E1Alpha
07-16-2012, 12:18 PM
http://i50.tinypic.com/denq8n.png
"Fear and horror are the tools with which we shape this world to our image."
Twisted and corrupted by greed and hate, Vasgerax, formerly known as Arkha Disgae, have gathered dark cults and brotherhoods from around the land, rallying them together for his cause: bringing pain, decay and horror to the land of Deiranar, leading them all to serving one power, one entity. This entity reveals itself only in the form of the Soul Orb of Xakh’Raah, the Spectre of Chaos. A being pure darkness, he praises men and women who let their hatred take control of them and who face death in the eye with a grin. By Vasgerax’s rule and the power of Xakh’Raah, the armies of Disgeran know no fear, no retreat and no mercy. Some even let themselves revel in the rush of combat so much, that their mind and body change forever, as Vasgerax has allowed to happen to his own, being a horrifying and dark appearance of his former self. His legions shall raid, control and destroy, and should he succeed, Deiranar will be reduced to nothing but a dark, hellhole.
A lifeless wind rushed through the branches of the dead forests that surrounded a river. The sky was dark and starless as it stared down at the cursed lands of the dark. A pitch black rock rose from the water like a large claw cutting through the water like a blood stained knife. The cold night seemed to not phase the creatures that roamed these lands. Off in the near distance stood a towering form of a citadel, standing out against the cold background.
Resting at the top of one of the spires sat a winged figure, holding a glass of thick, dark liquid in her clawed hands. Her skin was a darker shade of gray and her pale, yellow eyes studied the city below her as he raised her cup and took a sip. Blood red hair rustling in the wind as a mournful sound reached her pointed ears, speaking up with a grin on her face. "Mythros… Darling… There's no reason to follow me and not even say ‘hello’…" Her eyes did not move away from the drop below her as she spoke.
Mythros did not move from his spot, not that he had to, seeing as if Shavarrah wanted to look at him, she just needed to turn her head ever so slightly. "Do you think lord Vasgerax would approve of you wasting the night away? Leongarde is already on the move to their precious glade and you have yet to penetrate their defenses as Cretoris has." Mythros' voice held very little to it other than a shadow of emotion that could have been there.
Shavarrah grimaced for a moment, but then laughed mockingly. "Oh, don't worry about little old me." She said, slowly turning to rest her pale eyes on him as her lips curved into a smile. "My pets and I will bypass their lines. You just do your job, dear Mythros." She said, her smile never fading as she turned her head back once more and took another sip of her drink. "I intend to take them as they come, sacrifice them and bath in their blood… And maybe you could be so kind as to join me this time, hmm?"
Mythros made no reply as he kept his face straight and calm as he crossed his arms and looked down at the city below. Shavarrah enjoyed her pets too much. His concern was that she would get so caught up in them that she forgot her place under lord Vasgerax, who in turn was guided by Xakh’Raah.
"Oh, but Prince Devan is cute…" Shavarrah was murmuring to herself as she took sips of her drink.
"Don't even think about trying to charm him." Cretoris rumbled from his new found spot as if he had just appeared there. "It would be a waste of time and energy, which you need to breach their walls."
"Mess with my fun…" Shavarrah mumbled, setting down her glass and turning a sharp glare on the metal monstrosity standing just behind Mythros. Cretoris only returned with his own fiery blue eyed gaze. The man’s armor covered every inch of him, making it impossible to guess what could be under the metal coated body armor, and no one had even seen him take it off. Everyone was curious as to what he looked like, but no one ever asked or openly expressed their curiosity to him.
Shavarrah stood, spreading her wings "Since you have so politely ruined my drink." She said coldly, before making a small jump, bringing her wings down and swooping away before either of the men could say a word. Turning towards Blood vale, she was soon gone into the darkness
The sound of murder was music to the Nightbringer’s ears, as he himself led the executions of each screaming Leongardian that the Disgeran forces brought alive out of the depths of the Lion Woods. It soothed his burning desire to see the Leongardians crushed, and dulled the sting to his pride that had come during the battle.
True, it was a successful assault, with Lion Woods sitting firmly in Disgeran’s grasp now, but Cretoris wasn’t concerned with that broad picture. No, it was the helmed face of the woman who, despite his best efforts to cleave in half, continued to outmaneuver him even when it was just him and her. Of course the golem had had to intervene eventually, but Cretoris had been prepared for that… What he didn’t like was that he lost the kill to that damned avatar.
The being in question was standing on a hilltop not too far from where the executions were being held, peering off towards where Lionglade connected to the Woods. That was the direction the Leongarde forces had disappeared to. That was where they would strike back from, if they were as predictable as Verminathras had come to learn.
“You stand there, so smug in your petty victory…” Cretoris growled as he approached the avatar. Even at his full height, Verminathras would come up to only the man’s chest. The Nightbringer was an imposing figure to be sure…
“I was led to believe that this was our victory, Lord Cretoris,” Verminathras answered, directing his attention to the great being. “Do you not claim that right?”
“You stole a head that was rightfully mine, plaguecaster,” Cretoris snapped, his anger returning again. “The girl had humiliated me, and I wished to break her body in two, but you stole that chance from me.”
“I was merely doing my duty as a Disgeran, Nightbringer…” Verminathras hissed, forcing himself to keep his slouch and lean on his staff. “While you were occupied with Vanguard, who might’ve split me in twine with any single swing of his sword, I kept the rabble off you so that we might seize the day.”
Cretoris fumed for a moment, regarding the avatar with what might have been murder in his eyes, and then thought better of it. “You’re lucky you are so useful, avatar…” he said the title as if it was a euphemism for ‘dung’. “Once you stop being so, I will end you personally…” He turned to leave, but the plaguecaster held out a hand.
“A word, Cretoris?” Verminathras asked, returning the dark knight’s gaze. Cretoris grunted, allowing the avatar to speak.
“Do not let your guard down… Our blow was not so strong that Leongarde will simply sit on their heels while we recuperate. They will return for vengeance…” he warned, turning his eyes back on Lionglade. Cretoris followed his gaze and scoffed lightly.
“Let them come. I hunger for more of their souls, anyway.” With that, the great being strode off, to continue with his merciless slaughter of the unlucky men who were not fast enough to outpace the Disgeran forces.
There was an odd hush over the corrupted plains of Disgeran. Though the other factions were off celebrating their victories or mourning their losses, Disgeran took their claiming of Lion Woods in stride, as the inevitable fate of what all factions would fall to. Of course, morale was high from the victory, but there was no reason to be foolishly celebrating it and gallivanting in the streets for something that was doomed to happen anyway.
As such, the Emperor of Shadows Vasgerax stood on a balcony of the Fel Keep, the menacing citadel that stood at the heart of Disgeran’s capital territory. Even without his dark wyrm Griefwing, Emperor Vasgerax cut an imposing figure, a dark hooded man that overlooked the entire dark faction with a gaze that could pierce a man’s soul right before devouring it. The cowl swayed in the wind, a robe that might have been made of the shadows that had settled in the man’s heart long ago.
He stood there, watching and waiting, pondering what his kingdom’s next move would be, when another presence stepped out onto the balcony alongside him.
