Alliance of Shadows (Full Story) by Planeswalker  

Father Graham sat in his wooden fishing boat.  
As his rod dangled over the side into the murky depths below, he idly rubbed a 
small oil stain on his plain, brown tunic.  
Last year he had planned to get the uniform of the brotherhood changed as part 
of his election campaign when he and Father Alrom had both wanted the position 
of head of their holy order.  
He lost, and so they still had to wear the same old brown smocks they had since 
the dawn of time... or at least it seemed since the dawn of time to Graham, who 
could never remember any other attire.  
No fish were biting that day, and so, after doing nothing except catching the 
first few rays of the summer sun, he set back to shore after tidying his rods 
and bait.  
As he rowed to shore, a small salmon splashed past him.  
“Now the fish come out...” he muttered to himself.  
As he pulled his small boat into the jetty where it would be moored overnight, 
he heard the footsteps of a group of... ten, twelve people? Father Graham had an 
excellent sense of hearing.  
It was one of the gifts from their lord, that each member of the brotherhood 
would be granted an enhancement to one of their senses as a reward for a life of 
servitude, and from what he was hearing now, it sounded like one of the groups 
of thieves that roamed the woods near the lake were out for an afternoon stroll.  
The monk hastily tied his boat to the wooden peg stuck firmly in the bank, then 
pressed himself flat against the floor of his boat in the hope that the rabble 
would pass him by.  
His order was unrivalled in this country, as the brotherhood were skilled in 
combat as well as holy magic, and had banished all the lesser religions.  
As a direct consequence, the villagers gladly paid a yearly alimony in exchange 
for the ‘protection’ the priesthood offered.  
The thieves took full advantage of this, mugging a member of the clergy wherever 
possible, as they knew it was feasible for a band of them to defeat one or two 
holy men, and still gain enough gold from them to make a good wage for all the 
group.  
As the father lay pressed into his chest, he overheard the conversation of the 
band as they stopped under the shade offered by the jetty’s timeworn roof.  
“You men continue along this path until you reach the milestone before the 
monastery.  Hide yourselves and wait for me there.  If you come across any of 
the fighting monks, you know what to do to them.  Leave any villagers unharmed.” 
said a woman’s voice, a voice with a steel, authoritative edge to it.  
“Yes Ma’am!” barked a gruff man’s voice in compliance.  
Father Graham thought this unusual, the thieves didn’t often follow women, 
although it did happen on occasion.  
He kept his head down, as the women-led groups tended to be a little more 
vicious than other groups.  
“May I ask what you’ll be doing, Ma’am?” asked the gruff man.  
“I will remain here for a time.  I will set up an enchantment that will guide 
back-up to us in the unlikely event that it is needed.  It will take some time 
to prepare, and I do not need cretins like you here to distract me.” replied the 
steely woman with some annoyance.  
Father Graham could tell from the tone of her voice that she would have liked to 
have taught him a lesson for his insubordination, but she for some reason 
tolerated him.  
“Yes Ma’am!” the gruff man repeated.  
For the next five minutes, the father listened as the group, now led by the 
gruff man, marched off down the path that led to his home.  
He also listened as the woman scuffled in the dirt at the end of the jetty.  
She stopped moving, and stayed silent for nearly three quarters of an hour.  
Throughout this, Graham remained still and silent.  
The woman moved again in the dirt, presumably finished with her spell.  
Graham was confused as to how the thieves had learnt to use magic, as they could 
never use it before now...  
He assumed that one of the travellers from one of the far off lands had taught 
them a few spells.  
Graham heard movement from the woman, then a clatter of wood against boot 
leather as she started along the wooden dock.  
As quietly as he could, he moved under the neatly folded fishing nets and 
covered his upper half with a hessian sack.  
The father froze as the figure stopped above his boat, subconsciously, he knew 
in his mind that he could defeat this thief in one to one combat, for he had the 
power of the lord on his side.  
The woman kneeled down and grabbed Father Graham by the skull.  
She effortlessly lifted him from his boat with one hand, and suspended him in 
mid air.  
He looked at the woman who held him in a vice-like grip.  
Wearing black leather that barely covered her toned (and quite attractive, 
Graham thought) physique, along with knee high black boots, she was not dressed 
as the typical thief.  
He noticed her claw-like hands as he looked up her body, but was startled by her 
flame red hair, organised in a long plait that hung nearly to her knees.  
The sharp blades and spikes embedded in the end scared him, as he had heard of 
women who used their hair as a weapon by lacing it with blades.  
More worrying to Graham was the pair of horns that emerged from the top of her 
head.  
Unable to control his fear, Graham soiled his tunic.  
“Do you know who I am?” she asked with her voice of steel.  
Graham numbly shook his head, unable to mutter a word.  
“I am Incarnate.  Why did you hide in that boat? Did you think I would not 
notice you? I heard your heart beat.  I heard you take breaths every few 
seconds...  It was useless to hide from me.” she said coldly.  
Graham mumbled inaudibly.  
“What was that?” Incarnate asked.  
“I said, I hoped if I left you alone you would not harm me...” he mumbled, as 
silent as a whisper.  
Incarnate laughed, and Graham smiled an uneasy smile, as it seemed a laugh of 
forgiveness.  
She stopped laughing, and addressed him, “My job here is to raze your monastery 
to the ground and kill you all! Of course I’d harm you, silly!”  
With almost no effort, she closed her claw around Father Graham’s head and 
squeezed.  
As his skull cracked like an egg, she dropped his lifeless body into his boat.  
“Hrmmmph.” she grunted. “Fool...”  
She knelt to the water and washed her claw to rid it of the monk’s fluids.  
She gazed at her reflection in the water and adjusted her hair.  
As she stood and started after the Necrolite troops she sent ahead, she flicked 
her hair to catch the breeze.  
One of the blades in her hair caught and tore through the peg that tethered 
Father Graham’s boat to the pier.  
As the dark herald walked off, the small fishing boat was caught by the wind, 
floated off onto the lake, and carried with it, it’s onetime owner.  

