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They say the Road to Hell is paved with good intentions.
True enough.
Too bad the Delivery route is paved with Evil ones.
It began as an idea.. An entire castle that could defend itself, arm itself, even heal itself and cast spells. It could also build itself, a monument to, and of, its enemies. The dark Cleric/Mage poured over book after book of the forbidden rites of SoulBinding, Reanimation, Condemnation. With this research, he could make his Unholy dream a reality. It would be so easy, and also nearly impossible. Finding a castle was the easy part, as the wars of times past left many an abandoned fortress lying in wait for a new owner. True, its woodwork had long-since rotted and fallen away, and its mortar and stones were covered in lichen and vines, but that did not matter, since the next step would resolve these matters, with a roof that could seal its own breaches, Walls that could catch arrows and fire them back upon invaders. Gargoyles which would capture unwary solfidiers, and add their bodies and souls to the castle whole, feeding it. It seemed so proper, so powerful.
Powerful beyond his means to build.
Paladine would never allow such a bastardization of sorcery and engineering to exist, Takhisis was unsure as to whether or not she could control it, Gilean did not like how such a construct would appear in his book, Rheorx turned his back on such a corruption of stonework, even Zivilyn who could never make a definite answer gave a resounding No. Nuritari, the mage's own God of Magic threatened to take away the man's power if he so much as began to write the scrolls required.
Only one God did not protest, but he was not about to speak out before his brethern. Chemosh saw not only merit in the design, but Opportunity as well. being the Warden of the Damned left him in the unsavory position of babysitter for the dead. Not the greatest position in the Heirarchy, and not the most looked upon either, unless something went wrong.
The mage/cleric was therefore surprised, and terrified, to see the black-cloaked figure suddenly before him, watching through a horned skull. He shook in his seat, unsure as to be terrified or greatful.
"I have looked over your proposal, Mortal." Chemosh spoke with a voice that could shake the abyss, in a manner that could make the coldest winters hot as a volcanic eruption. "And I am pleased with your research. My brethern may protest such a work of art, but I see it as an example to magic-users everywhere."
The Cleric/mage could hardly believe his ears... "Mighty Chemosh, Lord of the Dead.... You will support my work?" The Mage found his exultation rising, anticipating Chemosh's answer.
Chemosh nodded silently. "I will, and more, under two conditions." he answered, raising two bony fingers from beneath his night-black cloak.
"Name them.." the Mage replied, sliding from his seat to his knees on the floor. "Name them, and I will be Eternally Greatful to you, Lord Chemosh."
"First.." Chemosh began. "You are already off to a pleasing start, by dedicating this work to me. You will continue to do so in Mind, heart, soul, and being. In return, you will have all you need to build this Fortress." Chemosh lowered one bony fiinger, indicating the first condition had been stated.
"Anything for you, my Lorc Chemosh." the Cleric/Mage replied, shaking in overly-satisfied exultation that a God would personally support his work. He would serve Chemosh for all the days of his life.
"Second.." Chemosh continued. "You will Never leave the fortress for any reason whatsoever." Chemosh lowered his other bony finger, then withdrew his hand into his cloak.
"Of course, my Lord Chemosh. So Let it be said by thee, So may it be done. I am Forever yours to Command." The Cleric/Mage prostrated himself before Chemosh, lowering his face to the floor in humility. Had he not shown such respect, he would have seen Chemosh's skull grin with a twisted knowledge, with the fact that Chemosh had sealed the Mage's Fate, by allowing the Mage to grant him a firm foothold on the world.
Work began within a week's time, on an ancient blackstone castle located atop a cold, rugged mountain. Getting to the location had been no easy matter for the cleric-mage who was accustomed to city streets and smooth pathways. Chemosh had not promised ease, but the work would be rewarding. With the Blessing of Chemosh upon the castle's ruins, work began.
At the foot of the mountain, sheepherders, farmers, and the local villiagers watched in awe as black coulds swirled about the mountaintop, half-concealing the fortress ruins there. All remembered the reason why the original castle has been built, and told the legends of their ancestors who had stormed the castle, and exiled its black-hearted ruler.
Now, they could see someone else had taken posession of the ancient castle. A few shepherds spoke of a black-robed man who had gone to climb the mountain days before, and had never been seen again. "He's probably the one responsible for those strange clouds." other villiagers replied. "If he intends to restore the Tyrant rule once held by King Vylkrados, then we must follow in the footsteps of our ancestors, and exile Him from our land as well." Fists and voices began to raise in agreement. "Our Forefathers gave their lives for our freedom. We will Not allow their efforts to be disgraced by some dark-robed upstart." People shouted in agreement.. Villiagers, farmers, and local dwellers were called together to make plans and preparations to drive this dark newcomer from their land.
