Malkil's eyes flashed once and the air around he and Lucifer shimmered as he transported them to the top of the rock tower. Focusing his will, Malkil began to chant, his melodic voice growing progressively louder as his body started to rise into the air. From the south heavy cloud began to roll in, the forest on each side of the river growing eerily still as a thin mist crept amongst the heavy boughs, slithering toward the river. Malkil's melodic chant grew louder as he rose further into the heavens, the mist growing heavier as it floated over the water.

The citizens of the river city stopped in their daily tasks as a cold wind swept through the city gates causing them to pull their cloaks a litlle tighter and look to the heavens as dark clouds gathered overhead. Anxious looks were passed, the storm had come up too quickly, nervous tingles ran up the citizens spines as a quiet terror grew in the recesses of their minds. A guard upon a watch tower sounded alarm, calling the attention of his commander as he stared out across the river at the bank of mist that surrounded the rock tower and grew heavier by the moment. The commander narrowed his gaze at the growing fog then ordered the guard to send word to the city council.

Malkil continued his chant, weaving together a great summoning spell, thinning the dimensional walls between Elrond and the ethereal plane, calling his great castle to return. The mist grew like a pall, obscuring the island completely. Within the forests the howls of countless monstrocities resonated into the sky, as beneath Malkil the air wavered and within the mists faint brick work began to manifest. The mists swirled about the tower, and with each passing moment more brick work appeared, as Malkil continued his chant, his voice growing so loud that the beasts of the forest reciprocated, their amalgamated howls creating a primeval symphony. Malkil stopped chanting and the air froze, the wind and all sound vanishing instantly, as the air warped and a great structure of stone appeared, immense towers piercing the sky, Blackthorne. The fog bank swirled and melted away to a thin mist, revealing the dark castle. Malkil smiled as he looked down at his great creature returned, the castle itself a living beast of chaos, it had changed little as it sloped down toward the bridge. Slowly he descended to the top of the long stairway leading to the inner keep, that rested on an impossibly thin pin tower just a great bells pealed from the clock tower, the chime resonating across the river.

Word had passed through the city of the strange fog and thousands had flooded to the city walls to see, the foreboding winds not repelling them at all, neither the melodic chant that echoed over the land. Suddenly wails of fear filled the sky as the fog bank swirled and dissipated, revealing a nightmare from half a millenia earlier. The immense castle Blackthorne.

Blackthorne stands like a giant dark mass as it faces the eastern bank of the river, its high towers give the appearance of a many fingered hand, clawing up at the sky silhouetted against the setting sun, its shadow like a dark claw that steadily claws closer to the land as the day progresses. A curtain wall surrounds the castle, with several open topped guard towers; it is easily twenty foot thick at the ground - though it continues much deeper, it stands over one hundred feet in height at the lowest plateau and merely twenty feet at the highest, making it look level all around. Stalking the ramparts are countless knights. Each wearing wicked suits of ebony coloured gothic plate and wielding savage looking swords and large shields. The great claymore sized weapons are serrated above the hilt for sawing and honed to a fine edge up to the tip for slicing, while the shield is emblazoned with runic symbol. The knights each stand ten feet in height and beneath their great helms, which are adorned with antler like structures of steel, glow pairs of red eyes. The Black Slayers as they were once known, ready to kill anything that enters the castle. Hundreds of them guard the walls, standing thirty feet apart and staring out over the river and the forest, while others move in patrols. As the veil of night draws across the heavens, strange green lanterns alight the wall, from hollowed demonic skulls, strange green fire burns, the Igneous Fatuous. The howl of a wolf from within the walls resonates over the river as the chains that bind the gatehouse break.

Within the gates is a large courtyard it is set upon the first plateau. Currently it stands empty, the stone path and hard packed dirt leading to the entrance halls is undisturbed as if untrodden for centuries. To the left, a set of stairs sits at the base of a pair of heavy iron gates set into a wall between the outer curtain wall and the entrance hall, through which a densely grown garden is visible. Suddenly there is movement in the shadows beneath the ramparts and a humanoid figure shambles out into the light, snatching up a lizard, its ragged undead flesh marking it as a zombie. Slowly it returns to its hiding place, but several others shift balance as the movement catches their attention, revealing the hiding places of dozens more of the unliving, all ready to fall upon unwelcome guests.

