Author's note: I hope to make this story a series based on a custom campaign that I've been running for the past year. If this gets enough positive attention, I will definitely continue writing (and even if it doesn't, I might do it anyways). Be prepared for lengthy sections. I can get pretty wordy.

For shits and grins, here is the custom map I've created for this world. If I continue with the story, you might find it helpful to follow along where the characters are.

----Prologue----

The sound of waves breaking against the rocky shores reached all the way up to the temple, perched perilously at the edge of the wind-beaten cliff. From the window of the cathedral, dark clouds could be seen swirling in the sky, ready to release their heavy burdens at a moment's notice. In the distance, the rumbling of thunder was almost a constant reminder of the events to come.

One man was kneeling at the altar, muttering prayers to an unseen god. The other was lazily sitting in one of the pews, legs resting on the seats in front of him. A large two-handed sword rested in its sheath next to him, leaning against the ornately carved woodwork. Sighing loudly, he glanced out the window for what felt like the hundredth time.

"You didn't have to come, Mallus," the kneeling figure paused his prayer long enough to say.

"What, and miss this?" the lounging man scoffed. "Gods, it'll be three hundred years this winter. Of course I had to come."

"Suit yourself."

Moments of silence passed. Mallus tried to entertain himself quietly, leaning his head back and tracing the cracks in the ancient wooden roof. It was a wonder this structure hadn't fallen into the sea yet, he marveled. The magic protecting it must be strong indeed. He returned his attention to his ally, who was still kneeling. The altar to which his was praying was even older than the structure surrounding it. Carved from ancient obsidian, it caught the light from the torches eerily, reflecting some and devouring the rest. It depicted two dragons in lethal combat, their two serpentine bodies twisting and turning around one another.

Frowning, Mallus let out yet another loud, exasperated sigh. His companion turned sharply, revealing a pale white face with piercing red eyes. "If you feel the need to be bored, perhaps you can take it elsewhere," he snapped.

Mallus raised his two hands in mock surprise. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know I was disturbing you. I'd tell you to chill, but your body is already cold enough, Siln."

The man named Siln bared his teeth angrily, showing pronounced canines. "I can arrange for yours to be the same."

"I'd like to see you try." Without waiting for another response, Mallus rose from the pew with yet another exasperated sigh. "Fine, I'll be out of your way. Finish quickly." He grabbed his large sword and slung it over his shoulder. Walking heavily to the back of the church, he threw open the wooden doors and stepped outside.

The winds had grown even fiercer, and though it was barely past midday, it was as dark as twilight. The air smelled of salt and rain to come. Yet the clouds held fast, still waiting.

Mallus crouched down and began tracing his finger through the soft dirt. A continent slowly took form in the ground. Jagged lines through the middle represented mountain ranges, and smoother curves showed major rivers flowing from the center of the landmass. He grabbed a few small pebbles and placed one at the southeastern tip, one in the middle of the mountain range, and a third about a fourth of the way down from the northern end. Rocking back on his heels, he smiled sadly at his home.

"Nostalgic are we?" a silky voice came from behind him.

Mallus' heart skipped a beat and he tumbled forward, reaching quickly for the hilt of his sword. Spinning, he found the cheekily grinning face of Siln level with his face. "Gods damn you!" he roared, though the vampire's silly expression caused him to start chuckling.

Standing up, he began to feel fat raindrops hitting his cheeks. The storm was finally ready to hit with its full fury. "It's done then?" Mallus asked, suddenly focused.

"He should be here momentarily," Siln said, nodding. Together, they turned to face the endless sky and ocean.

"You aren't worried being out here?" Mallus asked, glancing up at the sky.

Siln shook his head. "Storm will take hours to break."

"Not even a little worried?"

"That's what makes me greater than any of my other brethren."

Mallus snorted. "Bit melodramatic, isn't it?"

Before Siln could reply, a bolt of lightning crashed down into the chapel. However, instead of the energy dispersing, it remained. A deafening screaming sound drowned out the booming of the waves and the howling of the wind. Even from here, Mallus could feel the heat of the energy radiating off. The stone of the building began to disintegrate, unable to bear the extreme temperatures. After a moment, the bolt seemed to widen, and then open.

It started slowly at first, but quickly began to pick up speed. The beam of energy formed a jagged circle, though Mallus could not see the clouds on the other side of the ring – rather, it seemed the area contained within the ring was pure darkness, endless and void.

Once, Mallus had doubted anything could be living in there. That was three hundred years ago, and he could not have been more wrong.

A huge, scaled claw emerged from the darkness, grasping weakly at the gateway. A second followed, and then the beginnings of a coal-black snout. Slowly but surely the creature crawled its way out from the abyss. Leathery skin stretched from its forelegs to the middle of its body. Its scales seemed to absorb most light, much like the altar had. Finally, the dragon materialized fully and fell to the hard ground. In a great roar of flame, the gateway was closed and the beam of energy ascended back into the heavens.

