WAKE THE DEAD COVER REVEAL

Well, I have recently received the cover art from Carlos Cara, and am impressed. You should be, too. In all seriousness, it's pretty nice. 

And if you want to read the current Prologue and Chapter 1, have at it on WattPad! And do please sign up, follow me and vote for any of my works -- (if you would be so kind) -- and Wothlondia Rising is FREE there, too. 

Meet Alex and Shadow (the wolf) & a butt-load of zombies!

Visit me on my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE  and my SMASHWORDS PAGE!

All Artwork and covers of my works by William J. Kenney & Carlos Cara

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2014 unless otherwise noted.

Wake The Dead -- Primer

Hello everyone! I apologize for my extended absence, but am excited to tell you more about my new project, WAKE THE DEAD, as well as to give you a taste, with the entire Prologue/Primer.

I is also released on WattPad , too, and I implore you to join the site and follow me (and any of the other thousands of talented authors there) if you would be so kind!

Wake The Dead is the tale of one man's trials and tribulations of what has become his 'normal' world—a world in which humans have come back from the dead as flesh-eating, crazed zombies, driven only by an insatiable hunger for flesh and blood.

The Prologue, or Primer here, sets the background and gives the brief accounts of one of the scientists responsible for inadvertently exposing what would become known as the ‘zombie plague’ upon mankind.

I am still in the middle of edits, do not have a cover yet,--a design concept or two, though!--but am hoping for a March release.

Zombie by William Kenney

I also need to warn people who are used to my Realm of Ashenclaw works: This is much different, in that I took a no-holds-barred approach and wrote with no limitation on things such as language and the 's' word. The word ends with: 'ex.'

Once again, I need to thank Nicholas Titano and Michael Cowan, two amazing friends that do my beta-reading, for all of the incredible and insightful input they offered, along with a few others, whose names will appear in the dedication section.

Warning: The following contains adult language.

PRIMER  

Doctor Charles O’ Shea was the sole survivor.

He was hungry, tired, desperate, and managed to survive for the last few days on what food remained in the vending machines. However, that too was dwindling. His stomach was churning with hunger pangs, as all he had eaten these last few weeks was sugar, processed foods, and candy.

He wanted desperately to get home, to see if his wife and daughters were alive. That, above all else was the driving force that kept him going. 

How long has it been now? he wondered, trying to recall the time. He lost the exact count after the first eleven days when his pen lost the last of its ink, after which he began carving marks in the wooden table. He etched out single strokes into the face of the table with a knife he found in one of the offices during one of their early exploration missions. It had been thirty-seven days or so now, give or take a day, as he supposed he may have missed recording one along the way. 

There were a dozen survivors in the lab that first week. 

That was before the shit hit the fan inside the lab—before the changes occurred. And before the fevers decimated them. He was the sole survivor now after everyone else had either transformed into one of them, or was killed by one. They were something else entirely…something not yet alive, but not dead, either…an animated corpse: a zombie, in its basest terminology.

He realized after a few weeks that the zombies were drawn to sound and that, for some unknown reason which they hadn't really theorized, they had slowed their pace, becoming less hasty in their pursuit. However, they were still a major threat, even in this less-savage state.

They were immediately incentivized upon smelling human flesh, hearing loud sounds or movements other than their own, or upon seeing one of us running. Those things seemed to rile them up. Charles realized this firsthand running for his life back to the lab only yesterday, Strain slamming the door shut behind him as he entered. One of the ‘slower’ zombies was chasing him, and Charles was no couch potato. He was in good shape from a cardiovascular standpoint.His last investigation during the zombie’s ‘dormant’ cycles—which was what they called the time frame after being stimulated by movement or otherwise— netted him a notebook and a desk full of pens. It wasn't much, and after that close call, he would not be doing so again for a while. 

And so, he began to write his memories and recollections so that: a) he would not forget, and: b) so that someone might find it and learn something by it. It had to be recorded. 

