The sun finally rose on this day. The last day before the war began, although none of them knew it yet. As wedding preparations were finishing up, Dememoras's own preparations were beginning. After much talk with the three dragons in his own dimension, Dememoras, the one who was, in many ways, the very first Dracon, decided to finally show them his true form. It was known by those who were closest to him that Dememoras's for was mutable. He could assume different shapes, although most of them were of a black-scaled creature with long horns whose body emitted palpable darkness as if it was a black gas. He was an undead being in that he no longer lived the life he had before. His body was not animated by a natural force, nor was he dependent on a heart, lungs, or blood. It would not do to call him a lich, either, at least, not the kind of lich that most mages knew of, the undead spellcaster who hid his soul outside of his body.
No, this evil was beyond life and death. Dememoras, the creation chosen by a rogue faction of creators to become a ruler of his people, the one who styled himself a king, then a god, now sought to be an emperor, a ruler of kings, a king of kings, and to have all bow before him. He had waited a long time, now he would act.
"The time is upon us! We shall depart this dimension to gather the armies."
The three dragons were mighty beasts, and yet, they could do nothing as Dememoras waved his arm and in a flash of red, teleported them all into another dimension of his devising; a great hall made of a black rock, large enough to hold over 100,000 dracons. The Dark Master appeared on a throne at end of the hall, sitting on a seat of iron. Looking around, none of the dragons could see any windows or any light source. Soon, it dawned on them that the hall WAS the dimension, and the
arches on either side of the hall were gateways from other planes. This was the Obsidian Hall, a sight no one not destined for the inferno has ever seen.
Dememoras himself began to transform... and GROW! His 2.5 meter frame swelled until it had reached a full 15 meters tall. The throne grew in proportion with him. His horns extended in length, curling around several times. Several more of the black horns appeared until seven had grown out of his head. Spikes emerged from his body as he changed shape, his tail grew a stinger at the end which was made out of the same black material as his horns and spikes, while at the same time, his claws and limbs, which looked like those of a normal dracon at first, darkened and sharpened until they bore more resemblance to a dragon's limbs, although he still had opposable thumbs. The Dark Master's eyes turned red and began to glow as his face changed shape. His mouth grew more and larger fangs, his tongue grew longer, and when he opened his mouth, one could see flame on the inside. Finally, two huge, dragon-like wings extended from his back, the same color as his body.
This was not the creature the warrior had slain millenia ago. No. Dememoras was incomparably different now. His power had grown to unimaginable heights after thousands of years of magical study and growth. Exposure to the magic of dark dimensions changed him; absorbing the power of the arcane had given him ability far beyond any Dracon archmage, and his power was truly like unto a deity. He was not invincible, however, and so, he called in his armies. The dragons in the hall could only watch in awe as the four corners of the hall filled with representatives of four different groups.
The first was the Spellforged army. Stepping out of the many arches in the northwest corner of the room, the dragons could see Dracons with swords, shields, and armor. To a common observer, these would look like typical warriors, but the dragons knew better; being creatures of magic themselves, they could sense that every one of these dracons was enchanted by powerful magics. Each of them was faster, stronger, and more powerful than a normal Dracon by a factor of three. Their leader, a huge beast of 2.5 meters in height, wielded a gigantic sword, enough to slice a human in half in but one swing. This was Frivinus, whose named was derived from the Draconic "frivin" or "conquer." The brown-skinned tyrant was one of four generals who led Dememoras's main armies, not including thousands of additional agents and creatures the so-called "god" had at his disposal. He was merciless, deadly, and a strategic genius.
A second group walked through the arches to the northwest. This was the Runemarked army, another group of dracons, each one dressed in tribal gear, but with strange patterns etched into their skin. Upon examination, each mark was a tattoo that had been placed into these warriors. It was not an uncommon practice for dracon elites to enhance their strength further by using enchanted ink to capture magic, and then insert that magic into their flesh by tattooing it in a magically-significant pattern. None of the dragons recognized the markings in their flesh, though; Dememoras's knowledge was truly great to do this. The symbols called forth different powers, and each of the Runemarked warriors had different abilities derived from their markings, in a variety of different degrees. This army was led by a powerful mage, more dangerous than almost any magic user in Minbenthac, a Dracon of normal height, but abnormal powers. His green-skinned body was covered in runes
of every color from head to toe, and these patterns kept changing colors every few seconds. This was Nugri, whose name translated as "hunger" or, more appropriately, "famine." A methodical killer, he had once been known as "the poisoner", and frequently toxified water supplies in poor regions of the world just to see what the effects would be on his unwilling test subjects.
Worse still, another group came forward. Were those dracons?! Emerging from the southeast were a collection of massive creatures, each as tall as Dememoras himself had been in his earlier form, each one 2.5 meters tall. These creatures were Dracon in form if not in size, and yet, had wings, metal armor, and could fly. Normally, one would think such could not be, and yet, it was. Dememoras had made this army in the image what he wished to be for his race, a draconic race which could fly... and breathe fire. Led by Aryte, whose name meant "war", the massive, red-skinned dracon exhaled smoke as he rallied his forces.
So far, each of the armies numbered 25,000. These were the elites of each army, and many of the officers. Each force was roughly 200,000 strong. Multiplied by four armies, and adding another 200,000 or so special agents and other forces at his disposal, Dememoras had over a million men at his call, and another half a million would support him in a war, assuming that the corrupted cities and nobles made good on their pledges to send him troops.
Each army was fed by recruits from a different source; corrupted warriors from civilized armies and soldiers sent from turncoat nobles and kings supplied numbers for the spellforged army, while corrupted tribal dracons supplied warriors for the runemarked forces. Colonies of dracons living under the rule of the dark master and his mages, such as Asthia's forces had been, supplied the material for the Dragonblooded army... but the worst was yet to come.
