AN: Good news everyone! The first arc will be fully edited and ready for the press between July and August. I also found someone willing and eager to produce a cover art for the first arc. Perhaps when the second arc halfway/completely finished, they'll have the second one done up for everyone to look at. No, I don't have anything planned like a "halfway point", or some such thing. The first arc was originally going to have fifty (50) chapters, and now look at it. Maybe when the group spends a bit of time in the Necropolis, I'll ask for a second cover art.

Anyways, I noticed the increase in followers for our little story. Welcome everyone, to our little Black Parade, and as always folks, thank you for reading thus far. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please do not hesitate to voice them.

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"My Lord High God," called out a monster who was naught, but a large eyeball in the midst of a sea of tentacles and tendrils, "We are ready to depart, as are the prisoners." The humans in question, with their minds thoroughly broken, had collars of silver wrapped about their necks, and a short chain of the same silver attached to the next collared human in front of the last. The collars had been made of silver due to their magickal imbuement's set to dampen their strengths and resistances to all forms, and to keep them bound securely to a large stone cart made specifically for them.

"There will more than likely be a raid to save these humans," muttered the Naga with disgust, and spat a glob of mucus upon the chest of one of the males.

"Indeed," spoke a voice that shook the earth beneath their feet, as the shroud of shadowed mists began to stretch itself greatly, forming a great torso, long armour-plated limbs, and square shaped skull. These mists then began their sculpting process, allowing the world to view the creatures well toned metallic muscles of iron laced with gold. This great creature stood tall at a height of nearly twenty metres, and its form looked much like that of a human male's, save for the featureless face with only four pairs of oval shaped eyes running down the sides, horns which spiraled towards the heavens from the temples of its head, the long tail upon its backside, and the great expanse of wings from its shoulder blades.

Before the mists receded to reveal the new body of their god, however, the mists began to shape itself around the torso and legs, creating a breastplate and greaves of iron and bronze. Once finished, the mists evaporated under the day-star in the heavens above, which revealed a mighty creature for them to gawk.

"M-master?" Stammered many amongst small army, as they have not seen such a form in the entirety of their lives. However, they did bow their heads in worship of the majesty of his new body.

'Come to me,' whispered the echo of a voice long forgotten by history, and the Mindflayer of the group slowly drifted towards the great head of such a creature. One of its tendrils hesitantly touched it, shivered for a moment, then began to broadcast the thoughts of their Lord High God.

'Ah,' sighed a contented voice, which caused many a nose to bleed under the stress, 'I have not used this body in such a long time.' In so saying, the iron-like colossus began to stretch its limbs, whilst the body creaked and groaned from the movements.

"M-m-my Lord High God?" Called out the Naga, whose body had coiled in on itself in order to try and protect him from the heavy voice of the Ageless's mind, "What is-?"

'Ah,' the mental voice became that of a soft whisper rustling through the stained grasses beneath their feet, 'I had forgotten how much pressure my mind can strain upon the minds of others. Hmm,' the metallic head turned itself towards the remnants of the day's prior battle, then towards the chained humans being placed into harnesses to pull the stone cart which held nothing. 'I do believe you are correct in your assumptions, Naga. We must prepare for their arrival, but for now, we march towards Necropolis, home of the Lich King.' In so saying, the whole of the army turned south upon the Plains of Nu'Ohn, and towards the old city of New Wair, now called Necropolis.

*

It wouldn't be until the day-star reached its zenith, when the Ageless called for a short break from their walking. Of course, being under the God of Terra meant a being would not grow tired after such a short jaunt through the plains, but it was done so merely because he willed it so. Of course, this also meant one of the humans would go through the tortuous process of having their body torn apart, whilst it continued to regenerate the lost parts almost instantly. This was simply so that it would feed the whole of the small army, as there weren't anything substantial for one to eat upon the Plains of Nu'Ohn.

