Within the lost realm of Elrond stands a tower-like island of dark stone. Almost two hundred feet high at its peak and more than a mile wide with sheer cliffs all around, it sits in the middle of a broad river. The shadow cast as the sun sets serves as grim reminder to the citizens of the city that has grwon beside the river, of the evil that once tainted the land. A low wide bridge made from large white marble slabs with dark flecks running through them spans the river, terminating metres short of a towering gatehouse that is connected to the tower island via thick walls. Squat marble statues of leering gargoyles, with eyes that seem to follow whoever passes, inhabit the low wall on each side of the bridge, though the rigors of time show as some are little more than stumps. The gatehouse consists of a set outer gates operated from inside the gatehouse, a heavy drawbridge, a portcullis and a set of inner gates. Behind the formidable defences is a great ramp way, the only conventional access to the castle’s main gate. The gatehouse stands empty, the outer gates bound by three inch thick chain which has been fastened to the framework of the gatehouse to prevent access just in case some foolish being should try to defy the royal decree forbids any to go there. The crest of the rock tower is stepped, like plateaus’ that grow progressively higher the further from the gatehouse.

Upon the wall of the river city a swirling cloud of smoke appears and resolves into Shenron and Lucifer. Shenron's appearance is changed, he is taller and gangly, the flesh of his exposed hands now a sickly blue colour, the veins and tendons of his long thin fingers prominent as they grip a quarter staff. His combat armor has been replaced with a simple black robe of heavy gauze, the hood shrouding his facial features, though two pockets of blue fire smoulder under the hood. Shenron looks around, gazing for a long moment at the tower of rock in the heart of the river, his augmented vision seeing spectres of an immense castle shrouded in ethereal mists atop the tower. Blackthorne.

Lucifer stood silently beside Shenron, looking over the ramparts of the river city at the tower of stone. He had cast off his demonic form and assumed a mortal body, his clothing marking him a woodsman or ranger. Turning he looked at Shenron.

In order to fulfill your end of our agreement we must first resurrect your castle, and return you to your own body.

Shenron nodded as Lucifer spoke, though never taking his eyes from the rock tower. With each moment the power he once knew here was returning, already he could feel the creatures of the surrounding forest, but it was nothign compared to the past.

Very well, then we must go to the subterrainean ruins, the means to resurrect Blackthorne is there, in the depths of the Forgotten Temple.

Turning to Lucifer, he touched his arm and they disappeared in a swirl of blue-green mist, appearing again in a large hall. Shenron waved his hand and the hall was illuminated in green light that spilled from the tiled roof, revealing a large altar. Shenron crosses to stand upon it and begins to chant, enscribing the tip of his staff in broad patterns, rhythmically in time with his chants resonance before slamming the end into the floor, suddenly the air before him shimmers and a wagon sized emerald appears. Shenron releases his staff causing it to stand on end, and places his withered hands on the jewel. Instantly thousands of chords of green light trace out from his body. Closing his eyes he begins to chant again, his voice like a hiss, the jewel and the chords of light pulsing brightly in time. Suddenly there is a frission around his body and the gem radiates a blinding emerald light and a sound of breaking glass and a vast vacuum hiss. The light fades as Shenron slumps forward using the stone for balance, as a hissed phrase escapes his lips, at last, followed by a low chuckle that progressively grows louder until he stands with his head tipped back and his arms outwide. Slowly his hood slips from his head and reveals long black hair and his face is changed, the demonic body he wore altered, it is like a mortal's though it retained a demonic strength. He was not particularly handsome - though not unattractive, it was as he had been in the past, it is Malkil's face, he is Malkil once again. Turning around he looks at his hands as he flexes his fingers, then raises his gaze to stare at Lucifer, his eyes normal though an irridesant blue the irises glowing with an inner light.

This is much better.

