A single man stood outside the darkened windows of the old asylum, his hands in his duster, a deep and faded brown, with an old, black warlock's hat resting on his head, the brim pulled low to hide his face and single sword strapped across his back. Rumor had it that a Necromancer and a Vampire had taken up residence in the old building and between the two, the town would soon see more Undead and Nightwalkers than had ever been in the same place at one time. Of course, the two, who had worked together to secure ownership of the supposedly haunted building, now tore at each other, their forces turning the halls into a battle ground.

[quote]"If you can, spare the building, many of it's spirits are kind and helpful. They've never given us reason to fear them nor have we ever unnecessarily threatened or intruded on their home." The man laughed at the mayor's request inwardly but nodded to his face.

"I can give no promises, but I will do my best." The contract was simple once the townspeople realized who had really bought ownership. Go in, clear both armies and leaders and be out. Any simpler would have been insulting. "Anything special I should know about the spirits who already resided there or it's new residents?" The mayor wiped his sweaty brow and thought for a moment before replying.

"Yes, the necromancer has Undead Knights of all kinds and Abominations. And the Vampire is a pure-blood. She has summoned several wolf packs, not werewolves of course, and one of the militia reported sighting a Shadow Walker among her followers." The man nodded without another word and left, leaving the mayor to sigh in relief and grab a drink of wine, wiping his sweaty brow once more. He only hoped that the damage to the old building wouldn't be too extensive.[/quote]

Now the man stood outside the building and waited for the nightly blood shed to begin, listening to moans of the Zombies and Ghouls and then the replying shrieks and growls of the Vampires. Even as he stood there, he could feel the spirits cowering in the places they had determined the safest and the taint of the Dark Magic employed by the necromancer. Grimacing under his brim, he started walking towards the door. [i]Deus misereátur.[/i]

All across the planet of Darkova, where creatures many considered nothing more than myth and legend, men and women like the one outside the aged and abandoned asylum faced similar jobs in other cities, towns and villages. The aura of evil that always permeated the planet, a deterrent to even the Darkovan government's allies, had slowly been growing stronger over the last few years after the end of the Were Wars, which resulted in the four Great Packs redrawing their territory lines and their leaders disappearing into parts unknown inside those boundaries. This left the lesser leaders to repair their relations with the humans, a long and arduous process. And now, with the aura at it's strongest since the end of the Wars, the servants of darkness attempt to team up with each other to raise hell. Most simply turn on each other.