The Return

[LimDul]

It comes now to this.

A lifetime of standing in the shadows, the mere trappings of true power. For too long, the lich Lim-Dul had sought grander things...And failed.

Yet no longer.

A summons, a grand Calling, was sent out through the void. A potent and costly sorcery, the lich had gambled a great deal in the success of this action....



Many would sense the Call.

Many would undoubtely act on it. Or against it.



Yet the one being Lim-Dul sought....had responded.

Divinations the lich had set in place shortly after his grand casting came to life, alerting him to disturbances within the mystic planes of existence to a single particular occurance: a hellish, warp-spawned creation fitting for a being of terrible power.

Gargauth.

It would take time for an answer, for a full return... Events beyond the Lich's knowing make the Hidden Lord's return one of great ordeal. The lich approximated that it would be only a handfull of days, yet he best make ready to carry out the next, and most important, part of his plan.

The lich raises a hand and hisses a word of magic, opening a mystical doorway of indigo light...

...And pauses....




Was this folly? Ovbiously, there were a great many that would contest the return of a being such as Gargauth...yet...a great many more that had no idea who, or what, Lim-Dul or Gargauth even were?

Bitterly appreciating the obscurity he had faded to, it would be ignorance that worked as his greatest shield. Ignorance at what was about to come...

...and perhaps ignorance that would allow him to gain allies once more, those to work with him and further his ambitions.

Whispering to the dark, empty air...his normally dead, hollow voice tinted with just a hint of pleasure.

"Yes..."

Stepping through the doorway, the Lich leaves the dreary confines of his musty cave. There are those he must contact, briefly, in order to make all ready.



Ready, for the return.

 

[Gargauth]

A simple glint, a shard of splitting reality, a void of un accounted energy lost to the wisdom of man. It was the warp, chaos spawned from the very plane of Pandemonium itself, fueled by the Over-God Chaos and manifested in the embodiment of natures black wrath. It was light and it was dark, it was day and it was night, it split the prime in two where a mechanician stood, this creation fit for a being such as The Lord Who Watches. Arrogance stated and slated this lich's calling as folly.

Where once that great mechanician stood there was nothing, a monument of The Hidden Lord was not in existence, air was lacking in the very coils of it's hideous crackle. The warp, so potent, so foregotten made a calling of it's own. Tugging at the consensus of those who once held it's might, wielded it's insanity and commanded it with their very heart and soul, or did it command them? The warp, it brought new meaning to this age of chaos and darkness, so abnormal to the nature of the god of Deceit and Lies yet undeniabley a part of his very existence, a creature who slew it's formations as if they were second nature to him alone. It touched, tugged at the strings of their soul, enticing them one more time, as if reminding them of what they lost and what they could once more embrace.

Events had been set in motion, and in Lim-Dul's absence his question was answered, but apon his return what would he find in waite?

Already in the far off distance, where the water never ends, where the mists of night have an endless clutch, where the fogs grasp on sight reigns supreme the water boiled and the land grew into unrest. Migrating birds, one by one fell from the sky, twitching in the throes of death whilst those events set in motion went undisturbed, whilst fish from the lake floated belly up and the females scream erupted into the night (The Lady of the Lake). The symbol of The Broken Horn was rising, steepled to a wooden shaft which proved to be the extension of a tower, undisturbed by it's years of submersion , the land itself being transformed, the lake itself being consumed, making way for the ressurection of Dark Avalon, the lost continent rising from the deapths of it's liquid grave.

 

[Gargauth]

The seas boiled over as the land itself found the swathing of liquid destruction, consumption beneath the overburdening waters of Dark Avalons resting place. Like a monument to the armageddon it arose. Vast towers purging their domain of the liquid that at one time filled their hallowed space as the flag of The Broken Horn touched the nights sky and elevated itself into the moonless night. It's once elegant roads and statuesque buildings now nothing more than time sored remnants of the past. A shell of what they once were, Dark Avalon was in ruins.

But still the flag remained, the broken horn flew, snapped in non existant winds and commanded the night, the day, and the land. Restored to it's rightful place in existence, a dark monument symbolzing The Hidden Lord, a tower over Ayenee, a foreboding remnant of not only the existence of the god of deceit and lies but those who follow, his iron fist and his lawful intentions of evil, a beacon to those who would rise to his expectations, who would seek to perfect their mortality and immortality, who would give of their self willingly to the Gargain, it would take time, but The Lord Who Watches had time, Dark Avalon would become The Hidden Lords nesting one more time.

 

[Gargauth]

An estate not only for The Lord Who Watches but a continent to those who would follow, let no man be a stranger. Stateusque monoliths of his grandest days long since forgotten told the tale of The Hidden Lord, etching his legacy into immortality, a tale of deception and lies, of terrible power, of treachery and the treacherous.

Decadent cobblestone walkways lie in cracked ruination where the heart of darkness sought it's mend. Shuttered windows collapsed open one more time to allow the world privilege to the priceless architecture and artistry that lie with in. Poems spun of his life, paintings tapestrated of his achievements, and songs orchestrated of his name. Dark Avalon lived to tell it's tale, a tale of a hell-bound heart and those who followed it unto the end of days.

Sealed from the existence of mortal eyes events were continuing their motion into a forwarded eternity.
Non-existant winds curtailed the lighter of papyrus documents, filtering the air until it came to it's permanent rest in an ebon flame that slowly dwindled away. An ashen grave reminiscent of The Hidden Lords past, a representation of all those broken promises and shattered dreams.

The Lord Who Watches touched the prime, Lim-Dul's vision, realized, The Hidden Lord was hidden, but he watched, for he was here.

 

[Gargauth]

The aparition of murder, a profile of homicide. What lie behind those basking walls of mystery was something not meant for the mortal eye. For glamour abounded the streets of Dark Avalon. Fantasies became reality and desires fulfilled. From the sex, money, and knowledge to the...deception, death, and murder. His followers experienced eutopia laced with lies.

Deep in the bowels of that marvelous castle were his expertise. A throne of elven flesh, beset by a deity of death.

Sculptures, paintings and depictions of death and murder...the real thing not so far away.

Execution to strengthen the faith of those who were waining. Fear to those less resilient. Assassination in the night to those unbelievers. His temple grew

Honey potted followers loved him for what they didn't know. For it's said "Responsibility lie with the soul" And the aparition of murder tugged the strings of all.

Responsible for the rippers of our time and past, temptations to those who just needed a little...motivation.

His gates opened, prepared in beauty and bounty for the welcome of those saved from Ayenee Capital City and anyone else, believer or not. All were welcome to the power of numbers, the strength of his words and the company of equals, the price?

The holocaust of their future.