From out of the southwest corner marched a horde of dracons with glowing eyes and long, curled horns. Possessed of unnatural strength and extra-sharp fangs, these were not the largest of the armies in terms of physical size, nor the most powerful in terms of magical enhancement, yet they were the most dangerous. Armed with moderately heavy weapons and armor, they were not the best equipped, yet hardly the worst. Each of them could drain life with but a touch, and when each of them had the chance to devour the living, they would grow in might and power, changing in size and strength, and gaining any sort of a wide variety of powers, based on their heritage, which would manifest when blood had been spilled by them, and the lifeforce stolen. This was the Demonbred army, the result of an unnatural breeding program undertaken by Dememoras himself. He had personally seen to the creation of these creatures, using his own magic and, with some other powerful demons, his own genetic material to create these forces. Conjured in pools of magical fluids, none of them had true parents. Nature itself was defiled, twisted, and yoked to the will of the Dark Master to create these horrors. At their head was a creature, far worse than the other generals. The closest thing Dememoras had to a son, in ways, he WAS Dememoras's son, as he had been conjured out of half of his genes. This was Lowan, a hideous Dracon with glowing green eyes, gray skin, and horns that curved like Dememoras's. Like his "father", he also had wings, spikes, and a stinger at the end of his tail.
Altogether, there were 100,000 dracons in the Obsidian Hall, plus the three Dragons. The Dark Master himself spoke in a voice which was like a volcano erupting.
"I am a god. The God of the universe. Anyone who goes against my divine goals is to be destroyed."
The armies in the room let out a collective cheer, a loud roar that shook the mighty walls of the hall.
"I am perfect. My will is absolute. All who even think to oppose me shall die. Runemarked army! Your warriors have done a good job in the past, and have even been privileged to don the equipment reserved for the other forces. You have won favor in my sight. We shall move against Minbenthac with the force of a thousand hammers. Tomorrow, I shall send out an initial force to test their defenses. You three Dragons will play a major role in this."
The red, green and blue dragons had been helpless spectators to the event thus far. Now it was their turn to act.
"Speak not! I shall give the orders here, and you shall obey them. None will address me directly until I grant them leave. The coming war will purify our race. We shall kill off all those unfit to live, and leave only the strong. The branches of the Dracon tree have gone unpruned for too long. Like always, only the strong will survive in this world. We don't need the tears of the weak. The whole world will become my empire for the strong, and will give birth to the invincible."
This brought about another cheer from the 100,000 forces gathered before him. Then, rising from his throne, Dememoras spoke again.
"Behold!"
With that, a beam of light emerged from his right hand and moved to the center of the hall. The soldiers in the way were quickly pushed aside, unharmed. The light reshaped itself into the form of a giant screen, upon which the figure of Adykon appeared.
"This warrior is the only one who can either make or break my plans. If he joins us, we will rule forever. If he opposes us, we can still win, although there it is not assured. He must join us of his own free will if he is to come to our side. For this, we must break his spirit. Take from him everything he cherishes, destroy his faith, leave him bereft of all he has. Then, when he is at his weakest, we shall claim him as our own. I have already taken his lover from him, and shall take those he has befriended as well. I will leave him with no city, no refuge, no resource. Even if he flees Minbenthac, there will be nowhere for him to hide. He shall fall into my hands, and I will mold him like clay."
Sitting down on his throne, Dememoras continued as the image changed from one warrior to another, this time, the screen showed the form of Eriol.
"There is another who opposes us. There is no reason to believe that HE is the warrior of destiny, yet I sense that he will be a danger if he is not stopped. He has already lost his love, only to find her again. How soon will he learn that I can take whatever he has with but a thought. I won't have to take her away as I have done to Adykon, this one doesn't even really HAVE her! How soon will he learn the truth, and when he does, it will shatter him like glass!"
The screen faded as Dememoras addressed the three dragons.
"Each of you will command a force in the initial attack! The generals of the four armies will stay with me." Without even bothering to address them by name, the Dark Master ordered each dragon to command a force.
"Red Dragon, you shall command 5,000 soldiers of the Dragonblooded army. Blue Dragon, you shall command 5,000 warriors of the Runemarked army. Green Dragon, you shall command 5,000 troops of the Spellmarked army. The Demonbred army already has a commander in Minbenthac, waiting to command them, someone very close to Adykon and the rest. 5,000 members of that army will attack as well. I do not intend for this force to succeed, nor do I expect Adykon to give into me in the next few days; this is a test of our might and theirs. When I can see exactly what to do, I shall unleash the FULL FURY of our forces, and we shall assuredly triumph! "
A loud cheer arose from the halls, as Dememoras smiled. It was the first smile on his face in a millennium...
Meanwhile, in the palace of the King of Minbenthac, Kluthu, the king's archmage felt a sudden sick feeling in his stomach. Far away, in Ophion's shop, Aurescia felt it too. Something was horribly wrong. Mages of sufficient power could feel it all over, and those of lesser power could feel something as well. Vespion felt a slight sense of unease. The high priest of the temple felt like he had had too much to drink, despite not having touched any alcohol, and then, Kravik, who was in the middle of "seeing" one of the temple's Hierodules, felt too ill to continue, and stopped, much to her surprise. Getting up, the mage who had once been with Adykon and Rhiga now wondered in fear about the future. Silverfang, a mage in the Order of the Silver Claw, went to go check on the pool of foresight, hoping to gain more information about the impending danger.
Minbenthac had stood as a proud city for many centuries. No one had even doubted that it would continue to stand. For the first time in countless years, its very existence was in danger.
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