2008-10-31: Mistress of Darkness
“She will be pleased,” Melissa softly intoned, accepting the shimmering jewel from the dirtied hands of a weary soldier. Her followers pressed together in the dark chamber, the light from their torches didn't seem to penetrate far into the darkness where their newfound leader stood.
“This,” she began, raising it up above her in outstretched hands, “is the key to our victory!”
The faction sigil glowed a deep red, casting a malevolent light down into Melissa's hooded face. “With these at our command, we will conquer the cowards who fled this land so long ago!”
“Their haven, their precious Trammel, shall crumble before us!”
She brought the sigil down to her chest and began chanting. Her followers caught its rhythm and joined in a growing chorus. Words flowed and were forgotten, yet magic gathered around them, seeping through the midst like tendrils of fog.
“We will wake the sleeping Britannia!” and the darkness behind Melissa burst apart.
A dragon had appeared before them, standing, vast and majestic, behind the small figure of their leader. Knees, heads, and hands hit the floor as the dragon fear took hold. Never had any of them seen something, felt something, of its like. A crimson dragon, the very embodiment of chaos.
Melissa gestured behind her: “You witness our allies! Our Mistress promised: 'That the peoples of Britannia shall know fear!'” She eyed them as the dragon breathed, “We are that promise!”
Voices erupted as the magical fear subsided, shouting, screaming, tinged with bloodlust.
“We shall wake them into our nightmare!”
She turned, proffering the sigil to the entity behind her. A single talon stretched out, and gently touched the artifact. The room went dark, then exploded with energy.
A rift had formed before the humbled followers of the Shadowlords. Beyond the hazy outlines they could see green pastures beneath an azure sky. A world they had never been to, a world they knew they hated.
The dragon roared, commanding all, “It is done, go forth!”
