The Dark Army

After the fall of the opening of all the demonic portals in all of the dwarven mountains, Athir was of insufferable composition, it gave its previous great Priest to a couple of its own personal guards, they have their own sub-dimension in the infernal places, no one knows really how they look like, no one returned from there. They only make themselves known by some reflecting shadows on the throne of The Great Irritator, the new Grand Priest of Athir. The Grand Priest was born in the lower caves of the Drow Kingdom, no surface light ever touched his eyes, they could see in the dark and he could hear things sometimes. Around him were never ending shadows, the personal guard of Athir, drowning light, deepening silence, striking fear in the deepest reclines of the sturdiest warrior. As a first decision, he gave all the previous hierarchy to Athir’s personal guard, for good measure. He then went to the dungeons, and picked up the most promising of the exiled from the previous Priest. "At least, those will be motivated". He thought darkly. As he was the least trusting of all, he cast a rune of obedience on each of his new commanders. Of all, he found an old acquaintance, a swordmage named Miskor, they had an unlucky encounter at a younger age, few thousand years ago, mostly unlucky for Miskor, who barely survived the plague cast upon him by the one that was now the Grand Priest. Today, his choice was even simpler, die or obey. Miskor preferred living another day, being alive has advantages, after all.