Far on the North of Rezonaoth, something else was happening. The land here touched the other side of the World Sea, but was very quiet. Fields of yellow, long grass were everywhere, and rabbits, deer, voles, and skunks all wandered through the long grass. However, something else was here. A huge tower sat on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was very old, with moss and vines growing all over its bricks. It was a dull black in color and at least thirty feet tall. It was called the Black Tower by locals, who stayed as far away from it as possible.

It was good that they did. Recently, in the last month or so, someone had arrived to this old place. Undead were walking through the grass around the Black Tower, in search of food. Their gurgling was loud here, because there were so many of them in one place. Skeletons were standing around the tower, clutching axes, swords, and pikestaffs. Two skeletons in the remains of some bulky chest armor, stood at either side of the giant iron door. They each carried a double-headed axe and waited for an intruder to make itself known.

On top of the tower, two skeletons stood motionlessly, a crossbow clutched in each of their bony hands. They wore the remains of Ranger outfits, and scanned the grasses for any sign of anything that did not belong.

Inside the tower itself, a figure walked up the giant winding staircase that went from the tower's top to bottom. This figure wore the red cloak of the Cult of the Damned and moved with elegant grace. She was the second-in-command of the Cult's forces and reported everything directly to the High Necromancer himself.

Her name was Valune and Voree had been her brother. She put away the orb she had been using moments before and finally came to the top of the stairs. A huge rusty door was in front of her, two skeletons guarding it. The skeletons looked at her once, before stepping aside to let their commander through. Valune strode forward and pushed the door open with a wave of her hand. She then stepped into the giant room at the top of the tower. The High Necromancer's room.

The room was very bare. The walls were dark, and the paint that must have once lit it up was fading. Small candles flickered on the walls, their holders carved to look like all sorts of demons. A single table was at the center of the room, with jars containing strange liquids of all different colors. No other forms of furniture were here.

But what stood out most was the figure standing across the room, his back to Velune. He wore a red cloak over his himself, the back of the cloak decorated with strange symbols drawn in blood. His hands were not hands of flesh and bone, but hands of metal. He turned slowly, almost seeming to sense Velune's presence, even though she had not made a single sound. He faced Velune, and others might have screamed at the sight of his face. But not Velune.

His face was completely made of metal, and had no human features on it, save for two eyeholes that showed two glaring red eyes. The Sign of the Demon were carved into the top of the metal face, and he spoke, his voice whispery and dark.

"What is it, commander?" The High Necromancer said.

Valune bowed. "My lord," She said. "Irthius has been found in Troll Country, torn to pieces by those animals called trolls. He has failed in his mission."

"Pity," The High Necromancer said. "But Irthius was expendable. He was a low-ranked servant and I wished him to only test the orc's defenses. See how strong they truly were. They have proven to be a good sacrifice. Our next assault on them will be a full-fledged assault."

Valune nodded. "My lord, do you wish to reanimate Irthius as an undead?"

"No," The High Necromancer said. "He shall not be rewarded. Leave his corpse to rot in that swampland. He proved himself unworthy and we leave the weak behind."

Suddenly, a dark shape landed on the open window. It was an imp, a small little animal that lived in dark places, but could stand the light if need be. It was about about two feet tall, and had two small curled horns on its tiny head. It had a beak for a mouth, full of small, needle-like teeth. Its eyes were large and glowed with a yellow color. It had two small arms, with three fingers, and a tiny forked tail. It hissed and chattered in the High Necromancer's direction.

The High Necromancer narrowed his eyes. "What?" He said. "That's impossible!"

He turned to Valune and said, "Valune, leave me. I need to contact our lord."

Valune bowed again and quickly turned around and left. The giant door closed behind her with a creak.

The High Necromancer, now alone, save for his imp, snapped his figures. A little metal box sitting on the only table in the room shook, and a tiny white mouse floated out of it, squealing in alarm. The mouse floated across the room towards the imp, until when it was a few inches away, the imp snatched the mouse out of the air with its little hands. It then bit off the mouse's head with its sharp little beat and began to chew the head apart in a mess of blood.

The High Necromancer then turned to the dull, blank wall and said an ancient incantation, known to few and all those who practiced demonic arts could even hope to so much as here of it. "Vanoole Man'Sha Kaizon." The High Necromancer said.

Instantly, there was a giant flash. The imp screeched, jumping off the window in fear and flying into a tree near the tower. Red lightning struck the walls, and there a giant roar, louder then any beast could hope to roar. The room turned hotter, and there was a crackle of energy in the air. Suddenly, a huge portal opened in front of the High Necromancer, splitting open with a giant crackle and revealing a monstrous pair of eyes that were made of fire. They were so large they made the High Necromancer look like an insect. But the High Necromancer showed, no fear, nor felt any. He felt only respect and admiration.

He bowed low to the ground. "Master," The High Necromancer said. "I have come to report what is happening."

"Then do so, my loyal servant." A voice thundered from wherever its owner lay.

The High Necromancer nodded. "V'Shir has failed," He said. "His attempt to destroy the Knight's has gotten him killed, along with all his crew. Although he did considerable damage to the Knight's ship and killed most of the crew, several still live and are only a few miles away from Thiroth."

"The Knights are tougher foes then we anticipated," The voice rumbled. "We may have to push forward with the plans sooner then I had planned for. You must re summon us within a few days."

"A few days, master?" The High Necromancer said. "But you said during our last talk that you were not yet at full power. You said you still needed much more time."

"My plans have changed," The voice rumbled. "That fool G'Lorsoth has forced my handed earlier then anticipated. His actions have alerted this world of my plans and I must act upon them before the mortals find a way to stop me."

"Of course, master," The High Necromancer said. "Your orders shall be carried out. Our army of undead grows by the minute and we have already destroyed several towns."

"You are a loyal servant, Markim," The voice rumbled. "I shall see you well rewarded for these efforts upon my return."

"You have already rewarded me enough by restoring me to life, master," The High Necromancer said. "And by starting to re grow my features to become the elf I once was."

"Your humbleness is extraordinary," The voice rumbled. "Still, I shall give you something when you summon my army. I shall follow soon after. This world shall fall before me. And this time, the dragons shall not stop me and my power!"

"You are right, my lord," The High Necromancer responded. "I shall begin to gather our forces to launch the assault. I shall report back when I am beginning the journey to the Flats."

"Good luck," The voice rumbled, a bit of menace suddenly coming into it that made the High Necromancer shiver with fear. "And remember, DO NOT FAIL." The portal then rippled, crackled, and disappeared in a flash of red light.