Lucifer was silent as they appeared in the hall, and as Shenron hurried to the dais. As the magic mainfested and the stone appeared, Lucifer felt a slight pulling from the pit of his body's stomach. Suddenly the stone blazed and in the light he saw Shenron silhouetted, and thousand so ftiny chords of energy retracting into him. Altering his perceptions he followed where the chords came from, and saw in countless dimensions, entities who looked like Shenron collapse to the ground as the chord was torn from them, their vital essence stripped away. In a matter of instants it was over and Lucifer watched silently as Shenron, no Malkil, laughed. Malkil turned to face him, his face was different, although he could tell the body still retained some of demonic strengths. Meeting Malkil's gaze he saw the power within his eyes, this was no outpouring of vitae this was raw, as if it could not be supressed. Moving forward, Lucifer walked silently to stand at the steps fo the dais.

Come, it is time to resurrect Blackthorne.

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.

A doorway at the rear of the ball room, hidden by a great banner hanging from the ceiling, provides access to a large chamber empty except for a large mirror in the centre of the chamber, and a doorway in the wall beyond. The mirror is strange, for it reflects a scene of a great dungeon as if from a balcony. A square multi-levelled facility continuing down several floors, with balconies at each floor overlooking a central area, the dungeon much larger than the chamber in which the mirror stands. Dozens of long chains hang from the ceiling, with large hooks at the end, the hooks suspending a gigantic man, the hooks pierce his flesh at every major joint. The man's flesh is grey and rotting, slashed all over it is peeled back and hangs limply from his body as flies and maggots pervade every open wound. Slowly eye lids peel back and yellowed eyes glance around as maggots spill from under the lids. the chains rattle as the figure trembles as it is racked by a coughing fit, a spray of green mist pouring from the creature's mouth with each cough. Far below upon the floor of the facility the same robed beings as those in the cathedral collect a foul fluid that drips from thing's fingers and toes.

The door at the rear of the mirror room opens into a large circular chamber with a glowing ring in the centre of the floor, and a staircase that winds up the inside of the wall, one of the many spires that make up the castle, one located on the fourth and highest plateau. The size of the room is disquieting, as it is much larger than the needle-like outward appearance of the towers would suggest possible. The winding stair opens onto a landing with a second glowing ring directly above the one on the level below, and a doorway back into the main keep. The stairs continue upward for hundreds of feet, the towers growing thinner on the outside, though still the same size inside. The landings are spread at varying distances apart, each possessing a glowing ring. Small arched windows provide view of the outside world, a vista that spreads for miles.

The second floor doorway opens onto the rooftop of the mirror dungeon, an open area with a spindle of masonry rising high into the heavens in its centre, a rooftop garden of cherry blossoms with a central path way lined by bamboo trees leading to a japanese style pagoda. The pagoda is furnished with simple mats upon the floor, sliding partitions, low tables with cushions, book shelves, paintings and statues of various creatures. Censers burn acrid smelling substances, a thin smoke fills the levels. Stairways lead up through ten floors to the top floor and a single partitioned room, the exposed rafters trimmed in gold and precious metals. Upon the partition a shadow moves, a humanoid shape. Behind the partition a robed figure sits upon a large cushion before a low table, reading scrolls and tomes. Nimble skeletal fingers flip through the pages of vellum as pin points of red light in the shroud of the robes hood flick back and forth, its head dipping a little as if fatigued. A low mew comes from a small basket near a window catching its attention, waving its hand the creature magically lifts a kitten out of the basket, the kitten mewing as it floats to the outstretched hand. The mewing turns to hisses and screeches as a thin smoke pours from where the skeletal hand makes contact with the animal. The kitten convulses, withers, and eventually turns to dust, its life force stolen by the skeletal hands caustic touch, a lich - a wizard that refused to yield to death's embrace, it's will animating it's skeleton, but broken to the will of the castle's master, it's life stealing touch claiming sustenance from the kitten.