Granted, there was grass aplenty, but even herbivores avoided the plains as though it were a great plague of sickness, and they would only be half right. For these plains hold a great and terrible curse within itself, and the cause of such a curse was done so by none other than Brutus the Lich King, and the Ageless who walked with them. As for what occurs, when one disturbs a small patch of discoloured grass, spores erupt into the air in the form of a pale yellow cloud. If one was to inhale such spores, then the body is afflicted with a combination of a plague and a curse.

The plague portion is rather gruesome, as no one upon Terra, save the Ageless himself, knows of the cure. This plague is common upon his world, which is called the Bubonic Plague, but has been tweaked with his own chaotic magicks. Once caught, the plague quickly sets itself to weaken the body's natural defenses to infection, which allows a second plague to appear. This one is called the Septicemic Plague, and causes parts of the body to turn black and fall off. It can also cause bleeding under the skin and inside the organs from the lightest of touches.

Now, if the infected has not passed on from this, the two plagues invite a third, of which guarantees death. This is called the Pneumonic Plague, which fills the lungs of the individual with a pus-like fluid, and drowns the poor soul. Of course, once they have died, their essences are trapped inside the earth, and rise from it every night to hunt down the living for all time.

However, many can protect themselves by simply being a servant of the god of Terra, or wearing an amulet imbued with an enchantment designed to push the air about the individual every few heartbeats. Unfortunately, they are never reliable, causing many to succumb to the plagues and curse placed upon the Plains of Nu'Ohn.

As to the reason why this was so designed, 'There is a portal somewhere upon the plains that leads to our moon orbiting Terra,' whispered the mind of their Ageless after many had become curious to know why the plains were uninhabited, 'I do not recommend searching for such a portal, as it leads to one of my homes. Of which is without oxygen, which is necessary for a mortal to live.'

"What is 'ox-i-gin', Master?" Asked Roshaan, whose ears twitched with great curiosity.

'Oxygen is a gas upon a suitable planet full of life. This allows the water to be water and those who breathe the air above such liquids to continue to live and thrive upon the lands,' he held up a long forefinger and continued with, 'However, this gas is odourless, colourless, and tasteless. It can also kill a being if forced to inhale it in its purest form. For although you are all breathing it in right now, it is not enough to kill you. Instead, you are all breathing in a combination of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide. All of which could kill a being if they inhaled its purest form, but with a combination such as these gases, one may continue to live and thrive upon our world of Terra.'

"How is 'ox-i-gin' produced, My Lord High God?" Asked a green skinned orc.

'Ask the trees, and the dryads who tend to them, So'uun,' the Agelss's tone became that of a teacher with infinite patience towards his students, 'For they hold the answer to all your queries concerning how it is produced.'

The eyes of their god blinked once, then stared out into the distance as though he had spied something. Indeed there was, as the lone figure of a battered she-elf riddled with bulbous pus sacks about her body was evident she had stepped onto a discoloured patch of grass. It seemed to him that she would die within moments, if he did not rush to her aid. However, he simply turned his attention back towards the small army clustered about his feet when an ogre asked, "How you get big, god?"

'Ah, it was quite simple, really. You needed to become a god before a "patch" in Azzarath was put into place.'

"What is a 'patch', Master?" Asked Roshaan, whose ears twitched as the soft screams of the dying she-elf drifted above his head.

'A patch upon the game world of Azzarath was nothing more than the added bonus of something beneficial to one's self, or the reduction in benefits for whatever the target was. In this case, there were many others upon that world of Azzarath who had become gods. These others, along with myself, greatly desired to retain our god rights and claims to the worlds who, essentially, ascended our person to godhood.

'However, because I could not have our world of Terra at that time, the pantheon of gods upon that world could not grant everyone the rights to rule over their respective world. Instead, they simply unlocked a forbidden zone among the collection of worlds which benefitted from Azzarath. This zone, by the by, is the Abyss.'

Their Ageless grew silent for a time, as though contemplating some great mystery of the universe, before continuing with, 'I must ask you this, would you care to hear of my adventures into the Abyss?'