Days of Future Past. (SOLO)

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The court was in session.

Lorenor stared at the surrounding armies of men as they looked upon him with hateful eyes.

Shifty gazes were prevalent from all of the gathered warriors, thousands of them. A united banner of men, all the mortal and immortal races of Althanas stood against Lorenor and his army of "free" undead. To the banners of those nations, undead were still just undead regardless of the fact that they had free will or not. Lorenor had fought too hard to earn what was rightfully his. As he considered his life's events he could only smile as the war machine marched down his throat. The whole world was united against Lorenor, the common enemy. The herald of N'Jal. Lorenor's Forsaken did not falter in their step, none of them broke to flee. They all knew the score, they all knew what they were up against. Lorenor had prepared his people for that moment in history. Lorenor could not help but laugh as the end-times were upon them all. He had carefully prepared for that moment, every single move he had made was to prepare. Not a single life had been wasted, not a single soul lost. All had been used to follow N'Jal's decree. N'Jal, the dark lady, had lead Lorenor and his ragtag army of the undead without fail. Lorenor had never once doubted the grand plan, even when he had faced losses. He knew losses in the grand scheme of things were simply setbacks. A luxury the immortals had.

"My liege, we are prepared, exactly as the dark lady has ordained."

"The formations must be precise. Each of the devices must be used at the exact moment or our cause will be forever lost." They all knew Lorenor was a madman. However, that same madman had lead them across the ages to that very point in time. He was only seldom wrong when it came to N'Jal's matters, and even then, he would be the first to admit a mistake. Lorenor was a man of unique vision, and precision. "Make sure Platoon A falls back right at the chosen moment. Let them think they have had a victory against us. It must all go according to the scheme of things...we will have our laugh in the end." Lorenor stood up on the precipice of the world. Althanas. He was not a conqueror by nature, nay, he was a manipulator. He was about strategically moving things behind the scenes and striking the wounded enemy when they were most complacent. "Have our scouts send up the signal flare when the time has come."

"How will we know?" The Forsaken warrior asked.

"Trust in N'Jal."

"With my soul my master." The Forsaken warrior saluted and resumed his position.

Lorenor observed the event that he had caused. From the very beginning, he had always been a paradox. A rare event that occurred when one's fate was theirs to control. Lorenor could commune directly with N'Jal, and thus, knew the machinations of The Thayne. That fact made him one of the most dangerous men of all time. Lorenor drew the very same weapon that he had acquired so long ago. Around him, on an erected alter, in a very specific configuration was the Necronomicon. The fell tome of N'Jal. The sacrifice required for the machine to work, had already been bled out. He had captured the woman who would become the avatar of the All-Thayne right under the noses of the nations of men. They never even saw it coming. Still. Lorenor thought. I cannot help but feel guilty for her. Though this is all part of the plan that my lady has put forward since this all began, she did not know what she was going to become. The enemy of my master. Lorenor had removed the heart of the woman himself, and placed it in the device as it was meant to be.

The relics of N'Jal, most of them, had been gathered by then. It did not matter a few were not meant to be gathered. Or that some had ultimately been forever lost, the mutant knew these minor setbacks just made the game more challenging. And the reward more worthwhile. The thought of his ultimate reward for serving N'Jal, made the mutant smile above all other things.

Lightning crackled in the distance, followed by an explosion.

"The hour is now! My brothers! My sisters! Rise against the armies of our enemy!" Lorenor had already assumed a wizard's posture and summoned the dark energies needed to fuel the sacrifice before him. In a moment, they had taken control of history. They had sacrificed the very embodiment of the return of The All-Thayne, prophesied to return before the end-time would occur.

With Lorenor's anti-halo glowing brightly against the light, the hour was upon them all.

Victory would be had.

***

General Argaham Ravenheart, great descendant of the ancient Hero, Letho Ravenheart, lead the armies of men. His right hand commander was a man named Reckart Orlouge. Great descendant of the legendary mystic, Sei Orlouge. And many others of the surviving bloodlines from the time of darkness were present. They were all meant to be there. Large and small, the ancient Heroes of Men and Elves in a united front against the army of undeath. Lorenor, by himself, fought against the descendant of the Ravenheart Clan. Blades clashed, and the two warriors danced the skirmishing dance. The sides had been chosen, and each side fought for their own reasons, but that exact moment was the final battle. When the two blades dance, light and dark energy collided.

"You do your Clan a service. I fought your ancestor, Letho Ravenheart, in a different battlefield long ago." Lorenor said as the two warriors fought.

"Do-not speak of me in that fashion, coward. You will pay for all of the lives you have cost today."

"I did not want this." Lorenor truly meant that. "We just wanted our own place in the world, to be left alone and respected under our own banner. You wouldn't recognize our rights to co-exist that is why you are meant to suffer." Lorenor said coldly.

Their blades locked once more.

"Look!" The Orlouge descendant yelled. And all eyes turned towards the precipice of the world.



Word Count=1,076

[Mutant_Lorenor]

The dream happened whist he was awake now.

For undead, dreaming and waking worlds were somewhat similar and sometimes quite difficult to tell apart.

Always, the dream was the same.