The interior of the castle is set upon the second plateau and is richly furnished. Marble walls and floors are covered in priceless rugs, and lit by intricate chandeliers. Silken tapestries hang from the ornately buttressed and pattern worked ceiling, one which seems different each time it is viewed. Staggered with the textiles are great paintings of strange scenes, creatures and people, their eyes haunting, as if alive and watching. Great crystal glass doors are closed and half covered with heavy velvet curtains, revealing splendorous gardens, green and bright with life, though few of the living have ever seen them, and none living to tell the tale. The igneous fatuous spill their light upon cobbled paths weaving between lines of poplar trees, hedges and through walkways covered over by the thickly foliaged branches of yew trees. Between the maze like hedges there are open areas of grass filled with sculptures of bramble and of stone, people and creatures, many fantastical, yet each carrying a hauntingly real quality. The garden abounds with low benches for sitting, a mutitude of ingenious fountains, some like water falls spilling water down marble surfaces that are ingrained with gold, silver and jewels that glow dimly, and numerous pools of varying sizes. In the surfaces of the pools faces flicker, and at the corner of the eye there appears to be the face of a man watching in sneering amusement. As gentle winds blow through the areas haunting melodies fill the air, as sculptures of fluted crystal glass capture the breeze and ring with clear notes, some high some deep. As the light of the day washes over them the statues appear as children laughing and smiling as if engaged in joyous play, but as the darkness of night takes hold, and the igneous fatuous spills its haunting light, the children appear terrified, as if pursued by some nightmare made real. Heavy mist covers the ground, obscuring anything beyond the low hedges. In the darkness a slight scratching fills the garden, like bone scraping on stone. As the scratching grows louder it is joined by low snarls as a single lupine form slips between the shadows, shortly it is followed by more and coming from every direction, trailed by a heavy stomping. A large waarg enters a cleared area and sniffs the air, searching for food, raising its head it howls, and is answered by others, some within the walls, as a giant of a man enters the clearing with a great set of garden shears in hand.

Behind the garden, upon the third plateau, is a large grass clearing sealed by another wall and iron gates. Within is a white washed clay building with exposed wooden facings at each floor. A villa with balconies over looks the main gardens and out over the curtain wall from the highest floor. It is a U shaped building with an open garden and large pool for swimming in the centre, with an area covered by pergola's and grapevines. Each of the villa's four levels possess balconies overlooking the central garden with a glass bridge over the pool linking the two sides of the third floor. The villa is connected to the main keep by a covered boardwalk lit by the igneous fatuous.

Upon the opposite side of the castle and occupying the second plateau is a great cathedral with detailed window art, each pane constructed of valuable gems. Through the heavy oak doors stands a man sized marble statue of an angel, in its hands it bears a cup, filled with sanctified water. Pews line both sides of the interior, leading upto a raised dais with a large altar, and a pulpit away to the left. Behind the altar, hanging high upon the wall is a figure of a crucified man, the self proclaimed Son of God, killed by the Ancients three millenia earlier. To the right against the rear wall stands an immense pipe organ, a robed figure - a heavy hood covering its head - sits playing, the sound constrained to the cathedral alone. Beside it is gathered a robed choir, children, their voices pure but strange. Censers hang from the finely buttressed ceiling, spilling a white haze of thin sour smelling smoke about the place. Upon the balconies of the second floor, numerous robed figures, possibly monks, whisper in prayer. From a door secreted in a culvert behind the pulpit, which provides access to the main keep, a richly robed figure steps forth, its step light and graceful as it approaches the altar. Spreading its arms wide it tips back its hood, revealing its perfect face, a woman, the highest priestess, as she begins sermon, her lips reveal a pair of razor sharp fangs. She is a vampire, as are the rest of the inhabitants of the defiled cathedral.

