NationStates Jolt Archive

Caractor's ships had left The Ermorian station just a while before he felt something... Something quite familiar to him. It was Etimmu. It took a while for Caractor to really understand what Etimmu had told him. Apparently Etimmu gave him orders, ones that had been given by the Lich Queen herself. His rage grew as his understanding of those orders did. He knew why she wanted this to be done. Her cruel and twisted sense of humor surpassed Caractor's a thousand fold. Caractor told the Dusk Elders to make the ships enter the Underworld. That they did, as quickly as they could, and the ships disappeared in black flashes of light.

Now they would wait for the beacon.

On Earth, an unholy priest that had layed dormant for thousands of years beneath the sea, suddenly rose up in the depths and began slowly to move towards the surface. Finally, finally he was given the signal. So long had he waited... His body had deteoriated very greatly from the times he first set foot upon the seabed, skeletal remainds of his old self. Only his head had survived the test of time, as the dark energies that sustain him had kept it together.

He could see the surface now...

With great effort he finally reached the surface. It was night. He stood on the beach of a rather small, secluded island. It had been deemed a perfect place for him to set the "beacon" upon millennia ago, and it still was that. After a while of just watching around him in dulled amazement, he chanted his unholy prayers, and the lands around him became desecrated. He could finally rest upon his beloved dominion once again, feast upon the dark energy that flows through it.

And there it was, the beacon. Only after a short wait the Dusk Elders saw it, and the two ships began to move towards the location.

It only took a few minutes for them to reach it, and they went back to the realms of the living. Caractor ordered the ships to land. They landed horizontally, and they stood upon something that looked much like landing gear used on a plane. A large door opened in both of them, and the tip of those doors hit the ground. Caractor told the Wights to disembark, which they did without question. It took a while for all them to leave the ships. There were so many of them, too many, Caractor thought, for this mission.

Caractor left the ship last with his group of Censors. He wanted to look at the ship's exterior, he hadn't been able to see it too well whilst boarding it. He saw something that shouldn't have been there. Something... Some things had hit the larger ship, but it had only sustained light damage. Apparently the undead of the Underworld were becoming restless. The Wights waited for his commands, and he effectively said:

"Secure this place. Guard the ships. Those are your orders."

There wasn't much the Wights could do at the moment. Not in this place.

Caractor went back to the ship. He would have to wait for a response by the locals. But before he could go much farther, a few Dusk Elders came to him, with an old and frail skeleton with them. Caractor almost shouted at them in anger before he realized what was it that he saw.

"So, this is the place you waited for us for so many years? This speck of land in Arda?"

The Dusk Elders dropped the priest onto his feet, and left to do whatever it was they would do.

"Yes... This place... For so long..."

"At least your wait was not in vain."

He laughed his cold laughter and he turned to go to the command center with the Censors. The priest followed them slowly. He... It had lost so many years...

Baron Glockiuye al Faiauyen gazed deeply into his scrying pool, looking down upon the cold stone walls of the tower in which he sat. As his concentration deepened, the picture expanded, first taking in the rest of his fief, where smoke whispered up from the peasants' cookfires, and then out, so that he gazed first upon the entire island of Kalessin, and then upon all of Arda. He smiled contentedly as his consciousness stretched out, his eyes closing, and in his mind's eye, the great map was replaced by a gigantic web of pulsing energy, as the great network of life that made up the peoples of Arda became visible to him. Then, he started abruptly, as, to the east, a terrible dark cancer began to grow in the web, just a tiny speck to begin with, but then it expanded rapidly, into a pulsing globule of twisted reality, before stopping its increase as swiftly as it had begun. Glockiuye wrenched himself free from the pool, and sat back in his hard oaken chair.

Intriguing. I had not been warned that magic of such power was due to be used, and its signature does not match that of any of the local primitives. The Emperor must learn know of this!

They waited for quite a while, and nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. It was almost like they had not even noticed the presence of the undead on their lands. Caractor had been sure that the locals would react to their presence somehow faster. The Dusk Elders had only felt that something had observed them very briefly, but that was all.

