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The Abyss, a foul place, consumed by Darkness, death, dread and despair. In this foul, twisted land the Eternally Tortured dwell, spirits of the dead bound to the Dark land by corrupting sorcery of the Dark One; a Demon God unknown to all living creatures. Coated in shadow's so dark even Light feared to get close to it. On a throne of shadow-metal, and dark-fire, the God sat, demonic bat-like wings folded to his side, and black fire burning across their boney expanse, as well as the natural spiked crown on his head. The demonic skeletal Dragon God, eyes empty - save for the unnatural soulless dark purple fire-like glow they emitted - and arms with spiked shoulder plates and gauntlets, formed from his very bones; a tail, long, with a spear-like tip and dripping with blood unseen. Idled on his throne the God was, awaiting one of his many loyal followers, but also one who had proven invaluable to him regarding surface operations. A rumbling sound reverberrated throughout the empty chamber, the idle Lord of Darkness casting a bored glance towards the crimson metal gates that stood tall oppostite him, and, were after some time, beginning to open. The blood-tinted light quickly flooded in from the narrow opening, revealing the shadowed outline of an anthro, one whom took the appearance of being a member of the Avian family. As it passed beyond the opening and approached the Dragon on the throne, hood concealing the features of the demon-bird, the eyes of the God fell expectantly upon the small form approaching him. Deformed and twisted were the features of the servant, eyes a soulless, pupiless, cloudy grey, and almost no actual muscle, just a skeletal husk of it's former self. The hooded cloak it wore billowed in the silent wind that surrounded it, and the servant ceased its steps to a halt, kneeling before its master, head bowed in blind respect.

"My lord" The scratchy voice left the creature's boney beak, head lowering as the Gods eyes bore into it's hollow soul. "The Surface Legion's are almost ready, the Acolyte's of Tenebrae await orders from you, Dark One." It's tone was venomous, a voice sharp on the sense of hearing, painful. Face rising to meet the gaze of his master, his beak was revealed to have contorted into a twisted smile at the information he was delivering to the Dark One. The God had no real name, and if he did, it was unknown to all, only the title the demon-kind referred to him by. The glow of the devil's eye's seemed to slim, as if the husk of a dragon was surveying what response to the information he deemed appropriate. "Should they fill the river with the Otter blood of the Lake-Wall?" Unexpectantly, the Dark One shook his head, his joints faintly creeking as they moved against each other.

"No" it hissed like a snake, pausing as it judged the reaction of his servant, confusion was the Avian's expression laced with, and, with puzzled eyes and a quizzical but still sharp tone it questioned his lord.

"My Lord? The Lake-Wall is vulnerable, and the Surface Legion is poised for spreading the Otter scum blood. Why deny their bloodlust?"

"Because, Aphell, while the Surface Legion's are ready, our Legion's are not." A smirk passed over his demonic face at the puzzlement in the minions expressionless eyes. "There is still much more to create, more souls to bind.." He inhaled an unknown scent, pausing his gravelly and deep voice from releasing more words temporarily, then continued. "I do not desire to make the same mistakes the past Lord made. I desire to successfully concure Furrani, to successfully bend their wills to mine. To rule the Realm" Again, he inhaled an unknown scent on the biting cold air, "I can sense the Aetherial... Unless we are prepared for them.. We will fall before we get our chance to rise" For an Ancient Dragon God - long dead before his ressurrection by his own foul craft, the Dark One was more tactical and knowing than the souls who served him blindly. He was well aware of the Aetherial Realm.. the 'holy' grounds. The Aether beings would prove a foe unmatched against his Legion's, but.. against his new weapons, his creations, his 'children'.. Even the God's would have their hearts instilled with fear. Unnatural concentrations of his Dark craft bound to the dead bodies of Aether Spirits, for the Dark One himself could not risk to reveal himself until all his power had gathered to his black heart; only then, could he be strong enough to withstand the last surviving Dragon God, and to possess the powerful creature whom would decide the ending fate of Furrani.

