Chapter 7:

Fires in the Lair.

The name of this particular land, was not one that did anything to encourage my sense of politeness or good manners. How can you not take pity on anyone who would take pride in living in a land called Water Dream Warm? It's nothing to brag about, especially when the name is chosen by the Lord of the Land. For me, it was another good reason to ensure that the man's head was separated from his shoulders. My arrival was a quiet and subdued affair, with only the three most powerful of my Demon Spawn with me. This rat hole would fall under my dominion, but before I can get round to that, I have to summon a Dungeon Heart into this land. The Dungeon Heart is the life source that keeps a Keeper alive, and grants a very much appreciated bonus of resurrection in the untimely event of death. The process of summoning a new Dungeon Heart in neutral territory is relatively easy. Unfortunately, I'm not trying to summoning a dungeon heart in neutral territory. This is enemy controlled territory and the summoning process is not without risk.

According to the encyclopedia within my skull – the one that I wished I could get rid off sometimes – summoning a Dungeon Heart in enemy territory carries two overwhelming dangers. The first is something called "psychic backlash." That fancy term simply means that the mana flow for the summoning spell is impure and "tainted" with too much light energy. The infusion of Light and Dark means that the Dark is expunged, which means that I will, if I'm lucky, go completely insane, and my minions will go on a rampage, killing each other before going on the warpath and attempting to destroy everything in their path. And that is just the first problem.

The second greatest problem is not actually that great, if you handle things right. When a Dungeon Heart is summoned into existence, the mana concentrations are astronomically high. The concentration of raw mana necessary is so high that nothing can actually cloak the summoning of a Dungeon Heart. The mana concentrations will alert every Wizard, Mage, Priestess, Fairy and person in tune with the rivers and flows of mana that make magic possible. Fortunately, the spike is so sudden and dramatic, that it is next to impossible to actually get a fix on it, because for those who feel it, it will be like a blow from a war hammer to the temple. Even though the heroes start tunneling to find the source of that power, they don't know where to start looking, which gives me more than enough time to prepare a suitably warm and appropriate welcome.

The summoning process is made far easier when there are others who can also contribute and aid in the process. For many of the lower life forms, namely the more beast or insect like warriors, this contribution comes from their mana, or simply their lives which are sucked out of them to fuel to process. Others that are capable of spell casting, such as the Demon Spawn, are able to assist in the summoning, and their additional support makes it much easier to summon a Dungeon Heart without having the Keeper become a raving lunatic or drooling vegetable. 'The chosen room to hold the Heart was the smallest cavern that I have ever seen in my time underground. I would say it measured about five meters square, which is just barely enough room.

Within the center of the cavern my Demon Spawn signaled their readiness. The latent mana had built up to near astronomical levels, which would make it much easier to achieve the necessary critical mass of mana necessary for the spell to work. I moved into place, and began the chant facing the open space. The scaly hides of my Demon Spawn began to glow, a faint blue that surrounded them, even as they began to move the mana, channeling the raw vibrant energy in gentle coalescing waves of light that echoed outwards from their forepaws which wove patterns around them, before coalescing together overhead in a gentle glow of bluish green light. Their scar and laceration decorated hides were glowing. Raw mana is untamed energy and is best treated with white kid gloves, as a single misstep would have wiped out everyone present. In moments, the mana channeled by the trio had been pushed together to a single pulsing mass of barely contained and controlled power.

Focusing my own magical powers, I channeled the spell, focusing every ounce of power within me to bring the Dungeon Heart, the core of my base operations in this land into existence. The incantations were not something that I can actually provide you with – I speak the Dark Tongue, the Language of the Dark Gods, but I have no idea how to write it. I won't deny that the process is tiring, draining, as every muscle went tense within me, as though it was me being twisted, shaped and stretched like a sheet of wet tissue paper. My strength and powers were fading – as they normally do – when I cast this spell. It is no simple spell, and it is truly an endurance exercise for a Keeper. Fortunately, I can take pride in that I have competent minions, as they stayed close, casting their healing and regenerative spells, almost as if on instinct, targeting me, keeping me awake, aware and focused upon the monstrous challenge of pushing what is in my mind, and shaping it in to something tangible in the real world, without giving myself a frontal lobotomy.