Incarnate rejoined her platoon at the milestone on the dirt road that led to the 
monastery.  
She briefed them of her plans of how to destroy the building and priests inside 
most effectively and of their ultimate goal:  To eliminate the governing body of 
the area to make it easier to subject to Necros’ rule, and to retrieve the 
Amulet of Azmodius, an artifact that was likely to be under heavy guard.  
“But why can’t we go with the plan I came up with?” whined a dark blue humanoid 
dragon.  
“This is why, Darrac...” retorted Incarnate, walking behind him, the two grand 
wings attached to Darrac’s shoulders started to tear from his back as 
Incarnate’s claws dug into them and pulled.  
With an audible rip, the wings were detached, Incarnate dropped the useless 
flaps of skin and bone to the floor, and her left hand glowed with a deep red 
light.  
She touched her hand to the dragon’s back, and his leathery skin reformed over 
his wounds, leaving him standing there like an oversized basilisk.  
“Next time, it’s your head that’s detached.” she hissed to the lizard.  
Walking to the front of her command, Incarnate addressed them, “Let that be a 
lesson to anyone else who would choose to go with their own plan. NOW MOVE OUT!” 
she screamed.  
The entourage hastily started towards the antiquated holy building visible in 
the distance.  
The party separated, each Necrolite preferring their own method of transport.  
The twins, both users of earth magic, turned to grit and moved along the track 
itself.  
One user of wind magic summoned a gust of wind to carry her, and her friend, a 
plant magic user, into the sky, where they flew towards the construct.  
Also joining them in the sky were three dragons. 	
The blue dragon, Darrac was airborne thanks to his brothers, a maroon dragon and 
an olive green dragon, who carried him into the sky between them.  
The other three of the group charged down the track as fast as their legs (or 
tentacles in the case of one Necrolite who was little more than a sphere of 
flesh with upwards of twenty tendrils attached) carried them.  
Incarnate watched with pride from a distance as the triad of dragons rained 
lightning, ice and fire from their mouths onto the monastery.  
As the terrified monks and priests emerged from their ruined building, the pair 
of girls in the air worked in combination to shred many of them with thorns and 
brambles, accelerated by controlled gusts of air.  
One wing of the adjoining cathedral collapsed, almost certainly the work of the 
earth twins destroying the foundations.  
A man in black armour cleaved at monks with a delicate katana, while a gruff 
voiced man, at least forty years old, was making the limbs of monks explode with 
a thought using his psychic power.  
The mess of tentacles was leaping from face to face, suffocating the enemy 
before moving off to the next victim.  