Caractor had left the post on the communications' center to one of his Censors. He had gone outside. There, he told the Dusk Elders to begin the operation as planned. They did not say a word, as they began to prepare for the casting. They, at first, needed to go and take as many magical gems as the spellcastings would require. After accomplishing that easy task, all that was left was to seek proper places for the casting. Then all would be set.

Caractor watched. He watched the Dusk Elders hover here and there. He watched as the Wights returned to protect the ships. Apparently they had not found anything either, the perimiter was secure. Things were going too well... Something was out of place. Something... Something was wrong. Something Caractor could not place his finger on.

The Dusk Elders were ready, and they began to chant. From one of them the greatest darkness emerged and it came upon the whole island. One of them began to emit the worst cold ever witnessed, and it came upon the island as well. One of them created a tower, a tower as black as the night and as evil and twisted as the undead themselves. Then there was one other who casted something, something that did not appear to do anything, and the one who had brought coldness upon the isle also did the same.

In mere minutes, the island had turned into a cold, barren wasteland, but it was not caused by the undead dominion, no. Not entirely anyway. It was preserved magically.

Some of the Wights were ordered to carry the magical gems from the ships into the newly created tower, and they did as they were told without question. There were so many of them that it did not take long to complete the transfer.

Caractor and the Censors that were with him walked back into the ship. He then noticed the skeletal priest, in the shadows. Apparently he had been following them all this time. This was highly unsettling for the Arch Censor. He had not felt his presence. It did not matter that his presence was quite faint and weak. It was almost as if something had happened to the priest in the seas during the millennia.

Caractor spoke out.

"I cannot help you, priest. Talk to the Dusk Elders if your current state of existence does not satisfy you."

The Censors passed the fragile priest and made haste towards the communications' center. Caractor could not let theissue become a problem, for the moment.

Still, nothing. It was quite apparent by now that the locals were not quite as attentive as they have been said to be. But it was only better for the Ashen Empire, Caractor thought, as they would be able to make their grasp on the island quite firm. Firm enough for it to be extremely difficult to remove them from there, if it would come down to that. Although, considering the inactivity of the local populace, maybe they would never even notice the undead presence...

And they had everything ready. The domes of magic, elemental and not, were complete, the tower was full of gems and the Dusk Elders had begun to cast their dark spells within it, bringing even more undead into the realms of the living. They had also begun to bring more undead from Ermor itself to the island. Mostly of the mindless kind, though. They had more than enough of Wights and the like there already.

The island was slowly being filled with mere cannon fodder, as the longdead and soulless came through the Stygian Paths. Thousands upon thousands of them arrived by every hour... And Caractor found this quite satisfactory. Yes, the undead had now, truly, arrived to this dark place.

He spoke to the Censors, in the darkness of the transport ship, whilst waiting in its communications center:

"We are now ready. Everything is complete. Everything is in place. Let us see whether the beings which attention we are supposed to draw will ever see us."

The others stood there, silent. But they knew and understood what he had said, and they concured with their silence.

Morgoth always sort of hated using the palantir. It was an effective tool, but the device was decidedly not designed for use by fifty-plus foot tall Dark Lords. The best he could do, in most cases, was to cradle the stone in his palm and squint at it: eventually the strength of its images filled his mind, but it was always slow going at first.

He drew back in his throne and exhaled sharply as the images begin to reach their full potence; revealing to the Dark Lord the new inhabitants of an isle in Southeastern Arda. He didn't know quite what to make of them at first, but simply watched as the scene unfolded. They didn't appear to be hostile, and had erected several structures. Had they come to Arda out of hostile intent, they would have made their move already.

More must be discovered. That night, three large, black wyverns darted out of Thangorodrim, one carrying a rider. They sped through the clouds towards the southeast, making a beeline for Ermor's new abode. Everywhere they flew, their shreiks filled the air and the boom of their flapping wings pulsed through the winds. Soon they would arrive. Soon the Imperium would learn the true intent of their new neighbors.