Behind the pagoda is the central keep, a bridge from the pagoda's second floor leading into the building. Richly adorned hallways lined with doorways lead to nondescript rooms and towers that rise at the corners of the keep giving access to the higher floors, and an open balcony where a thin stairway layed with thick red carpet leads into the heavens above and a chamber supported by an impossibly thin spindle of stone. The floating keep, lit by lanterns burning with the igneous fatuous, casting flickering shadows. A richly furnished antechamber leads into a throne room where a stone work throne sits upon a dais with large banners hanging upon the wall behind. The throne is carved with demonic skulls, a small crystal ball floats over the left arm rest, and a staff stands on end beside the right. A slight breeze flutters the tabards revealing passages behind them. Through the left passage is bed chamber, a four posted bed standing against the far wall. The right passge leads to a large ornately carved marble archway opening onto a circular platform, one which overlooks an impossible scene, the star filled void of endless space, the platform seeming to hang suspended upon nothing. Turning around, the archway is not connected to any walls, the void continuing in every direction. A single large mirror stands opposite the archway, though the image is wrong, only a star filled sky is reflected, there is no archway. The floor is a plane of invisble force, and below it is an intricate model, an enormous and detailed map of the world of Elrond.

Lucifer cast off his mortal form as he rose into the air, his will travelling invisibly through the castle, looking through the rooms, body and mind reaching the floating keep in unison. Descending, Lucifer stands beside Malkil as he scans his castle.

Blackthorne is restored, it is time to fulfil the final part of the deal. You must create a body, one capable of killing a god.

Shenron turns to face Lucifer, to kill a god, an interesting proposition.

Make a body able to kill a god, interesting, I will try this.

Touching Lucifer's arm they vanished, appearing again in the room with the immense emerald.

Be prepared it will take some time.

Malkil crosses to the dais and places his hands upon the Lifestone, beginning a chant at the same time. The stone begins to glow brightly and a powerful ethereal wind whips through the chamber, sucking Lucifer in towards the stone.

Orchid walk out of the shadows and appers infron of the people in the room

"You are invited to a gathering in my dear seraphim gardens , I will be happy iof you shall be kind to come to injoy the wine and blood sheed "

She takes a step back and and gets lost in the shadows once more


__________________

Lucifer feels a slight tug within the depths of his being as Malkil begins to chant, the pulling becoming stronger with each moment. Suddenly, spectral winds tear at his body, pulling him toward the stone, he resists easily to begin with but the wind grows. Seeing glance up from the stone then narrow his brows and chant louder, he knows this is no accident. Bracing himself he resists the wind, and shouts at Malkil, his voice deep and resonant.

Sorceror, what are you doing, you would dare attack the Dark Angel?

Glaring at Malkil he raises his hand and a globe of energy grows, a ball of black lightning silhouetted in a red aura crackles within his large palm. Dipping his head, his feet slip a little upon the smooth floor, snarling, he shouts above the hiss of the wind.

Sorceror, you shall learn the price of betrayal.

Malkil changes the pitch of his chant as he sees Lucifer channeling his power to attack, the Lifestone begins to pulse brightly as thin wisps of black energy seep from Lucifer's flesh and siphon into the emerald. Lucifer falters a little, his head dipping as he loses power, his globe of lightning shrinking slightly.

You are a fool angel, did you honestly think I would just do as you asked, you gave me nothing I could not have gained on my own. And in return you want me to make a god, can you even begin to realise how much of the Lifestone's power would be lost to me.

Lucifer slips closer as the winds tear at him, his flesh paling as he loses power, his demonic form regressing with each moment. The room begins to grow light as Lucifer feels his energy sapping away, his ball of lightning disipates completely as his wings begin to manifest again, though not the sheets of flame they once were, now two ordinary vestiges of black plumage. The red stone that serves as Lucifer's heart begins to pulse in time with the Lifestone as tendrils of red smoke smolder from it and are caught by the wind.

Malkil chuckles as he watches the scene, the mighty Dark Angel being reduced to nothing, even the stone that served as his mantle of power, his Heart of Darkness being sapped of its power. Lucifer's skin loses all of its coal black pigment as the wind tears away his essence, leaving the weakening angel struggling to resist the spectral gale, his beautiful features contorted from exersion. He tries to speak, but his voice is a little mre than a cracking hiss.