It was then that Charles opened his journal and began to read and recollect.
Begin journal.

***

It wasn’t long after the incident that people began to get sick. They presented with fevers, that seemed to last for anywhere from hours to days. But it ultimately ended in the same thing, They changed. They weren't human anymore. After they died, that is. They were…things; zombies; cannibals; anthropophagi, i.e. man-eaters, as a more technical term. Whatever it is that we were calling them—each of us seemed to have something different.
We were a group of top-notch scientists and bio-physicists working on state of the art biochemical mixtures for a private, undisclosed entity, with a ton of financial backing, and with intentions of selling what we perfected to the good ol’ U.S. of A. military. Once it had been perfected, that is. 

And we were close. Or so we believed. It is funny, in retrospect, how delusional even the most intelligent, analytical minds can become when seduced by ego.We had developed an aeriform version of the drug, the subject able to absorb it into their skin, to breathe it in, which was the quickest and most effective way in which to introduce the drug into their systems. 

Of course, that’s when we discovered the side effects, during the first round of testing on a human male. We saw things in the human subject that we had not seen in the slightest on any of the animals we tested. The animals presented with amazing vitality, vigor, strength, and all signs pointed to success. The human testing…that was something entirely different. 

Subject One died after the resulting contact caused incredible signs of aggression from the first exposure. Odd thing was, the drug affected none of the animals negatively, not even the primate. Who knew? All that testing on apes and mice was all for nothing; they weren’t affected in any adverse way.

The subject died shortly after the exposure. 

We should have immediately gone to a ‘cease and desist’ protocol and warned the investors of the possible side effects. But Cowan and Schiariti wanted to play God. They insisted that we could make adjustments and fix it. They convinced us that we had spent too much time and invested too much of ourselves in the project. It made sense at the time and we collectively believed that the side effects on the human were worth studying from a scientific standpoint. 

Curiosity got the best of us. But, unlike the cat, we only have one life with which to gamble. 

We lost that wager. Subject One came back to life after he died, and when he did, he wasn't human any longer.

It had no heartbeat, no brainwave activity per se, nothing that would indicate that it should even be able to use its motor functions. And it presented with incredible strength and vitality, as did the animal subjects. 

The glass tube which held it, cracked repeatedly under the sheer power of its blows, and it wasn't until fear motivated us that one of us activated the failsafe, enclosing and incinerating whatever was within the tube, in order to keep containment therein.

We believe that was when one of our own went rogue and developed a conscience. We think it was Gilmore who ‘came to her senses’ and sabotaged the whole experiment going forward. 

Looking back on it now, she was right. However, what she did ultimately led to this. 

Explosions in the facility were what started the whole thing; the machines that pumped the vapor began to overheat. The backup generators kicked in and we thought we were out of the woods as the team made repairs. However, that idea was born of false hope. The virus went airborne, but was initially contained within the plant. 

We found that after the virus breached containment and hit the air, that everyone outside the lab space was doomed. The lab had its own backup generator and precautionary quarantine responses for just such an occasion. We watched in horror on the security cameras with the few that remained behind, the ones who hadn't rushed off to attempt be with their families, as terrible acts of murder and mayhem were taking place outside of our protected lab space. Of course, everyone who tried to escape met with sealed walls and windows. That was the continuation of the initial protocol in case of a catastrophe: no one got out.

The facility shut itself down, and quickly. We discovered all of this by watching on the security cameras, before that went to shit, too. Of course, through the glass of our lab windows, we were able to witness some of the alarming effects firsthand.

It took no more than minutes in some cases for the first signs of the infection to take victims. They presented with blood seeping from eyes, nose and ears, along with vomiting blood. After they died, and that was the interesting part, they all presented the same as Subject One had done.   

Their skin was the color of ash and the real tell that they were the living dead was that their eyes glazed over with a milky white film that covered the pupils, dulling the color of the eye. It made the pupils look grey and the outside of the eye seemed to reflect eerily in the light. 

