a foreign area, the gods still held high stature in the workings of his inner mind and perspective.

“I-I.. I don’t know..” He spoke with a desire to combat the question, but lacked the confidence in choosing the appropriate answer. “The gods.. work in mysterious ways..” He ejected, interrupting the silence following his initial indecisive response.


A malevolent smile began to spread across Mhaaj’s face at the words.

“Oh, but indeed. A god’s favor is fickle at best.” The wizard’s response was completely fake and insincere. Mhaaj appealed to the blindfolded man’s personal experiences, attempting to develop a sense of trust in the subdued man’s mind.

“What a cruel joke it can sometimes be; how we are put unto Toril as mere playthings for the gods, subject to their every malice and whim.” The words out of Mhaaj’s mouth were massaged for manipulative effect. He watched the other man’s face for signs of approval, adjusting his tone and tempo of speech as necessary.

“You know, my friend.. there is a way to regain control. To reclaim some sense of dignity and forever leave the troubles of the past behind. After all you have been through.. isn’t control something that you would want to have once again?”

The blindfolded man tensed at Mhaaj’s description; his body language showing clear intent of interest and desire. He merely swallowed, not knowing entirely what to say.

“Can you imagine it? See it in your mind?" Mhaaj steadily slowed his speech pattern once telling the man to imagine his words, savoring each second of semantically lowering the proverbial mental carrot on a stick.

“.. but no! The gods and goddesses of the quintessence above befoul your happiness with their fury and antagonism! They are not worthy of your praise, my dear friend, no.. they play a capricious game on you, and give you nothing in return!”

The blindfolded man quickly interrupted, visually torn between his personal convictions and Mhaaj’s emotionally-charged diatribe.

“But they hath given me my daughters!”

Mhaaj remained intentionally silent for near a minute, allowing the words to stew in the man’s consciousness. He finished up his involvement to the side with various alchemical and arcane components and walked over to the blindfolded man, moving closer to the side his face and nearly whispering in an alluring inflection of his voice.

“I can give you certainty. Truth is what I offer. From your first breath, you were like but a candle; burning unto nothing. We cannot escape our fate.”

Mhaaj pulled back, gauging the man’s reaction. It appeared that the manacles of religious indoctrination still stood in his way. He thought for a moment.

“The truly faithful never fear the grave, dear friend. I can help you.”

The blindfolded man began to relax once again, appearing to be willing to listen.

“You can decide to live under the atrocious gaze of the gods which you now know, those whom would wrack you with pain, misery, and attempt to ruin your family – or you can make a choice. A choice of verity and acceptance.

Death is but a horizon, my friend. You..” Mhaaj brought his hand to the man’s face, touching his flesh. “.. you are only the cocoon. Soon all will wane, and solace comes with a still heart.”

Mhaaj watched as his bleak and depressing description began to hang on the man’s shoulders like a heavy weight. Accepting death began to sound like an all-too good of a choice of alleviating the problems the blindfolded fellow attested to have suffered.

“..but what of my girls?” The blindfolded man asked.

“They too can find rest. As their father, it is your duty and responsibility to protect them from ill fortune. Before the night ends, I can bring them comforting salvation and reveal to them the truth of the eternal King of Death. If you so desire my friend, they will peacefully sleep without dreams, as their father would.”

“I.. just want them safe..” Apathy and pessimism had begun to soak into the man’s thoughts about his daughters. A morose tone in his voice replaced what would normally be an undying love for his children. Mhaaj’s sadistic smile thickened. It was all too easy.

“Have no worries my friend, they will be in the best of hands… I shall attend to it personally. Enough of them, now. Your time has come.” Mhaaj’s voice began to waver in volume as the blindfolded man listened to him take steps away from the current chamber.

“You will never hunger, never tire, never fear, dear friend.”

The sound of a loud metal creaking handle reverberated throughout the chamber, followed by an echo of stone sliding on stone.

