The dogs of war

[Decimas]

The night was drawing near and clouds had begun to form overhead as a distinct eerie aura spread across the realm. There was still light in the sky as the sun had not yet quite set, but it most certainly would not last long. There were no cricket chirps or owel coos that quiet evening, as all creatures and sounds of nature drew deafly ill. No one would know what it was that the realms silence foreshadowed, but they would all soon find out.

Far beneath the ground in his lair of self rightious madness, the master necromancer conjured the last of the spells required to bring forth his newest tool or toy, whichever seemed to suit the night just right, and his lips parted with the final words of the spell. "Oior oriri ortus ut vita , vernula de vestri senior."

As those final words were spoken, the massive structure of formerly fossilised bones of mamoths and gigantic creatures from the past took one deep breath of air. The lung sac formed of seal skins and fish gills expanded in one large heave, though it couldn't have been seen as the behemoth's chest was covered in it's entirety by the enourmous platings from hip bones of elephants for pectorals and ribs and spines of beasts for interlocked gridded structure surrounding its torso. There was armor of Sheet metal and sewer caps welded to the creature's gigantic form and a club made of street lamp posts and concrete in the giant golem's right hand. When the behemoth rose after that first breath it took, the cavern shook and dust fell from above. The monster stood two stories tall, hunched like an ape with the club hangin in one hand and the mamoth ribb fingers of it's other hand fisted against the ground, and looked down at the necromancer master and his corpse pawns.

The air that night was filled with grim respect, for the life and slave the necromancer had just begun. There was a new life, or half a life to be forced upon the world, and it would surely be a terror to it. Decimas grinned maniacally as he stood in pride and looked up at the beast that his magical works had just dawned on the world. The time since that troublesome spell that had been set on the graveyard had proven difficult. In the time since then, the necromancer had been forced to find sources of bone and carcass elsewhere than the grounds beneath the graveyard and drag them back to the tombs. All the extra work had made the final revelation of the great golem all the more gradifying when his months of construction were finally coming to fruition and he found himself one step closer to the completion of his plans. Decimas could feel his dream getting ever closer and he laughed into his psychotic smile. The city would see a new manifestation of the necromancers power that night, and a new page would be turned in the story of the world. The people were still ignorent, they couldn't ever see what was right and Decimas expected that they never would. Even the spectacle at the gates where he brought the unchained woman Cella was not enough to declare to them the futility of their adle minded resistance.

Wether the people of the city would co-operate or not though, Decimas would have his way and his dream would indeed come true. Any who followed him and fought on his side to help in the creation of that world that the necromancer so desperately longed to build, would be ensured their own dreams to come true. Cella, for example, would have her place wherever it was she would make it as she seemed to understan the necromancer's words. No one will give you what you want, he believed, you have to take it for yourself.

Decimas walked around to the back of the great golem as the monster stood there idly waiting for its master's orders. The necromancer climbed up onto the beasts back and held on to what was designed to be his handles. "Move" He said alloud, and the creature began to walk to the tunnel ahead of him from the great chamber they were in. They were moving toward the lake and away from the tomb entrance to the caves. The grand finale of this war was yet to come and Decimas had no intention of revealing his location before it all was done. He would leave the graveyard tombs for a later time when Kaldryn had finished fixing the hazard that Ashard had been involved in and when Decimas was ready to wage that final battle against the city of Karador. For the time though, he would use the more concealed rout of passing through the water. The master necromancer had had a large tunnel built big enough around for the golem to walk through to the lake, so that the monster would be able to appear from the woods by the water and dissapear there as well. There would be no need for the creature to travel to and from the graveyard, pottentially being followed.

As the monster began to sink into the water at the end of the tunnel, Decimas drew a good long breath of air and readied himself for the minute it would take to come up to air on the other side. When they did come up, Decimas had the golem continue walking in the water until they were some ways down the shores before climbing up onto dry land. There would be no foot prints from the monster to show where it had come from, and they were then far from the graveyard and near the city walls.