The facility went collectively mad, and eventually, someone got out. It should have been impossible, but someone, somehow, in his or her desperate paranoia, opened the door to the outside world, exposing all of God's creatures to what we described as an apocalyptic plague. 

Any hope for plant-containment was over, and so was the quarantine. We witnessed dozens of our friends and colleagues outside with the zombies, or dying and turning into one themselves. 

The authorities had already been notified en masse, or so we thought. Over the first few hours, we witnessed emergency units and authorities arriving from outside through the cameras, but none ever made it inside. They all died, choked out by the virus, or were attacked by the zombies and quickly swarmed over. The zombies were—and are even now!—brutal and swift in their craving for consuming flesh. And they are absolutely merciless…the perfect killing machines. 

The infected are emotionless vessels of destruction, with no remorse, no conscience, and are unable to feel pain—this zombie plague was unwittingly the ultimate extinction event. 

It wasn't long after, that Clarke and Hahn began to present with the fever. It was terrifying to comprehend and to witness in person. We realized at that point that even the quarantined areas were not safe anymore. We locked them outside the lab, by their own selfless choice. Maybe an hour later, Clarke snapped his own neck, and I was looking right at him when he did it, his eyes filled with undue anguish.

I was shocked, to say the least, at seeing that kind of morbid death sentence…but we were not exactly under normal circumstances any longer. I cannot imagine what that must have been like, to be faced with that hopeless a condition and I wondered if I would have had the guts to do the same thing. I hoped in that moment that I would never have to find out. 

Hahn tried to wait it out as long as he could, running the gamut of emotions, before ultimately putting a bullet in his brain. 

Soon after that, Strain and I were the only ones alive. He killed himself a week later. He hung himself while I slept, holding a picture of his wife and kids, which I found beneath him covered in blood when I awakened to the moans of his undead form hanging by that very noose. Inventive he was for sure, finding enough fabric and such to tie together, stringing it quietly over an exposed joist above us in the drop ceiling.

I put him down with one of the last bullets, putting him out of his misery, and weighed my own options. I was on the last of the food. There were only a few cans of soda left and so I ate the last Twinkie as I formulated a plan. I would make my way out the back with a distraction outside to draw them away from my car. 

End Journal. *** Charles placed the book down, went to the control panel, running on the last of the backup generators power, and went over the plan once more. He’d gathered the last of the soda, guns and ammo, tossed them into a satchel, and grabbed a baseball bat that Clarke had found in one of the abandoned offices. He turned on the camera’s one last time, sounded the siren at the back of the facility, and watched with hope as the ensuing noise drew the zombies away, and out of the parking lot, which held his car. He gripped the bat tightly and made his way out into the halls. 

The daylight persisted, offering him enough light coming in from the windows, which was enough for him to navigate his way through the halls carefully and quietly. 

He encountered only two zombies in the facility that he subdued silently but brutally with the bat, trying to keep as quiet as he could. He did note that the zombies were not as dangerous at this point again, but had no time to consider this as he raced toward the exit. 

He opened the door to reveal the parking lot and saw only a few of the zombies, and they were nowhere near his vehicle. He took the keys out of his pocket one last time, threw the door wide and ran to the car, hoping beyond hope that it would start. 

It has been sitting for over a month! 

As he arrived to the door of his Camry, one of the zombies caught sight of him and charged toward him at breakneck speed. 

That one is so fast! Charles thought as he fumbled with the keys and finally got the door open. Just in time, he slammed the door shut as the zombie crashed into the car window face first, with no consideration for its own bodily harm. A car alarm beside him sounded loudly, echoing throughout the vast, mostly-barren parking space. 

“God dammit!” Charles swore, his heart thundering in his chest as the zombie clawed at the window. He turned the key and the car started right up, but his elation was short lived as another half-dozen of them made it to his position. He put the car in reverse and held his foot above the accelerator. That was when he saw them approaching in his rear view mirror—a horde of zombies so vast that they escaped the borders of the mirror. He held his breath involuntarily as they advanced. 