“Ahhh, destruction.  What would a girl do without mindless destruction.” mused 
Incarnate, “As least I won’t want any backup...”  
“REALLY?” boomed an omnipotent voice from behind her.  
Incarnate spun around, flicking her hair at the figure behind her.  
She turned in time to see her hair get caught in the silver gauntlet of a man in 
polished silver armour, ten jewels set into the chest plate, framed by a purple 
cape.  
She was momentarily dazzled by the sunlight gleaming off his bald head.  
“AEON!” she hissed, “Come to spoil a girl’s fun again?”  
“Watch what you say Incarnate.  You wouldn’t like me to do to your hair what I 
did to your tail...” retorted Aeon, releasing the plait.  
Incarnate noticed he was unarmed, and shook her hair back into place behind her 
head, “I’d watch what YOU say, Herald of Balance, Guardian o’ Time an’ Space.” 
she mocked, “I nearly killed you last time, and I’ll do it again.”  
“Please...  Last time I was unprepared.  I’d like to see how well you’d fight 
after saving a mortal from searing dragon’s breath, teaching her how to fight in 
a night, forging holy armour and blades while saving three realms from the 
Carplesian Plague, all in one night.  Anyway, I’ve not come here to fight you 
this time.”  
The dark herald relaxed, “Well if you’ve come here to stop me, you’re too 
late...” she motioned to the carnage behind her.  
“I’m not...  I’m here to ask for your co-operation.”  
“WHAAAAT?” cried Incarnate, “You want US to work together? This is a rarity, you 
usually oppose our ‘evil’ plans.  What’s different here?”  
“Well Incarnate.” Aeon began, “You should know by now that I do what I do to 
preserve balance.  Here, the head priest, someone called Alrom has gotten a 
little too preachy after getting his hands on the Amulet of Azmodius.  I’ve come 
to eliminate him before he does anything I’d need to clear up later.”  
“So you oppose me again.  I’m after the Amulet too...”  
“You can have it.” Aeon stated.  
“What?” asked a surprised Incarnate.  
“You can have it.  I don’t mind the Amulet being in the hands...  Or claws of 
someone who knows what they’re doing with it.  It’s people like Alrom who 
haven’t a clue what they’re dealing with that’s dangerous.  So will you help 
me?” asked Aeon, outstretching his right hand to shake Incarnate’s to seal the 
truce.  
“So you want me to help you kill a holy priest, and I get the Amulet at the end 
of it all?”  
Aeon nodded.  
“Mister...  You got yourself a deal!” she exclaimed, shaking Aeon’s extended 
hand.  
The two heralds stood side by side as Incarnate turned herself into black smoke, 
and dissipated.  
Aeon simply faded and vanished.  

