March of Death

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Deschain
Diabolical Doomsayer
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March of Death

Post by Deschain » Sun Feb 08, 2009 12:01 pm

Never before or after in history of Khazit was there a conflict of such magnitude that would involve so many people, so many Gods and so many deaths. Endless armies of dead continue to haunt us to this day in stories we tell to scare our children. But only few hundreds years ago the dread of the Hosts of the Dead and its masters were enough to inspire fear across continents. So who were it's masters and why and where did they appear? Is the subject of this book.

First we will start from what is widely known. Death Legion was led by several figures over the sixty years of their known existence. Originally it was led by the Lord of Death, person most widely known as Nahraman the Lifestealer. His necromantic powers made Legion rank swell with undead beasts and his powerful bindings serve to this day keeping host of his army anchored to this world, awaiting his return from the dead. First record of undead rumors can be found around 1423. but it is firm belief that those are merely legends as first records of an organized undead raids can be found 1501. in the Bloodstones left behind by the Alkar tribes of the southern Wastelands which predates the siege of Zarphen by only twenty years. It is obvious ...

Daribon White, Popular history of Khazit, the Death Legion
Nahraman waited. It was all that he could do now. He watched from his vantage point on the cliff, the last fleeting rays of sun that basked a tiny azure star of Zarphen. Below the screetches and clanks of his army echoed against the obsidian wall of the cliff. A black legion moving carefully in file of one appeared to him like nothing more than ants. And ants they were - numerous, strong, obedient and expendable. Lord of Death took another glimpse at the sun. It was dusk. The shadows of the falling sun clinged to his dark green robes, increasing the aura of dread around him. His face was gaunty filled with countless wrinkles and his hands held tattos of unknown or power. His aged appearance hid the fact that he has seen barely thirty five summers. But alas such was the price of those that dabbled in the dark arts.
The night has come. It was time to move. Nahraman quietly turned around only to find a grim figure waiting for him.

"A nice night.", the figure spoke in a chorus of voices each trying to muffle the other.
"Indeed.", Nahraman replied.

The silence condensed around them. The figure sat on a stone, wrapped in a cloak darker than night. It turned its mirror-mask towards the Lord of Death apparently amused by the awkwardness of the situation.

Nahraman broke the silence with a piercing gaze.
"So my Lord what do you wish of me?"
His reflection in the mirror-face responded in a childish manner mocking him by sticking its tongue out shortly before it melted into the mirror face. Slightly disturbed, Nahrman turned towards the tiny speckle of light Zarphen was now. Lord of Masks continued in his usual chorus-voice.
"There is a change of plans, Nahr, I will take Malgios with me. Urgent business."
"Hmm. I see. Any other change of plans?"
"No."
"Will you finish this urgent business before or after we invade?"
"Hopefully, before."

Having finished this sentence Lord of Masks suddenly dissipated leaving only behind his cloak and mirror-mask. Nahraman carefully moved closer to examine the leftovers but the mirror-mask hissed at him as he attempted to take it. It then used the cloak to take form of a black serpent and climb the upper cliffs with ease. Nahraman laughed. For all his trickstery and illusions Lord of Masks never lost his sense of humor.

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