Towering over the cathedral, on the third plateau, is a huge clock tower, a simple square tower ascends hundreds of feet to a huge chamber, a great clock face upon one of its sides. Surrounding the base of the tower is a large square building, with red tile roof. Within building are immense machines, all working to move the hands of the giant clock face at the top of the tower. The interior of the tower is filled with a dense web of turning cogs and sprockets, in the gaps of the machinery, thousands of tiny multicoloured motes of light zip around chaotically, as if maintaining the mechanism. Around the wall of the interior is a wooden stair case providing access to the upper chamber. The upper room is large, the machinery thinning to just a single slowly twisting metal rod which moves the hands of the clock, which can be seen through the dull yellow glass face. In the corner a figure sits hunched, its hands over its ears, a bipedal werewolf, although thin its muscles are dense and defined. Its sanity stripped away by the constant ticking of the clock, it attacks any who enter to feed its bloodlust starved by its obsessive compulsion to listen to the ticking, although it hates the sound.

The castle itself stands far higher than any of the trees in the outer forest, the many spires seeming to violate several canons of physical law. One room seeming to sit atop the air itself. The walls of the outer keep are empty, with no sentries patrolling ramparts, as if the owner believes none could venture so close, only the intricately carved gargoyles that stare down from their high perches are any kind of guard. Upon a rampart a gargoyle statue moves, stretching its wings, it eyes a waarg in the garden then turns its attention away, the waarg sees the movement then follows suit. The main building, accessed through the entrance hall or any of the other second plateau buildings houses a great marble ballroom, filled with great chandeliers and a large dance floor, and an orchestral pit. Before the orchestra dances a beautiful waif thin girl barely an adult, long red curled tresses falling over her shoulders and back. She is dressed in a black silk ball dress, and she turns as if dancing with a partner, though she stands alone. Softly sweet music begins to fill the room and the chandeliers light dims as around the room pairs of spectres begin to swirl in tight circles, dancing as a ghostly orchestra appears in the pit, and the woman now dances with the spectre of a tall dark haired man, his physique wiry. As she smiles her sweet full red lips entice all who see her, promising passion, but giving damnation, a succubus, and one of some power.

Beside the ballroom, behind a magically sealed door is a large laboratory, filled with various equipment. Solutions distill into vials and bottles, potions and elixirs of unknown effects. Large tanks contain apparently sleeping creatures, zombies, werewolves, orcs, waargs and a multitude of other simple forest dwelling creatures, all of whom have become victim of the masters necrological and alchemical experimentation. The room is silent, all except for the endless bubbling of solution through stills, and empty for it is forbidden for all but two of the inhabitants to enter, the magic seals barring access even if they tried.

Upon the fourth plateau and located behind the lab is an immense library, connected to each other by a small stair case, the walls are lined with shelves and these in turn lined with books and scrolls, strange little machines and artifacts to weird to describe. The texts cover all topics from - biology to law, magic to gardening, and combat to physics. Each with their own section or wing. Staircases, hallways and archways lead in every direction, creating a maze like structure. Igneous fatuous censers hang from the roof every forty or so feet, scarcely illuminating the place, and casting terrible shadows. In the darkness a pair of red motes of light appear, eyes for some horror that wanders in the darkened halls. Passing under a censer the creature is revealed, a girl, though skeletal and devoid of flesh, a lich child, the apprentice/assistant/slave of Malkil, engaged in retrieving or researching some vital piece of information. The girl draws a book from the shelf and hands it to a poorly lit figure behind her. Behind the girl is a necromantic horror, a giant of a man standing silently, staring lovelornly at the girl as he effortlessly carries a mountain of books for her. Down the hall way a censer goes out, immediately a book jumps from the shelf, floating by itself it opens and the pages flick back and forth before finally stopping at a specific page, the scrawled writing glows for a moment and the lantern relights. The book closes, and floats away finding another resting place upon the shelves.