On the way through the forest, the necromancer past one of his secondary undead barracks and the hundreds of walking carcasses from that set of catacombs began to follow suit. By the time the necromancer reached the city walls with his new golem, he had an effective army of living dead following in his trails. They were nowhere near the gates, but Decimas wasn't the slightest bit concerned about how to get into the city. "Nock it down." The necromancer said to the beast he rode. With the very words the necromancer spoke, the massive golem propped its self onits one fist and took a mighty swing with the club in it's other hand. Driving the steel and concrete club through the construct of the city wall, the monster pulled it's arm back and took another swing. After only a few strikes of the massive club against the wall of Karador, a large openning had been formed and the great beast stepped through onto the streets of Karador.

Upon entry into the city through the newly formed hole in the wall, the great beast took to swinging his club at the structures of the city, creating destruction and mayhem through the streets of Karador. Masses of dead men and women, animals from the woods, and living carcasses of every sort flowed into the city streets and screams could be heard in the Karador night. "Cry havok and let slip the dogs of war!" yelled the necromancer master, quoting an ancient tale from one of many age old scripts he had read in the past. That had been a line that Decimas quite enjoyed, as it seemed to express his sentiment exactly. "Run Phobos, run!" He screamed into the night after a hearty laugh in his regular maniacle manner. The necromancer was making his way to the army barracks that night. he was striving to show some power, and make a point. with an assault to the very core of the Karadorian military's strength, it would be obvious that Decimas would stop at nothing to make his dream come true. The necromancer was certain that his beloved deciple would come to find him that night. He wouldn't have to search for her when his presance was so known as it was that night. The air itself was thick with the aura of death, and all would know that the war had just begun.

[Cella]

The night was quiet, perhaps too much so as the small nurse made her way home from the hospital. She passed the tavern on her way and noticed a small man pass her by headed for a drunk perhaps, she couldn’t know. She kept her lavender eyes to her own path however, not wanting to attract attention and it wasn’t until she reached the backside of the tavern that her small form gave a twitch and then her mind went blank for a few moments. If there had been anyone walking past her, or trying to say something, in those few seconds, she would not have noticed. Her lavender eyes snapped open and she looked around, a purplish haze surrounding her entire form, radiating outward and down the small alley that she chose to walk.

“Master, I hear you and I am on my way.” She stated, not caring or even knowing if any other heard her words, the Unchained puppet moved swiftly now down the street toward the Necromancers destination, being one with his mind, she knew where to go.

There were scrams of people running all over in the district just in front of her and the stench of the undead reached her nose though she did not seem to notice. One, most unfortunate man grabbed her by the arm in an attempt to safe her from the creatures now released in the street but this hand seemed to disincarnate in second as he grabbed onto her flesh. He screamed in anguish and reeled in horror as the Unchained turned her lavender gaze on him and smiled a most wicked smile and even might have laughed at his pain. “Insignificant fool, run to the keep, your life will be over soon enough.” She stated and then turned away from him and continued on her trek toward the military keep.

A few more paces and she could see the walking dead, they of course paid her little to no attention what so ever, taking wide birth around the Unchained despite their usual mindless manner, they seemed to know that this was not a target worth their own undead lives. Cella moved still at a slow pace, her foot falls even and without worry, the air about her was frigid, as her feet touched the surface of the cobble stoned street it frosted over, even cracked in places due to the extreme chill she left in her wake. There was no sign of breath coming from the creature; her need to breath air nonexistent. Though any who passed too closely to her now be they living or dead slowed and nearly froze in their steps, frost beginning to hang from their clothes and hair. It wasn’t until her feet came to a stop just outside the military keep that the cold subsided and she waited patiently for her master and his new toy to show themselves, though by the sounds and shaking of the ground at her feet, they were not far from their destination.

