In the dining hall of a large castle several people dressed in black and purple sat around a round table, there were 13 seats and one was still empty, a large wooden throne with silver skulls as decoration. Upon closer inspection one could see that each of the twelve other chairs was unique too, one had been painted with dark red spots on the wood to make it look like it was splattered with blood, another chair looked like it had been constructed from pieces of cloth stitched together with black thread.

None of the people in the room said a word, only the crackling of a purple fire in the middle of their table disturbed the deafening silence. Suddenly out of nowhere the heavy doors on the opposite side of the room opened with a loud bang as one man clad in black and purple with a silver mask in the form of a skull walked inside.

The purple fire in the middle of the table enlarged as if welcoming the one who had just entered, the people at the table bowed their heads in respect and awe as the man took place on the skullthrone and looked around. “Greetings my councilmen, Arcturus Orobas, the dark arch mage and arch necromancer and leader of the council of the dark arts said, I have heard the honourable councilman of threads has called us here today, let us hear what he has to say.”

The councilman of the threads who had been sitting in the cloth chair stood up from his chair and bowed before speaking, “I have called for a council because of the disturbing rumours about your son, council leader.”

The men at the table looked at him under their hats and began whispering to each other in a hushed voice, Arcturus himself merely chuckled. “Pray tell me puppeteer lord, he said calmly, what is wrong with my heir?” The lord of threads seemed to hesitate one second before saying, “I am talking about your other son.” The murmurs stopped, all eyes were pointed at the lord of threads and Arcturus.

Arcturus eyes which had been hidden inside the dark insides of his mask suddenly turned into purple flames. The flames burst out of his mask and the dark arch mage stood up slowly. “What did you just say?” The thread lord backed away from the enraged Arcturus, he was but a puppeteer, against Arcturus he had no chance of surviving should he antagonise him!

“I appologise for my impertinence milord, the puppeteer said quickly, i-it’s just that lately “the warlock” has become more and more powerful and…..”

“Silence!” the arch mage roared as the flames now became two times as bright and terrifying, “I have no warlock as my son, I have only one true child, the others are not!” The people at the table shivered, “the others”, children that had been born with Arcturus as their father and raised by their mothers. No one knew how many children he had fathered but what was certain was that only a handful had been allowed to live until only a few remained.

The last one who had remained was now his heir and true son, but all people at this table knew that once Arcturus had many more children, all people at this table were practitioners of the dark arts, all of them had done horrible things, but to sacrifice ones own children….. None of them ever dared to talk about these “others” when Arcturus was near and now the lord of Threads, a measly puppeteer who was one of the weakest members of this council had dared to speak of the one “other” that had been able to escape their organization and to cause his father a lot of trouble by staying alive.

The arch mage sat down again and continued, “this so called “wicked warlock” is not a son of mine but a stain on our honour as the council of the dark arts, that we have left a weak demon summoner alive, he shall be hunted down by our mages soon enough!” the thread master sat down again on his chair as the fire in Arcturuses eyes dimmed, “what else did you call me here for puppeteer?”

The lord of threads shivered, it was clear that the man had thought he was dead for sure, yet he managed to say, “the cults are growing in strength.” This time Arcturus was less aggressive, he looked at the man and asked, “have they summoned more demons?”

“From what my mages have gathered, another councilmember sitting on a throne decorated with a silver statue of a brain said interrupting the thread lord, the cultists have been increasing their summonings in Frienia.” All members of the council began to whisper amongst each other but all rumour was silenced by something terrifying, Arcturus laughed!

Arcturus fiery eyes went out completely as he chuckled, “we knew this would happen, councilmen you know what to do now, soon our time will come and no one shall stand in our way!”

-------------------------------------

High priest Maledictus was enraged!

All these years the cult had made preparations for the great summoning of their masters servants, this was to be the year that they would take Frienia, overthrow it’s temples and claim these lands for their lord and master. But it had failed miserably, a century of preparation, a century of acquiring the right rituals and sacrifices had been lost in an instant.

Not only had the wrong demons been summoned, that blasphemer called the “wicked warlock” who dared to harness the powers of the beings they worshipped as his own had claimed most of their summoned demons including those that served their master.

The warlock had contracted fiendish soldiers in full armour that had previously served their master to his cause, since then manny cultists who survived an encounter with this heretical wizard reported seeing these fiends fight at the side of this warlock against them. To be able to turn loyal soldiers of their glorious lord against their master and his most devout and loyal followers this warlock had to be immensely powerful the highpriest thought.

But this incident had not only enraged the cultists and Maledictus himself, his lord had gotten word of it too and he had been more than just enraged!

Maledictus had felt his masters burning fury in his dreams, he had felt the voice of his lord calling him a fool, an unworthy leader of his cultus. His lord blamed him for all that had gone wrong and he could feel that his power in the cult was waning as well, other priests had recently been questioning his rule and competence, if this kept happening he would not stay alive for long.

His master in his infinite wisdom had given him a chance to redeem himself, a task to hunt down the warlock, his powers could help them achieve that which they had failed to do. Maledictus had accepted it but still felt furious, to use a warlock, a vile heretical blasphemer of their faith to achieve their cause.

He had no choice though, Maledictus had already decided what to do, he would hunt the “wicked warlock” down even if he had to give up his life to achieve it!

----------------------------------

Harold did not like the temple of judgement, they were a bunch of bigoted zealots who only wanted to worship the godess of light and the god of order and justice instead of for example praying to the goddess of nature to help the farmers and peasants like he did himself.

Frienia had allowed the worship of the temple of judgement and manny did worship those gods but Harold himself was different, his father once told him every god mattered, warrior gods were not worth more than the gods of farming and nature but most people clearly thought differently. Harold saw however that those who joined that temple more often than not lost themselves in zealotry or were ultimately disappointed in their faith turned to other darker faiths or committed suicide.

But he could do nothing even though he was the king, he had other problems right now and the temple of judgement had offered help with their problems. The inquisition and the holy paladins of the temple of divine judgement had come, their representatives stood before his throne right now and although Harold detested every single one of these organizations he had no choice, his armies protected the borders and the adventurers could not catch the warlock either.

“Desperate times call for desperate needs” That was what he told himself but he was not convinced by them entirely. For Harold it felt as if he was going to open the cage of a monster, a monster which was able to consume not only him but all of his people if he was not careful enough. Yet he had to do this, he had to open the cage so that the monster could consume this threat, if he could get it back in it’s cage was the bigger question and Harold was afraid of the answer.

King Harold looked at the representatives of the temple and sighed, “have you ever heard about the wicked warlock?”