The coming of the LORDS of the DEAD

“The sky was filled with darkness, and the wind bit to the bone. King Divinius, master of Castle Mont’Callahie West, and Lord of its peoples, looked to the west, and he knew despair.”

-- Or so Ahmed the Mad Bard tells it. . .

None expected the rise of the Lords of the Dead. It was a concept so improbable that it never appeared in the minds of men. For it was a time that humanity swept over the land, and all the races either fell beneath their blades, or bent their knees before their banners. Prosperity and victory were all that was known to the humans, and they rejoiced in their divinity. But of course, there was always death. No matter how great a Lord, nor how fair a Lady, none could escape death when it called for them. But this was natural.

The Lords of the Dead, however, were a blight in the very soul of all that was natural.

From across the ocean came five beings that bled decay and death. Creatures who breathed vile toxins into the air, and whose gaze withered the souls of heroes to dust. Thanatos, Libitnia, Bellicosus, Discordia, and the Nameless One. The five that brought with them the Age of Twilight, and devoured souls with ever-more hunger and cruelty.

With them came an army of walking dead, harvested from all the races of two continents. And with each new death, their army grew.

Humanity now knew fear. As wave after wave of dead solders broke against their castle walls, taking heavy tolls every time, the guardians of the land knew that they had no hope to survive this menace. And they fell. Their neighbors to the North were soon to follow. And every kingdom that the dead came across died to the last.

The dead, it seemed, were unstoppable. . .

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