It took form, slowly, in my mind, gradually becoming something of substance in reality. It came in to existence with a sudden blinding flash of light that lashed outward with a strength and ferocity that I found myself wishing that all of my warriors possessed. It slammed in to my form with the force of a hammer, 'the sudden outpouring of light blinding me after so long beneath the ground and away from the sweet caress of the light. I'd forgotten how it feels, and in all fairness, I would have preferred not to have such a painful reminder of it.

I could feel it, even though I could not see it, as it somehow seemed to hover several inches above ground, waiting for a signal from me to descend onto the soft loamy soil to take its rightful place. I gave the command within my mind, and sure enough the Dungeon Heart descended on the soil and formed the foundations of the Heart. The Heart Chamber began to form the red and grey flagstones of the floor, the walls of the chamber taking on the classic mosaic like pattern as they were hardened and reinforced, creating an impenetrable barricade to all but the most powerful of magical spells.

I was exhausted, but from where I lay, half curled and crunched against the bottom third of the wall of my latest Dungeon Heart, I knew that the headache would pass in a few hours. It wasn't the worst headache that I've experienced, but it still felt as if I'd had front row tickets to a full array of drums being hammered upon my skull, making my skull feel about three and a half sizes too small for my brain. Physically, I was more than a little spent, but I have far greater reserves of mana. I drew into the void and reached out, channeling the mana to summon the small group of Imps. The small brown and black colored, bug eyed creatures stared vacantly ahead. Their minds – as limited as they were – would not begin to function until they received their first order. Otherwise, they would be something akin to oversized dolls. Looking at them, I cleared my thoughts and wiggled my toes, and was relieved that I could feel them as I hauled myself back to my feet.

I gave my orders and it was amusing to watch as they blinked for the first time, and seemed to realize that they existed and that they had work to do… lots of it. They moved, but they were moving far too slow. I didn't even think. I just did it. I lashed out at the closest Imp, hurling a pair of burning spheres at it. They collided, taking him in the neck, one after the other so quickly that it did not even realize that it had been struck, walking forward another two steps before it stopped and the head slid off at the neck, completely burned through, the searing heat of the molten disk I had hurled had cauterized the wound. The remainder moved as if the fires of hell were burning at their feet, and they began hacking at the walls as if it were their enemy and they were in a mad battle frenzy. They were just eager to not wind up like the smoking corpse of their obliterated comrade, as several others fled to attend to other tasks. I had conjured quite a few of them, and there was more than enough work to keep them busy in the hours to come.

I think that they know what would happen to them if the tasks they were assigned were not completed, and quickly. They have a tired Keeper and three equally tired Demon Spawn. We're all hungry, and I'm sure that my Demon Spawn would not mind an Imp as a snack; I'd rather have dry bland hatchery chicken than actually try to eat an Imp. For what it is worth, I kicked the headless corpse over to my Demon Spawn. They tore its flesh, a savage grin upon their faces as they devoured the corpse, not stopping for even the bones, which they crunched with obvious relish, obviously savoring the bone marrow that pulsed with mana.

I would have to be a fool to think that I am still a complete human considering the sheer quantity of blood that my hands were drenched in. The changes to my body, and to me as a person, were making me into something else. I had seen and noted the changes, and they did not worry me much. Every change was in its own way a blessing that made me harder, stronger, and far more deadly to any fool who would dare to stand up to me.

I admit that one of the things I really liked was that I could, from the confines of the Dungeon Heart, gain access to a view that let me oversee my entire Dungeon, but also what lay beyond its walls, in the underground, once it was properly and fully explored. But I would also be able to see the heroes, if they wandered close enough to my domain. But for the moment, I was more interested in the state of my little empire. It was a interesting tool, considering that it was a crystal, a massive crystal that had been carved in half, creating a massive screen that was more than enough to view my dungeon, and it was rather interesting as I could move through different zoom levels, whether to focus on a given area or on a given warrior.

It was actually quite nice to be able to view things this way, instead of having to wander through my entire domain, as I am in the habit of doing on foot. Its not that hard to use but the fact that it is tied to my mind and my thoughts, doing what I want and showing what I want, it takes quite a bit to get used to so that I can work with it comfortably. To the north of my Dungeon Heart lies the Lair of my small but well trained army, for the moment numbering about fifteen warriors in total. Where there used to be a massive gold seam to my East, my Treasury lay, filled to the brim and almost overflowing with riches and gold. I had ordered the construction of my Training Room to ensure that it maximized efficiency by placing it to the immediate right of the Lair, but "above" - relative to the Dungeon Heart when you've got a bird's eye view of things – to effectively lock off and cordon that entire area. In spite of being an Army of Darkness, any and all armies still march on its stomach. I had constructed a generous Hatchery to the South of the Heart to ensure that my warriors would be well fed.

