The Rise of Illthorn
The wind cut through the barren, sprawling lands of Illthorn. The sun hung low on the horizon, but the sky remained ominously gray, as though caught in eternal twilight. This was the domain of the Undead, Beasts, and Demons. Here, life held no sway—only the cold grip of death ruled. The cracked, dry earth groaned under the weight of Lich, The Skeleton King, as he gazed at the great mountain in the distance, the only landmark in this desolate land.
Beneath the mountain, deep in the earth, the legions of Illthorn slept, awaiting their king’s command. With a simple motion of his staff, Lich raised one of his deceased generals. The Resurrected Prince rose slowly from the ground, his decaying body clad in the regal but faded garments of a monarch.
“It is time,” Lich said in an icy voice. “The Gwyrd region must fall, and through the Portals, we will set their forests ablaze.”
Amon'Rah, the Ancient Realmwalker, stood beside him, his eyes filled with impenetrable darkness. His ability to open Portals was essential to Illthorn’s conquest. The power he wielded over the borders of dimensions was unique, even among the mighty undead.
“The Portals will open as soon as you command, my king,” Amon'Rah said without emotion. “We will lead our forces straight into the heart of their forests.”
Division Within Illthorn
While Lich assembled his army, discord brewed within Illthorn. Carmilla Nocturne, the Benevolent Witch, looked on disapprovingly at Lich’s growing power. Her magic was a rare form of light in this dark land, and though loyal to Illthorn, she was skeptical of Lich’s plans to invade Gwyrd. She believed Lich had become too consumed by his thirst for conquest and his secret communications with The Abyss—a region Carmilla deeply distrusted.
Standing in the shadow of the mountain, Carmilla’s hands glowed softly with magical energy as she watched the legions gather. “The alliances he forges are dangerous,” she whispered to herself. “Abyss is not a region to trust. Their Dragons and Demons will never submit to someone like Lich. They will betray us, just as they betray their own kin.”
As she spoke, a familiar presence made itself known. It was Mortisarax, The Twisted, a deity who had once been a protector of this land but now cast a sinister veil over the region with his calls for war. His whispers echoed in her mind, twisted and malevolent.
“It is not your place to judge, Carmilla,” hissed Mortisarax. “Lich executes what I have commanded. The invasion of Gwyrd Forest is only the beginning. The Abyss will be our ally in the greater plan.”
Carmilla swallowed her words. She was too loyal to Mortisarax to defy him outright, but the tension in her heart grew. Something felt wrong, and she knew the invasion of Gwyrd was not the end. The alliance with The Abyss was just the beginning of a dangerous game—one that could destroy them all.
Preparing for Battle
Meanwhile, Lich’s forces continued to grow underground, where thousands of skeletons and undead took shape. Amon'Rah began opening the first Portals, and Illthorn’s army was ready to invade Gwyrd. As the Portals slowly opened and Illthorn’s landscape transformed into gateways to other dimensions, none could sense the shadowy presence passing through them. An emissary from The Abyss—a Demon of unspeakable power—was watching this war unfold that will change all of Rolaria. His name, Azures.