He jammed on the pedal, turned the wheel to the side, and slammed the car into a wall of flesh and bone. The impact was so great that his head hit the driver side window, which dazed him. He heard the window shatter and felt the cold hands of the zombies on him and fought in vain to free himself from their grip. 

Then the darkness swallowed him. *** Visions of contemptible, terrifying events assaulted his senses as he visualized tearing flesh from bone from that moment forth…and he experienced a hunger so deep that it could never be quelled.

End Prologue

Well, that's  what I have for you so far. I will be releasing chapters 1 and 2 probably over the next few weeks, both here and on WattPad, so stay tuned...oh, and stay frosty...you never when that zombie will be creeping up behind you.

Visit me on my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE  and my SMASHWORDS PAGE!

Also, Please join me and the other amazingly talented authors over @ Skulldust Circle where we have formed a Writer's Circle that must be seen--a collection of brilliant, up & coming independently published speculative fiction authors with much to give both now and in the future!

All Artwork and covers of my works by William J. Kenney

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2014 unless otherwise noted.

Is that a Zombie?

Hello, people! So,the last two months or so, I have been working on a new project, while continuing the Realm of Ashenclaw series, Book 5, sporadically in between.

The new one is quite different from what I have written in the past in that it is modern, urban, horror, I suppose. Feel free to correct me in this as I am new to it. It is a modern zombie-apocalyptic tale that focuses specifically on one man, telling the story and events that unfold from his eyes. That being said, I have been having fun writing this new one as it has exposed new avenues upon which I have never tread before.

Obese Zombie...don't see them too often!

Let me explain why.

First off, it is modern. I can use modern terms, anecdotes, slang, etc. I had no idea how restricting it was not to use them until I did! Secondly, this is absolutely no-holds-barred. It is adult content. It is explicit in many ways. It is as real as I could imagine it. I have written unreserved scenes that include sex, violence and language, which organically done, felt right in their expression. Nothing was forced and I felt that everything so far has advanced the story or expanded on the characters.

So, unrestrained and uninhibited, I proceed down the road of my zombie apocalyptic setting and hope you tune in for snippets in the future. I am 2/3 of the way through the first draft and am very excited to present some of it to you all in the near future.

No working title and no release date set just yet, but I wanted people to get ready for it. I also have many more ideas that I will be pursuing in the near future as well and am leaving this one open for sequels.

And that will be up to the readers to decide.

Visit me on my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE  and my SMASHWORDS PAGE!

Also, Please join me and the other amazingly talented authors over @ Skulldust Circle where we have formed a Writer's Circle that must be seen--a collection of brilliant, up & coming independently published speculative fiction authors with much to give both now and in the future!

All Artwork and covers of my works by William J. Kenney

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2014 unless otherwise noted.

Preview of Wothlondia Rising 5: Strength of Faith

I am releasing the fifth installment of the Wothlondia Rising series tomorrow, this one entitled Strength of Faith. One sample will be here and the other will be on SKULLDUST CIRCLE. 

They are two very different passages, so I hope you check them both out!

Strength of Faith is a tale that paces a young acolyte of The Shimmering One, Garius Forge, on a path that tests his spirituality and also places him face to face with a demonic presence that has the power to alter the face of Wothlondia forever. Will his reverence and devotion to his deity be enough to overcome this horrible demon?

 

Garius focused on the door when he heard the footsteps approach, light though they were. He was awake, but hardly refreshed. He had already refitted his armor meticulously, prayed and meditated in the cramped confines of the room and had done so quietly enough not to wake the others.

The expected knock sounded on the door, echoing in the room as his companions began to stir. Garius opened the door and beheld a hunched gnome. He looked impatiently into the room, and then stared up at Garius and began mumbling something to him. The warpriest bent to one knee before the bald gnome and placed a hand to his ear.

