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Dharkon kneels before the unholy statue of Lloth for his daily prayers. He prostrates himself before the mighty idol and begins his chanting. Suddenly an unseen force grabs him by the throat and launches up in the air. Opening his eyes, he sees a great Yochol before him, her rubbery tentacles holding him tight. Gasping for air, he notices that her mere touch is burning into his fragile flesh and at the same time, chilling his immortal soul. She stares intently at him for a moment, as a Drow would stare at a puny fly, and then flings him against the back temple wall. When the Hand Maiden starts speaking, his mind wants to shut down from the searing pain of the words. “Pathetic Fools! Can’t your puny brains see the rise in power of the dragons or the new powerful allies of the woodland dwellers?” Trying to speak, Dharkon gets back upon his feet but she just slaps him down with a tentacle and more pain rocks his body as she says: “Apparently the spread of the Spider Queen’s Web is less important than petty bickering and in fighting!” Suddenly the Yochol grabs him by the waist and brings him up to her lidless eye. The next few words she utters rocks Dharkon’s entire being. “Tell the Guild Masters that She is watching! Lloth expects the power of the Shadow Legion to spread across the land or she will find others to do her bidding!” The Hand Maiden punctuates her point by slamming him up against the ceiling and letting him crash into the ground. When Dharkon regains conscience he is laying on the floor, alone in the temple. Rising to his feet, he thinks of the daunting task before him. How could he, a minor minion, stop a potential civil war? Shaking his head, he begins to limp out of the building and as he crosses the threshold he hears a dark whisper. “Lloth expects you to succeed or to burn in dark fire of your failure!”
Nemo saltat sobrius nisi forte insanit
Laughing as the Black Guard severed the head of the goblin, Throg picked up the magic axe. Sneering at the lifeless body of King Glork he murmured, “This task is well below a Dark Lord.” His master had sent him on a mission to gather artifacts for the guild. All he had found, so far, were small magic trinkets and this feeble battle axe. He pictured Dharkon’s head instead, in the dirt and his master’s Darkblade in the palm of his hand. This brought a twisted smile to his face until he remembered the time he had challenged the guild’s new master.
The Lords of Darkness were gathered to confirm the rule of Dharkon. With the disappearance of the first Dark Master and his Lieutenant the power of the Dark Throne rested with the Githyanki and the rest of the guild was not pleased. Throg could barely hide his contempt as the Drow priestess placed the onyx crown on the fighter’s head. Then, at the end of the ceremony, Throg stood up and proclaimed Dharkon placating and weak. He shouted that the Lords of the Shadow Legion should be slaying all their enemies, laying siege to Never Summer city and razing the surrounding fields. Dharkon should be leading the charge not brokering weak deals with outsiders. He pointed out the dwindling numbers of Dark Lords and their lack of resources. Finally, when Throg stated that whispers of House Del’Armgo retaking their halls was a sign of master’s ignorance and his cowardice, Dharkon reacted. Casually getting up from the throne, he walked slowly up to Throg. Before the Black Guard could draw his sword, a wave of dark psychic energy coursed to his body. His blood was on fire as he dropped to the floor. He felt Dharkon’s iron fist close around his throat and lift him to a table. He opened his eyes in time to see a curved dagger in the Gith’s hand. The metal flashed as it cut into his tongue. Then felt its cold sting as the master cut off his hands and his feet. Finally as Throg lay bleeding to death, Dharkon whispered into his ear, “Oh, yes little one you will learn your place. You have a powerful future ahead of you. Powerful indeed you may become… if I let you!”
When he came to, the Black Guard was laying in a binding point. The bright light hurt his eyes and Throg blinked several times. Then he noticed the master standing before him, smiling. After a second the Githyanki spoke, “Throg, we have a simple job for you. Travel the lands of Aetheria and gather power for the Lords of Darkness.” With that one simple statement, Dharkon turned and walked out of the room. Getting up on his feet, Thorg brushed himself off. He left the mercenary barracks and strode towards the orc caves.
Back in the present, Throg walked out of the goblin’s lair. Using the magic of teleportation book, he appeared in Avendale. The Black Guard restocked his supplies and headed towards the Giant Mountain. He would indeed gather power as he was ordered. And when he had enough dark power, Thorg would destroy Dharkon and take his rightful place on the throne of the Lords of Darkness.
The Lords of Darkness were gathered to confirm the rule of Dharkon. With the disappearance of the first Dark Master and his Lieutenant the power of the Dark Throne rested with the Githyanki and the rest of the guild was not pleased. Throg could barely hide his contempt as the Drow priestess placed the onyx crown on the fighter’s head. Then, at the end of the ceremony, Throg stood up and proclaimed Dharkon placating and weak. He shouted that the Lords of the Shadow Legion should be slaying all their enemies, laying siege to Never Summer city and razing the surrounding fields. Dharkon should be leading the charge not brokering weak deals with outsiders. He pointed out the dwindling numbers of Dark Lords and their lack of resources. Finally, when Throg stated that whispers of House Del’Armgo retaking their halls was a sign of master’s ignorance and his cowardice, Dharkon reacted. Casually getting up from the throne, he walked slowly up to Throg. Before the Black Guard could draw his sword, a wave of dark psychic energy coursed to his body. His blood was on fire as he dropped to the floor. He felt Dharkon’s iron fist close around his throat and lift him to a table. He opened his eyes in time to see a curved dagger in the Gith’s hand. The metal flashed as it cut into his tongue. Then felt its cold sting as the master cut off his hands and his feet. Finally as Throg lay bleeding to death, Dharkon whispered into his ear, “Oh, yes little one you will learn your place. You have a powerful future ahead of you. Powerful indeed you may become… if I let you!”
When he came to, the Black Guard was laying in a binding point. The bright light hurt his eyes and Throg blinked several times. Then he noticed the master standing before him, smiling. After a second the Githyanki spoke, “Throg, we have a simple job for you. Travel the lands of Aetheria and gather power for the Lords of Darkness.” With that one simple statement, Dharkon turned and walked out of the room. Getting up on his feet, Thorg brushed himself off. He left the mercenary barracks and strode towards the orc caves.
Back in the present, Throg walked out of the goblin’s lair. Using the magic of teleportation book, he appeared in Avendale. The Black Guard restocked his supplies and headed towards the Giant Mountain. He would indeed gather power as he was ordered. And when he had enough dark power, Thorg would destroy Dharkon and take his rightful place on the throne of the Lords of Darkness.
Nemo saltat sobrius nisi forte insanit