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Reawakening
A Dark Lord arises again
The Dark Lord awoke. It had been a long sleep since the destruction of his Keystone by the Avatar of Unity. The ancient spells and enchantments that had ensured his return needed to be slow and subtle, of course, so that the Unity Seers wouldn’t detect them. Still, there was also the issue of the blood-sacrifices: they’d definitely gone down in quality and quantity over the centuries. He’d have to look into that.
He pushed the cover of the tomb aside. The heavy stone slab moved a lot more easily than it had when his Faithful had sealed him in it. Back then, he’d have had to use a spell to move it himself, mind. He must’ve got some of his old strength back. That was encouraging. He might even be able to lead his armies in person again — towards the end, back there, he’d begun to get fed up of sitting in a tower, watching it all from a distance. He liked to be in the thick of things.
He sat up, then climbed out of the tomb. Not very dignified, perhaps, but he felt good about being limber enough to do it. He looked around the Chamber. It should have been crowded with Grocs and Torgs, clashing their weapons and chanting exultation at his return. Instead, about a dozen elderly Grocs in shabby robes were sitting on chairs — chairs! — near the Altar of Sacrifice. As the Dark Lord looked at them, the one in the largest chair stood up with…
