Chapter Six: The Calm Before the Storm
Arch had his middle ranks spy the mounds south of the Wastelands. There was
no activity of any kind. The mounds were uninhabited for days. Arch
maintained contact with his squads, and a day passed by without any word
from his middle ranks. Could have the Nomads spotted them? He dispatched a
quarter of his high ranks to the south.
Southern Wastelands:
“Dead. The Nomad’s?” The Warlock said. The squad behind them became
restless, and they started murmuring about the bodies on the ground. One
soldier came from behind, with also a black shroud but he had his cloak
dripped in blood. He was a true Necrolyte, the lowest class of the arcane
Magiks in the squads.
“What?” The Warlock said, annoyed.
“Sir, the rest of the Dark Paladins are restless, and tired. We rode here
two days ago.”
“So are we! Hold you’re ground for now, damn you!” The Warlock was angry
more than anything else. The Necrolyte went back among the dark
incarnations, and stood where he was.
“No, not the Nomads.” The Dark Paladin continued their conversation. “I can
feel someone’s magiks at work here.” The Dark Paladin said. “We move east?”
The Warlock asked.
“West.” The Dark one stated.
“Move out!” The Warlock said, the rest groaning as they swiftly rode to the
west.
The Warlock knew not what the Paladin felt, but he trusted him on this.
Kahn’s Citadel, Southeast of Queen Sindel’s Castle:
“My servants, the time has come. What we have waited for all these eons has
finally come. The Nomads mean to strike in three days. No matter what, my
son is to remain alive. For if he should die, your lives shall be forfeit as
well!”
His Warlock’s were dismissed, and he saw Predator come into the room.
“I’ll be blunt Predator. Your job is to safeguard my son. He plays an
important role in my plan. You work for me now, not him. But do what he
commands. The Nomads strike in three days. Have Archangel ready all his
troops.”
“Yes, Baetal.” Predator bowed slightly, thinking his reward had better be
worth it.
Nomad Caverns:
“Baraka, sir!” A young Nomad came up to him. “A small band of Necrolytes,
Warlocks, and Dark Paladins were dispatched to the west of the Wastelands.”
“Send several Nomads to intercept them. After they have been dealt with,
destroy the bodies.” Baraka said, his eyes turning red. He looked at the
gem, he was the first Nomad-Magi. And he will not be the last.
West of the Wastelands:
The screams however, did not come from the Dark ones, but from the Nomads.
All were disposed of. The Necrolytes used their sorcery and they remade the
Nomads into the undead. Ready to carry out any order of their master.
Then, they saw it. Several mounds were established, trying to maintain order
in the region. This was what Baraka was trying to hide. They raided the
mounds, destroying all those in sight. No Denizen was killed, but a few of
the Undead were sacrificed for the fight. The mounds were theirs to take.
They destroyed them, and they took the gold that was left. They saw several
dead Edenians, and they raised them up for their own bidding. A few black
cloud spheres were found. This would upgrade the Warlocks magiks, and they
fled back to the Ruins of Kahn’s Castle.
Tunnels:
It has been weeks, a short calm was set in the small colony of Outworld. No
raiding parties from Baraka and his Nomads. And there was no word of a
treaty from Queen Sindel. Arch paid no mind to the scuffs coming from
Edenia. But all he could think about was the Nomads. He questioned why there
was no contact of fights from them. His lowest ranked Squads were placed at
the west quarter of the Wastelands, while his high ranks were stationed at
Kahn’s Castle.
“Son of a bitch. Every last one of ‘em.” One horse rider said. We wore a
black shroud, that of a Necrolyte.
He had a staff in his hand, a light blue sphere sat on top. He was one of
the squads few remaining Dark Paladins (Kahn’s priests, like Shang Tsung).
The next to him was higher ranked. He was a Warlock Sorcerer.
Baetal made Kahn’s old Citadel his own. He spent most of his time there. He
sat on the throne of Kahn’s old home, and he called his faithful Warlocks to
the room.
Baraka looked over the several clans in the caverns, and sent them deep in
the tunnels. The Wolf Riders from the mounds surfaced at the southern
Wastelands, and completely decimated their foes. The Riders were then drawn
to the north of Brooke, which held only a small outpost of Dark Paladins.
Screams broke into the air, as a small war brewed between the Dark Denizens
(that’s what a group of Dark Paladins/Warlocks/Necrolytes are called), and a
small band of Nomads.
Baraka heard the news of what happened at the mounds. He became so furious
that he took the life of the Nomad closest to him. “Bastards! Ready the
Riders, and the Nomads. We attack tomorrow. For it is time to take back what
is ours!”
To Be Continued...