The campsite was busy despite the march so far. It had been about a month of grueling foot marching so far in addition to an eight week voyage by ship. The voyage over the sea would’ve taken even longer, but the galleons they had used were sped up thanks to the few magic users they had; all martial members of the company of soldiers were grateful for their presence. While most of the magic users were a pain on the march, what with constantly getting tired, needing help getting unstuck from the mud and tree roots or other terrain hazards, their usefulness at long range and healing or bypassing obstacles was invaluable. That, however, was most certainly NOT what was going through the mind of one of the warriors. A tall, well built man with long brown hair and black eyes named Gua. All he was thinking went along the lines of ‘shut up. Shut Up. SHUT UP!’ followed by a string of profanities so strong it would make a priest faint. Gua had been forced to listen to his assigned partner, a wizard with glossy, short, black hair and a 5 o’clock shadow that went by the name of Terran. He prattled on and onnnnn about magical theory and its effect on the school of alteration in relation to some other magic gobbelty gook that the middle aged veteran couldn’t care less about. The wizard in red robes was supposed to be some sort of prodigy. He was young, the youngest member in the entire company in fact(figures Gua would get stuck with him). Gua would have told him to shut the nine hells up but he couldn’t bring himself to crush the young man’s spirits.
It wasn’t helping matters that the scrawny wizard followed the mostly armored axe wielder around the camp like a lost puppy. In truth the orichalcum adorned fighter enjoyed the young man’s enthusiasm. It somewhat reminded Gua of his youth back with his father. How he would tell stories of that time he had slain an ogre in the kings service with only a dull iron hatchet. His father had filled the youth with visions of glory in service to a greater cause. It was why he was here now. It was also why when Gua had learned how to fight from the guild of warriors that he had talked his father’s ear off about what he had learned. In the same manner that Terran was doing to Gua now. So, he faced the problem the way many human males faced obstacles they weren’t sure how to deal with – a combination of strong drink and trying to ignore it.
It wasn't working.
The other members of the camp, about twenty five not including the two chained trolls that served as beasts of burden or the attack-Umber Hulk, were addressing their individual partners and/or problems. One sword master was arguing with her partner, a psychic monk from the Temple of Iris, about leaving her prized weapon alone with the monk insisting he could fix the sword master’s mental link with her broadsword so it would respond faster to her commands. Two warriors, one a paladin in fire proof steel plate and the other a knight commander in blessed red steel plate, bickered like children over who had the better armor. A group of barbarian warriors were cravenly insulting and telling the lone shaman in the company he should have stayed home along with his creepy rituals. The dark skinned shaman had a necklace of finger bones, gold rings on his neck and arms with tattoos adorning his shaved head and was wearing nothing but tan shorts. He had long since stopped caring what the skittish barbarians said on the ship ride here. He simply sat cross legged with his hands outstretched to his sides as he peacefully meditated. One particularly observant scout sitting on his sleeping matt watched the camp thinking If we don’t get there soon this jungle heat will make us kill each other long before we even get to our homeland. As the rather diverse company of soldiers continued to bicker and for the most part get on each others nerves there was a sudden rise in temperature.
They all looked towards the center of the campsite where the flag of the old nation resided having been planted in the ground. It was blowing majestically in the light breeze of the jungle clearing. It was a fine flag made with a gold and purple threaded background and a simple black colored Solar Cross in its Center. An equal armed cross in the center of a circle.
The shaman opened his eyes and, in a hushed tone said, “He returns.”
An intense flash of crimson fire briefly flared up, leaving a half-dead humanoid figure in it’s place. The camp went as quite as a graveyard. The only sound was the rushing water of a river off in the distance. The figure was the same man that had alerted Princess Luna. “My loyal followers…” he spoke through his sundered face. “We are closing in on our destination. Soon we will be on the usurper’s doorstep. You are all the fittest and most faithful remainders of the old kingdom. While the isolated castles of other younger kingdoms still fight amongst themselves on the land your ancestors were forced to move, we will rise from the ashes and build anew from the old! I realize you are not inclined to get along. You have each chosen different paths in life.” The humans all silently agreed with his words.
“However, you must leave those petty divergences behind, for we are all one under the new empire. You will rise and flourish in it as my chosen; my Crusaders of Fire. Gather yourselves, for tomorrow we continue our march. Tomorrow we take back what is ours by right! Tomorrow…we reclaim the Empire of the Black Dragon!” The undead man raised his fist defiantly in the air with those final words. The deathly figure’s speech resonated in the hearts and minds of his acolytes. They rallied “HAAAAAAA!!!” The martial oriented warriors raised their weapons in his honor. The arcane based members had no physical weapons to speak of but cheered and clapped at his inspiring speech. Even the shaman was clapping, though it was light and he still sat in his meditative stance. The old partially dead man in black took in their cheering, his heart feeling just the slightest trace of happiness. A smile spread across his grizzly features. Wrongs would soon be put right in the blood of a goddess. He was pulled from his brief happiness as he felt one acolyte tugging on his decayed trench coat. It was the little prodigy he had found named Terran.
