They are the things that should not be. Returned from beyond the veil which some day covers all life the undead hordes of the revenants exist only to feed upon the vital forces of the living. Their slow, methodical approach seems unstoppable, and on the field of battle the once-dead are capable of cleaving an armored man in half with ease.
The old timers among the Undead have never really gotten over losing the big battle between Good and Evil that led to Malakoth's destruction. The Lady Apocalypse rails daily about the impending doom against the mortal children of the Old Gods. It seem that she believes that by exterminating all of the followers of those who murdered her lover, she will somehow resurrect him to rule a world of the dead.
To be perfectly frank, some of the Undead are getting tired of hearing it. They long for the days when they could shamble in hordes, feasting on and terrifying innocent villagers instead of the rank and file discipline of Apocalypse's Legions. Of course, that's not something one can easily point out to a demigoddess of undeath.
The Red Desert and The Brass Necropolis
Deep in the heart of the Red Desert sits the immense Brass Necropolis and Lady Apocalypse's palace. The Red Desert is an inhospitable place to mortal life, with sudden shard storms that can strip unprotected flesh, and poison oasis. However, the dry environs help keep the Undead preserved and slow the decaying process.
The Brass Necropolis is home to the Legions of the Undead. It's a teeming city of doom and gloom where the walking corpses try to eke out some semblance of normality while waiting for the Lady's next command. On occasion, one may find the most foolhardy of mortals or Undead allies who have come to swear allegiance to Apocalypse. One such group are the Pocky-clypse Walkers, a tribe of Orc fanatics who believe that Lady Apocalypse will one day bring about the complete destruction of all life on the planet.
She would have done that a long time ago if she could have. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), her power isn't that great. For the time being, she must be content to plot raids against the mortal races and negotiate with creatures she would rather see join her ranks of the Undead. All until the time Malakoth walks again and rules a blasted world with her at his side.
Captain Talos strode the dark corridors of the Lady's palace. Helmet under his arm, he stopped before the massive bronze doors that lead to her audience chamber. High-pitched screams of rage and the sound of breaking glass filtered through the entrance. Two skeletal guards flanked the doorway, eternally vigilant in their never-ending duty. They started as something heavy bounced off the other side of the doors. "I have an audience with Lady Apocalypse," Talos smirked through mummified lips. The three of them broke into a horrid chorus of dry-throated laughter. At the sounds of the merriment, the cacophony beyond the door ceased. An aura of malevolence seemed to emanate from the room beyond. Their laughter died off. "Oh, shi-" Talos' words were cut off by the grating squeal of the doors opening behind the guards. Darkness loomed beyond.
One of the skeletons shook his head. "It's not a good time." His ancient whisper rasped out through cracked teeth.
"When is it?" Talos raised an eyebrow. "I mean, what's she going to do? Kill me?"
"Enter," echoed the Lady's voice. The skeletons shuffled slowly to the sides to let Talos pass.
"Good luck with that," the guard mused as the captain strode by.
Inside, the huge chamber was dimly illuminated by a distant blaze. Talos jumped as the doors slammed shut behind him. There was no one that he could see operating them.
"Come, Talos."
He straightened his frayed tunic and nervously fingered the hilt of his sword as he approached her throne.
The single source of light in the room came from Lady Apocalypse, herself. Seated upon an ebony throne carved to resemble twisting skeletons, the Lady sat waiting.
Talos marveled at her inhuman beauty, those eyes of deepest jet. A bright blaze of leaping flame crowned her head where hair should be.
The light of her fire exposed the glass sarcophagus of Malakoth to her right. Talos looked at the raised dais, wondering about the contents within.
"Just a pile of dust and bones," he thought. "Could be anyone, really." But that wasn't the kind of thing one said to Lady Apocalypse.
Talos glanced around. There was no sign of the tantrum he had heard earlier.
"How goes the battle for Farrenhall?" She eyed him ominously.
Talos threw on a fake smile and bowed deeply. "My Lady! The kingdom is ours!" He glanced up and became mesmerized by her flaming hair.
"Have you eradicated every trace of moral life from the area?" she growled.
"Well...uh." That hair! "There may be some...." It was fire, for the love of the Dark Gods!
"Why are you staring like that?"
"Nothing, my Lady."
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"It's just...." He motioned to the top of his head. "Fire...none of the rest of us have...fire. What's it like?"
"Assemble the Legions!" She screamed. "Push further into the mortal lands! Eradicate them!"
Talos stood staring.
"Immediately!"
The captain snapped out of it and bowed. "At once, my Lady!" Halfway back to the entrance, he stopped and turned.
He wiggled his fingers at his hair. "When you go to sleep, does it still...."
"NOW!"
Talos fled through the opening doors.
