Chapter 1

Northern Wastelands, Andor, after the fall of Lord Devlin.

It had been an age since Lord Devlin's corporeal body walked the plains of his home land. A land devastated by war, this veritable wasteland north of the Dragon's Back Mountains welcomed Lord Devlin. He made the journey to his tower on foot, a reminder to himself of his fall from grace.

Lord Devlin was a tall being, well over six feet on a thin frame, black eyes and black hair cropped short. Long flowing homespun grey robes and sandaled feet were all the possessions he owned. Cast out of the Ethereal plane, condemned to walk the Material plane, stripped of his Godly powers but not without resources, for Lord Devlin was a Thangdaemon Necromancer. The ability to draw forth the power of Eldritch ran strong in his family line.

Lord Devlin's tower stood in the middle of a bleak valley that once was a lush vale, the stream long since dried up. The black tower stood 30 feet high, built from carved blocks of black obsidian (also called Dragon's Stone), found deep in the caverns of the nearby mountains. The top was capped with a large quartz crystal dome. Stone foundation blocks scattered about, the last remains of the various out buildings destroyed when the land was ravaged.

Deactivating the wards and runes, he opened the tower's door and entered. The tower was just as he had left it those many years ago, though dust covered everything. Lord Devlin spoke a word of command and the dust swirled away, disappearing through the tiny cracks and crevices of the stone structure.

Looking around his sitting room, Lord Devlin proclaimed, "I am home, such as it is."

Moving to the rear of the main floor he opened a door to living quarters.

"Josef, attend me," he called out.

A tall emaciated body began to form on the bed. Well over six feet tall and dressed in black, the entity sat up, swung his legs over and stood. Short blonde hair with piercing red eyes.

"Yes, my lord," Josef bowed low, long canine teeth showing in his smile. "It is good that you are back."

The lower level housed a main sitting room, storeroom, kitchen and servant's quarters. Josef left his room and headed toward the kitchen while Lord Devlin took the spiral staircase to the second level, stopping at the doors to his private study.

The second level housed his private suite; bed chamber and study with attached library. Removing the wards on the door, Lord Devlin entered the study and spoke a word of command, lighting the lanterns in the room.

Looking around the room to verify that all was still undisturbed, he moved to a side door which opened to the library. Books and scrolls lined the three walls opposite the door, while in the center of the room stood a large tabletop island cluttered with still more scrolls and books. Walking over to the bookshelf on his left he passed his hand over a book on languages and the bookshelf slid in and to its right revealing a small room.

Entering the hidden room Lord Devlin stood before a blonde wood staff with white metal rune-inscribed ends resting on stands on a black onyx altar. Sliding his hands under the staff he gently lifted it up and off of its rests, rotated it to the vertical, and tapped the ground with the heel.

Magic flowed from the staff encircling him in red flames. When the flames faded away his grey robe was gone, in its place a hooded crimson robe tied with a black sash which held a small pouch on his left hip and a dagger on his right. Lord Devlin, the Destroyer, had returned.

Leaving the hidden room which closed behind him, he backtracked out to the stairway and climbed to the third level and the top of the tower.

The third level housed an observation platform covered by a quartz-domed ceiling, a laboratory with attached holding room and a small chapel with altar. The holding room, which held instruments of torture and captivity, was empty but soon he would fill it. His work would require offerings.

Walking out onto the observation platform he surveyed his surroundings. Buildings would need to be rebuilt and the vale restored. First things first; he needed emissaries and he knew where he could find them but he had to wait, for the time was not right. Soon, though, very soon.

After collecting their things and bidding the innkeeper and his family goodbye, Aaron and Reg mounted their horses, leaving Aithen behind on their way to Dria and, ultimately, to a castle within the Thangdaemon Forest.

They left Aithen mid-afternoon and did not quite make it to the edge of Aithen's borders before they had to stop for the night. They made camp in a small clearing just south of the highway.

Aaron spent a couple hours in silent communication with his swords. He did not learn as much as he had hoped. Apparently, all-knowing, all-seeing sentient beings bound in Runeswords were not all-saying, or at least Aaron's were not, not that he had anything to compare them against.

There were some laws concerning what they could and could not say: nothing directly about their specific powers, unless Aaron discovered it. Basically, yes and no answers, except that Aaron didn't even know the questions.

A Runesword would not lie to its wielder, but could withhold information, if not specifically queried. A Runesword can do no harm to its wielder through action or inaction. The sword would obey all commands, unless said commands violated one of the sword laws. There were other laws, but Aaron would have to find them out for himself.

While the swords normally would not act on their own, they could act to protect their wielder in certain instances. What those instances might be, they would not elaborate. Aaron did know that they would leap from their scabbards to his hands when the Gods were about.

Aaron learned that his ancestors once ruled a vast empire in this very area before some cataclysmic event that also concerned the Gods, although the swords kept referring to them as the Betrayers. So, apparently, the Gods betrayed the Tarrans somehow or another. They wouldn't say what or why but they apparently carried a grudge.

Aaron also learned based on his previous observations that Red Rose could open inter-dimensional gates and that its power crossed all planes. Red Rose could also cleave swords, runes, and wards without injury to its wielder. Nothing could stand against the bite of Red Rose.

Black Rose's power also crossed all planes and it could teleport, heal, draw Eldritch and drain the life force from its victims. The last part affected even the normally non-squeamish and morally flexible Aaron.