“You will forget breath.. you will forget love..” The previous sounds of footsteps dramatically increased as more and more of the sound began to fill the chamber. Mhaaj watched as he released the hungering undead corpses from their adjacent holding cell. Frightening groans and wails of mindless hunger soon followed. Fear instantly enveloped the blindfolded man, unaware of what was happening.

“What is this?! What is that sound!?”

“Hush now.. follow my voice and slip away.." Mhaaj began to close the door behind him slowly, listening to the developing clamor as the blindfolded man attempted to break free of his rope bindings. Bloodcurdling screams rang out as the undead sank their decaying teeth into his succulent living flesh.

“Nooo!! NO!! NOT like THIS!!”

Mhaaj closed the door completely behind him, leaving the corpses to devour their newfound meal. He closed his eyes.





“..pain is the herald of your salvation.”

[Grand Unified Theory]

Mhaaj began to weave arcane energies into an egg-like shape, crackling with electrical potential. The shape stood as tall as himself.

“.. once you have finished with this female, Brothers, you will deliver them to the temple. Bring as many as you can.”

The wizard pulled out a small, intricately-carven symbol of a skull that began to glow with a fugacious essence. Tendrils of arcane power wrapped around Mhaaj as he too began to glow, stepping into the oblate mass of twisted spacetime.

Not less but a handful of seconds later, he was back in the Citadel, exchanging large sums of stags to Imperceptor Markus for assorted miscellaneous pieces of refuse not suitable for use in the upcoming defense of Sestra. The travel to the site was arduous with multiple sacks of trash to bring along, but magical augmentation of strength certainly helped the mage in his efforts.



The Necropolis was silent that night, even for an evil night as this. Mhaaj felt the eyes and stares of the ravenous undead that called the unhollowed sephulcher home. The scent of the living was enticing to the creatures, but Mhaaj was immune to their wrath despite his warm-blooded appeal. The mage kept a careful eye on his surroundings as he continued on to the experimental site.

As Mhaaj descended into the unholy catacombs, he quickly noticed that all six of the holding cells were filled with healthy ogre subjects, some raging in their cages attempting to break free and escape. Thankfully the lab was located far from the surface, where the echoes and shrieks of captured sentient creatures wouldn't alert anyone or anything nearby. A grin spread over his face, pleased and thankful for his Brothers' efforts. He made his way over to the loudest ogre attempting to destroy its cage.

"Silence, fool. Your only purpose is to die by my hand." Mhaaj lifted his hands into a menacing, claw-like fashion and channeled a dangerously high electrical impulse into the captured ogre, punishing it for disobeying. The creature reeled in pain, lying on the ground convulsing from secondary shock waves of electricity surging throughout its nervous system.



"The next few days will be more intense than anything you have ever experienced. You will suffer and you will perish." Mhaaj responded in a matter-of-fact, taunting manner to the convulsing ogre. He moved to the center of the chamber, in plain view of each ogre in its corresponding cell. His hands traced elaborate geometrical patterns in the air, illuminating with the force of Mhaaj's will. Each ogre was blasted with a different colored, differently shaped pattern of geometry, effectively ruining each ogre's intellect and desire to fight. One by one, the caged ogres succumbed to the corrupting enchantments.

"Let us begin.."

[Grand Unified Theory]

“.. I am sorry, but your father is gone.”

The two young girls instantly displayed submissive body language upon hearing the news, breaking out into tearful sorrow. They were hardly the age of 10 and 12 years old. Despite the emotional outbreak, Mhaaj stood before them without a crack in his facial expression behind his hood.

“He had not a choice in the end. Before he passed, he only thought of the two of you.”

Childish cries of “Daddy!! No!!” filled the room as the two girls were unable to contain their lament. Although Mhaaj’s face could not be seen.. he was smiling. The mage’s indulgence in the tears of the innocent was cut short, however, when the eldest daughter revealed a holy symbol of her father’s – that of Kelemvor. Mhaaj’s demeanor instantly flipped from a decadent gratification to outrage and iniquity as he snatched the symbol from the girl’s hands.