Cella was excited in anticipation of her masters new ‘toy’ she felt his excitement and it rubbed off extremely well in her. If he were happy for what he had created then she would be happy for it as well.

A few more people run past her, though she gave them no notice, it was only the ones who tried to remove her from her position that felt her wrath. She would not budge form her poison and she would not tolerate a single touch, any who tried met the same fate as the first and any who tried to retaliate form her wrath were soon dead, either simply falling to the ground clutching their chests or if she was overly irritated by their persistence, they seemed to implode, their bodies ballooning out and blood spilt from their lips as they ended up on the ground at her feet, which never once moved, despite the dead corpses laying about them.


The Military Keep was well fortified, both magically and structurally. To gain entrance to such a place would take more than a few simple swings from that monstrosity that the Necromancer had concocted. There were of course, soldiers on the walls and some had even tried killing the Unchained with their petty weapons, this only proved of course, to have them flown from the wall and tossed a great distance to what would more than likely be their deaths. A voice boomed from inside and Cella made out the name, Diala. But that was about it.

[Cassius Ado Virtus]

"NECROMANCER!" A thunderous cry echoed through the ruined streets of the city, heavy and defiant. The great voice carried a heavy sense of presence, and even the shambling ranks of mindless corpses seemed to falter briefly under the oppressive weight of the challenge.
Suddenly the battlements of the keep were bathed in pure white light as a shining beacon of holy light took flame. The rotting corpses of the long dead moved to shield their eyes from its glare, stopping their shambling advance as they did so.
Slowly, the light began to fade to reveal a towering figure of a man, clad in gold and steel, and surrounded by a halo of light. Runes ran like liquid fire across his armoured cuirass, making him hard to look at for those with evil in their hearts. This man was a hard presence to bear for those agents of anarchy and the creatures of the abyss. This man was defiant, virtuous and without fear. This man was Cassius Ado Virtus, the General of the armies of Karador, and an enemy not to be taken lightly.

"LONG HAVE I AWAITED THEE, ACCURSED WORM! THE WICKED WILL BE PURGED, AND YOU WILL BURN IN THE CLEANSING FIRES OF THE RIGHTEOUS!"

Though the battlements and streets remained lit by white light, the glare had subsided, and it could be seen that the walls of the great keep also burned with ancient runes and markings. The nine great runes of power, from the very beginning of time itself. No physical assault would topple these walls - but there were still those that could, and would if given the chance. Cassius would not allow that to happen.
It had seemed as if the general's very presence had strengthened the resolve of his men - the many hundreds of thousands who now readied for war in the streets or mounted the battlements of the immense military fortress. The men wore expressions similar to his - defiant to the last. They would all die standing, if it was what their country demanded of them, and destiny had planned.

With speed belying his size and age, the General drew his massive sword from its scabbard and held it to the sky.

"IRRANIS IRR EOTER, SORO ORSA BERSAIN PERAI, TOTHE ARAKIN CUIO ADAUR KARADOR!"

And with that cry the sword burst into brilliant flame, though it was a far cry from the holy light of his armour. The flaming sword was alive, runes ran down its blade like wildfire, as the fires of destruction burned around the blade. The sister sword of Karador would stand against evil one last time in his hands - that much could be counted upon.

"DRAW!" A thousand points of light burned suddenly in the darkness.

"TAKE AIM!" Creaks and clacks filled the air as bows and bolts were drawn back.

FIRE!" With the last word Cassius swung the blade forward to point directly at the necromancer. The air was filled with heat and light as a cloud of burning arrows descended on the assembled host of undead and their master. Cassius knew the Necromancer would not be defeated so easily, yet his puppets would burn in the streets like a reaptide bonfire.

Dull thwacks and hisses filled the streets as many of the arrows found their mark, burying themselves deep in rotting flesh and setting light to many of the assembled host. The undead simply stood dumbly as fire consumed the sinews that held their joints together and devoured the rotting tissue of their skeletal forms.

