Chapter One: Gathering of the Masters
The infernal Armies fell upon the world with the might of an iron fist shaking it's very foundation, the militaries of the world didn't even know what hit them by the forth day of the war. Those that didn't surrender eventually fought to the bloody end, and a bloody end it was indeed, at the talons and blades of their infernal conquerors. The world fell into chaos muddled by the continuous strikes as rifts tore open in blasts of blood red lights letting the armored plagues of hell charge forth with a murderous war cry, rebuilt and reunited under the banner of the youngest general to ever to seize the reigns of power from all the others and to answer second only to the infernal lord himself. Hell was not longer divided amongst civil wars and bloody upraising which depleted it's abilities.
Metropolises became the grounds of slaughters never seen before by humanity as homes and businesses were razed to the ground, it's inhabitants rounded up like mere cattle as they were readied for the slave pens and labor camps. Not even the outer Dimensions were safe as from the hordes which rampaged in a bloody campaign against all possible threats, the major clans all suffered horribly casualties but one group remained untouched as the Commander watched his various monitors with an irritated rage written all over his face. His own plans for conquest and glory having been skewered by the wretches of the infernal empire that was advancing at frightening speeds.
Before he could gather all the Legions of Chaos under his command to arms in an attempt to pry what was left of the earth and it's surrounding Dimensions away from the grips of the underworld darkness, he was summoned by his Gods who oddly had other plans he did not like but would not dare speak of such before them. Thus Marius Daemonicus found himself gazing ahead at the nightmarish tower of onyx which rose into the blood red sky filled with swirling masses of clouds, the structure could only have been a few more miles ahead, through faint flashes of lighting the silhouette of winged beast could be seen circling about the haze covered peak. Clad within the regal chaos armor made up of the darkest lacquered metal of unknown origin, the Commander folded his arms in thought before narrowing his eyes at the structure rumored to hold a gate leading directly to their accused home plane.
Upon a prestigious armored chariot with banners that fluttered proudly in the dry heated winds blowing through the then deserted streets of Miami, a one time paradise of exotic beaches and fast cars racing along the strip between the popular night clubs. The empty buildings whistled with the insolent mortal dreams, having become nothing more then a ruined concrete graveyard. [ Continue ]
written by Walter Williams