"I stand corrected," Mallus said around the ringing in his ears. "That was melodramatic."

The dragon climbed weakly to its feet amongst the rubble of the chapel. Its eyes opened, revealing fluorescent green irises. "Siln… Mallus… How…?"

The vampire glided forward. "Three centuries, almost."

The dragon focused its attention on Siln. "Khalrûm?"

"Still alive, as far as we know. Though there have not been any dragonkin seen in the past three hundred years. So he's in hiding, most likely."

The beast nodded slowly. "So he sacrificed his own kind to stop us. He's more dangerous than we thought." A long, grey tongue slithered out, tasting the air. "There are only two of you. What of the others?"

Mallus stepped forward to answer. "Dead, captured, fled, we know not." He felt a tinge of sadness as he thought of his other brother and sisters. "Neer went to challenge Khalrûm after the fall. We did not dare follow."

The shadow dragon huffed. "Fool. He was always the most headstrong of you. No matter. We look to the future," it said dismissively as it turned to look out to the grey sea.

Siln and Mallus exchanged a quick look. Siln spoke first. "Mhornzah. The continent of Miscallia has unified. They are no longer the squabbling kingdoms of Elves, Men, and Dwarves you knew."

The dragon did not look back. "There will always be conflict between the races, regardless of what names they give themselves." A hint of a chuckle emerged from Mhornzah's maw. "Sew the seeds of discord, Siln. You were always so good at that."

The vampire blinked. "My… condition severely restricts my effectiveness in that regard."

"Though it does not prevent it entirely. What use did you have in recalling me if all you wished to do was report failures?"

Mallus had had enough. He had not waited three hundred years to be berated and ridiculed by this… beast. Putting a mailed fist onto the hilt of his sword, he took a threatening step forward. "What use indeed? Why did we summon an ancient dragon with no realistic idea of the world besides lies and manipulation?"

Mhornzah twisted, teeth bared. "Do it, Mallus. I dare you. The void is ageless – I've spent eons just waiting to see your stupidity and rashness in action once more."

Mallus drew his weapon, squeezing the leather grip so tight his hands ached. Before he could charge the weakened beast, though, Siln glided between the two, both hands outstretched. "Brothers!" he cried. "Cease this pointless conflict! We are still of a common goal, are we not?" He spun and looked at Mallus deeply with his crimson eyes. Though the fighter's will was too strong to be seduced by the vampire's charm, he still felt the power of the gaze. "Put your weapon away, Mallus," he hissed.

Begrudgingly, he sheathed the sword, and crossed his arms over his large chest.

Siln returned to look at the dragon. "Mhornzah, I understand your thoughts, but much has changed. Mallus and I have decided to change tactics." He reached into the folds of his cloak and produced a heavy scroll, which he extended to the drake. "We have decided a more direct course of action is required. All of the plans are recorded in here. You have a very, very specific role to fill – one which cannot be completed without your full and uninterrupted focus."

Mhornzah eyed the scrolled suspiciously, but took it anyways, gingerly manipulating the leather with its fore claws. Unrolling the document, its eyes scanned across the paper quickly. After a minute, Mallus was amused to see an expression of confoundedness form on the dragon's face. It looked up at Siln and Mallus in disbelief. "Orcs? Ogres?"

"Goblins and hobgoblins, too," Mallus answered with a smirk. "All."

Anger flashed in Mhornzah's eyes. "I am the King of Wyrms, and now you ask me to be the King of Worms. This is an outrage."

"But necessary if our plans are to fall into place," Siln replied, his face hard as steel.

Mhornzah's gaze flicked back and forth between the vampire and the human for several seconds. Then, without a word, he leapt backwards off of the cliff. Mallus paced forward just in time to see the great dragon disappear beneath the waves.

"He took it better than I thought," he said, chuckling darkly.

"You did not have to provoke him."

Mallus turned and smiled. "I just wanted him to know that I haven't changed," he said, extending his arms comically.

Siln rolled his eyes. He seemed to just now notice his robes were soaking wet from the rain. "Blast it all," he cursed as he realized his fine cloak was ruined. He sighed. "I'd best be off to Andünedôr, then. We have our jobs to do. The capital won't fall by itself now, will it?"

Mallus nodded sadly. "Keep an eye out for the other three, aye?"

"Always. Teleport." With that spell, the vampire was gone.

Mallus suddenly felt very tired. Three hundred years had not been kind to the human. Extending his own life through magical means had strained him and he wanted nothing more than to just rest. But there was no rest for the wicked. He took one last moment to stare out at the western horizon, towards the continent of Miscallia. He sneered. Nobody would stop them this time.

"Teleport."

The black, serpentine altar stood alone on the cliffs, surrounded by debris and rubble, destruction and desolation.