“Hierophind… Do you bring me news…?” hissed the dark ruler in a voice that could bring winter in the midst of summer. The man he spoke to was similarly dressed to his superior, though with slightly more tangibility and supporting himself with a staff that was topped with some poor soul’s bleach white skull.
“As we expected, Cretoris brings us victory at Lion Woods. Even the mighty Vanguard and Leongarde’s fabled walls were no match for our forces,” the prophet informed his lord, bowing slightly. “He is now setting up a war camp in our new territory, sending troops into the Woods to rout the rest of the pathetic stragglers.”
“Good…” Vasgerax breathed, still staring out over his domain, though seemingly past it. “And of Shavarrah?”
“The Mistress reports in rarely, but the news she sends is good. Last I heard, she was luring her prey right where we need him…” Hierophind continued, moving up to the side of his lord to also watch the horizon. “We also have word that Archeos’s victory at Cayanas has prompted them to move for the Meron Pinnacle.”
“The Meron Pinnacle…” the Emperor mused quietly, turning his gaze ever so slightly to the left, where you could just barely glimpse the single mountain ever present in the distance. “A key territory if we ever wish to bring our shadow over Aeregos and Archeos. Send word that our forces will be massing to meet Archeos at the Pinnacle. And you can come out, Mythros, you’re not meant to be stealthy.”
From the shadows of the inner keep, the Lost Blade grunted and moved forward, stepping to the other side of Vasgerax from Hierophind. He was silent for a moment, and then spoke in what would have passed for a normal human voice, if you weren’t looking at him. Of course, that was ignoring the subtle undertone that seemed to echo him.
“There were two soldiers at the battle of Lion Woods… one of our Avatars and a possessor demon… I feel they need to be watched, as their actions seemed to aid Cretoris…”
“And how did you come across this knowledge, Mythros?” Hierophind questioned menacingly, curious as to the warrior’s sources.
“You are not the only one who is told things, prophet,” the man said shortly, not caring to explain.
“Why are you here, Mythros…?” Vasgerax asked now, interrupting the Scaravian turncoat.
“I assumed you wished me to take the field, my liege,” Mythros answered, turning to his superior. Vasgerax seemed not to hear for a moment, still peering out across the horizon. After a long pause that neither of the generals would dare interrupt, the Emperor spoke.
“No… I wish Hierophind to assume command…” The prophet blinked once, and then bowed.
“I will not fail you, Emperor Vasgerax…” Hierophind breathed, rising only after a few seconds.
“Of course you won’t…” the Emperor hissed, brandishing his hand in a subtle gesture for them to be dismissed. As they left, Vasgerax continued to watch the horizon, the voice of Xakh’Raah teasing him in the back of his mind. The fog that loomed off of the coast might not affect Disgeran now, but eventually Vasgerax’s armies would have to face the evil that hung in the distance. Once the rest of Deiranar was under his thumb, so too would this new menace fall.
“They all will fall…” the Emperor of Shadows hissed to himself, accompanied by a roar as Griefwing returned to his side.
The darkness swirled in an everlasting loop, threatening to consume any trapped within it. At the moment, only one soul was trapped in this cyclone, and that soul was one who might be more corrupt that the darkness he was trapped in.
Verminathras of Disgeran fought the whirlwind as if his very existence rested on escaping it. In truth, it very well might, but for all his might, the soul of the plaguecaster could not break free of the torrent. He continued to spiral downward, a feeling of hopelessness gnawing at his being. The fact that he had no body made this feeling very odd, but nevertheless Verminathras persisted.
Just as he was about to be snatched from existence, something interfered. An overwhelming power of darkness even deeper than his own, a feeling of unrestricted chaos and despair flooding everything that Verminathras was. A voice spoke to him, deep and yet quiet, there and yet everywhere.
“You have not yet begun to serve my will, knave…” It spoke with thousands of voices and yet none. It was the embodiment of contradiction and yet it seemed to be completely stable as well.
“Rise again, pawn of Disgeran. You have been granted new life through the power of my Soul Orb… Pray that you do not tax my patience again…”
The feeling of being alive again tore through Verminathras like a wildfire. It wasn’t pain that he felt but LIFE, something amazing and yet completely worthless in his eyes. The feeling died away quickly as his persona settled into the body he was in, somehow the same one he had occupied before. He was in Disgeran again… That much was certain by the darkness that painted the sky and the corruption that he felt in the soil. How he loved it.
He could cherish the corruption another day. Moving forward, Verminathras peered around him for another soul. Finding one, he snatched up the warlock and pulled him close.
“What was the fate of Lion Woods?” he asked, the man shuddering at the sight of Verminathras’s visage.
“The Nightbringer holds it still, though his entire legion was slaughtered. Well, killed or fled, but both ended the same way. Reinforcements are being sent as we speak.”
“Wonderful…” Verminathras murmured to himself. Letting the warlock go, Verminathras began to make his way in the direction of Lion Woods. With any luck, he’d be there before Cretoris moved out again…
“Will I ever be free of your disgusting presence?” Cretoris growled. It was a few days after the order to march had been given and the Nightbringer had brought his battalion through Lion Woods and to the edges of Lionglade.
“Without me, Arduin would have skewered you like a heretic. In the end, I helped you, whether you want to admit it or not,” Verminathras answered, hobbling beside the giant of a being.
“You underestimate me as always. Arduin would have fallen either way, and the knave you left behind might have died easier if you had just focused on him.”
“What’s done is done, Nightbringer. Be thankful you have two more great souls in your blade. You will need them before the day is done…” the plaguecaster muttered. The two peered out from the Lion Woods and into the Lionglade, Cretoris’s next target. They had a long fight ahead of them if they were going to be victorious. Though Cretoris had a new legion of men behind him, would it be enough against the very gates to Leongarde themselves?
It had been a rather quiet journey back to the heart of the demonic capital of Disgeran. Hierophind continued to carry the sword, Tyrfing, which had gone silent since the magical beatdown it had received at Meron Pinnacle. The fortress of darkness that was Disgeran’s Fell Keep housed the Prophet’s quarters, where he was most comfortable performing rituals, particularly of this unique caliber. This was where the general was headed now, gliding through the black halls like a ghost.
Vasgerax can come later… he thought to himself. For now… we must worry about you. he continued, the last thought directed towards the cursed blade he carried. He knew the being could hear him.
Mortal Sorcerer, If thou will not allow me to share my power, surrender me to a more willing host, or thou shalt face my wrath. The voice, dark, and loud, echoes In Hierophind's head, it is the voice of the demon, Tyrfing. You know not what you trifle with, I have seen the rise and fall of countless empires, and if you think I fear you, thou art mistaken.
"Now now, you'll have your puppet. Just as I will have mine..." he hissed aloud, entering his quarters. It was a rather sparing room, though it was defined by the large open space in its center as soon as one entered. Crude circles were etched into the stonework, glowing red every so often in a pulsing rhythm. In the center of this ritual circle stood a man of no real significance. He looked to be a soldier, one of the Heretic masses that made up Disgeran's bulk. Dark matted hair was barely obscuring eyes that held true fear in them. He quivered where he stood, but made no noise as Hierophind entered.
