The Dark Lord stood on a snow covered rise and looked down upon the multitude of slaves as they shuffled by through the deep snow. His four acolytes stood around him as he watched and were connected to him mentally. All were sending the same question to him from their minds, "What is thy plan Master?" He ignored them and blocked his thoughts from their probes. He was the only one who felt the call to these frozen lands, but he had no idea exactly where they were to go. He only knew they must keep marching north. For now his acolytes and the black sorcerers who followed would have to be kept in the dark.

After a turn of raiding the villages and towns of the Nordic barbarians he finally gave the order to depart from those lands. The clans and tribes of the Nordic barbarians had risen and come together to fight off the evil in their midst. The Dark Lord knew it was time to leave. They now had over two thousand warrior slaves under their evil spell to fight their battles, but those would not be enough to defeat the horde hunting them. They also had over a thousand villagers, men, women and children, enslaved by their Black Magick for the sacrifices, the work details and the cook pots. They were useless as fighters against the barbarians, but would serve as useful fodder against an attack.

He created three more Dark Stars during their time in this country. He named them so because they stood at the the points of the pentagram when performing spells and the grisly sacrifices. It took five black sorcerers to carry out the ritual killing and receive the power gained from the life force of the victim. With the help of a Black Magick spell he recruited three bands of five men each who were learning the ways of the dark arts. These were truly evil men with hearts as cold and black as his. Through the sacrifices and his teachings they were growing strong in the use of the spells of the magick. His acolytes named them the Black Fists and there were now four of the bands under his command. He had twenty-four Black Druids to do his bidding and control the slaves they had entranced.

His four original acolytes were almost as strong as he in the dark arts as they had been with him from the beginning. They did not have the dread of him as the other black sorcerers did and were not afraid to ask questions. Now they wanted to know why he was leading them into this frozen wasteland, a place where they would lose this slave army they had fought so hard to build.

Their journey together began in their home city of Tara in the County of Meath, in the land of Eire.* As small boys they were enlisted in the Druidic Priesthood as Ovates to learn the rituals and practices. They were all of the same age and became fast friends as they grew up together and went to their lessons and studies learning the ways of the peaceful Druids.

Their climb into evil had started on his thirteenth name day, the day of his passage to manhood, under a small disheveled barrow in the Hills of Tara. Led there by an eerie Will O' the Wisp the five boys entered a tunnel which took them to a small cavern under the tumulus. In the center of the chamber they found an ancient rune covered altar table. On the table they found a rune covered knife with a blade made of flint imbedded in the chest of a skeletal corpse. They had never seen the ancient runes before and had no idea they stepped into a dolmen infused with Black Magick. Unbeknown to them the shade of an evil Black Druid who was imprisoned under the barrow for an age by spells of Good Magick compelled them to perform a sacrifice on the High King's son who had tagged along with them. The shade of the Black Druid craved to escape his prison by using the boys as his pawns. Once they completed the sacrifice they became filled with a darkness from the boy's life force which turned their hearts evil and cold, filling them with a hunger for more sacrifices. After many sacrifices they grew strong in the dark spells and managed to defeat the shade's attempt to escape his ancient prison. Since those many turns ago they had led a life on the run growing strong in the Black Magick as they performed their ritual kills on the bloody table and compelling people to do their evil will. The forces of good, and evil, stalked them at every turn.

In the cavern under that ancient barrow the Dark Lord also acquired two sheepskin scrolls covered in spells of the Black Magick written in the ancient runes. Spells that had not been seen in the world for hundreds of turns. Many others who had the darkness residing in them desired these scrolls and they were growing stronger as they fought him and his followers to gain possession of them. The Dark Lord knew it was time to move on.

They had to battle across Eire as they ran from his father, the High Druid Priest, and the armies of the High King of Meath. They set sail across the Sea of Moyle to escape to the island of Albion. They thought to have lost their pursuers only to find that his father and the High King had given warning to all of the Kings, Queens and Druids of the land. Armies rose up against them and they were forced into almost constant battle as they traveled through the lands of Albion. After turns of blood and death the Dark Lord knew they must escape before he and his followers were destroyed. Before they left one more battle was fought on the snowy eastern shores of the huge island. There he killed the High King of Meath, but to his anger did not kill his father. They sailed across the North Sea for the Nordic coast and finally escaped the deadly cat and mouse game they had been playing with the army of Meath and its leaders.

They enslaved thousands of men, women and children and assembled many armies of warrior slaves on their march through Albion, only to watch them all be destroyed. They left Albion with just forty enslaved Nordic barbarians, a newly formed Dark Star and his four acolytes. The Dark Lord knew they had learned much over the turns, but they did not accomplish one thing towards building his evil empire.