“Sir what about that secret weapon you said I and the other arcanists needed to restore? We’re almost there, yet we have seen no such weapon,” Terran said.
“You’re right. You have not seen the weapon because we have not arrived at its resting place. I was about to gather you all for that. Why don’t you get the others? Your group will be taking a little detour with me personally,” the entity said. His eyes flashed an unnatural yellow quickly as he looked down at the young wizard.
“Y-Yes sir.” Terran said nervously.
“We will be ready when you need us Sir Illitheous.”
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
It had been nearly a day since Sir Illitheous had roused his followers with his speech. The martial warriors had continued on the route their half dead leader had painstakingly traced out for them on the group’s map. They could be a dense lot sometimes. It had showed the way to Canterlot. The arcanists, on the other hand, had grouped up with Sir Illitheous and branched off the original trail. Nine magic users trailed behind each other in pairs of two, with Illitheous leading the collection of men and women in front and one bloodmage bringing up the back. The sun had mostly set casting the sky above the humid jungle a deep indigo. The ground was soggy with moisture, and the magic users were sweating like salty human waterfalls. Their bodies mostly used to sitting down and studying, not the physical exertion they now had to endure. Some of them were worried that without their martial escort to protect them that if some ferocious monster were to ambush them they wouldn’t be able to cast their spells in time before one of them became its next entree. Illitheous had no such fears however, as they would be extinguished like a candle in a hurricane. Just then there was a crunching of branches to their right. They all froze in their tracks. The wizard in the group who was one of the two directly behind their decayed master whispered in his ear.
“Sire, my detect life spell shows a large living monster just beyond the trees. We won’t be able to use any fire magic in this jungle though and Demoses won’t be much help since she mostly just specializes in fire based invocations.”
“Very good Schreyer, but you forget who leads you. I alone am a match for whatever is dull-witted enough to try to intimidate us,” replied Illitheous.
The other mages stepped back a bit. They all needed at least a little distance so they could prepare whatever magic they had that would be effective against the unknown danger. Magic by its very nature, unless weaved into an object by enchantment, usually takes time to properly cast lest the caster have his spell fizzle out or, worse yet, explode. The crunching of wooden limbs and rustling of foliage sharply rose in volume. Several of the mages were sweating even more from nervousness. Illitheous scowled. He then broke formation to stand in front of the others and much closer to the noise.
*CRACK* went the decayed figure’s ribcage as a beast pounced on him with bone shattering force. The beast was snapping its jaws at his face. Foam and spittle went flying in all directions. The figure’s skeletal hand was keeping the beast away from his torn face by mere inches. Even this close to it he couldn’t tell exactly what it looked like. He could make out that it was some sort of wolf shaped creature. Its entire body was a blurry dark smudge and it was partially blending in with the air itself. It was also big. It was easily twice the size of a panther. Illitheous owed it to his infernal power that he was even holding it back at all. His followers had now gathered various weapons of the arcane nature but they couldn’t cast them yet. If they attacked now they risked hitting their leader. The ring on Illitheous’ ring finger bone inverted its colors slightly. The black stone for the ring itself began to switch with the red of the ruby affixed to it. The colors moved like a painter who had spilled red and black into a still water pond.
“GrrrraAAH!” Illitheous yelled as he pushed the animal not only off himself but into the nearest tree so hard the bark splintered on impact.
The monster roared in what sounded something like a grizzly bear’s roar.
“You want some more? Get ready to die,” said Illitheous.
His skeletal hand with the ring on it was suddenly alight with fire. The beast decided at that moment to try and bite his legs. It ran the short distance with speed that made all the arcanists except Schreyer lose track of it. Illitheous, however, was just quick enough to see its movement and bring down his hand, palm open, so that it made perfect contact with the canine’s forehead. That was all he needed. This pathetic skirmish was now over. The beast went limp instantly and slid, not too lightly, on the ground just past Illitheous. Its eyes now glowed blood red. Its body began to convulse violently. Foam was pouring out of its mouth and it was making noises one couldn’t help but feel sorry for. Next, yellow lines spread instantly all over its body that resembled the lava that cracks out of the side of certain volcanoes. Then faster than one could say ten seconds flat, the thing lay still, the glowing eyes and lines gone. Its camouflage ceased. Whatever biological or magical ability it had obviously didn’t work after expiration. The corpse was that of a large black muscular dog.
“Shadow hound,” said Illitheous as he kicked the dead beast. “Born of the leftovers of stronger black magic.” His burning skeletal hand now returned to normal, as well as his ring. “We’re getting close. Soon we will arrive at the site of our little ace in the hole. Form back up.”
One of the more merciful mages moved closer to see if there was any healing magic he could cast for the poor animal. Perhaps it wasn’t past saving. Illitheous glanced over at that moment to see one of his followers kneeling over the monsters body. He yelled to his comrade and subordinate.
“What exactly do you think your doing Turluck? Get away from that filthy creature!”