The warriors of Althanas gathered against the followers of N'Jal in a cataclysmic battle for control of Althanas herself. Lorenor smiled because a part of it, was N'Jal preparing her followers for what would come. It could happen today, tomorrow, or thousands of years from that point. But it would come. Lorenor sat in silence in a darkened room. There was no natural or artificial lighting of any sort. The room was humbly decorated considering the fact that he was a king of sorts. The Grand Primus of the undead. The mutant could see in the dark much better than he could see in natural lighting. He currently sat on a small, purple colored throw rug. It was a deep fabric that felt quite comfortable to the touch. He wore a simple night robe that was for sleeping and being comfortable indoors. He had no shoes on. All around the apartment were several other undead that went about their business as their leader meditated. Three other undead meditated with him, they were all priesthood. One was a male, and the other two were female.

Powerful auras surrounded the undead as they concentrated. In between the quartet was a set of three books. The infamous Necronomicon dedicated to the teachings of N'Jal and The Forsaken.

The undead chanted the verses they all knew after years of study and practice.

The pages revealed their secrets to them. Revealing the very word of N'Jal. As Lorenor guided his people, N'Jal spoke through him. The language was N'Jallian in nature and was not meant for mortals to hear. Lorenor spoke the verses with learned proficiency and practice. As he spoke, his followers repeated the verses they were supposed to repeat. It was a quiet, solemn ritual meant to calm the nerves of his companions. They had mobilized in recent moons as N'Jal had decreed. For a while, Lorenor and his people had gone into hiding. In reality, they were preparing for the events they knew were coming. Lorenor was not a tyrant to his people, but he was a leader and his word was law. He ruled in a just fashion, his word was the word of N'Jal. And when he commanded, his people followed...always.

The chanting went on like that for several hours.

Once they were done, Lorenor put the books carefully away where they were always put. In the secret location. Only Lorenor and a select few members of the priesthood knew where they were kept at all times. That was necessary in case Lorenor should fall in battle and they had to wait for another of his reincarnations. They sat at a long dining table, having dinner and drinks. It was a somber mood, and the group was discussing the visions they had all been having of late. It seemed Lorenor was not the only one dreaming about the final events. It seemed the will of N'Jal was being communicated through these dreams.

"We have discovered the name of The All-Thayne's bloodline. It's a minor, lesser known clan of mortals that have previously slipped through our network." It seemed that The All-Thayne had set them all up. The Thayne was a creation of bastard-children, but The All-Thayne had conceived a back-up plan to preserve it's own existence in secrecy. Making it a relevant threat to N'Jal's well being. "Due to their secrecy, it has taken us a long time to track down their descendants. What is your will my lord?" The Priest asked.

Lorenor was deep in thought, his hands folded and his chin leaning against his fists.



Lorenor Word Count=633

[Mutant_Lorenor]

If we kill them all at once now, it will be a master-stroke and our people would thrive until the end-times occurs. Lorenor's hands began to shake nervously as he pondered the events that were unfolding. Though he was deep in thought, he had completely heard his companion. What the priest had mentioned to him was a interesting bit of information, and he was conversing with N'Jal in order to find her will. So far N'Jal was silent on the matter. They would not act against her word. Lorenor's eyes opened and he looked at the gathered Forsaken. "We cannot act against the followers of The All-Thayne until N'Jal wills it so." Lorenor said in a very calm fashion. He was almost half expecting resistance from his companions. When none came, Lorenor slid out of his chair, and stared at his friends. "We cannot act without the will of The Dark Lady. It is sacred to receive her word first. Without her blessing, we will not win. As her followers, it is our duty to see her will done." Lorenor stretched at that point. Once that movement was done, he looked at his companions for a long moment.

One of the warriors broke the awkward silence.

"So you would have us wait, or do nothing about this matter?" The warrior asked, looking at Lorenor for guidance and leadership.

"You know what my stance is. We do-not act without the prior approval of N'Jal. Am I understood? The followers of our enemy are to be left alone for the time being. For now it is enough that we can track their movements from the shadows. It is enough that once the hour is right, we will strike." Lorenor said, a soft smile was on his face. An almost cruel thing it was. Lorenor walked over to his companion. "If you want to act, here are your orders. Track their numbers, and give me intelligence on all of their members. Find out who is doing what and the times they do it in. Catalog this data. It will be of use to us down the road when the hour has been chosen by N'Jal. I want you to know our enemy's habits by heart. If they have allies and companions, find out who these people are too. I want it to be as detailed as possible, am I understood?" Lorenor said.

The warrior hesitated for only the briefest of moments. But like a lost child having been reprimanded by his Father, the man saluted and nodded. "I understand, my lord. What you task of me shall be done." The warrior waved towards several nearby other Forsaken, and together, they left the chamber.

Lorenor nodded to himself. He still had many companions in the apartment complex with him, some visible, others hidden. By that time they had finished eating their meals, and sat around in a relaxed fashion. Only Lorenor stood. He was communing with N'Jal as he always did, but for some reason, she had gone silent. This concerned the mutant greatly. One of the priests stood up and walked towards Lorenor. Placing a hand on the shorter mutant's shoulder.

"My lord was is troubling you?" The priest asked.

"The word of N'Jal is strangely quiet the past few nights. This does not sit well with me when she goes silent for long periods of time...I fear something has happened that we missed in our planning."

"Not all great plans go off completely flawlessly my lord." The priest said. "Even our people have set-backs. Though these are only minor of course."

"I know that's the case. As Immortals, our people have eternity to get things right. It is a luxury, but even that luxury is based on the laws of time. Time constantly moves in ripples, not in a straight line. Sometimes those ripples loop back. Or forward sharply." Lorenor was saying, he turned towards the priest. "I believe an event has been spawned off by our movements. Something that was not meant to be which is preventing me from speaking directly to N'Jal."

That realization worried Lorenor greatly.



Lorenor Word Count=709