Do not fight it angel, you know you cannot, each moment brings you closer to destruction. If it is any comfort, your essence will serve to make me more powerful, my dark shadow shall fall upon lands of men once more, all lands.

The pulsing red stone slips across the tile floor as Lucifer lays sprawled, his hands and heels digging against the floor. Malkil smiles, as he sees the phenomenal energy of the tiny gem drawn away, its pulsing in time with that of the Lifestone. Lucifer's body withers as his energy flees his body. Suddenly the Lifestone's pulse begins to fluctuate wildly, the red stone still keeping time as it sits against the edge of the dais. Slowly, tiny motes of emerald energy, like fluttering butterflies pass from the stone, resisting the wind and disappearing through the walls of the chamber. Glaring at the Lifestone, Malkil's eyes blaze a powerful green as he bellows.

What, this is not possible.

The flux of tiny motes of light increases with dozens leaving each moment, and the number continuing to double with pulse of the Lifestone. Snarling with rage as his eyes flare, Malkil begins to chant again, his voice reverberating through the room as he begins to seal the Lifestone, the magic in his voice almost tangible.

Lucifer slides closer to the dais as his angelic strength wanes, his body little more than a gangly bag of bones. The wind slackens as Malkil chants, the flaring pulse of the Lifestone diminishing. Lucifer exhales sharply as the pull of the wind disappears and Malkil stops chanting, the inner light gone completely from the Lifestone. Moving around the stone, Malkil moves down the steps to the floor, lifting the still pulsing red gem into his hand by will alone. Standing over Lucifer, Malkil glares down upon him.

This trinket, where did you get it, I know it is not yours, you do not possess the power or knowledge to craft a relic capable of unlocking the Lifestone. WHO GAVE IT TO YOU?

Malkil screams the question as he brings his will to bear upon Lucifer's weakened mind. Lucifer's head rolls to look at Malkil, his face contorting as he tries to resist Malkil. Malkil's eyes flare as he dominates Lucifer's will, the withered angel's face contorting and his eyes defiant as his mouth begins to speak of its own volition.

The one known as, Vorach, agent of the Pantheon.

Malkil snarls in rage at the sound of the cursed interfering vampire who along with the Pantheon sealed his power and banished him from the realm of Elrond, spanning him across dimensions.

Turning away, Malkil glares at the Lifestone, although it had lost only meagre power, it was disturbing, the stone's existence would be a constant danger to his power, and he was sure that any attempt to destroy it woud call the unwanted attention of its owner. Turning back to Lucifer, Malkil glared at him, he ha dbegun to regenerate and in a matter of hours would be at full power again.

I have no further use for you, return to the Hell that you crawled from.

Waving his hand a pool of grey nothingness opened upon the floor beneath Lucifer, engulfing him.

Malkil fumed, his eyes fierce as he stared at the small gem in his hand, it would need to be sealed, exactly how he was unsure, though he was sure that it would take time.

Malkil stood silently within the rear chamber of his throne room his arms folded behind his back as he stared into the astral mirror, the reflection showing his necro-mage slave in the alchemy laboratory as his lich child assistant turned a small knob nervously before running to stand behind the lich, covering her eyes with the back of his robe. Two volatile and deadly liquids, one red and one green began to distill into a crystal vial, mixing in the process. The solution seemed to arc with tiny bolts of lightning and bubble for a moment before the vial exploded, the liquid spraying over the necro-mage. The spray struck a wall of force just inches before the creature, the spray liquifying on contact, running in large rivulets down to the marble floor where it hissed and smoked on contact. The mirror's reflection scanned the laboratory in response to Malkil's will, the book was not there. Malkil's eyes narrowed as his irises blazed, his anger barely contained, the reflection shifted to show the lich child. WIth controlled calmness he spoke, the words carrying into the laboratory.