Atop the mountain, the work on the fortress continued at a dizzying pace, as Chemosh pushed his mortal protege past tolerable limits, keeping him up for days and nights at a time to set the living and undead components into place, The Cleric/mage occasionally wondered if this fortress would truly be worth the effort he was putting into it, then remembered, Chemosh alone had granted the power to do this, and, as a result, this Fortress would be stronger than any castle in existence. yes, it would be worth it. The sky around and below was darkness, concealing the Unholy Labors form the eyes of the Gods, and their mortal and immortal children. Above was a vortex blacker than the most chilling starless and moonless night, a direct Gateway into Chemosh's own realm, from which Chemosh pulled one soul after another, laughing with terrifyinglyly insane glee as the eternally tortured were dashed upon the rocks and stonework below, then melted together in the most painful manners unimaginable. The ensuing screams echoed throughout the mountaintop, and eventually down into the valley below, awakening families at night, and disrupting their quiet family time during the day. The Cleric/Mage also found himself driven nearly insane by the unearthly howling of the Damned, especially when he had to sit and study the next spells needed to aid Chemosh in their united labors. Soon, though, he brought himself to hardening his heart completely, and ignoring the painful wailing about him. He even found himself to enjoying this symphony of suffering, using it as the inspiration to improve the designs, and strengthen the structure growing around him. Within a few months, the castle was complete, and the clouds around and below dispersed, unveiling to the Villiagers in the valley the Nightmarish spectacle hidden for so long. Darkness remained over the castle, however, enhancing its demonic apearance. Standing atop the central tower, framed between the upper torsos of crossbow and sword-bearing death knights permanenty bonded to the battlements, the Black-robed sorcerer looked down upon the valley below. Behind him, Chemosh rested a cold, bony hand on the man's shoulder. "It is done, my Lord Master Chemosh, and it is Glorious."
"Remember our agreement. You Serve and Worship me Forever, and Never leave this Fortress." Chemosh replied, acknowledging the man's statement.
"You, who have made my dream come true, shall have my Servitude for all time. I shall never turn my Back to you, my Lord Chemosh, nor shall I turn away the fruits of our Labors. The Mage looked down again, then arched a brow, as lines of villiagers were gathering at the foor of the mountain. "It seems we have Visitors, my Master. Someone seems to disapprove of our work. Their lives, and sould, shall be yours."
Chemosh also looked down into the valley. "Do what you must, I will be watching, and supporting you." With that, the Warden of the Damned vanished.
Below, the Men had gathered, armed with swords, bows, even farm tools as their forefathers had once gathered. Behind them, the Women and Children had also gathered to bear witness to this day. They decided they would remember the sight of their father, husbands, sons, and neighbors departing the castle in triumph and casting the Tyrant's head to the rocks below, as their Forefathers had. the Villiage, as a result, was empty, quiet. Even the Elderly found the strength to participate and/or observe. The appointed Mayor, as well as the voted in General of the amassed force drew their well-polished swords high, then held them forward to signal the advance. For the first time in 800 years BlackStone Castle was again under seige.
Children banged on drums, Teens and young adults rang bells they carried, or let loose the echoing tones of horns. Those without instruments cried out in shouts of defiance to the new Darkness wich had come to overshadow their peaceful lives. Even the women and children got into the spirit of things, crying out wildly in support of their loved ones and friends, as the valley's population began the march up the mountainside. The echoes reached the castle above, but the Cleric/mage maintained a defiant silence, grinning, trusting in the Power of Chemosh to bring him to conquer these peasants. Peasants who would find themselves added to the might of the already unbreachable fortress.
The massed villiagers arrived at the mountaintop. As each beheld the castle before them, they began to wonder if attacking the castle so soon was so sound an idea. The very walls seemed to writhe with life, as skeletal and rotted flesh arms gripped swords and bows of various biold. Above on the battlements, the worm-eaten mouths of death knights shouted defiantly, and invitingly down at the villiagers, waving their swords, halberds, and crossbows. The Mayor and General gazed in horrifird awe at the fortress before them, and its archway comprised of interlinked bones, formed in the shape of Chemosh's head. Above, the dark Cleric/mage called down to the Villiagers.
