Abernyth Revisited

A while back, I worked on a storyline and campaign for some gaming friends. Two nights ago, I had a dream that sort of brought it all back to me with inspiration for more and a great novel plot line to follow. So I've started character writing, and setting the framework for the novel.

The premise is as follows:

Invasion of Abernyth Campaign Background

From the Mountains of Eternal Sorrow he could see it, the massive explosion that devastated the tower where he spent most of the year in the Supreme Council. Cold shakes chilled through every nerve he possessed as the magical shockwave washed over him from the backlash. Power was torn from him with the force of a hurricane, tearing his soul to pieces! What had they done!? Ten thousand years of history, of their civilization wiped out in a matter of seconds! But it was worse than that, he could feel the malevolence from where he knelt in agony still a hundred miles from what was his destination. Unadulterated chaos seeped from the weeping wound in the fabric of the universe. Demons raged with delight as they were unleashed and unfettered among his people, and he knew that he was the only Member of the Supreme Council left, the only one with the knowledge to control the forces of the Abyss. But one was not nearly enough to seal the rift he felt beating at his magical senses with the force of a mighty hammer, nor to vanquish the guardian he could feel formed of the souls of his fellow sorcerers, especially when he had been all but drained of power!

The demons came on him while he slept; screams in the night woke him like a bolt of thunder. The arcane phrases flowed from his lips, phrases once meant to conjure hellish creatures to serve his whims, now used to keep them from consuming the life-force of his people and feeding their souls to the Guardian of the Rift. The bodies of the weak willed littered the ground as he strode like an avenging angel of destruction, banishing the creatures that slew indiscriminately. Thousands of slaves had already perished; his tribute from a year's worth of warfare by his Clan, Blackheart. So much potential wealth destroyed! The anger was short lived as Zhorvan realized what it meant.

A rift had been opened to the Abyss, a rift that allowed all the minions of hell to run rampant and there was no one left that could stop them! Return to the City of Fire was impossible, and so he turned his eye to the coast. Wealth and power became meaningless in the current task of survival. He was the last of his kind, the last of the Dorakannan Priest Lords that had been chosen to sit on the Supreme Council of Sorcerers, and the whole of his people were in danger of extinction!
"Send messengers throughout our Empire! Gather all the survivors to the City of Skulls! Muster every ship in our Black Fleet, every vessel worthy of sea travel! This world is doomed and we must find the ancient gateway of Dolamakduum or we will all perish!" To the skies lit his acolytes aboard their bonded lammasu mounts as they went to spread the word.

The Doradzhor Empire was no more and those that were able marched with all haste to the City of Skulls. Black talons bit in to coppery palms, and drops of dark ichors made sable stains upon the iron deck of the ship as the priest scryed out the events that lead to the destruction of their home. The Supreme Lord had ordered it, the summoning of their God, the Dark Father Marduk. Ten thousand slaves were sacrificed upon his altar, the power beyond the measure of the entire council. It was no surprise the arrogant Supreme Lord had been unable to contain it all. It burst through him, consuming the other eight members of the Chosen in the resultant magical explosion. What had been meant to bring forth the champion of the Father of Darkness became a random rift to all the Abyss, and collapsed the pseudo plane The Black Forge.

Tusked jaw set in a scowl, Zhorvan turned the images in the obsidian globe to the future, his taloned fingers manipulating arcane forces beyond the comprehension of his remaining acolytes. A gesture to a nearby slave brought the towering orc closer.
"More blood ale, slave." He mumbled as he focused on events yet to occur.
The demons covered the world, all life perishing beneath their ministrations. They fed off the living essence of all in their path, leaving a drained husk of dusty nothingness behind them as tormented souls wailed in the aftermath. Even the fish of the sea died in droves, and within the space of a few short years, nothing lived. An entire thriving world completely drained of life became another hell chained to the Abyssmal Plane.

"Lord Zhorvan, what does it mean?" The black eyes of his eldest living sorcerous son pleaded for some sort of hope.

"It means that we had better find the path to Dolamakduum, and very soon. Our supplies will last hopefully until we reach the continent of Dunloring, but we will have to restock as we search. At least we have enough slaves to sustain us until then." Khazzikhar's nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought of eating the meat of the slaves, but he refrained from comment. "The past will return to haunt us, and now we must face our betrayers."

"Do you think they will muster against us?"

"Not if they are already distracted. I have given this much thought. Our spies in Dunloring report that humans have taken over most of the northeastern portion of the continent, the more fertile of the lands. They have displaced many of the Betrayers' holds, and they might already be hostile towards each other. I have ordered one of their High King's sons killed in the human lands, and by the time we reach them, we can arrange to seize and kill the other. Humans are hasty and the betrayers are suspicious creatures. It will not take much to incite war between them. We can also seize some of their lands in order to restock ammunition and supplies as well as gather more slaves. If the humans prove to be a greater force than we anticipate, we can always play upon their sympathy for our plight, and reveal the nature of the betrayers to them. With such primitive minds, they should be easily manipulated and/or controlled."

"What if the betrayers make an alliance with the humans?"

"We will simply have to ensure that does not happen. Revealing the fullness of our history to the humans once it seems apparent that they may side with the betrayers will ensure that the humans will never trust them. Their shame will become our benefit, and perhaps in this, we can find vengeance before we leave them to their deaths."

"What of the elves?" His patience near its limit, Zhorvan's scowl silenced the youth.

"The elves are of no concern to us. We will leave them be as long as they remain consumed within their self-admiration. They will perish from the daemons soon enough." A knock on the door interrupted his revere and a breathless messenger entered, informing him of a lone survivor from one of the scouting parties.