[b]A War Begins[/b] The Southern forces, now having marched through the backbone of the Southern perimeters for days and now traversing up the rim of Corcolus are victorious as the end goal comes into sight; an intrepid and looming, built of black brick and binded by cement. The fort stands tall, casting a shadow over the dense wetlands surrounding Corcolus. Once built during an ancient war between the humans of the Mainland and the war-like Grothls empire, a group of isles far to the east of the Mainland. Cannons protrude from the sides, through the cobble, and mortars line the roofing. Inside, it is dank and dirty, cobwebs spanning every corner off the place, but packed with rations and rapiers, enough to supply an army. Odium, at this sight, smiles on the horseback of an undead steed and the army, lead by his truly gallops on the saddle towards rge base, as it would be the home and base of operations of The South for a long time coming. Well, at least the Undead Army. Ira and his satanic council would pull the strings back at the Manor while Odium and the Southern force would pursue them endlessly. But as the forces pour into the new headquarters, Odium ponders an idea. An idea so destructive it would wipe the surface of the Mainland out, destroy the continent, sinking into the sea, into the Archipelago. Ira's plans for the war, to recover the Northern relics would certainly be grueling; and in order to win, a power greater than even Ira's would need to be harnessed. So, he recalls what Ira had told him once, in the Spire Chamber of the Southern Manor: [i]bear this spell I shall give you with wiseness, for it will destroy everything in its path, leaving nothing but a ravaged world in its wake. Say these words, words of power, and the war will be one.[/i] Odium, now verging to say these words to preliminarily secure victory, thinks of how Ira would be displeased; yet, once they had won, he would no longer be mad. Mostly, Odium wanted to see the repercussion of what he would do. So, he goes to a room separated from the rest of the base; quiet, secluded. Odium, saying these three words, that inflict such malice and dread to those that gear it can never be described, he puts the nail in the coffin. The sky dims; lightning crackles; and a wind blows through all of the Mainland. A torrential rain, and a vortex of wind. In the sky, it is hard to see, but chariots and war-ships float, Spirits, shrouded in darkness, indescribable float on them. The light of the world, all of its color, drains into nothing as one thing can be known, clear as day; The Wild Hunt had begun, and the Horsemen, unleashed. [spoiler]Closed, muhuhahahaha[/spoiler]