"There, your new host," the Prophet told the sword. Moving into the room, he immediately stabbed the blade into the center of the circle, mere inches from the man. Backing out of the circle, Hierophind began to chant sinisterly, a grin plastering his features.
The sword starts reaching mental strands out to the man, promising him power, and the ability to strike down his enemies, if only he would wield him. The man, scared but willing, reaches out and grasps the sword. He then begins to scream as it forces him to stab himself in the chest with it, where it then assimilates into his body. The blood vessels around the wound pop out and turn black as the taint spreads, and his flesh begins to liquidate and fall off as he falls to the ground, writhing in agony. Black ichor pours out of every one of his orifices as his face melts off, revealing a skull. Then, even his bones liquidate, forming a mass puddle of black sludge. The sludge begins to move and, first, bones begin to form and coalesce, growing out of the puddle into a black skeleton. Then, layer by layer, the sludge is absorbed, and, standing there is the reformed Mildred, naked. His body, which has the male genitalia but is obviously feminine in other areas, stands and opens his eyes as, in a flash, the sword appears and he charges Hierophind, to kill him.
Chanting the whole time, Hierophind imbues the dark resurrection with his own energy. Even as the black sludge congeals into a body, the Prophet's own energy infuses the pool, molding it, shaping it as well. Though he does nothing to the actual appearance of Mildred, something new is in the mix. A foreign entity added to the weapon's puppet...
"Stop," Hierophind says quietly. A net of black energy halts Mildred in her tracks, encasing her in darkness. Quiet screams could be heard from the darkness, but Hierophind's voice drowned them out. "Good... You are mine to command, slave. You will never turn your blade on me. You will never betray Disgeran. You are my puppet and you will follow my orders to the letter. If you sway, you will be cast into the depths of Disgeran's darkness, never to be wielded again. Am I understood?"
"Mortal mage, you think too highly of yourself! You seek to bind me, make me a thrall. Others have tried." He stands down. "Resurrection has left me in a good mood, human. Your sheer audacity has put me in a humorous temper. I won't strike you down, then. But we shall see how far this goes. All men die, even those that become liches. As long as you do not hinder me from doing what I do best, I see very little problem with this, though, it does irk me."
"Your tone we will work on..." Hierophind muttered to himself. "As well as your pride... Be off with you. I will call you when I next march..." With that, Hierophind left to report to Vasgerax. He would worry about the sword's will at a later time.
“Meron Pinnacle is in the hands of the zealots, then…?” Vasgerax hissed. Hierophind nodded slowly, for once in his life almost afraid.
“I was outmaneuvered, my Lord. While Palion held my attention, Ilea removed my ace in the hole and the day was lost.”
“You are lucky that you did manage Palion’s demise, else your head would not continue to rest upon your own shoulders, Hierophind,” Vasgerax replied.
“You failed, then, Hierophind? Amusing,” came that familiar echoed voice. Forgoing the hiding place at the rear of the room this time, Mythros approached the two without worry, once again taking his place opposite the Prophet at their Emperor’s side.
“Quiet, you!” Hierophind objected. “If it wasn’t for Ilea’s intervention, I-“
“Hold your insolent tongues, the both of you!” Vasgerax growled, turning to face them both. Hierophind cut himself off immediately, whereas Mythros turned his gaze to his Emperor, and then lowered it to the ground again.
“Is there any news from Shavarrah?” the Emperor of Shadows asked quietly. Both were quiet for a moment before Mythros answered.
“None, my Lord.”
“You are dismissed then, Mythros.” The Lost Blade hesitated, as if he was going to say something, but bowed and turned to leave. This left Hierophind and Vasgerax alone in the chamber. For a long moment, Vasgerax studied the Prophet before he turned to look out over the shadowed lands he ruled. He was quiet for a while, and Hierophind almost thought the Emperor forgot about him. As he stirred, though, Vasgerax spoke.
“With Cretoris being granted more troops after the decimation of his battalion at Lion Woods, we are in position for a dual-pronged strike. You will lead men to the Nin Yhao and subjugate them. I trust you will be able to deal with their guardian, yes?”
Hierophind was surprised he was getting another chance, but quickly agreed with a nod of his head. “I will not fai-“ he started, but the other being cut him off.
“Send word to Cretoris to assault the Lionglade as soon as his new regiment is in place. Send someone to secure Lion Woods on the off chance Leongarde moves in again. While our enemies are focused northward, we will catch them off guard…” This statement made Hierophind pause.
“Northward, my Lord?” he asked.
“The fog… even now it begins to assault the coast. We shall take advantage of that… distraction.” While Hierophind did not like the sound of it, he accepted his Emperor’s judgment and nodded.
“It will be as you command, my lord.” With that, Hierophind exited the room to carry out the Emperor’s directions. Vasgerax stood where he was, eyes on the horizon once again.
“The world will be yours, Vasgerax… The seeds of chaos are being sown… Our might cannot be matched…” whispered the voice in the Emperor of Shadow’s head. Xakh’Raah promised him eternal reign over a subjugated Deiranar, and Vasgerax was assured that that promise would not be an empty one.
A lone heretic creeped his way through the Fell Keep of Disgeran, baring news for his master, the great Emperor Vasgerax. He wandered the halls for a long while, unfamiliar with the magnificent depth of the fortress, when he finally stumbled into a huge antechamber. A uniquely occupied antechamber. A huge serpentine head swiveled in the man’s direction, glowing red eyes narrowing upon catching sight of him. Griefwing hissed lowly before opening his mouth with a screech.
“Hold, my pet,” a dark voice came, stilling the dark wyrm with a simple command. Griefwing snapped his jaws shut just inches from the heretic’s face, foul breath almost causing the man to faint. Vasgerax approached the heretic with eerie silence, not even footsteps coming from the dark lord of Disgeran. “I trust you have news for me, scum, else you wouldn’t venture this far into my domain.”
Swallowing, the heretic stammered his report. “I-I-I came to bring the n-news of Heirophind’s…” Another swallow, sweat beginning to bead on his skin. “Heirophind’s… d-defea-“ A sickening crunch came from the mouth of Griefwing as the dark wyrm’s jaws close around the man, not even affording him a scream before his demise came. Vasgerax began to turn away when movement came from the same direction the heretic had come, another man replacing the space the previous fool had occupied.
“My Lord, I bring-“
“Pray your news is good, knave, or you will end up like the last fool who stood in this rooms mere seconds before you,” Vasgerax spat, not even having to indicate the blood dripping from Griefwing’s bared teeth. The heretic turned pale for a moment before bravely continuing his report. “Lord Cretoris has achieved victory at Lionglade.”
Vasgerax might’ve been smiling under his helm. It was impossible to tell. “Good… I believe there is more to tell, however?” The soldier nodded, almost put off by his Emperor’s foresight.
“Furthermore, Lord Cretoris has… changed. He… absorbed the magic of Leongarde’s Vanguard. He’s… become far more powerful than before.”
