Prelude

"Amongst the stars resides the power I need. To hold the world in my hands I needn't a sphere of the elements, but that of which separates this world from the rest." A disembodied voice remarked in a guttural tone. The otherworldly voice abruptly broke through harmonious chants of those upon their knees in reverent worship. The cool stone of the cavern floor met their brow as they swept into a low bow, mumbling worship of the greatest evils and demonic power. Before them was an alter, from where the voice emitted.

'Rise, Ifer, so we may help you complete your task… Z'horgeng'' Ifer jeong'anmel ulfrangi dem'onanu..' They muttered into the stone, their voices fearful and yet full of praise. Again, they repeated their worship, and again. The abrupt voice did not deter them from their summons, but rather instructed them.

"Rise, my puppets and let me guide you. Provide me with aid, allow me to reclaim my throne within the darkest depths of this world. Retrieve what I request, and you shall receive the power you ask." The voice declared thickly.

Several of the robed worshipers rose to their feet and bowed briefly in acknowledgement, as they knew better than to interrupt the summons with meaningless speech. Hurriedly, the worshipers scrambled down the ancient steps descending into lower caverns. One of the worshippers called out in foreign tongue and within moments, a low rumble sang through the cavern. As though it were glass, the walls and floor shattered as limbs of the undead forced their way to the surface. Their ebony bones took no injury despite the feat. Skeletons, they were. Their eyes illuminated a fiery red. Atop their heads rested helmets dark as their bones, dented, scratched and stained with stale blood. Their torsos were suited with armor similar to that of their helmets, and in the same condition too. They had no pelvis, much less legs. There was nothing more than a black smoke seeping from the base of their spines. This same smoke poured from many of their features: their armor, their jaws and their blades.

The room echoed with undead groans. The creatures' joints grinded with age and forgotten movements. One of the cloaked worshipers stepped forward, his voice rippling with an oh so familiar bloodlust. "Ye heard ye'r master. We begin with da woodlands."