“I said, Larwinckle be ready for ye,” the unnamed gnome repeated more clearly and then waddled away along a scarcely perceptible path that was worn into the grassy meadow. It was barely visible now and had gone undetected all of last evening, especially after the sun had fallen into the clouds.

“I will accompany this one. You will seek me out once you are dressed and ready,” Garius called back to the others, but Divah was already up and out of her bedroll wearing a long gown made of a thin, yet durable fabric that Garius assumed was meant to be slept in. The halfling was so excited to get moving that it seemed she did not care about the state of her undress.

“I am coming with you,” she told Garius eagerly, her green eyes filled with wonder and joy at her obvious expectations of finally exploring the gnome village. With that, she snatched up her shoes and began moving hastily out of the burrow. The Paladins began to move about in the shadows of the room, donning their clothing and then their armor. Garius shook his head and a smile cracked his face as he watched the halfling, hopping forward on one foot and then the other, trying to put on her shoes while hurrying after him.

She is quite impulsive, he thought, allowing the smile to remain until it left of its own accord a few moments later.

The gnome led Garius and the female halfling to a smallish door that appeared to be anchored to the ground. It was partially hidden by brush and foliage, Garius observed, as the gnome knocked loudly on its hard, wooden surface. Garius also noted that there was no knob to be seen or any other obvious way to pull the door open from the outside.

With that thought in mind, he saw the door open outward slowly as a gnome pushed it ajar and then waved them all in. Garius watched as the gnome and halfling strode easily through the opening, then he stooped, having to bend low in order to navigate the space. It was well lit inside by a combination of lanterns and a brilliant, magical light coming in from above them that appeared to hover and move about on its own. The warpriest wondered if the wisp of light was something sentient.

Larwinckle sat at a large table by himself and waved Garius and Divah over to join him.

I hope you enjoyed the excerpts.

Join me over at Skulldust Circle where we have formed a new Writer's Circle that must be seen--a collection of brilliant, up & coming independently published fantasy authors with much to give both now and in the future! It'd be foolish not to at least check it out...

All of my work can be found on AMAZON -- Kindle versions here!

See you in Wothlondia! Cheers!

Please visit MY HOME PAGE to enjoy an extended reading experience, see direct links to purchase my full length novel, Covenant of the Faceless Knights, the short stories: Wothlondia Rising, and to see what else Ashenclaw Studios, LLC has in store in the future!

Cover art provided by William Kenney!

All maps, names and content copyright Ashenclaw Studios 2012 unless otherwise noted.

The 'Other' Point of View (A Look Into the Antagonists!)

Hello, internet!

Since you have been overwhelmed and inundated with the protagonists that wander the Realm of Ashenclaw and the continent of Wothlondia, I thought it might be...nice?...to show you the dark side for those of you who enjoy the villains! Here is a brief excerpt from Covenant of the Faceless Knights, in which the main baddies are introduced. I hope you enjoy this one as the end of the story indicates just how evil they are!

 

Zabalas sat upon his intricate throne within the Bastion of Skulls, which was simply how his many servants referred to his castle in its newest and most glorious form. Not only were there skulls of every conceivable race and creature adorning the walls and floors within the castle, but the entire exterior of it had somehow been built using skulls and not stone. 

 He had reflected on how he took his rightful place as leader of his many minions and how he had acquired powerful associates with much in common. He thought about his exchange with the few tribes of goblinoids, convincing them that they had been lying dormant for far too long and that they should claim their rightful place as rulers of Wothlondia.

He was now trying to show the potent forces that lay below the surface to aid in the great cause, too. He was in league with an influential and extremely powerful force that desired as many allies as possible.

To Zabalas’ right stood a sickening creature. It was alive and yet, it wasn’t. It was undead.  The creature was a mockery of its once human life and stood drooling and staring out as Zabalas spoke. It listened intently but never uttered a word as Zabalas continued to share his thoughts.