"Who Dares approach this Castle, Formed for the Glory of Chemosh?" the mage shouted to the Villiagers below. He gripped the battlements tight, in anticipation of an easy war against these mere farmers.
"How Dare you Disrupt our peaceful Lives with this Abomination! We do not want you, Or Chemosh here, and Demand your Surrender or Departure!" the Mayor responded. The general and the villiagers all muttered in agreement.
The Cleric/Mage straightened himself, folding his arms across his chest, grinning in wicked defiance. "If you seek to Extripate me from my home with such passion, Please, be my guest to make whatever futile attempt you deem neccessary. Know this, though, any who attack my home shall condem all who have gathered here to Eternal Damnation!" Raising a hand, the Cleric/Mage called upon the Power given to him by Chemosh, then lowered his hand, fingers spread wide. A blue Aura surrounded the Mayor's newborn son. With a gesture from the mage, the baby flew from his mother's arms, up over the massed Army, higher, up inth the darkness ovvershadowing the castle. Raising hs hands high, the Cleric/Mage spoke. "Mighty Chemosh! Accept this Offering to Thee, so I may be Blessed with Victory in your name!" With that, the mage sent the baby flipping violently into the darkness of Chemosh's damnation, its wailing screams echoing down and around the villiagers. He then looked down upon the massed Villiagers. "Who will be next?"
Turning to the massed Villiagers, the mayor cried out. "He is but merely One, while We are Many! For the Continuation of our Freedom by our ForeFathers, and for the Soul of my Son, Attack!" The Mayor lowered his sword towards the castle and, with a mighty shout joined by ther forces of the massed people, charged the castle.
How the battle went is speculative rumor. Many say anyone who touched the castle walls was either ripped apart by undead arms and added to the whole, or worse, turned to a Death Knight, ands unleashed upon the unsuspecting fighters. Others also say the Cleric/Mage used the powers of Chemosh to take the lives and souls of the women, children, and elderly, further enragign the men to fight, only to be felled, ripped apart, and drawn in as part of the nightmarish fortress. The turnout, however, was unmistakable, as the villiage below never again saw a single soul come back down from that mountain. Over time, others came to find the abandoned villiage, seeing everything put neatly into place, seeign tables set, as if to expect a large gathering for an evening meal. Some still hear screams echoing down from the mountaintop fortress.
As for the Cleric/Mage, following the battle, he gave Praise and Glory to Chemosh for their Victory, and Chemosh was indeed pleased that this fortress now stood in open defiance of his brethern. The Cleric/mage cavorted about the halls of the fortress, exulting in the castle's first Victory. And, as victories go, this one called for a fine feast, which, he knoew, he would either enjoy alone, or in the company of Chemosh. Chemosh did not respond to the invitation, however, and the Cleric/mage found, much to his dismay, that the castle was Completely without food. Not once in its construction did he take the time needed to fill its granaies and larders. "Oh well", he decided. "I will simply reap the fruits of victory from the villiage below."
He strode out to the front gate of the castle, which was always left open, an idea of Chemosh's to work as a trap for anyoe foolish enough to pass through. The Cleric/mage stepped pver the threshold, only to be lifted up off the ground by the skeletal arms in the archway, kifting him spread-eagles, and beginning to painfully stretch him outward.
"Mighty Chemosh!" The Cleric/mage cried out in surprise.. "Why do you Do this to me?" The Cleric/mage winced as the powerful arms began to stretch him taut. Chemosh appeared, chuckling, his skeletal arms folded across his chest.
"You were given two conditions to msaintain in return for this castle. One being your servitude, and the other, which you just violated, by attempting to leave." With a nod from Chemosh, the pull of the skeletal hands pulled the Cleric/mages arms and legs out of joint.
The Cleric/mage screamed in unexpected agony, then panted heavily. "My Lord Chemosh, I was not Leaving, merely stepping out to gather food, to feast in Honour of our Victory, and your triumph." His protest was met by the skeletal hands twisting his limbs viciously.
"I gave no conditions whatsoever. I said you would not leave this Fortress, Period. However, I will be generous, and grant you a stay in the fortress, for all eternity, without need of food." Chemosh replied, then turned away from the stretched Cleric/mage. He was about to respond his thanks, then the skeletal arms resumed their powerful pull, slowly ripping the Cleric/mage apart, and adding his torn body to the bulk of the fortress, which still stands to this day.
"Your Wish has been granted, Mortal." Chemosh was gone.
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