“I didn’t think Cretoris had it in him…” Vasgerax whispered to himself, turning from the heretic. The man paused for a second, unsure if he was dismissed, but one look at Griefwing sent him running back the way he came.
“Mythros, I’m beginning to believe you enjoy lurking in the shadows,” Vasgerax stated, seemingly to the air. However, sure enough, Mythros appeared beside the Emperor in moments, his face passive as usual.
“Cretoris’s ascension is supposedly rather… dramatic,” the shade said simply, apparently slightly impressed.
“Is that so?” Vasgerax asked, apparently in thought. “Then we should finish this charade. Have Cretoris march on Leongarde’s capital. We’re going to snuff out the lion-men for good. Send him some reinforcements, as well, some of our best from Deimostos.”
“Am I suddenly the messenger boy?” Mythros asked, his undertone taking on a more sinister pitch. “On that note, I should also inform you of Shavarrah’s success. She sends word that the fruits of her labor should be revealed when we strike at Leongarde itself.”
“All the more reason to send Cretoris… Have you any word from Heirophind?”
“He’s dead, my Lord,” Mythros said bluntly.
“You underestimate that fiend, child,” Vasgerax stated quietly. “I’ll give him a little more time then. You are dismissed, Mythros.” The shade silently moved off, leaving the Emperor of Shadows alone to his thoughts.
And so you see, I reward those who serve me well… the voice whispered in the back of Vasgerax’s head. Cretoris is the most powerful warrior in existence now. And he will continue to grow ever stronger.
“You would so easily cast me aside?” Vasgerax asked the air, anger welling up inside him.
You are my catalyst, Vasgerax. You portray my will unto the masses of Deiranar. Without you, Cretoris would not be this powerful. Use him wisely, for I have gifted this power for you to use… The voice went silent, and Vasgerax was left alone with his drake.
Power Treshold
115
Members
NPCs
http://i935.photobucket.com/albums/ad198/bailey_067/o_crown.gifVasgeraxhttp://i935.photobucket.com/albums/ad198/bailey_067/o_crown.gif
The Emperor of Shadow
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Daemon Cretoris
Consumer of the Night
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Hierophind
The Prophet of Darkness
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Shavarrah
The Mistress of Chaos
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Mythros
The Lost Blade
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Rune Tablet
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Player Characters
Verminathras (Jacogos) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=32533&p=1021252&viewfull=1#post1021252) - Runes (http://oi50.tinypic.com/2n59wx.jpg)
Zasareyt Venomclaw (Cfavano) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=32533&p=1138717&viewfull=1#post1138717") - Runes (http://oi50.tinypic.com/2m6q3rk.jpg)
Gyle Whittlesworth (The Imposter) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=32533&p=1137360&viewfull=1#post1137360) - Runes (http://oi50.tinypic.com/xe38n8.jpg)
Territory Controlled
Disgeran
Deimostos
Blood Vale
Lion Woods
Lionglade
Beastiary
Heretic Footmen
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Humans who have turned over to the ‘dark side’ if you will, these men and women have given their lives to Xakh’Raah and fight their former brothers and sisters in the name of the Spectre of Chaos. These men however often serve more as the meatshield for the more powerful forces, as many of them march to their own death under the influence of nothing else but fear.
Ascended Footmen
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Those chosen who have received the blessing of Chaos become stronger, more durable, and overall more demonic as the essence of demonic power itself enters their bodies. Ruthless, fearless, and merciless in battle, these soldiers will not stop until someone has won, and most likely it will be them. They bear signs of corruption, and no one Ascended bears it the same, whether it be wings, scales, horns, malformation, or otherwise.
Heretic Archers
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Similar to the Heretic Footmen, these traitors follow the Disgeran banner out of fear what might happen. While their arrows are still a thorn in the side of Disgeran’s enemies, these archers are often used as diversions or bait.
Blackguard
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Clad in the darkest of armors, these metal clad fiends are the backbone of most Disgeran armies. Stalwart and images of pure fear, such as their most superior, Cretoris. The Blackguard make a tendency of striking fear in the hearts of their enemies through various old habits. Titanic warriors in both offense and defense, underestimating these warriors will be your downfall.
Dark Rangers
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Accursed rangers, subverted by the dark cause of Disgeran. These shadowy figures loom in the distance, unleashing hails of arrows upon the enemy. The only thing that can be said about these mysterious beings is that their arrows rarely seem to hit their allies…
Warlocks
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Summoners of hellfire and demonspawn, warlocks may not be the backbone of the Disgeran Army itself, but they act as the vertebrae that hold it together and power it. Whether it be empowering their demons, summoning more demons, unleashing fire upon their enemies, casting bolts of pain, or the like, warlocks are versatile and fearsome. Only those who manage to get into melee range can even stand a chance.
Succubi
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Temptresses of the void. Succubi rarely engage in combat, but rather deploy upon stealth and assassination missions, using their allure and charm, aswell as their viscious behavior to eliminate any and all threats to Disgeran. They are also not unknown to cause infighting within entire armies by using their charms to influence specific minds.
Infernals
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Brutal, demonic warriors. Infernals are lumbering goliaths who wield massive, hell-forged weaponry to cleave aside any who resist them. While supreme on account of strength, endurance, ruthlessness, etc… They are simple minded, and are often guided by warlocks.
Hellhounds
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Hunting wolves of the void. Hellhounds are viscious and relentless, but they are not mindless killers. They are fiends that feast upon magical energy, being near impervious to it, and even getting stronger depending on how much magic they consume. They are often deployed as hunting dogs to eliminate magical threats or obstacles, but are a ferocious threat to all beings, magical or not.
The skulls indicate difficulty:
No skulls: Regular Enemy
1 bronze skull: Strong Enemy
2 silver skulls: Very Strong Enemy
3 gold skulls: Super Enemy
4 platinum skulls: Legendary Enemy
GOLD: Primary Treat
SILVER: Secondary Treats
Axe (Skirmisher):
Heavy Physical Damage at Close Range
Ballista/Crossbow (Ballistic):
Massive Ranged Damage
Bow (Ranged):
Standard Ranged Attacks
Cogwheel (Siege):
Massive Damage to Structures
Dripping Dagger (Assassination):
Powerful One-Hit Kill Attacks
Eye (Controller):
Masters of upsetting the balance of a battle
Fist (Brute):
Great Durability/Indestructability
Flame (Elemental):
Elemental Entity, Strong Against Physical assaults, Weak against Magic
Foot/Shoe (Rusher):
High Mobility
Mask (Lurker):
Stealth/Invisibility
Reticle (Sniper):
Extremely Accurate (from either ranged or in close-combat)
Shield (Defender):
Very Capable of holding defensive lines and forming unbreachable barriers
Sword (Soldier):
Standard Melee Attacks
"Fear and horror are the tools with which we shape this world to our image."