Go to the library my dear and find Asharak's spell book, it is small and bound in red dragonskin. It is in the east wing, go, quickly now.

The lich girl stared up at the ornately buttressed ceiling then nodded, her jaw snapping as she tried to speak but could not without a tongue. Immediately she hurried from the room, her bone feet clicking on the marble floor, as the image shifted to the arch-lich wizard. Malkil muttered a word and arcs of green lightning sprang upward from the ground, raking the necro-mage. The lich hissed and convulsed in agony as acrid black smoke rose from it's smouldering robes.

I told you to use Asharak's manual, though you choose to defy me, have you not learned that your rebellious behaviour will only bring you suffering. Prepare the test again, and follow the book to the letter. Fail again and I will confine you to the holy altar in the mines again, perhaps permanently.

The lich rose unsteadily to it's feet, bowed and moved to the still where the vial had sat and began preparing the experiment again, the memories of the agonising pain it felt from being confined in the oppressive atmosphere in the underground chapel flooding back into its mind. Although it suffered no permanent harm from being within the holy site, only a maddening aching in its temples and extreme lethargy in body and mind, it was an expeience the lich would rather not re-unlive.

Nestling his staff in the crook of his neck as he leaned upon it slightly, the scene in the mirror clouded over as Malkil turned his focus to the lower dungeon where the great titan Gozer hung, his body ravaged by toxins which his body produced cures for but were drawn out of him by Malkil's magics. The mirror clouded again and revealed a razed tower and a dozen Black Slayers and vampiric monks riding away from the site. The Black Slayers' horses are enormous, almost twice the size of those ridden by the monks. Within their saddle bags they carry tomes of magic and dozens of scrolls, artifacts, relics, and magical trinkets. Malkil smiled cruelly as he watched plumes of black smoke rise into the night sky, the mighty seeress Saerade destroyed as a result of her refusal to swear fealty. A slight zephyr shifted his robes as he watched teh ruins of the tower burn, upon the wind came a whisper, a voice calling for him, summoning him to the Black Citadel. Focussing his mind on the dark temple the mirror revealed the throne room and its inhabitants. As his gaze surveyed them he almost spat in rage as the mirror focusses on the figure of Vorach. Narrowing his eyes he stalks forward into the mirrors surface, appearing within the throne room.

Vorach turned to DeAnna, his fce grim for a moment before being split by an easy smile.

[Color=sky blue]We are upon the world of Elrond, a beautiful realm, though much of it is ruled by a cruel tyrant, a powerful arch-wizard named Malkil. One who is in possession of a certain artifact, one which I hope to use to test my theory regarding Her Servant.[/color]

Turning away he headed to the entrance of the cave the World Pool was located in, seeing the last light of the sun being blocked by an immense claw shape rising into the heavens.

DeAnna stood next to Vorach, unsure of what, or why she was needed here. Although she decided that maybe her help would be needed and decided to follow Vorach, hoping he could teach her some more. She knows that this realm is more powerful than she could ever imagine.

Orchid appers from the shadows with her head down and her eyes closed .
She smiles and slowly walks over to Vorach and the beautiful DeAnna and smiles .

"Good day "

She said with a smile on her face she slowly opens her eyes
she looks a little pale and a little sick .
but she puts that a side and tells Vorach

"I have to thank you for telling that brat that she was not a good host , Thank you that was very nice of you "

DeAnna stood beside Vorach, she looked across at Orchid and gave her a cunning smile.
This place where she is now is strange to her and DeAnna doesn't know what is expected of her, she is a little scared inside but tries not to show it, she has shown enough of her long lost mortal side, DeAnna thinks its time to leave that behind and accept what she is. Although over the last few nights that has been easy for her.
She looked at Vorach, know he can hear her thoughts, feel her fear, even though she tries to hide it.
She walks to the edge of the cave, and looks at the moonlight. Where are we to go Vorach, why are we here?? Concern crosses her face as she feels the warm breeze of the night air, and she waits for Vorachs reply.