I took note however, of the incessant training that my Demon Spawn were doing – it bordered on ridiculous, considering the sheer strength and power they already possessed – they were at their fighting peak. While it does cost me gold and a fair amount of it too, to keep the training room in operation constantly – what? You didn't think those dummies actually last forever did you? Replacements are needed! – I could see no point in denying them access to it – not like I actually had any way of keeping them out of there even if I wanted too.

I can almost hear your unasked question dear reader: - Just what exactly do I do with all that gold and jewels that I accumulate? What on earth do you think my minions and warriors fight for? You don't actually think they fight for me just because they have to or something? What? Money makes any world go round. It doesn't matter where that world is. It's not as if I have to pay them permanently. Basically, the way it works is that they get paid, they fight and do what I want. Once the land is conquered, they have a place to live and stay, for as long as they want. Should war break out, they can be called upon to fight, and to defend their homes and by extension, the different conquered lands that make up my empire. Sometimes, I think that I should open a casino so that I can actually get my money back…. But that is an idle wish.

I watched with quiet amusement as my near exhausted Demon Spawn ambled into the Hatchery, devouring the chickens that wandered round in circles mindlessly, each of the cute little white flurry objects disappearing with a squawk and a burst of pure white feathers – reminds of me of how some heroes seem to explode or implode when struck with one spell to many. To say that they ate more than their fill would be quite the understatement, as they left a pile of bloody feathers behind them which reminded me that three Demon Spawn had consumed anywhere between six and nine chickens a piece. Thank the gods that I'd had the foresight to actually make such a large Hatchery to keep my minions fed and satisfied. I found myself wondering if Demon Spawn could actually suffer from indigestion.

This trio of Demon Spawn were the most powerful of my minions, the most powerful of their entire pack. I had left the rest of them behind and spread them out across the lands under my control, if for no other reason than to reinforce the garrisons keeping the limited human, or should I say, slave population under control. But in all fairness, and as the Dungeon Keeper, I could feel the mana change within them and their mana regeneration was more than a little amazing, as I could feel the difference in them. The immense amount of mana that they had channeled in the summoning of the Dungeon Heart had caused a drastic change within them. Demon Spawn, as the name implies, are the spawn of numerous different Demons, but as I understand the way things work in this crazy world, these "spawn" have the choice of what adult form they will finally take, the most common being the dragon form, but it is up to them to choose when they will mature.

It was clear to me that they were ready to enter that final phase in their growth. The question was only how long it would take, as they collapsed in to their beds, which were nothing more than a large pile of skulls and bones from numerous different animals with the fur and feathers of numerous different slaughter creatures. I'm guessing that for each of them, some of those skulls would be trophies from the trials that they had gone through during their lives. Makes sense to me, I keep the heads of butchered Lords of the Land mounted on my battle standard.

There is no doubt that the Forces of Light were already hard at work trying to find me, to "exterminate with extreme prejudice." The quartet of Giant Flies in my employ were more than a little busy carrying out reconnaissance runs on the surrounding underground passages and tunnels. There is only one access from the surface to what is my domain, and that is easy enough to find. The only problem was actually trying to find were the dwarves had wandered too while searching for me. So far, we'd found over a dozen different tunnels, branching in almost every direction imaginable, but no sign of any actual heroes.

I get the distinct impression that time moves differently in this world, as if several hours of time in my home world are the equivalent of a single hour in this world. I'm still adjusting to the difference, but it's not an easy adjustment to make. I wake up after what feels like two days of doing nothing but sleeping, only to find that it has been just a single night. The pulse throbbing in my head felt like the swatch of destruction that I had carved through this world. It was sudden and it worried me when I heard the rumbling and then the subsonic boom several minutes later. As I focused upon the source of the explosion, it sent trembles down my spine for it was centered upon the central Lair for my minions. The lair is about a minute's walk from the Dungeon Heart, but it was easier for me to teleport, which would give me the advantage of surprise with regards to whatever I would face in the confines of my own Dungeon. I teleported to what would be the "doorway" of my Lair that is presently without a door. I would have to get a Workshop in my current Dungeon.