Twisted and corrupted by greed and hate, Vasgerax, formerly known as Arkha Disgae, have gathered dark cults and brotherhoods from around the land, rallying them together for his cause: bringing pain, decay and horror to the land of Deiranar, leading them all to serving one power, one entity. This entity reveals itself only in the form of the Soul Orb of Xakh’Raah, the Spectre of Chaos. A being pure darkness, he praises men and women who let their hatred take control of them and who face death in the eye with a grin. By Vasgerax’s rule and the power of Xakh’Raah, the armies of Disgeran know no fear, no retreat and no mercy. Some even let themselves revel in the rush of combat so much, that their mind and body change forever, as Vasgerax has allowed to happen to his own, being a horrifying and dark appearance of his former self. His legions shall raid, control and destroy, and should he succeed, Deiranar will be reduced to nothing but a dark, hellhole.
A lifeless wind rushed through the branches of the dead forests that surrounded a river. The sky was dark and starless as it stared down at the cursed lands of the dark. A pitch black rock rose from the water like a large claw cutting through the water like a blood stained knife. The cold night seemed to not phase the creatures that roamed these lands. Off in the near distance stood a towering form of a citadel, standing out against the cold background.
Resting at the top of one of the spires sat a winged figure, holding a glass of thick, dark liquid in her clawed hands. Her skin was a darker shade of gray and her pale, yellow eyes studied the city below her as he raised her cup and took a sip. Blood red hair rustling in the wind as a mournful sound reached her pointed ears, speaking up with a grin on her face. "Mythros… Darling… There's no reason to follow me and not even say ‘hello’…" Her eyes did not move away from the drop below her as she spoke.
Mythros did not move from his spot, not that he had to, seeing as if Shavarrah wanted to look at him, she just needed to turn her head ever so slightly. "Do you think lord Vasgerax would approve of you wasting the night away? Leongarde is already on the move to their precious glade and you have yet to penetrate their defenses as Cretoris has." Mythros' voice held very little to it other than a shadow of emotion that could have been there.
Shavarrah grimaced for a moment, but then laughed mockingly. "Oh, don't worry about little old me." She said, slowly turning to rest her pale eyes on him as her lips curved into a smile. "My pets and I will bypass their lines. You just do your job, dear Mythros." She said, her smile never fading as she turned her head back once more and took another sip of her drink. "I intend to take them as they come, sacrifice them and bath in their blood… And maybe you could be so kind as to join me this time, hmm?"
Mythros made no reply as he kept his face straight and calm as he crossed his arms and looked down at the city below. Shavarrah enjoyed her pets too much. His concern was that she would get so caught up in them that she forgot her place under lord Vasgerax, who in turn was guided by Xakh’Raah.
"Oh, but Prince Devan is cute…" Shavarrah was murmuring to herself as she took sips of her drink.
"Don't even think about trying to charm him." Cretoris rumbled from his new found spot as if he had just appeared there. "It would be a waste of time and energy, which you need to breach their walls."
"Mess with my fun…" Shavarrah mumbled, setting down her glass and turning a sharp glare on the metal monstrosity standing just behind Mythros. Cretoris only returned with his own fiery blue eyed gaze. The man’s armor covered every inch of him, making it impossible to guess what could be under the metal coated body armor, and no one had even seen him take it off. Everyone was curious as to what he looked like, but no one ever asked or openly expressed their curiosity to him.
Shavarrah stood, spreading her wings "Since you have so politely ruined my drink." She said coldly, before making a small jump, bringing her wings down and swooping away before either of the men could say a word. Turning towards Blood vale, she was soon gone into the darkness
The sound of murder was music to the Nightbringer’s ears, as he himself led the executions of each screaming Leongardian that the Disgeran forces brought alive out of the depths of the Lion Woods. It soothed his burning desire to see the Leongardians crushed, and dulled the sting to his pride that had come during the battle.
True, it was a successful assault, with Lion Woods sitting firmly in Disgeran’s grasp now, but Cretoris wasn’t concerned with that broad picture. No, it was the helmed face of the woman who, despite his best efforts to cleave in half, continued to outmaneuver him even when it was just him and her. Of course the golem had had to intervene eventually, but Cretoris had been prepared for that… What he didn’t like was that he lost the kill to that damned avatar.
The being in question was standing on a hilltop not too far from where the executions were being held, peering off towards where Lionglade connected to the Woods. That was the direction the Leongarde forces had disappeared to. That was where they would strike back from, if they were as predictable as Verminathras had come to learn.
“You stand there, so smug in your petty victory…” Cretoris growled as he approached the avatar. Even at his full height, Verminathras would come up to only the man’s chest. The Nightbringer was an imposing figure to be sure…
“I was led to believe that this was our victory, Lord Cretoris,” Verminathras answered, directing his attention to the great being. “Do you not claim that right?”
“You stole a head that was rightfully mine, plaguecaster,” Cretoris snapped, his anger returning again. “The girl had humiliated me, and I wished to break her body in two, but you stole that chance from me.”
“I was merely doing my duty as a Disgeran, Nightbringer…” Verminathras hissed, forcing himself to keep his slouch and lean on his staff. “While you were occupied with Vanguard, who might’ve split me in twine with any single swing of his sword, I kept the rabble off you so that we might seize the day.”
Cretoris fumed for a moment, regarding the avatar with what might have been murder in his eyes, and then thought better of it. “You’re lucky you are so useful, avatar…” he said the title as if it was a euphemism for ‘dung’. “Once you stop being so, I will end you personally…” He turned to leave, but the plaguecaster held out a hand.
“A word, Cretoris?” Verminathras asked, returning the dark knight’s gaze. Cretoris grunted, allowing the avatar to speak.
“Do not let your guard down… Our blow was not so strong that Leongarde will simply sit on their heels while we recuperate. They will return for vengeance…” he warned, turning his eyes back on Lionglade. Cretoris followed his gaze and scoffed lightly.
“Let them come. I hunger for more of their souls, anyway.” With that, the great being strode off, to continue with his merciless slaughter of the unlucky men who were not fast enough to outpace the Disgeran forces.
There was an odd hush over the corrupted plains of Disgeran. Though the other factions were off celebrating their victories or mourning their losses, Disgeran took their claiming of Lion Woods in stride, as the inevitable fate of what all factions would fall to. Of course, morale was high from the victory, but there was no reason to be foolishly celebrating it and gallivanting in the streets for something that was doomed to happen anyway.
As such, the Emperor of Shadows Vasgerax stood on a balcony of the Fel Keep, the menacing citadel that stood at the heart of Disgeran’s capital territory. Even without his dark wyrm Griefwing, Emperor Vasgerax cut an imposing figure, a dark hooded man that overlooked the entire dark faction with a gaze that could pierce a man’s soul right before devouring it. The cowl swayed in the wind, a robe that might have been made of the shadows that had settled in the man’s heart long ago.
He stood there, watching and waiting, pondering what his kingdom’s next move would be, when another presence stepped out onto the balcony alongside him.
“Hierophind… Do you bring me news…?” hissed the dark ruler in a voice that could bring winter in the midst of summer. The man he spoke to was similarly dressed to his superior, though with slightly more tangibility and supporting himself with a staff that was topped with some poor soul’s bleach white skull.
“As we expected, Cretoris brings us victory at Lion Woods. Even the mighty Vanguard and Leongarde’s fabled walls were no match for our forces,” the prophet informed his lord, bowing slightly. “He is now setting up a war camp in our new territory, sending troops into the Woods to rout the rest of the pathetic stragglers.”