In walked a tall female with long white hair and very pale, but incredibly beautiful skin that seemed quite a disparity to her dark clothing. She had a set of rather large amber eyes that seemed to display a not-so-subtle wickedness.  She wore a deep black outfit with some red accents that included a leather chest guard. The upper torso had a large oval shape of fabric cut out purposely in the center to bluntly show a large portion of her cleavage.

She wore a set of gloves and boots that ended high up on the arm and leg respectively and a loincloth that was a series of leather strips in layers dangling to her mid-thigh. Upon her shapely hips was a pair of loose-hanging belts. The hilt of a sword protruded from a scabbard hanging on her left hip and a scourge, with its many thongs about its handle hung low on her right.

She halted her advance and looked into a small mirror which she held out, her amber eyes gazing back at her reflection. She was wickedly beautiful.

She was a succubus, a race of half-breed demons, commonly referred to as cambions. The cambions are the offspring of the pure descendants of the Demon Queen,  called Aspects. The succubi made their home within the subterrane, which was obvious to any who knew their history, but most had not. The surface folk know that just before the reign of Ashenclaw, they faced a force that was secretly influencing their people into deeds of unparalleled treachery. The humans and elves wisely deduced that the succubi, who appeared as beautiful visions to their victims, were the source. The elves and humans eventually found them out and forced her succubi race deep into the bowels of the earth.

The succubi, however, regrouped during their time out of the sun, where they found refuge in those dark caverns. They embraced their new home and began plotting for the time when man would be made aware of their indomitable presence once more.

There was much revenge for her Demon Queen to feast upon in the very near future, she thought as she continued into the throne room, replacing the tiny mirror in her belt pouch.

“It is good to have you back, my dearest Phaera,” Zabalas said. His voice sounded inhuman coming from behind his devilishly styled black helmet, long horns jutting out from its sides.

The albino cambion was smiling and seemed not at all threatened by the imposing dark warlord seated in the throne before her, or of the undead creature that stood hunched beside it.  

Zabalas removed his helmet as the woman approached the throne, revealing a very handsome, albeit pale face, with long dark hair and the blackest eyes she had ever seen on a man.  He sat and stroked his smooth chin and grinned at her, conveying an almost arrogant visage. She smiled in response and spoke.

“Plans are proceeding as you requested and we are meeting with my brood in a few eves, “she calmly replied, moving even closer to him to stare into his cold eyes.

“I am confident that my brood will act in accordance with us, as will perhaps more than a few others of my kin,” the succubus finished, leaning in even closer with her lavender-colored lips and teasing him with the possibility of a kiss. She was a very attractive woman for any race, be it succubi or otherwise.

“The Daughters of Asmodai will certainly be interested in what you have to say, but I cannot speak for any of the other broods, even though my mother is regarded widely as the heiress of the entire enclave,” Phaera continued, her lavender lips almost touching his.

“I tolerate you because of your connections,” he warned as he unceremoniously pushed her back an arm’s length away.  “Your abilities have no effect on me, Phaera, remember that,” Zabalas continued as he reminded her once more that he was in control now and always. Her pheromones had no effect on him and he made sure to remind her every so often.

“I have plans that the gods will lament,” Zabalas continued, completely missing a frustrated look on the face of the succubus. “If you plan on fitting into them, I suggest you remember your place,” he continued threatening in a low and even-tempered voice, beginning to smile viciously once more.

“Tell me again of the doppelganger’s success,” Zabalas asked, clearly wanting the satisfaction of hearing the tale once more.

“I alread, ,” Phaera began and then caught the look upon Zabalas’ face and carefully rephrased her answer.

“We managed to infiltrate Oakhaven as you instructed, using my abilities and those of the djinni. No one suspected,” she explained. “We managed to find an apprentice quite easily and Solagh managed to gain his form and memories. We were close to being uncovered a few times, but managed to circumvent the fool priests. We left Solagh to his measures and returned here,” she finished.

