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THE WITCH KING
Using Onyx's secret door, Botan found his way to the pond of evil waters. The black surface began to stir as he approached. It was as if it was calling to him. In a trance-like state, Botan moved forward. Step by step.
When he reached the middle of the pond, he submerged under the dark surface. Time passed. And when Botan finally resurfaced, he had been transformed into the foremost champion of evil.
A dark prince, tall and terrifying.
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With the support of the dark powers, Botan became the most powerful sorcerer in the north. From the unknown and frightening Muspellheim, Marlok's dark realm, Botan summoned all the monsters he could find: Goblins, demons, and evil spirits.
And through the power of Nexsus, Botan gained control over the evil dragons that served Marlok: the red and the black.
Botan now turned his gaze towards the kings who refused to follow him. And a fanatical hatred awakened within him.
By Marlok's mighty thunder hammer, Botan swore that he would avenge those who had not accepted his position as the ruler of the world!
Each and every one of them would suffer so terribly that they would kneel at his feet and beg him to end their pain!
He would torture them all until they were mere shadows of themselves, and their bodies gave up. But even in death, they would not escape.
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Botan kept his dark promise.
All prisoners brought to Botan's lair were subjected to evil magic. With the powers given to him by Nexsus, Botan twisted the poor creatures' souls so that those who had once been good and noble became something evil and dark, before being returned to their ravaged bodies.
Because of the dark magic Botan had used, the captured souls were now Botan's slaves, obliged to obey his slightest command.
These creatures, subsequently called undead by the people, became, like all the other evil creatures, an important part of Botan's immortal army.
Botan's terror spread far beyond Vanaheim. And all, both humans and other creatures, suffered cruelly. Among them were the mountain dwarves. A proud race who, like the elves, belonged to the first and oldest beings in the world.
The mountain dwarves were the finest blacksmiths and builders of Vanaheim, and under their diligent hands, intelligence, and sense of beauty, they could create the most wonderful things - from weapons and armor to beautiful sculptures and lavish homes.
When Botan learned of the dwarves' skills from a slave, he was darkened with envy and hatred. And he immediately decided that this people's knowledge would only belong to him.
He was the master of the world, and all races, whether they were humans, elves, or dwarves, would be his slaves.
Botan hated that there were any who were mightier than he, and he would not rest until all magic and knowledge belonged to him.
As a reward for his indiscretion, the poor slave who had revealed the dwarves' secrets was thrown into the wolf den, and Botan's grim throne room was filled with human screams and wolf howls echoing with wildness.
When the screams finally subsided and the only sound heard was bones being crushed and flesh being torn apart, Botan rose from the throne.
With a loud voice, he called for Varg, a terrifying beast, old and evil, lord of the werewolves.
Varg's strength was great, but Botan was still not satisfied. He placed his hand on the werewolf, and Varg jerked as fire and infernal torment entered him, possessed by a consuming spirit, tormented, dreadful, and strong.
As Botan removed his hand, the full moon emerged from the dark clouds outside the castle, and the werewolf let out a howl so dreadful that all the goblins who heard it trembled with fear.
Botan now sent Varg off to the mighty Snow Mountains, where the mountain dwarves lived, and he commanded the werewolf to kill everyone there, except those he took as slaves.
Accompanying him, Varg had a large following of goblins and three black dragons.
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THE FALL OF THE MOUNTAIN DWARVES
Shan-E-Sorkh, the city of the mountain dwarves, lay well-hidden in a secret magical valley, surrounded by tall steep mountain ranges, and one could only enter along a hidden path well guarded by skilled archers.
But even the dwarves' skills in magic could not protect them from the terrible power possessed by Varg.
It was night, and everyone in the mountain city except the guards was asleep when the first black dragon suddenly swooped down from the dark sky.
The attack came so suddenly that several houses were ablaze before the dwarves could gather for defense.
Galbro, a red-bearded dwarf, the city guard's foremost warrior, called forth a group of archers, and a cloud of arrows was shot at the dragons now swarming towards the city walls.
But the flying monsters were meant as a diversion, and while the guards were busy shooting at the enemy from the sky, no one noticed the goblins sneaking in along the hidden path.
The guards were cut down before they could warn anyone, and with loud cruel cries, the gogirs stormed the city. Some of Galbro's warriors noticed the new danger, and with loud shouts, the archers prepared themselves. And when the goblins attacked, they were met with sharp arrows and then a wall of spears.
When the guards at the mountain king's castle saw what was happening in the city, the warning horn sounded, echoing over the mountain peaks. King Caliban opened the mountain's gates and sent a army of his finest soldiers to aid the city guards.
But the goblins managed to break through the dwarves' defense. Galbro saw this, and when three of the goblins chased after the fleeing women and children, he drew his sword, and with eyes flaming with rage, he charged towards the enemy.
Galbro's sword whistled through the air, and the goblins trying to stop him felt a terrible pain as the narrow blade of the red-haired dwarf cut through flesh and bone, and the heavy foul-smelling bodies fell headless to the ground.
«Well done!» shouted a voice beside him. Galbro looked up and saw his young friend, Agmenon, herald of the royal army. Galbro was about to say something when a huge beast of a goblin suddenly stood before him.
Galbro took a step back as he sized up his opponent. But Agmenon, who had gotten carried away, couldn't control himself, and before Galbro could stop him, the young dwarf threw himself at the goblin with a wild war cry.
Despite his size (the goblin was three meters tall and clad in armor), the goblin moved swiftly.
He avoided Agmenon's thrust, and before the dwarf could get back into a defensive position, the goblin struck. His sword hit Agmenon right in the throat, and the straps holding the shoulder plates in place broke.
As the goblin pulled the sword out again, Agmenon fell forward to his knees. Bubbles of blood burst on his lips, and with a low groan, he collapsed. When Galbro saw his young friend lying dead on the ground, he went berserk.
Like a raging tiger, he attacked the goblin who had killed Agmenon.
The goblin aimed the bloody sword at him, but the dwarf knocked it aside, and as he took a leap and threw himself between the wide legs of his opponent, he drew out a long knife hidden in his shirt sleeve and slashed the goblin across the back of the thigh.
The goblin lost his balance, and as he sank to one knee, Galbro raised his sword and made a quick half-turn with his body.
The sharp sword whistled, and the huge shaggy head of the goblin was separated from the body.
It spun through the air before hitting the ground with a soft thud.
Galbro barely had time to recover before a new flock of enemies came rushing towards him.
The dwarf clenched his teeth and prepared to meet them when suddenly he heard a voice calling out to him.
He turned around, and there, a little way behind him, stood a group of archers and spear throwers. To his great dismay, Galbro realized that he was in the middle of the firing line, and with incredible quickness, he managed to throw himself aside at the last second before the weapons went off.
Some of the goblins fell instantly, killed by the arrows and spears, while others survived and continued to charge forward. Soon they were so close that the dwarves had to draw their swords.
The battles surged back and forth, and everywhere, gruesome roars and cries of pain were heard. Then a roar was heard that the dwarves had never heard before. A roar that echoed in the air and made the ground tremble. A roar that heralded death and destruction.
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