“Good…” Vasgerax breathed, still staring out over his domain, though seemingly past it. “And of Shavarrah?”
“The Mistress reports in rarely, but the news she sends is good. Last I heard, she was luring her prey right where we need him…” Hierophind continued, moving up to the side of his lord to also watch the horizon. “We also have word that Archeos’s victory at Cayanas has prompted them to move for the Meron Pinnacle.”
“The Meron Pinnacle…” the Emperor mused quietly, turning his gaze ever so slightly to the left, where you could just barely glimpse the single mountain ever present in the distance. “A key territory if we ever wish to bring our shadow over Aeregos and Archeos. Send word that our forces will be massing to meet Archeos at the Pinnacle. And you can come out, Mythros, you’re not meant to be stealthy.”
From the shadows of the inner keep, the Lost Blade grunted and moved forward, stepping to the other side of Vasgerax from Hierophind. He was silent for a moment, and then spoke in what would have passed for a normal human voice, if you weren’t looking at him. Of course, that was ignoring the subtle undertone that seemed to echo him.
“There were two soldiers at the battle of Lion Woods… one of our Avatars and a possessor demon… I feel they need to be watched, as their actions seemed to aid Cretoris…”
“And how did you come across this knowledge, Mythros?” Hierophind questioned menacingly, curious as to the warrior’s sources.
“You are not the only one who is told things, prophet,” the man said shortly, not caring to explain.
“Why are you here, Mythros…?” Vasgerax asked now, interrupting the Scaravian turncoat.
“I assumed you wished me to take the field, my liege,” Mythros answered, turning to his superior. Vasgerax seemed not to hear for a moment, still peering out across the horizon. After a long pause that neither of the generals would dare interrupt, the Emperor spoke.
“No… I wish Hierophind to assume command…” The prophet blinked once, and then bowed.
“I will not fail you, Emperor Vasgerax…” Hierophind breathed, rising only after a few seconds.
“Of course you won’t…” the Emperor hissed, brandishing his hand in a subtle gesture for them to be dismissed. As they left, Vasgerax continued to watch the horizon, the voice of Xakh’Raah teasing him in the back of his mind. The fog that loomed off of the coast might not affect Disgeran now, but eventually Vasgerax’s armies would have to face the evil that hung in the distance. Once the rest of Deiranar was under his thumb, so too would this new menace fall.
“They all will fall…” the Emperor of Shadows hissed to himself, accompanied by a roar as Griefwing returned to his side.
The darkness swirled in an everlasting loop, threatening to consume any trapped within it. At the moment, only one soul was trapped in this cyclone, and that soul was one who might be more corrupt that the darkness he was trapped in.
Verminathras of Disgeran fought the whirlwind as if his very existence rested on escaping it. In truth, it very well might, but for all his might, the soul of the plaguecaster could not break free of the torrent. He continued to spiral downward, a feeling of hopelessness gnawing at his being. The fact that he had no body made this feeling very odd, but nevertheless Verminathras persisted.
Just as he was about to be snatched from existence, something interfered. An overwhelming power of darkness even deeper than his own, a feeling of unrestricted chaos and despair flooding everything that Verminathras was. A voice spoke to him, deep and yet quiet, there and yet everywhere.
“You have not yet begun to serve my will, knave…” It spoke with thousands of voices and yet none. It was the embodiment of contradiction and yet it seemed to be completely stable as well.
“Rise again, pawn of Disgeran. You have been granted new life through the power of my Soul Orb… Pray that you do not tax my patience again…”
The feeling of being alive again tore through Verminathras like a wildfire. It wasn’t pain that he felt but LIFE, something amazing and yet completely worthless in his eyes. The feeling died away quickly as his persona settled into the body he was in, somehow the same one he had occupied before. He was in Disgeran again… That much was certain by the darkness that painted the sky and the corruption that he felt in the soil. How he loved it.
He could cherish the corruption another day. Moving forward, Verminathras peered around him for another soul. Finding one, he snatched up the warlock and pulled him close.
“What was the fate of Lion Woods?” he asked, the man shuddering at the sight of Verminathras’s visage.
“The Nightbringer holds it still, though his entire legion was slaughtered. Well, killed or fled, but both ended the same way. Reinforcements are being sent as we speak.”
“Wonderful…” Verminathras murmured to himself. Letting the warlock go, Verminathras began to make his way in the direction of Lion Woods. With any luck, he’d be there before Cretoris moved out again…
“Will I ever be free of your disgusting presence?” Cretoris growled. It was a few days after the order to march had been given and the Nightbringer had brought his battalion through Lion Woods and to the edges of Lionglade.
“Without me, Arduin would have skewered you like a heretic. In the end, I helped you, whether you want to admit it or not,” Verminathras answered, hobbling beside the giant of a being.
“You underestimate me as always. Arduin would have fallen either way, and the knave you left behind might have died easier if you had just focused on him.”
“What’s done is done, Nightbringer. Be thankful you have two more great souls in your blade. You will need them before the day is done…” the plaguecaster muttered. The two peered out from the Lion Woods and into the Lionglade, Cretoris’s next target. They had a long fight ahead of them if they were going to be victorious. Though Cretoris had a new legion of men behind him, would it be enough against the very gates to Leongarde themselves?
It had been a rather quiet journey back to the heart of the demonic capital of Disgeran. Hierophind continued to carry the sword, Tyrfing, which had gone silent since the magical beatdown it had received at Meron Pinnacle. The fortress of darkness that was Disgeran’s Fell Keep housed the Prophet’s quarters, where he was most comfortable performing rituals, particularly of this unique caliber. This was where the general was headed now, gliding through the black halls like a ghost.
Vasgerax can come later… he thought to himself. For now… we must worry about you. he continued, the last thought directed towards the cursed blade he carried. He knew the being could hear him.
Mortal Sorcerer, If thou will not allow me to share my power, surrender me to a more willing host, or thou shalt face my wrath. The voice, dark, and loud, echoes In Hierophind's head, it is the voice of the demon, Tyrfing. You know not what you trifle with, I have seen the rise and fall of countless empires, and if you think I fear you, thou art mistaken.
"Now now, you'll have your puppet. Just as I will have mine..." he hissed aloud, entering his quarters. It was a rather sparing room, though it was defined by the large open space in its center as soon as one entered. Crude circles were etched into the stonework, glowing red every so often in a pulsing rhythm. In the center of this ritual circle stood a man of no real significance. He looked to be a soldier, one of the Heretic masses that made up Disgeran's bulk. Dark matted hair was barely obscuring eyes that held true fear in them. He quivered where he stood, but made no noise as Hierophind entered.
"There, your new host," the Prophet told the sword. Moving into the room, he immediately stabbed the blade into the center of the circle, mere inches from the man. Backing out of the circle, Hierophind began to chant sinisterly, a grin plastering his features.
