dark lord

chapter 1

I could hear them even from atop my tower, the anguished screams, the valiant battle cries and the pitiful pleas for mercy. They filled the night sky along with smoke and ash as these so-called heroes launched their assault on my citadel. In a time that feels like a millennia ago, the sounds of my enemies being crushed would have set my heart racing and filled me with a mad blood lust. Now it was little more than background noise, like the bustle of a busy market place.

Rising from my bed I stalked over to the balcony. There was no point in checking on the battle, no, I already knew the outcome would be the same as it was a thousand time before. Simple curiosity drove me to peer over my balcony, and as I looked I was proven right. My army was successfully pushing back the enemy, even though we were outnumbered by what looked like five to one odds, the smoke made it difficult to tell. Still, no matter their numerical advantage, no army of men could stand before my horde of nightmares and horrors from across the land. It would still end the same.

"Eniya!," I called.

He didn't make a sound as he appeared, he never did. Eniya was of the Ansabowa, shadow demons known for their cunning and taste for blood. He had taken his usual appearance, that of an old man tall and gunt. Black of skin and bald with dark circles beneath his eyes. His abnormally long arms stretched out along his sides towards gnarled talon-like hands. As I turned and moved towards him he crossed an irregular arm over his chest and bowed in absolute silence.

"Eniya," I said. He straightened, face placid, eye's filled with boredom. "Tell the army to pull back into the citadel. I shall take to the battlefield tonight,"

I saw a flicker of excitement in Eniya's dark eyes for a moment, then he simply nodded. His form rippled and darkened until he has was nothing more than a shadow in the vague shape of a man. He left as swiftly as he came, a shadow gliding over the black stones that made the walls of my citadel. This was my army, monsters in the form of men, creatures of the night, bound to my will.

Having spent this much time surrounded by night I've all but forgotten the light of day. If there were ever a time when the fires of passion burned within me I could not tell. Not even embers remained now only the cold chill of night. Like a void in the center of my being, it pulls all warmth and joy into itself. After a thousand years of this endless night, I'm surprised I've yet to fling myself from this tower.

Beneath me I watched my army retreat into the tower, the enemy following close behind them. I ran a hand across the smooth stone of my balcony, it was cold to the touch, like all things here. With a tug, I throw myself over the edge plummeting head first towards the ground. Soon after, I heard it, they came whistling through the air like arrows, my spear, and conga scepter followed behind me as I fell.

Like a bolt of lightning, I struck the ground sending clouds of dust billowing into the air. I landed just between the enemies army and my own. The impact of my landing was enough to halt the enemy forces, even knocking some off of their feet. As the dust settled around me I stood, spear in one hand, conga scepter in the other. I imagined how I must look to them, after seeing my army, is this what they expected me to look like. Just a man, average high and frame.

Dressed in a green a gold robe, wearing a plain wooden war mask. My skin was not as black as shadows like some of the demons in my ranks, but the same mahogany color as the enemy before me. Did they expect to see a man when they came before me, Alakoso, lord of the black kingdoms? I doubt it.

The army was still stunned by my entrance, they all stood stock still as if they were all holding their breath, trying to anticipate what would happen next. I didn't give them a chance to puzzle it out on their own. I hefted my spear, Umphangi Wezulu, and threw. It pierced their ranks like a mad rhino, slaying at least a dozen men before returning to my hand. Screams broke out among them and some scrambled backward in an undignified retreat. Few others charged me spears in hand. With a wave of my scepter, a torrent of orange flame bloomed before me, turning them to ash faster than a man could blink.