The sight that greeted me most certainly left me extremely pissed off. Where I once had a trio of resting Demon Spawn, I was now left with a trio of craters that were hammered in to the stone floor by a trio of wrecking balls, or worse. Even with my weapons drawn, I was less than eager to face who or perhaps what had vaporized my three most powerful warriors. The craters were anywhere between a foot to eighteen inches deep, the smells akin to burnt cordite. My three most powerful minions had literally blown themselves to tiny little chunks and violent convulsing sprays of bluish green ichors, even though there were no sprays, considering they had seemingly self combusted and left nothing behind.

My minions were gathered around me, forming a rough half circle around the trio of still smoking craters when a sudden glow flared brightly before steadying. From the smoke and ashes something melted the stone and wall before my eyes, the heat actually warming the rocks and earth. My minions were momentarily paralyzed by the sight before them, the smell of sulfur filling the air around us. The mixed collection of Beetles and Spiders were standing around. It clicked in that moment, that this was no attack or invasion but it was, in English for those who do not understand the Demonic Languages, Demonic was magic, albeit some dark magic, as everything shifted, as if the craters were caught in a time warp. The eight pointed star of Darkness appearing in a burning trail of fire, before reversing the destruction that had been wrought in my Dungeon before my sight.

I recognized the tears that appeared, the shimmering wavy lines of black that floated in mid air for several long seconds before they ruptured outwards, opening massive pools of black shadow. The portals wavered for several long seconds before they stepped forward collectively, a trio of Dragons. And these were definitely not a bunch that any sane hero would want to face off against. Dark green, almost emerald like in color, but still somehow with the opacity of a midnight darkness. Their claws were massive just like in their immature form, oversized but definitely razor sharp, more than capable of catching and deflecting a sword, or other paltry weapon. One of them actually had spikes running down the length of his back and tail, no doubt more than capable of impaling and killing a deserving hero with ease. This trio of Demon Spawn, or should I say, Dragons, are an excellent example of what Demon Spawn can become.

As they stared round, ignoring every single warrior that stood ready to cut them down, or attempt to at any rate, I knew who they were searching for specifically. They were searching for me: The Dungeon Keeper. And as far as I'm concerned, I have no intention of backing down and actually letting this trio of warriors wander out of my Dungeon. They took several steps in my direction, while my warriors fanned out, following my telepathically given orders to creating a crescent formation with the points forward as we'd need to overwhelm them completely in order to keep casualties to the bare minimum. I was taken a back when they bowed to my, their long serpentine necks no doubt finding it a little bit difficult but they held the bow for several long seconds. It was at moments like those that I really treasure the encyclopedia of knowledge within my head, and I bowed in return to them, as deeply as they had bowed to me – which was relatively shallow considering that they were more powerful than anything else in my command, they had the right to do so, but I was not about to let that get to their heads.

Raising one hand, I let the words from the encyclopedia come from my lips, just letting them flow to avoid problems, "Greetings, and welcome to one of the Dungeons of the Black Flame. I am the Dungeon Keeper, Lord and Master of this domain. Whom do I address?"

One of the Dragons, the somewhat "average" sized one, stepped forward, locking his gaze with mine. The face bore a certain amount of pride, and the eyes betrayed the presence of an evil mind within that skull, as well as a great intelligence. His voice was deep and rough, sounding as if someone had taken sandpaper for vocal cords and added hints of a growl to almost every word he spoke, "Keeper Firestorm, it is an honor to stand before you in my true form, as it is for my brethren," he gestured to the other two Dragons standing close by, "Having served before, it would be our honor to renew our vows of service and allegiance to the Black Flame."

The smile upon my face definitely made my cheeks hurt, *and it was moments like this that I wished that I had a camera to take the picture of me, and a dragon, shaking hands – well claw and hand – before embracing him as a I would a brother, "My name is Firestorm."

He raised an eyebrow at that – well the expression upon his face would have been the equivalent, but he understood full well that Firestorm was not my true name, "I am Rhamidarigazz," the smile would have terrified women and small children considering the number of teeth that it showed, and the orange tinge that laced his teeth made it clear that there was fire in the belly of this particular beast. It's strange that considering I am human, the first friend – yes friend – that I would make in this world, where war and death is a way of life, as common and as accepted as the rising of the sun upon a new day, is a nine and a half foot tall, fire breathing, viciously clawed dragon. Even as we shook hands, I knew that the Dragons of the Black Flame would be those who end this land, dousing it in destructive hellfire, to consume all who would stand against me.

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