“Do you know what this is?!” Mhaaj spouted angrily. The two girls nodded their head in understanding, looking upon the symbol with fond recollection of their father’s devotion to the deity. Mhaaj lifted the symbol closer to his face, inspecting the craftsmanship of the item. Someone had put a fair amount of love into the object, handsculpting it from a combination of Mossdale pine, ivory, and gold leaf.

“This..” Mhaaj grabbed the symbol with two hands, breaking it into smaller pieces and tossing it into a nearby corner like a piece of refuse. “.. is a false god. There is only one true Lord of the Dead.” He turned his attention back on the tearful girls.

“.. the time has come, girls, to learn who that Lord is."

Mhaaj slowly reached behind him, slightly nudging the door to his rear ajar. The girls’ eyes widened in fear as the door seemingly began to open itself.. only to reveal a horrible, traumatic sight. Screams from the young daughters echoed throughout the countryside home.



"Your father wanted to see you two one last time. I have granted his desire."

The zombie-like father stumbled and dragged itself into the room, displaying no reminiscent memories behind its eyes. It hungrily moved towards its previous family, wanting to desire them both. Mhaaj quickly stilled its ravenous approach with a command.

"Let this be an opportunity to the both of you. A new world shall be remade, and only those who have the strength and will to carry on will survive." Mhaaj looked over to his newest addition to his undead flock, snarling with starvation and overwhelming emptiness inside. He ceased his command of stillness on the creature, allowing it again to be driven by a mindless craving for flesh as it continued to approach its former daughters.

"In this life, now.. you kill, or you die. Or you die.. and you kill."

Mhaaj exited the home, leaving the decomposing father to attack his daughters. He thought to himself who would win out as screams from inside the home echoed through the nearby wilderness.

[Grand Unified Theory]

The clash of steel rung throughout the streets of Sestra; the assault of the Legion on Bane’s territory had begun. Shouts of the living echoed across the land as the undead met them face-to-face, steel-on-steel. The time had come.

Mhaaj walked steadily with the four other dark heroes under the black banner of the Dread Three, heading straight to the front lines at the outskirts of the city. Battalions of Bane, Myrkul, and Colibrus’ finest nightmarish creations had lined up in advance, acknowledging and saluting the Dread Marshall Hashart Datton as the group made their way to the command center of the defense operation. The Dread Marshall secured his position at the very front of the contingency, readying a speech of inspiration. All fell silent at the Dread Marshall’s words.



“My Brothers! Now is your time!

All must stand in defense of the city! Tonight, we show the Dark Lord that WE are his crushing gauntlet! That WE are his soldiers! Tonight, we fear no one more than BANE HIMSELF! For it is his will to crush every.. last.. one!”

The Dread Marshall extended a gauntlet, slowly closing the plated fingers into an iron fist; a reminder of his rule over all who stood before him.

“You will not fail! You will not run! Make them fear you until their very last breath!”

Mhaaj raised high his armored grasp in the air in response, mirroring his fearless commander in a further inspiratorial prose.



“For the Dread Marshall! For Lord Bane, Lord Myrkul, and Father Colibrus!!”

The encouraging words of the foul mage rang true, followed by a chorus of identical proclamations from the undead armies surrounding the group. The eyes of the undead glowed in reverence for their malicious commander, awaiting the moment to satiate their desire for malevolency and bloodthirst.

At that moment, the lowered portcullis preventing access to the city opened. It was as though the mouth of Hell was forced open, pouring wide the warriors and abominations of nightmarish creatures. Leading the charge were the dark heroes of the Black Hand, spearheading a counterassault on the hubris-engorged Legionnaire troops. They would pay for their treachery against the true rulers of the Valley.



The battlefield at the outskirts of Sestra quickly erupted into complete chaos as Legionnaires charged against their former friends and family reanimated for use against them. Magical energies erupted above the land, both by friend and both alike, tearing asunder the land as hellfire rained from the skies. Sestra’s outskirts became bathed in blood, littered with corpses of reanimated soldiers and freshly-killed men and women of the Legion.

