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| - Shakroh watched from the balcony of Gloomfort, counting the stars in the ink black sky of Umbra. The realm was the darkest of all the realms in the Sephirius Galaxy. The trees were dead throughout the year and the roads were cracked, the buildings broken. The Gloomfort was the worst building there was in Umbra. Shakroh was the God of Umbra, The Lord of Darkness and despair. He who had taken the current form of a Necron Warrior, who were his guardians.He had created the realm many aeons ago. That had been a long time ago. It was good to be resurrected. It was good to be home. Shakroh wasn't just whiling away time watching the stars, he was preparing a strategy. He needed this strategy desperately. For there was a war coming soon. He heard approaching footsteps and turned round to see his most trusted guardian. Commander Blackthorn joined him in the balcony. The commander was a man not to be trifled with. Standing eight feet tall with arms as wide as sledgehammers, Blackthorn gave the creeps to many people in Ravensville. But the god knew his men. 'Your Eminence, everything is happening according to our plan. We just have to wait for Sir Grimskull's troops to appear. And we all know that Sir Grimskull is a man of his words. All we need is patience, your Eminence.' It was true. Sir Grimskull was a noble knight and was the commander of King Duncan's army. After Duncan's fall, and as he had no heir to take his throne, Grimskull was acting as the king in legal issues and there was no one who objected it. But no one knew that the knight was just a puppet controlled by the guardians. Shakroh gazed at the crowd in the streets which were clogged by filthy water. Umbra was a realm in which no one trusted one another. But things would soon change, if things went according to the plan. He smiled to himself. He just had to be patient... The wanderer turned another corner. He'd been doing this for two days, walking around the woods of Gloss Grove, looking for the artifact that had created his Goddess. He reached a clearing. The atmosphere was thick with mist and the lake was almost invisible beneath it. A figure appeared in the mist. The mist parted briefly, as the tramp walked towards him. 'Who're ya? What da ya want? I-I ain't no nothing....', .the person from the mist started. The wanderer was genuinely surprised to see another wanderer in the forest, this one the real one. The fake wanderer cocked his head and examined the poor wanderer. 'Where is the sceptre?', he asked. The real wanderer looked wildly at the fake one. 'Sceptre? Never heard 'bout sceptres.' 'Tell me, or die by my sword!' Before the real wanderer could reply, the fake one saw the sceptre hidden beneath a pile of leaves. 'That's mine, mister', cried the wanderer.'My shiny stick!' The fake one lashed out with his legs and the wanderer fell back howling in pain. He grabbed the sceptre and managed a faint smile. His mistress would be pleased if she knew about this. She needed it for the War. Harris Beckham watched the unconscious wanderer for a moment and then left the forest, thinking about his reward. The cold was unimaginable. It was nothing new in Fernea. Fernea was supposed to be the coldest realm in the Sephirius Galaxy. The man trudged along the ice-covered path. He was flanked by his personal bodyguards,the Frostbringers. He eyed the people warily as he went past the various stalls and stores that were shut down due to the harsh climate. The people seemed uneasy which was understandable due to the temperature. Elysius Strakos was the champion of the warriors. He was one of the guardians of Yatna, called the Reprens. The legendary warrior had traversed all of Fernea to seek his Goddess. The time had come. He had to meet the Goddess. It was required for the War. Elysius entered the hut, where Yatna resided, in order to avoid the teeming crowd of the suburb. His bodyguards retreated instantly. The goddess Yatna nodded to him. Yatna was the Mistress of Vengeance and hatred. 'The armies are heading to Gertanja, my lady. They shall camp there until they receive your word. With respect, when are you going to send them to the War?',Elysius the leader of the Reprens asked. Gertanja was the coldest part of the coldest realm. It was the side that looked on to the other realms of Sephirius Galaxy. 'The War is yet to begin but I have planned to strike first, starting with the useless realm of Dragonlore. How I despise those scaly Dragonoids! They shall feel my wrath first! And I am sure they wouldn't forget it for an eon! When will Tina come?' Tina was the sister of Elysius. Though the siblings had parted ways when they were just children, they still remained in contact in order to aid the Goddess of Revenge. In contrast to her brother, Tina was a master strategist. 'Tina is on her way from Ice Town. I have asked her to meet you in person' The goddess nodded. 'Good. In the mean time, make sure that no one hears about this news. It could stir the uneasy crowd'. With that she strode off into the snowy landscape. Spectra was known in many names. Blood Lust, Burngazer, Soulsnatcher...the list was endless. He was feared by most of the other three main realms of the Sephirius Galaxy. His notorious adventures were even known in distant galaxies. He conquered millions of realms, in par with the mad ruler Kormos. He was never known for showing mercy. Such was the God of Tyranny, the conquerer of many realms, the champion of the dragons. But many realms just wouldn't give up. Yatna did not fear him. She was a unique one. She constantly pestered him and he was growing tired of such a nuisance. She wants revenge for what happened thousands of years ago, he thought. But she wasn't important right now. It was the gods of Gielinor who needed to be taken care of. That isn't going to be easy, he reflected. He still couldn't understand the prospect of this upcoming war. Was this really necessary? Did they really need it so badly? To him it was amusing. They finally have the guts to face off against him. Well he would show them the results. After all, this war meant nothing to him. He just needed to protect his followers and the citizens of Dragonlore. Now, Lord Drakan stood in the beach pondering it all. The lava waves crashed against the rocky shore, ashes spreading in the breeze. He already knew how the War would end.
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