The corridors of the monastery were illuminated by burning torches and the 
burning floors and walls where the odd torch had fallen due to the battle raging 
outside.  
Aeon rematerialised into one such corridor on the third floor of the building.  
A strand of smoke from one of the torches curled around him a few times before 
coalescing into Incarnate.  
“You always could make a better entrance than me...” muttered Aeon.  
“Just keeping you on your toes...” stated Incarnate, smiling a toothy grin, 
“Where’s this priest of yours?”  
“I’ll lead the way.” he replied.  
The duo started down the corridor, which was wide enough for them to walk side 
by side with space for a third person to join them.  
The pair walked closer and closer to the head priest.  
As they turned the last corner, a group of eight priests, dressed in the same 
brown tunic as their brothers, waited for them.  
At once, the monks tried to repel the invaders of their home and protect their 
leader, Alrom.  
Incarnate smiled with glee as she decapitated the first priest with a blade of 
black magic, spun around, ripping the throat from a second priest with her hair 
before stabbing the next two through both their hearts with a single jab of the 
dark blade.  
Aeon dealt with his four attackers in a much less stylish but much more 
effective manner.  
As each priest threw themselves at him, he gently touched each one on the 
forehead with a glowing grey light in the palm of his right hand.  
As each one met Aeon’s palm, each fell into a deep sleep on the floor in a pile.  
“Showoff...” Incarnate grunted.  
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Inc’.” Aeon retorted.  
The pair broke through the grand double doors that led to the largest room in 
the monastery.  
This room was as large as an assembly hall, illuminated by the now cracked 
stained glass window that filled one wall.  
In the middle of the room stood a priest, greying hair, garbed in robes of white 
and gold.  
Around his neck hung a gold amulet on a gold chain, both inscribed with runes.  
“BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE, UNHOLY CREATURES” he yelled.  
“Actually, she’s unholy, I’ m neutral.  Alrom I presume?” inquired Aeon.  
“Liar! Your unholy magics informed you of my holy name, yet I shall smite you!” 
bellowed Alrom.  
Aeon turned to address Incarnate, “If he’s got enough holy magic, he could harm 
you.  Could you keep any ‘have a go hero’ priests out of the room while I deal 
with him?”  
“Sure thing, big guy” she purred, stroking his chest plate.  
She turned back to the door, and immediately shot a dark needle down the 
corridor, pinning a sprinting monk to the wall by his groin.  
Aeon winced and turned back to the high priest before him.  
“You are a fool demon! While you conferred with your partner, I prepared my most 
devastating spell.  DIE!” hollered Alrom, outstretching both hands.  
A flare of white light erupted from his palms, with a cleaving beam of energy 
zooming towards Aeon, splitting into it’s constituent colours as it went.  
Alrom fell to his knees, drained.  
The rainbow of energy lanced towards Aeon, who reached into his cape.  
His left hand emerged clutching a clear glass sphere that split into two halves, 
which he held out in front of him in the path of the incoming beam.  
There was a blinding flash as the energy met the sphere, but as the radiant 
light subsided, Aeon remained clutching the sphere, now whole again.  
Aeon glanced at the sphere, the energy had been contained and had been used to 
make a model of the intact monastery, surrounded by small white flecks that made 
it look like snow when the globe was moved.  
“Incarnate!” Aeon called, turning to see the dark herald cleaving a priest in 
two with her dark sword.  
“What?” she snapped, turning to Aeon, he tossed the snowglobe to her, which she 
deftly caught.  
“A gift for you.” Aeon said, turning back to the exhausted priest.  
“Awwwww...  Thanks...” she said, mellowing as she gently shook it to make the 
snowstorm start.  
She slipped the globe into her boot, yet the sphere made no bulge in her 
clothing.  
She turned back to her task and kicked a charging monk square in the face.  
“How did you...?” gasped Alrom as Aeon stood over him.  
“Your magic can’t hurt me.  The fact is, we’re in completely different leagues.”  
The priest nodded and smiled sadly, accepting the fate he knew was coming.  
The staff he so often carried materialised in Aeon’s hands.  
With a brief spell from it’s master, one half of the staff whirred, and changed 
shape into a magnificent, broad blade.  
With closed eyes, the Herald of Balance brought it down through the high 
priest’s neck, and Alrom’s head bounced free.  
Aeon bent down into the pool of blood below and picked up the amulet.  
He walked towards the door just as Incarnate finished her task.  
Aeon glanced at her handiwork...  
“Did you have to block the doorway with the bodies of dead monks?” he probed.  
“Do I tell you how to do your job?” she retorted.  
“Anyway, I’ve accomplished my task here.  Here’s your payment.” Aeon said, 
handing Incarnate the amulet and then turning to fade away.  
“Nice to know you’re not always a stuck up goody goody...  You know Aeon, if 
you’d be bad a little more, we could be something special.” she mulled, 
caressing his hairless head with her rarely used hands that were still human.  
Aeon turned back to look at her.  
“Sorry Inc’...  Not happening any time soon...”  
He smiled at her, and vanished from existence, his mission complete.  
Incarnate licked her lips, and her hands changed shape back to her favoured 
claws.  
“Well you can’t blame a girl for trying...”  
She hung the amulet around her own neck and charged upwards, out through the 
roof to rejoin the battle.  
	
Later that night, the Necrolites sat in a ring around a fire started by the red 
dragon, drinking a considerable volume of alcohol saved from the destroyed 
monastery.  
Incarnate, pleased of the swift destruction of the area told them that she would 
be most generous in her report to their dark lord.  
The evil woman had returned to Relic to report to Lord Necros, but not before 
she had given Darrac his wings back.  
A ‘well done’ gift, so she claimed.  
Darrac said nothing, and did not question what had put his mistress in a good 
mood, he just bowed.  
Now sat around the fire, he laughed with his brothers, for now the realm was 
theirs.  
Tomorrow, the Necrolites would separate and claim all the realm in the name of 
their dark god, but not tonight, for tonight was a night of celebration.  
Darrac raised his wine, “Let the party begin!...”  

End  

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