They had also picked up a name from the warriors of Meath at the last battle, a name that was to stay with them throughout the ages, the Druids-Bane. Many of their sacrifices had been Druids from throughout the lands of Erie and Albion as they were numerous and strong in the life force. They had been much desired for the altar table because of the power they could gain from each sacrifice. The Dark Lord did not much care for their new title.

They were pleased once they made landfall on the Nordic lands. The Nordic realm was much less structured, much less tame, than the lands they had left. The Nordic barbarians were easier to compel to their will as their minds were less disciplined than those of the people in Erie and Albion. This made sacrifices and slaves much easier to acquire.

Something had also been calling the Dark Lord to these lands. A quiet whisper with a gravely voice sang to him at the base of his skull, urging him to head east and then north. He felt sure they were on the right path when the voice gained just the tiniest bit in strength the closer they sailed to the Nordic shore. Perhaps this was where the path began to build his kingdom.

Yet after a turn of being in the Nordic lands the blood and death from fighting all the time was much the same as they suffered on Albion. The Dark Lord and his followers were once again in danger. Nordic forces and their allies came together to pursue them and it was only a matter of time before their meager force of slaves were destroyed. The barbarians were easy to tame and good fighters but they lost their lust for blood once they became enslaved. The barbarians coming after them were deadly fighters and enjoyed killing, even if it were their own people they faced. The Dark Lord knew there was no chance to build an empire in these lands.

He turned on the four hulking figures standing behind him. They were changed much, as was he, from the five mischievous, skinny boys they had been to the large dreadful monsters they were now. With no reason to hide their features with the spell of glamour they stood in their full looming frightfulness. Despite their humped backs and stooped forms they were taller than any of the barbarian chieftains they ever faced on a battlefield. Their shoulders were broad and their arms and legs were thick under their black tattered robes. They had round bulbous heads covered in thick coal black skin that was split and cracked. Solid white eyes looked out under heavy brows and under those eyes were layer upon layer of thick leathery bags of black flesh. The most disturbing part of their terrible visage were the open holes where their nose and ears had once been. Those had flaked off long ago giving them a terrible inhuman look. They were monsters who walked upright like men and they were just as black and cold on the inside as they were on the outside.

The Dark Lord did not see any of that as he looked upon these things that used to be boys. He was weary of always being on the run. They needed a place where they could stay in safety and finally start building their black kingdom. He spoke to his acolytes through his mind, "Heed me! Here we shall camp this eve. Set the altar table yonder, for we dine on sacrifice this night. See to it thine fires blaze hot and thine cook pots are full so the slaves dine well also. We travel far on the morrow and all souls will need'est their strength."

He turned back to watching his army pass and did not realize his four acolytes had not left until one of their thoughts caught his attention, "Master, we do not ask thy plan for this night. What be thy plan going forth? Our army will die on these frozen plains with no wood to burn. We beseech you, let us make our stand against yon barbarian rabble and build our kingdom here in these lands!"

The Dark Lord did not have the same confidence in their forces that his acolytes did. So instead of making a stand as his four acolytes advised he knew they needed to go further north into the great flat plains of snow covered frozen ground. Dark Lord turned enough to look upon the acolyte that had sent the thought. The Black Druid barely flinched when he brought his full countenance to bare.

The Dark Lord did not speak with his mind this time but spoke in a deep raspy voice that was unused to talking, "We are not to abide in this place. I hath seen the signs and tis not here. Hearken to me, dost not test me again on thine subject or thou shall feel mine wrath. On the morrow and the morrow and the morrow after that we journey north from thence at the breaking of day. Keep thine slaves close to t'other for warmth, collect thoust dead for the cook pots until they all be gone, burn thy bones of thine dead for wood, I dost not care! On the morrow we depart from here!"

The Dark Lord turned away from them once again and this time the four acolytes walked away and off of the rise he stood upon. He knew these four would not turn on him. Even with the power of instant reincarnation into one of the slave bodies they would not challenge him. They had been with him since the start and their loyalty was steadfast. Besides, they would not take the chance. All four together could probably bring him down, but he had the Dark Stars on his side, with those twenty black sorcerers behind him he could not be destroyed.

The grinding gravely voice in his head still called for him to go north, this time without quieting. It irritated him almost to the point of madness. It was becoming a faint whisper mingled in with the louder voice telling him what direction to travel. It was demanding that he make his way north. He knew he needed to quiet the voice once and for all, before he became brainsick and nothing mattered anymore. He covered the holes on the side of his head where his ears had once stood out attempting to hear what the whisper said. All he could make out was the word "Grimfangs" amongst the grinding noise. The Grimfang Mountains, he had heard many tales of them during their long travel through the Nordic lands. Now he hoped he finally knew their destination.