Melkor, Lord of Darkness
He who Arises in Might
Emperor Eternal of the Imperial Dominion of Melkor Unchained, Lord and Master of Arda
http://people.vanderbilt.edu/~darion.c.smith/melkor.jpg

Finally, finally the locals had realized that they were there. The Dusk Elders had seen something. Felt something. Something that was coming towards the island they now controlled. But it was obviously closer to what they had used before, not what they had taken from the living. The Dusk Elders told a Black Servant to go and tell Caractor of this. The Black Servant ran as fast as it could out of the dark tower, and it ran into the ship Caractor was waiting in.

Caractor could not at first understand what the Black Servant was trying to tell him, it was in such an agitated state, but after a while, it came clear to him. Strange, this was. He knew that he had waited for a contact of the wrong kind. He had thought that the living were all on the same higher technological level the undead had encountered, but apparently he was wrong. Or maybe, maybe some of them just used things of old out of undying habit. Yes, that might be the answer.

"To the tower!", Caractor said to the Censors, "And then everything shall begin!"

They ran there, to the pitch black tower, and Caractor shouted an order to the Dusk Elders.

"Bring forth the Dracolich!" was what he had shouted, and the Dusk Elders began to prepare for bringing the Dracolich to this place as quickly as they could.

He had not expected the locals to use this ancient method, but he knew how to answer to it. It was not that long ago that Ermor primarily used such things.

And the Dracolich came. Caractor climbed onto it and one of the Dusk Elders came with him. Without a word being said, the Dracolich, the gigantic skeletal undead dragon, began to fly towards the coming Wyverns.

As they closed in upon the coming arrivals, they came to realize that although there were several Wyverns, there was only one rider. Caractor told the Dusk Elder to speak to this lone creature... In whispers, whispers only the rider would hear.

"Welcome, Ardan," he said. "We have been expecting you."

This small island was of no use to the Clans, though they had known about it and were receiving reports of what had been going on due to the three Water Elementals that were always in presence, as well as an Air Elemental in the Atmosphere. All four of these agents were completely invisible in their environmental habitats, and unless a magical scan was made, their presences completely unknown.

The clans, without a true navy, had no aims to stop the growth, as it would never have a chance to be of any risk to the mainland defense. No matter their fortifications, it was so close to the Ardan Mainland that an Earth Elemental could bury itself under the Seabed and erupt in the very middle of the island and tear its towers apart to form its own body, and proceed to destroy whatever it saw fit, as Earth Elementals are the most aggressive of all four.

However, a small company of a dozen Knights, Priests, Wizards, and an Orcish Paladin named Vaeric Cedri to lead the group from the Clan of the Red Blade set up camp at the closest beachland. THey were given extra furrs from the Dorn Forest and the Clan of Dorn Riders within due to the eminating cold coming from the Isle. A request had been sent out to the Clan of the Golden Sky in effect to gain custody of the Air and Water in to seal the cold air to that Isle so as to not effect the agriculture, as was the primary concern of the High Steppes Clan.

Manus Trebelium, the EnheilRas, and ultimate voice of the High Fist Clan, had yet to take personal attention to the matter, but left the ordeal solely up to Trabian Riil, his top Advisor. A Warlock by Trade, not the most respectible profession to be within a Clan of Military Geniuses, Great Strategists, and Generals that were common of the High Fist, brought it immediately to the attention of the Great Dorin the Darkweaver, Arcane Chancellor of the Dark Circle Clan, whom found it much more intriguing.

Necromancy was not a lost art, as the Dark Circle had a bit over 135,000 of them, and it was suggested that perhaps they were involved in the Dripping Fang Clan, and even rumored to be amongst the Conquistadores of Lopnel within Red Blade. However, the Ley Line map, drawn by Dorin in observant of the Night Sky, noticed that the Island was situated on a Ley Line Nexus, giving it ample magical energy. Dorin had recently completed the incredibly project of turning Ardan into the first region on Earth with Ley Lines, signifying, to Dorin and the Other Invokers, a Rebirth of the Planet; their own significant step in ChumRas Orka. The Dark Circle magi had the amazing power to draw strength from the very life force of the planet by tapping into these Ley Lines. They were invisible at day, and glowed blue with cracking magical energy at night. It was theorized that the energy itself is the collective essence of all the souls destroyed since the world knew life, and thus refilled constantly.