The sword starts reaching mental strands out to the man, promising him power, and the ability to strike down his enemies, if only he would wield him. The man, scared but willing, reaches out and grasps the sword. He then begins to scream as it forces him to stab himself in the chest with it, where it then assimilates into his body. The blood vessels around the wound pop out and turn black as the taint spreads, and his flesh begins to liquidate and fall off as he falls to the ground, writhing in agony. Black ichor pours out of every one of his orifices as his face melts off, revealing a skull. Then, even his bones liquidate, forming a mass puddle of black sludge. The sludge begins to move and, first, bones begin to form and coalesce, growing out of the puddle into a black skeleton. Then, layer by layer, the sludge is absorbed, and, standing there is the reformed Mildred, naked. His body, which has the male genitalia but is obviously feminine in other areas, stands and opens his eyes as, in a flash, the sword appears and he charges Hierophind, to kill him.
Chanting the whole time, Hierophind imbues the dark resurrection with his own energy. Even as the black sludge congeals into a body, the Prophet's own energy infuses the pool, molding it, shaping it as well. Though he does nothing to the actual appearance of Mildred, something new is in the mix. A foreign entity added to the weapon's puppet...
"Stop," Hierophind says quietly. A net of black energy halts Mildred in her tracks, encasing her in darkness. Quiet screams could be heard from the darkness, but Hierophind's voice drowned them out. "Good... You are mine to command, slave. You will never turn your blade on me. You will never betray Disgeran. You are my puppet and you will follow my orders to the letter. If you sway, you will be cast into the depths of Disgeran's darkness, never to be wielded again. Am I understood?"
"Mortal mage, you think too highly of yourself! You seek to bind me, make me a thrall. Others have tried." He stands down. "Resurrection has left me in a good mood, human. Your sheer audacity has put me in a humorous temper. I won't strike you down, then. But we shall see how far this goes. All men die, even those that become liches. As long as you do not hinder me from doing what I do best, I see very little problem with this, though, it does irk me."
"Your tone we will work on..." Hierophind muttered to himself. "As well as your pride... Be off with you. I will call you when I next march..." With that, Hierophind left to report to Vasgerax. He would worry about the sword's will at a later time.
“Meron Pinnacle is in the hands of the zealots, then…?” Vasgerax hissed. Hierophind nodded slowly, for once in his life almost afraid.
“I was outmaneuvered, my Lord. While Palion held my attention, Ilea removed my ace in the hole and the day was lost.”
“You are lucky that you did manage Palion’s demise, else your head would not continue to rest upon your own shoulders, Hierophind,” Vasgerax replied.
“You failed, then, Hierophind? Amusing,” came that familiar echoed voice. Forgoing the hiding place at the rear of the room this time, Mythros approached the two without worry, once again taking his place opposite the Prophet at their Emperor’s side.
“Quiet, you!” Hierophind objected. “If it wasn’t for Ilea’s intervention, I-“
“Hold your insolent tongues, the both of you!” Vasgerax growled, turning to face them both. Hierophind cut himself off immediately, whereas Mythros turned his gaze to his Emperor, and then lowered it to the ground again.
“Is there any news from Shavarrah?” the Emperor of Shadows asked quietly. Both were quiet for a moment before Mythros answered.
“None, my Lord.”
“You are dismissed then, Mythros.” The Lost Blade hesitated, as if he was going to say something, but bowed and turned to leave. This left Hierophind and Vasgerax alone in the chamber. For a long moment, Vasgerax studied the Prophet before he turned to look out over the shadowed lands he ruled. He was quiet for a while, and Hierophind almost thought the Emperor forgot about him. As he stirred, though, Vasgerax spoke.
“With Cretoris being granted more troops after the decimation of his battalion at Lion Woods, we are in position for a dual-pronged strike. You will lead men to the Nin Yhao and subjugate them. I trust you will be able to deal with their guardian, yes?”
Hierophind was surprised he was getting another chance, but quickly agreed with a nod of his head. “I will not fai-“ he started, but the other being cut him off.
“Send word to Cretoris to assault the Lionglade as soon as his new regiment is in place. Send someone to secure Lion Woods on the off chance Leongarde moves in again. While our enemies are focused northward, we will catch them off guard…” This statement made Hierophind pause.
“Northward, my Lord?” he asked.
“The fog… even now it begins to assault the coast. We shall take advantage of that… distraction.” While Hierophind did not like the sound of it, he accepted his Emperor’s judgment and nodded.
“It will be as you command, my lord.” With that, Hierophind exited the room to carry out the Emperor’s directions. Vasgerax stood where he was, eyes on the horizon once again.
“The world will be yours, Vasgerax… The seeds of chaos are being sown… Our might cannot be matched…” whispered the voice in the Emperor of Shadow’s head. Xakh’Raah promised him eternal reign over a subjugated Deiranar, and Vasgerax was assured that that promise would not be an empty one.
A lone heretic creeped his way through the Fell Keep of Disgeran, baring news for his master, the great Emperor Vasgerax. He wandered the halls for a long while, unfamiliar with the magnificent depth of the fortress, when he finally stumbled into a huge antechamber. A uniquely occupied antechamber. A huge serpentine head swiveled in the man’s direction, glowing red eyes narrowing upon catching sight of him. Griefwing hissed lowly before opening his mouth with a screech.
“Hold, my pet,” a dark voice came, stilling the dark wyrm with a simple command. Griefwing snapped his jaws shut just inches from the heretic’s face, foul breath almost causing the man to faint. Vasgerax approached the heretic with eerie silence, not even footsteps coming from the dark lord of Disgeran. “I trust you have news for me, scum, else you wouldn’t venture this far into my domain.”
Swallowing, the heretic stammered his report. “I-I-I came to bring the n-news of Heirophind’s…” Another swallow, sweat beginning to bead on his skin. “Heirophind’s… d-defea-“ A sickening crunch came from the mouth of Griefwing as the dark wyrm’s jaws close around the man, not even affording him a scream before his demise came. Vasgerax began to turn away when movement came from the same direction the heretic had come, another man replacing the space the previous fool had occupied.
“My Lord, I bring-“
“Pray your news is good, knave, or you will end up like the last fool who stood in this rooms mere seconds before you,” Vasgerax spat, not even having to indicate the blood dripping from Griefwing’s bared teeth. The heretic turned pale for a moment before bravely continuing his report. “Lord Cretoris has achieved victory at Lionglade.”
Vasgerax might’ve been smiling under his helm. It was impossible to tell. “Good… I believe there is more to tell, however?” The soldier nodded, almost put off by his Emperor’s foresight.
“Furthermore, Lord Cretoris has… changed. He… absorbed the magic of Leongarde’s Vanguard. He’s… become far more powerful than before.”
“I didn’t think Cretoris had it in him…” Vasgerax whispered to himself, turning from the heretic. The man paused for a second, unsure if he was dismissed, but one look at Griefwing sent him running back the way he came.
“Mythros, I’m beginning to believe you enjoy lurking in the shadows,” Vasgerax stated, seemingly to the air. However, sure enough, Mythros appeared beside the Emperor in moments, his face passive as usual.
“Cretoris’s ascension is supposedly rather… dramatic,” the shade said simply, apparently slightly impressed.