“Yes, Solagh needed some time to do his part,” Zabalas added. “The magic of his amulet needed some time to work, after all.”

Phaera did not know what that amulet did exactly, but she knew he could simulate the effects of their pheromones.

Again, the door to his throne room opened, pulling Phaera from her thoughts and preventing Zabalas from adding anything else to the conversation. In walked a male dwarf. At least he looked like a dwarf at first, until one could make out the coloration of his face, which was very pale.

He was a slagfell dwarf, which was how all others referred to his kin. Their greed was legendary and surpassed even those of the dwarves, who hold gems in very high regard. They were once themselves a clan of dwarves, whose greed drove them ever further into the subterrane to unearth more and more treasures.

This particular slagfell dwarf was covered in head to toe with gray-colored, plated armor. He stood approximately four feet in height and his head was bald. On that head were strange brandings, specifically on his forehead and the sides of his neck. He wore a long gray beard that was braided into sections that hung next to one another.

“Megnus, we are busy,” teased the succubus as the slagfell strode closer to them.

“I have news for ye, mighty Zabalas!” he stated as he banged a fist off of his massive breastplate in an apparent salute. Phaera noticeably rolled her eyes.

“Go on,” Zabalas gestured, none too thrilled about being interrupted again, but wanted to hear the news.

“The barbarian village to the south, Chansuk, has been broken by yer Dark Legion, Me Lord,” he calmly reported. “Yer waves of goblinoid forces have been devastating to the structured Races of Order, I’m thinkin’. Goblinoids of all kinds have joined yer mighty forces and soon will the ogres and trolls, if they be knowin’ what’s good for ‘em!” Megnus said excitedly, again pounding a fist off his metal chest piece in salute to Zabalas. “And of course, ye have the full support of Shadowmere….”

Zabalas spun to face the warrior. “I have not yet begun to piece this legion together,” he forcefully explained to the slagfell. “That is obvious.”

Megnus saw the succubus snicker out of the corner of his eye as if she enjoyed seeing the repercussions of the incensed warlord focused on him and not her. Megnus noticed and let it go without causing a confrontation. After all, she was an offspring of Lilith, the Demon Queen, and he did not want to begin what would surely be an irreversible blight on the two races. Especially since Zabalas had recently begun his recruitment of the succubi into his army.

 “That undead wretch that ye have acquired should be growin’ in strength soon too, as ye suggested,” Megnus congratulated, drawing a sadistic smile and nod from the obsidian-clad warlord, who abruptly stood.

“That ‘wretch’ of which you speak was once a very powerful mage…leave me now, for I have much to think about,” he instructed, beginning to dislike how the slagfell was regarding his other guest.

“My plans require even more power than we have already assembled. If I can unite even one brood of succubi and their thralls with an entire city of slagfell dwarves, the surface creatures will become much less of a concern,” Zabalas explained, slamming a gauntleted fist into his open palm. “Soon, I will convince all of the surface brutes to join me, but for now the lich and the succubi families are my main focus,” he continued, speaking to himself more than anyone else.

As Megnus and Phaera continued to walk away, the slagfell leaned in to the succubus.

“Ye’ll never replace his Nydiri,” he whispered to her. “To think so is to tempt the hand of demons ye can’t imagine.”

Without warning or even a sound, and before the succubus could respond, the slagfell warrior was launched from his scaled boots by a mighty hand. He was sent spinning through the air to land unceremoniously on his back. Megnus came to a stop and wiped his bleeding lip, all the while looking up in shock at the dark figure towering over him, who was glaring at him with contempt and rage, the likes of which he had never known before. It shook the warrior to his core!

How‘d this man cross ten paces so durned quickly in that heavy armor and not even make a sound? Megnus finally wondered, his face stinging from the heavy blow.

Zabalas’ face appeared inhuman to the slagfell dwarf. It was pale and vicious, with a look of unholy power in his black eyes that seemed not to register any pupils at present, he looked truly demonic.