This was only the first retaliatory blow, and Cassius was sure there would be many more undead to come - perhaps two for every one felled - at best. It would be a grim battle, but he would die standing, for his kingdom, his queen and his god.

[Shéumal Deshku']

All of this had not gone unnoticed. No, there were other forces at work here besides those of valour and greed. In the shadows, unseen eyes watched and invisible tendrils of darkness slithered through the streets and across the rooftops. The Illumini were watching - unseen, unheard but ever vigilant. Kaldryn had chosen his puppets badly, and this one persued his own twisted ends and means. No, he was becoming an obstacle, an obstacle the Illumini would have to remove - should the humans fail to do so.

[Cella]

Cella looked up over the walls of the Keep, her lavender gaze narrowing with a burning desire to crush he who would threaten her master. She was not but a puppet at this point and so, to look upon him it did not bother her in the least, her heart, he true heart was filled with not but love and caring fro all things good. It was only the hold of her master that swayed her to kill and destroy all that went against him. She growled as the mighty sister sword of Karador ignited into flame for even in her youth, having not been there when it was last used, she felt the sting of the unchained felled by its power by the hand of the previous wielder.

“THOU SHALT NOT HARM HIM” Her voice boomed into the night echoing and reverberating through the air and even shaking the very ground they all stood upon or over. A small quake then began to rumble through the Kingdome that would be felt harshly by all who lived there as the Unchained hurled herself before her master, putting herself between the arrows and he, her movements so quick that the naked eyes would not have seen, she seemed to just appear where once she was not, arrows that had her masters name on them sunk deeply into her body and then she fell the two stories to the cobbled streets at the foot of his monster.

Cella lay still for not more than a few moments as her incredible body purged itself of flame arrowhead and stem. She stood, her blood soaking through her garment for but a moment before it seemed to simply be not. She twisted her head, cracking her neck back into place from the fall and then turned her face back up at the wall of holy might.

The burning dead about her seemed to not bother her in the least, her manner suggested that she cared not what happened to them, it was only the Necromancer that would be shielded by her power and she would not attach any, less ordered to though there was no way that even the Necromancer at this point would be able to stop her from protecting him.

“What is thy bidding master?” She then turned her eyes upwards at him form her standing point on the ground now several feet from the monstrosity he had built.

Cella had no idea what would be there shortly to keep her from her duties to protect her master, had no idea what name it was that was muttered behind those walls, nor would Decimas for that matter, he had yet to know of the Ultimate Unchained that walked the streets of Karador looking for him.

[zacharius]

He himself though, drawn to the battle like a moth to light. On the edge of the square he leapt lightly from the groud and let his speed carry him to a rooftop on the edge of the square. Where he could see a man bathed in light standing in the midst of a horde of undead, and that giant creature.

He slipped back into the shadows and drew his dark hood up over his head. Zach, knowing not a single person could sense his presence, even that blasted necromancer, he set to scanning the crowd, looking for anyone not running from the monstrous, reaking, rotting undead horde. Atop the creature he saw a man clad in black, which must be the necromancer, and of course, this man clad in glimmering armor. Zach's ever seeing eyes watched as the shadows of the dead merged and this huge monolithic creature made of bone and anything else that could be thrown into the mix carried its rider ever forward, slowly yet surely. He would stay here, concealed until Diala came out. If she did ever so hate anyone like she claimed to hate this necromancer, she would be here. And so the battle has begun.

He watched closely crouched as he was in the darkness, he fitted dark leather gloves to his hands, slowly, silently. Watching as he picked her out of the crowd. She waded through them like they meant nothing. And surely to her they did not. One hand on the ground in frot of him ready to spring into action as he tensed the other fist to stretch the leather of the glove for easier movement. He caught a glimpse of movement, but as he turned his head there was nothing. He saw no intention there so he must just be watching over close. Next move belongs to us, let us see where I fit in.