The battle ensued for what seemed an eternity, the exchange between the Black Hand and the Legion coming to a near standstill at times; at others, a complete massacre at the Black Hand’s advantage. Despite the Black Hand’s success, both sides were quickly falling short of reinforcements for the final showdown. Even the efforts of Mhaaj reanimating the dead Legion troops could not keep up with the demand. The Dread Marshall continued to press the attack regardless, relentlessly slaughtering any opposition that dared step foot against his city. Soon came the final regiment of the Legion offensive, headed by the infamous Iovani Maximus.

The leaders of the two armies stepped forth, exchanging words with one another. Maximus dared to state conditions of surrender for the Dread Marshall and his city; Datton spat upon the offer, retreating back to his rightful place at the forefront of his remaining army. The 11th hour was at hand. The two groups charged at one another, fighting with every last breath to decide the fate of Sestra. Both leaders fought with the strength of the demonkind, destroying numerous troops themselves alone.

The might and magic of the Black Hand proved supreme as Maximus’ troops fell around him like lambs to the slaughter; he remained the last soldier in the entire offense orchestrated by the Emperor. Cries of victory rang out across the entire battlefield as the Dread Marshall’s sword pierced the heart of Maximus, effectively destroying the Legion’s presence in the area. Maximus’ consciousness began to fade as the dark heroes stood over his dying body, ecstatic with their success. With his dying breaths, Iovani spoke.

“You think.. you have won?” he sputtered, choking and coughing up blood. “You have done.. exactly.. as planned.. all hail.. the Emperor..”

Mhaaj silenced the dying soldier with a boot to his throat, applying enough pressure to make the Legionnaire suffocate on his own choked-up blood and bile. The dark heroes of Sestra looked to one another in bloodstained glory. Before they could fully celebrate, a fiery hole broke open in the ground next to the dark heroes from the deepest pits of the Hells. A gargantuan fiery creature climbed free, towering over the group of five, inhaling deep the acrid smokestained air.

“Mmmm, yes.. it has been so long since I have visited the material plane.. I am.. HUNGRY!”



The five Chosen of Sestra readied their weapons, preparing to send the foul demonic creature back to the fiery pit from whence it climbed from. Fearless and driven as ever, the Dread Marshall charged headfirst into battle with the towering inferno, soon followed by the rest of the group. Could they even destroy such a monstrosity?

The bloodshed continued nearly endlessly as the five dark heroes readied every last power attack and every last spell against the demonic flesh of the demoloth. Hellfire continued to rain from the sky as dozens upon dozens of arcane missiles seared through the air, striking forcefully into the unholy flesh of the demon. Despite the assault, it were as though it suffered not a single inconvenience nor flesh wound by any spell nor blade impact.

The Dread Marshall, the Ancient One, and the Vigilator continued to strike forcefully unto the creature, causing only temporary wounds that seemed to close only moments later. The dark heroes refused to fail, refused to retreat. Inspired and driven by their fear of only Bane himself, the assault continued to be pressed. Exhaustion and bodily damage would not stop any of them. They would relinquish their anger, their hatred, their overwhelming power only upon death.

The battle continued to rage as things quickly fell into the favor of the Black Hand. Whether it was Bane's favor granted upon the dark heroes, or the might and power of their own malice, the creature's wounds soon became permanent. It was not long before the swath of Black Hand blades and foul magics sent it howling back to its infernal home in excruciating pain.

The dark heroes looked to one another in congratulatory success. Sestra belonged to Bane.

For now..

[Grand Unified Theory]

Following the battle of Sestra, the influence of the Ritual Consecrator quickly waned. The necromancer had suddenly disappeared and was not heard from; it was assumed the mage met his hands at the fate of the Legion, or worse. Could such a rumor be true?

It is said that such beacons of dedication to evil and depravity do not fully depart this world so easily.. if the bones of the Ritual Consecrator truly have been swallowed by the earth, let us wish they rest asunder to never corrupt nature’s intentions again..