“Is that so?” Vasgerax asked, apparently in thought. “Then we should finish this charade. Have Cretoris march on Leongarde’s capital. We’re going to snuff out the lion-men for good. Send him some reinforcements, as well, some of our best from Deimostos.”
“Am I suddenly the messenger boy?” Mythros asked, his undertone taking on a more sinister pitch. “On that note, I should also inform you of Shavarrah’s success. She sends word that the fruits of her labor should be revealed when we strike at Leongarde itself.”
“All the more reason to send Cretoris… Have you any word from Heirophind?”
“He’s dead, my Lord,” Mythros said bluntly.
“You underestimate that fiend, child,” Vasgerax stated quietly. “I’ll give him a little more time then. You are dismissed, Mythros.” The shade silently moved off, leaving the Emperor of Shadows alone to his thoughts.
And so you see, I reward those who serve me well… the voice whispered in the back of Vasgerax’s head. Cretoris is the most powerful warrior in existence now. And he will continue to grow ever stronger.
“You would so easily cast me aside?” Vasgerax asked the air, anger welling up inside him.
You are my catalyst, Vasgerax. You portray my will unto the masses of Deiranar. Without you, Cretoris would not be this powerful. Use him wisely, for I have gifted this power for you to use… The voice went silent, and Vasgerax was left alone with his drake.
Power Treshold
115
Members
NPCs
http://i935.photobucket.com/albums/ad198/bailey_067/o_crown.gifVasgeraxhttp://i935.photobucket.com/albums/ad198/bailey_067/o_crown.gif
The Emperor of Shadow
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Daemon Cretoris
Consumer of the Night
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Hierophind
The Prophet of Darkness
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Shavarrah
The Mistress of Chaos
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Mythros
The Lost Blade
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Rune Tablet
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Player Characters
Verminathras (Jacogos) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=32533&p=1021252&viewfull=1#post1021252) - Runes (http://oi50.tinypic.com/2n59wx.jpg)
Zasareyt Venomclaw (Cfavano) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=32533&p=1138717&viewfull=1#post1138717") - Runes (http://oi50.tinypic.com/2m6q3rk.jpg)
Gyle Whittlesworth (The Imposter) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=32533&p=1137360&viewfull=1#post1137360) - Runes (http://oi50.tinypic.com/xe38n8.jpg)
Territory Controlled
Disgeran
Deimostos
Blood Vale
Lion Woods
Lionglade
Beastiary
Heretic Footmen
http://i45.tinypic.com/2uqj01z.png
Humans who have turned over to the ‘dark side’ if you will, these men and women have given their lives to Xakh’Raah and fight their former brothers and sisters in the name of the Spectre of Chaos. These men however often serve more as the meatshield for the more powerful forces, as many of them march to their own death under the influence of nothing else but fear.
Ascended Footmen
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Those chosen who have received the blessing of Chaos become stronger, more durable, and overall more demonic as the essence of demonic power itself enters their bodies. Ruthless, fearless, and merciless in battle, these soldiers will not stop until someone has won, and most likely it will be them. They bear signs of corruption, and no one Ascended bears it the same, whether it be wings, scales, horns, malformation, or otherwise.
Heretic Archers
http://i48.tinypic.com/2ljjbj4.png
Similar to the Heretic Footmen, these traitors follow the Disgeran banner out of fear what might happen. While their arrows are still a thorn in the side of Disgeran’s enemies, these archers are often used as diversions or bait.
Blackguard
http://i46.tinypic.com/2d1qopf.pnghttp://i50.tinypic.com/2mnoppu.png
Clad in the darkest of armors, these metal clad fiends are the backbone of most Disgeran armies. Stalwart and images of pure fear, such as their most superior, Cretoris. The Blackguard make a tendency of striking fear in the hearts of their enemies through various old habits. Titanic warriors in both offense and defense, underestimating these warriors will be your downfall.
Dark Rangers
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Accursed rangers, subverted by the dark cause of Disgeran. These shadowy figures loom in the distance, unleashing hails of arrows upon the enemy. The only thing that can be said about these mysterious beings is that their arrows rarely seem to hit their allies…
Warlocks
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Summoners of hellfire and demonspawn, warlocks may not be the backbone of the Disgeran Army itself, but they act as the vertebrae that hold it together and power it. Whether it be empowering their demons, summoning more demons, unleashing fire upon their enemies, casting bolts of pain, or the like, warlocks are versatile and fearsome. Only those who manage to get into melee range can even stand a chance.
Succubi
http://i45.tinypic.com/k4h1t1.pnghttp://i46.tinypic.com/35lbx3d.pnghttp://i50.tinypic.com/166wrag.pnghttp://i49.tinypic.com/2agua7q.png
Temptresses of the void. Succubi rarely engage in combat, but rather deploy upon stealth and assassination missions, using their allure and charm, aswell as their viscious behavior to eliminate any and all threats to Disgeran. They are also not unknown to cause infighting within entire armies by using their charms to influence specific minds.
Infernals
http://i45.tinypic.com/k4h1t1.pnghttp://i47.tinypic.com/sx2790.pnghttp://i45.tinypic.com/nz12yu.pnghttp://i47.tinypic.com/2e4g0pd.png
Brutal, demonic warriors. Infernals are lumbering goliaths who wield massive, hell-forged weaponry to cleave aside any who resist them. While supreme on account of strength, endurance, ruthlessness, etc… They are simple minded, and are often guided by warlocks.
Hellhounds
http://i45.tinypic.com/k4h1t1.pnghttp://i49.tinypic.com/ibb56q.pnghttp://i45.tinypic.com/141oc95.pnghttp://i45.tinypic.com/2uqj01z.png
Hunting wolves of the void. Hellhounds are viscious and relentless, but they are not mindless killers. They are fiends that feast upon magical energy, being near impervious to it, and even getting stronger depending on how much magic they consume. They are often deployed as hunting dogs to eliminate magical threats or obstacles, but are a ferocious threat to all beings, magical or not.
The skulls indicate difficulty:
No skulls: Regular Enemy
1 bronze skull: Strong Enemy
2 silver skulls: Very Strong Enemy
3 gold skulls: Super Enemy
4 platinum skulls: Legendary Enemy
GOLD: Primary Treat
SILVER: Secondary Treats
Axe (Skirmisher):
Heavy Physical Damage at Close Range
Ballista/Crossbow (Ballistic):
Massive Ranged Damage
Bow (Ranged):
Standard Ranged Attacks
Cogwheel (Siege):
Massive Damage to Structures
Dripping Dagger (Assassination):
Powerful One-Hit Kill Attacks
Eye (Controller):
Masters of upsetting the balance of a battle
Fist (Brute):
Great Durability/Indestructability
Flame (Elemental):
Elemental Entity, Strong Against Physical assaults, Weak against Magic
Foot/Shoe (Rusher):
High Mobility
Mask (Lurker):
Stealth/Invisibility
Reticle (Sniper):
Extremely Accurate (from either ranged or in close-combat)
Shield (Defender):
Very Capable of holding defensive lines and forming unbreachable barriers
Sword (Soldier):
Standard Melee Attacks