With a look of understanding now emerging on the Avian's features, he released a metallic sounding chuckle and rose to his feet as he was unspokenly dismissed from his masters presence. "I shall inform the Acolyte's to hold on the slaughter then my lord. When you desire, give word and that lake will be filled with the Otter blood." Wordlessly ordered to return to his duty, the Avain demon bowed before returning to the gate from which he entered the throne room, cloak still billowing in the winds his presence was surrounded with. The creature approached the open slit in the gate, the blood-tinted light consuming it's boney form as it stepped beyond the gate and turned the corner, obscuring it from the vision of the Dark One. The Dark One seemed to take on a thinking expression, as if contemplating what his first move against the World should actually be. He couldn't risk his true intentions becoming apparent, he needed to divide them, to scatter them. Once they were scattered, divided, leaderless, hopeless, he could - alongside the Serpent's and allies, prepare for a Prophecy Furrani feared to ever come into action, the Prophecy of The Fracture. Rising to his feet, he stalked throughout the throne room, molding into the shadows as he made his way down a flight of bone-crafted stairs that were at first unnoticeable against the thick darkness that surrounded the walls of the throne room, and vanished from sight into a room as black as the void itself, so dark even his own demonic light was barely visible.

~In the dark pit he waited~

In a pit of midnight shadow, the Avian demon-bird clasped the steel-handle of its curved cutlass-like blade that was currently sheathed on it's right hip side. Oblivious to its surroundings, the servant of the Dark One gazed boredly into the lightless pit before him. In that pit, were dead corpses being stored, their old and fresh dead bodies being the source of a new concept of warrior. One that was more destined to instill fear against the foes of the Dark One.. These, Twisted creatures were horrificly mutillated and deformed versions of their former living selves, and, could beyond a doubt be considered the perfect candidate for fear-making, and nightmare causing, but they would never rival the Seven Talons.. The Dark One's most precious weapons, Twisted dragons of an Ancient breed forgotten from memory and rarely recalled in Books of History. The ultimate weapon, were the Seven Talons, but the Dark One would not risk revealing what he had kept secret for so long, not until their dark essence's were fulfilled entirely.

Aphell, one of the Dark One's captains retired to his own smaller throne in his legions segment of the Abyss, staring blankly at the will-less minions who patrolled the empty halls. The Avian demon was more than ready to spill blood in their God's name, more than ready to lead his Legion's against Furrani and conqueor the land of anthro's for their Lord, but their God was not yet ready. The Legions were prepared, but power was still gathering, numbers were still growing, the Aetherial were still a threat. The door to his chamber opened, and the demon instantly left his throne to bow before the entity who entered. One of the Exalted.. A towering dragon-wolf mutation, thick, armoured bones and armour covered in different skeleton parts of Furrani anthro's

"Iroxi, Hand of Darkness" Aphell greeted the wolf-dragon demon, his head lowered in blind respect. "How may I service you, Exalted?" The Avian's head lowered even more, the unseen weight of Iroxi's gaze pressing down upon the skeletal form bowing before him. The Exalted's rumbling, eerie growling filled the air, a Tounge old that only the Demons of the Abyss could understand. Shrinking noticeably under the heavy stare, the servant quickly composed itself when responding. "I assure you Exalted One, my Legions will be ready." The Exalted before him was feared by all lesser demons, even the Reavers and Warchiefs, the great Champions and leaders of the legions." He remained in his kneeling pose even after Iroxi had left his room, returning only to his feet when summounded to oversee a group of Prowler's and Stalkers being birthed.

As he opened the gate to the Pit, he stared inside the deep Pit with a evil smile, watching the Wakers mutate the corpses of Spiders into larger, feralised versions of themselves. Spiders as big as a Feralised Elephant were the Prowlers, with Stalkers as big as a Feralised Lion. A multitude of glowing red eyes illuminated the Pit, hundreds of individual bloodthristy orbs being the only Prelude to a small part of what awaited Furrani. The lands above the surface housed every different breed of anthro that existed in Furrani, threats to mere targets, all bound for slavery or death, and this time.. The Dark One would ensure the 'Gods' were destroyed too.