Dorin took charge of this escapade, and he would see it through. Trabian lost all authority the instant the Darkweaver decided that he would take care of the matter.

Morgoth always sort of hated using the palantir. It was an effective tool, but the device was decidedly not designed for use by fifty-plus foot tall Dark Lords. The best he could do, in most cases, was to cradle the stone in his palm and squint at it: eventually the strength of its images filled his mind, but it was always slow going at first.


OOC: Funny :P

First NS post that's made me laugh all week.

And, in other business, Tag.

The three creatures landed on an outcropping of rock not far from where the Ermorian stood, clutching at the stones with their massive, twisted talons as the black-robed rider descended from his mount, a large iron sword dangling from his waist. His face could not be see, and his voice came out like a hiss.

"What are you doing in this land?" he inquired flatly, clutching an iron fist. "Lord Melkor claims lordship over this isle. You'll do well to inform us of your intent."

The skeletal Dracolich came down, close to the Wyverns. The Dusk Elder had told Caractor what the being had said, and thusly he answered. Caractor was in the pitch black adaptation they had made of the power armor they had acquired some time ago, and he put his "rifle" on his side. A long, black blade was sheathed on his waist, but it was almost invisible in this dark place.

"So you wish to know why. Very well, I shall tell you, as you have asked."

"It should be obvious that we did not come here to fight you. We would have attacked you already if we thus wanted. No, that is not what we seek. We do not seek war. We came here to attach ourselves into your communion. Arda. That is what we seek."

The massive wyverns shreiked and reeled their massive heads, gnashing their teeth. The wraith stepped forward and his counterparts perceived that he smiled, though no semblance of his visage could be seen. His robes seemed to fade into his surroundings rather than directly contrast them as any solid object would.

He reached into his robe, his iron gauntlet clanging against the chains which dangled from a massive iron collar under his hood. He produced a scroll with a quill tuched inside. "We suspected as much. In order to take up residency here, under our watch, you must sign this scroll. I like what I see here, and if it pleases the Lords of Ermor, I, Sekhan of Khand, would be honored to remain in this land as Lord Melkor's Emissary to your Isle."

The wraith stepped forward with the scroll, and drew the quill. His voice hissed through the winds. "What say you?"

The wraith stepped forward with the scroll, and drew the quill. His voice hissed through the winds. "What say you?"

Caractor jumped off the back of the Dracolich, and his dark armor glowed with a sickly green color for a moment, as he hit the ground. He could not stay standing, so he kneeled for a moment. His purple cape surrounded him. The Dusk Elder hovered behind him. Caractor's legs were still intact, even if after such a drop it would have been impossible. For any living being, anyway. He stood up and took a few steps towards the wraith, watching him. Caractor then uttered the answer, quietly whispering:

"We accept."

The Dracolich turned into its gigantic human-like form, and it laughed. Some Wraith Lord ran to the Dracolich, and whispered something to it. They walked out of there, into the darkness, disappearing into it, after which a few unholy priests came to the view.

The Wraith gave the scroll and the quill to Caractor, who then proceeded to place his sign on the scroll. The sign seemed to burn green, but strangely enough, it did not burn the paper. Caractor gave them back to the Wraith.

"Is that enough? Or do you require more?"

Sekhan tucked the scroll back into the abyss of his robes, and bowed slightly. "You are the ruler of this Isle, no? I see no other figure here that contends with you in sheer granduer or apparent import; but you've failed to scribe your title on the document. Without knowing what your official post is, we can't be sure just who you're representing. Are you in fact in charge here?" He asked, inquisitively. The Wyverns behind him recoil and stamp their massive feet into the ground. One turns and plods around the area slowly, more than likely searching for something to eat.