Both swords would perform a "Straight and True", that is, the swords would attack like a shot arrow at a specific target. Unlike an arrow they would re-attack until either the target was eliminated or they were called back by the wielder. The blue flame was a projection of Aaron's power. It seemed that Tarrans manifested Eldritch in blue.

Reg continued his practice of harp playing that he started on the trip to the city. Just as before will-o'-wisps gathered and danced while he played. Just like before they spent an uneventful night. This replayed itself again for the next two nights, but the fourth night all would change.

Their fourth day on the road began as had the preceding two. They were back on the road early trying to gain ground on their trip.

Since their initial departure had been so late in the afternoon, they were reaching the roadside inns either late morning or early afternoon. They hoped by starting their days earlier and extending their travel later each evening, they would get back on track and be able to stop at an inn by the fifth evening, the same inn where Aaron had encountered the Duchess's Guard on his previous trip to Realto.

Lord Devlin made his preparations throughout the day. The moon would be full tonight, the perfect night for necromancy. Tonight he would call forth his emissaries. Tonight, he would start his revenge.

The sun had set when Lord Devlin left his tower and headed northwest out of the ravaged vale. His summoning would take place at the site of the last battle before the enlightenment and ascension.

As the moon began to rise Lord Devlin settled on the spot where he would call forth his knights. While the battle fought here had claimed hundreds, he only needed a few. How many would answer his call he did not know, but some few would.

Using his staff he began to draw protection runes in the dirt and ash around him. The dead did not like being disturbed, and while Lord Devlin was powerful, even he did not like to take chances.

With the preparations complete and the moon high in the night sky, Lord Devlin began the incantations to bring forth the dead. Chanting in an ancient tongue, Lord Devlin called forth his minions.

Red tendrils of magic flowed forth from his staff across the burnt landscape, entering the ground at numerous locations. Other tendrils rose into the air toward the moon, turning it red, the color of blood. Fog began to rise from the ground as the temperature dropped by several degrees.

"My knights, your Lord has need," he called out in that ancient tongue. "Who will answer my call? Who will take up arms in my defense? Who wishes to walk the Material plane once more? Who wishes to partake in carnal pleasures? Who will answer the call?"

In several places the ground began to tremble and stir. The dirt moved as the dead rose through the swirling mist.

The call was answered by nine. Nine knights from a bygone age sat up and slowly rose from their graves. Nine knights bearing tattered draconic heraldry moved toward Lord Devlin's spot.

Time was unkind to the dead. Worms fell from rotted mouths behind tarnished helms. Shredded cloth hung from tarnished mail as nine knights pulled their ancient swords and dropped to one knee. Oaths of allegiance were renewed as Lord Devlin's power renewed the nine.

Mail glistened in the light of the red moon, crimson cloaks fluttered in the evening breeze as nine Thangdaemon Knights stood before their Lord, awaiting his command.

The knights were tall, all over six feet. Armored in full black adamantine plate mail, faces covered behind black adamantine helms fashioned after dragons. Dragon heads prominent on top of the helm with wings tucked in on the sides protecting the wearer's ears. Large shields bearing the Rampant Dragon heraldry of Thangdaemon on their left arms. Large bastard swords hung in scabbards on their left hips.

The Andorian Bastard sword was longer and wider than the more traditional Andorian Longsword, with a blade eight inches longer at 39". The crosspiece of the hilt curved down toward the blade at each end, compared to the straight crosspiece of the longsword. The bastard sword had a more pronounced pommel than the longsword, normally a wheel pommel, inscribed or decorated in some fashion. Perhaps the biggest difference was the hilt itself. The bastard sword was a hand-and-a-half sword, with a grip 4" longer than the single-handed longsword. It took a large warrior to use the bastard sword as a single-handed weapon, and the knights were experts.

No body parts showed saved red glowing eyes. Each wore a silver ring with a red gem on the ring finger of their left mailed hand. The rings glowed with the same unholy light as their eyes.

"Go forth, my knights for your lord requires offerings," Lord Devlin commanded. "Blood will need to be spilled this night. There are towns south where the chattel live. Go and bring your Lord what he requires! Go!"

The knights banged their chests with mailed fists and mounted plate mailed chargers with red glowing eyes and rode out on their master's unholy crusade.

It had been a long day of travel for Aaron and Reg. The horses were skittish all day, which slowed their progress. When they finally stopped for the night they had not made as much progress as they hoped. No game could be found, so they were reduced to eating traveling food. Even the fire resisted their best efforts, before finally lighting. A weak, delicate flame that gave off little light. The whole day seemed off somehow.

Reg even had to retune Belle twice before he could coax any music out of her. The Will-o'-wisps were slow to show up and seemed nervous this evening, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

Even Aaron's swords vibrated in their scabbards. Aaron's questioning only revealed, "That Evil was afoot." Gods, he could have figured that out on his own, he told them, to which they then asked why he had questioned them if he already knew the answer.

After several melancholy songs, Reg finally gave up and packed Belle away, after which they settled down for a restless night. They had decided to post a watch because of the swords' words added to the wisp's actions. And it was a good thing that they did, for ghouls attacked right after midnight.

Reg drew first watch while Aaron napped. He noticed the moon's foreboding color and woke Aaron shortly before midnight. Several wisps were still bobbing about when the ghouls attacked them.