The blackened armor that the warlord bore was so polished that he could witness his own horrified reflection within its shiny, mirrored sheen. As if noticing for the first time, Megnus observed that Zabalas’ armor was completely pristine, whereas his own armor was dull and marked with numerous battle scars.

 “You shall never speak that name again!” Zabalas threatened as he withdrew his large and wicked sword from its scabbard, its tip drawing closer to Megnus. Its glow ranged in hue from pink to a deep purple flame that flickered along its length as he inched it closer to touch the pale skin of Megnus’ face. The slagfell warrior involuntarily flinched in response as a cold sensation washed over him.

“Or you will feel the cold taste of my blade as it drains your very life…slowly,” Zabalas finished the threat calmly in a whisper to the fallen warrior.

The slagfell could have sworn he saw a smiling face within the flames of the sword. Megnus had never before witnessed anything like the power that this man possessed; if indeed he was a man.

Zabalas was the most powerful creature the slagfell warrior had ever seen and he felt it wise to remain on his good side. Megnus Bloodstone was a general within his clan’s military structure, a prince and heir to the throne of Shadowmere, and was a seasoned warrior who battled everything the subterrane and the surface folk could muster. But this individual triggered an unparalleled fear and that was a very alien emotion to the warrior.

Whatever…thing… gave Zabalas his power…it be a ruinous creature fer sure, I’m thinkin’, Megnus realized. He sat amidst the piles of bones on Zabalas’ throne room floor in humiliation and watched the warlord walk away from him.

Zabalas returned to his throne as Megnus stood up. Phaera, the albino succubus, snickered again to herself as she watched the proud slagfell right himself and exit the throne room. The ire in the warlord’s expression and the ferocity of that backhand strike told her exactly what his legendary bride-to-be meant to him.

What a woman you must have been, Nydiri, Phaera thought.

Legend also stated that Zabalas was once a templar and that his beloved was killed while he was off fighting in a war.

She looked up from where the slagfell had landed, noticing the small spatter of blood on the floor, and then back to the man on the throne again. She thought of how he seemed to transform a bit more and more each day into something more fierce…more demonic…and wondered if it really was her imagination or not.

Yes, this version of Zabalas had the potential to lead the very forces of Pandemonium into war, she thought as she smiled, and continued on toward her chambers. Aspect Nahemia would be wise in choosing Zabalas as her champion!

Once in her room, she gazed into the larger mirror on her wall, stared into it and willed her natural demonic side to show through, revealing a more ferocious and distorted type of beauty as her amber eyes glowed bright in the mirror’s reflection. Curved, ivory horns jutted from her still-white forehead and her ears sharpened at the tips, looking like an elf in that regard. The claws on her fingers elongated and hardened. A set of bat-like wings sprung from her back and a tail sprouted from her backside. She smiled, revealing a sharp pair of fangs. Then she quickly willed that form to fade and ran a hand through her thick, white hair, and lay down on her bed comfortably as sleep took her.

 Zabalas was seated upon his throne once more. “My power is growing with each eve, isn’t it father?” Zabalas directed toward the undead creature at his side. The creature looked at Zabalas as if to say something, but merely gargled something foul and looked away from him. This was of course due to the fact that the creature had no tongue.

“I employ one large contingent of orcs and goblins, who are completely under my command and there is more to come…,” he said, folding his arms over his chest.

 “Now, I must once more confer with the lich and make sure we are working toward regaining the item that holds the key to his unbridled and glorious return to power,” Zabalas continued explaining to the undead creature. He started to head away from his throne, with the sound of his steel boots echoing in the large, near-empty hall. “With this once-powerful creature returned to full strength and at my beck and call, the possibilities are endless!”

With that, Zabalas exited his throne room, disappearing down a hall. The undead creature that was once his father shambled loyally just a few paces behind.

His whaaaaatt??!! See you in Wothlondia! Cheers!

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