Sekhan folded his arms over his chest with a clank, and awaited a response. "And furthermore, I'd like to know more about Ermor as a whole, if I am to live and interact in this Isle with you and your people. Perhaps it would be wise to tutor me in the ways of your kind so I can better understand them." He chuckled. "But I think we're off to a good start. It appears we're of similar nature."

"-- Without knowing what your official post is, we can't be sure just who you're representing. Are you in fact in charge here?" He asked, inquisitively.

"Ah, yes. I did sign it with my olden title which is the Arch Censor of Ermor, if you did not notice, as I wrote it in the language of..."

He stopped for a while and looked at the blackened sky, which was obviously not visible. After a moment he continued as if nothing had happened.

"And yes, I am the leader of this place."

Luckily the being they had sent was not quite as alive as he had "feared". He was able to keep his hate in check. As were the ones who were with him. Only the wyverns caused an unpleasant feeling... A need to kill them. But at least they weren't that close to Caractor and the Dusk Elder.

"-- Perhaps it would be wise to tutor me in the ways of your kind so I can better understand them." He chuckled. "But I think we're off to a good start. It appears we're of similar nature."

"There is nothing of such that you need to know that you would not see with your own eyes," Caractor said, but he saw that it did not satisfy the being that called itself a Wraith, although to Caractor this Wraith seemed more like a Shade or a Shadow.

"But I can see a strange tinge of curiosity in your eyes. Very well. I shall tell you, then. Our... State of existence causes most beings here to be... Mindless. You would do well to stay away from them. They wander around the landscape, sometimes going beneath the waves and returning. They are mostly harmless to beings that are like us, which you could well be, though."

A strange feeling of hatred struck through his body, but he could withstand it easily. Apparently he had grown much better in retaining his... "Temper" than he was in the times when the Ashen Empire destroyed the living in Ermor.

"If you wish to interact with some of us, as you said, you should stay in the vicinity of the Tower and the ships. But I must warn you of the danger... If you are not truly like us, you shall perish. Or if you are not immortal, you shall perish. That is the way of our dark Dominion. And do not interfere with the chantings of the Dusk Elders and of the priests, as they are quick to anger."

The Dusk Elder whispered something to Caractor, who did not seem to react to this at all. But he whispered something back to the Dusk Elder, who then disappeared.

"Is this enough, Sekhan of Khand?"

The wraith stirred, and hissed loudly in the Black Speech to his mounts, which promtly flew off, filling the air with their screams as they dwindled into the darkening sky.

Sekhan's eyes could be seen glowing with a pale light as he bowed. "I will return to Angband when I am sufficiently convinced that Ermor has an interest in the goings-on of our alliance. You're a very strange culture indeed, and Lord Melkor did not get where he is today by signing binding contracts with totally unknown parties. Consider this document null until my Lord ratifies it," he says, unfolding his arms. "I will call for my mounts when my stay here is over, at which time I shall return and come here to dwell" he says, carfully avoiding the word 'live.'

#tagged...

Caractor nodded, although it did seem quite slight with as he had his armor on. His purple cape fluttered behind him, the wind was getting stronger. It was obvious that the cape had seen better days; its bottom was full of small rips, even if they were almost unseeable in the darkness.

Then he spoke.

"... As we have not gotten to where we now are by devoting time and resources to help those who are unknown to us. Understandable. Our culture... We do not have a culture as such anymore, as you will see. We do not bother ourselves with such desires. There are those who lead and those who follow. That is it. There are basically no dissidents within our ranks."

He was about to turn, but then he remembered something.

"Ah, yes. As I said before, it would be better to stay close to the ships and the tower. Or at least within the boundaries of the fortress we are building. There is nothing except soulless and longdead wandering out there. They do not react when spoken to. The Censors, the Dusk Elders, the other mages and the priests are those you can speak with, if you wish to, as I told you before, and they always stay there."

Then he turned, and waved for the Wraith to follow him.

(OOC: If there's some overlapping with this post and the earlier - and some possible inconsistencies -, it's because it's been almost 3 months since I posted that, and although I read it, I'm still a bit... Well... Uncertain of some things.)