[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAdHouWFSvc][b]Hall of the Innocent Blade, Arkham, Aeolus[/b][/url]

The headquarters of the ancient Order of the Innocent Blade were a relatively recent construction. A cathedral-like receiving building was the most that it seemed to be to most visitors, as the majority of its facilities were subterranean. The Hall was largely constructed out of the necessity for housing that the Deus Machina of the Order presented; a secure location which they could be stored and then deployed from was of the utmost necessity when it came to the artifact gods. When the Hall was built, the manning required for its maintenance was drawn from surrounding settlements, and so a town grew around the Hall. It became known as Arkham, and its origins were lost to time. Now a bustling urban center, complete with a reputable university of magical study, Arkham's arcane origins still permeate the streets and its peoples. A certain mystique or miasma surrounds the city like an impermeable mist. Anyone with magical sensitivity could tell what lurked in Arkham: something ancient, something powerful, something not meant for mortal men.

Even so, mortal men still served the Order of the Innocent Blade. The Order's illustrious Grand Master patrolled the Deus Machina hangar, inspecting the ongoing repairs to the machine gods themselves, as well as the their facilities. Leviathan Corex watched as workmen welded steel and adamantium, and filled the fuel lines of the Deus Machina with Azoth and Phlogiston. The Deus Machina were something of a "poorly-kept secret" by the Order. The threat of them served their purposes far more than actually utilizing them did, and to have a threat, there must be rumors. As such, common workmen completed the most mundane repairs and maintenance on them and their housing facilities, with the finer and more complex tasks fulfilled by Doctor Weiss and his team.

Levi turned on his heel to leave the hangar, his cloak billowing behind him. Even a year after his brother's betrayal, the Order was still recovering. The damage that had been done to the Hall and the inert Deus Machina had been overwhelming, and Levi had spent months fearing the Order's collapse. Thanks to the tremendous efforts of the Seven Emperors, his sister and Doctor Weiss, they had managed to hold together in those perilous months, but the damage to the Order was now having repercussions far outside of the harm done to their staff and their facility. Two upstart organizations in the continent, the Council of the Damned and the Order of the Three Lights, now growled at the Order's doors. Neither had posed a threat to the Order until Therion's betrayal, and as such they had not so much as bothered to acknowledge either one. But now as the Order stood on shaky legs with minimal capabilities, it seems that the vultures now flew overhead. They were a few months too late, Levi was relieved to acknowledge, as the Order was now back on the upswing, but they were still a nuisance. 

Patrolling through the underground passages of the Hall had become a strange thing to Levi. Throughout his youth he had run amuck down here, weaving between the legs of workers and sorcerers, only acknowledged as a playful rascal. Now, wherever he went, the workers and sorcerers stopped to acknowledge and bow to him. They called him "Grand Master," as they passed, with what almost sounded like reverence. It still sounded strange to Levi's ears. Was he the Grand Master? The reality of the situation perhaps still evaded him. Did he deserve their respect and admiration? He didn't feel like he did. If the Seven Emperors had any say in the matter, he most certainly didn't. But Levi did what he could. He bowed in return and reflected their good will and tidings, and continued on his way, feeling like he was lying to these people as he wished them well.

The halls were not the only once-familiar place now alien to Levi. He arrived at his destination; the chambers of the Grand Master. A spacious room, mostly filled with books, schematics and various trophies and other miscellany. This was his room now, ostensibly, but to Levi it was still his father's room. A thick layer of dust covered most of the room; while his father maintained his quarters immaculately with various magical familiars and routines, Levi had entered this room only a handful of times over the last year, preferring to sleep and work in his old quarters. Entering this place, he still felt as though he were a child, barging into his father's sanctum to ask some triviality of him. Levi sighed deeply as he stepped gingerly through the room, stirring up dust as he walked. A framed photograph caught his eye; Levi walked to it and wiped the dust from the glass. An old photo of Levi, Babs, Theo-... [i]Therion[/i], and their father. All stood uncomfortably, obviously waiting for the photographer to go about his work. Babs was only a baby, and looked cranky from the flash. Levi had some mischief in his eyes, and from what he could tell, his father had a tight grip on his suspenders to keep him from bolting. Therion looked as bored as ever, with that same expression that he always had. As though life were only a game that he had mastered years ago, and he was forced to play among novices. Their father, Therion Corex the Elder, looked just as Levi always remembered him being; a stern, bearded face with eyes that sparked with hope and imagination.

Levi set the photograph down. That was enough reminiscence for today. His eyes stung, but he assured himself that it was from the dust in the room. Levi took to looking through the journals of the previous Grand Masters, organized impeccably by his father. These archives stretched back thousands of years, and into several different languages as the centuries turned backwards through paper. Levi had a particular name that he was on the lookout for; the warlock Ko'roth.


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[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=temJ0ltu0o8][b]The Black Lodge, Parts Unknown[/b][/url]

A golden-haired young man sat in a throne far too large for his modest stature. His legs hung over one side impetuously as he rested his chin on the other armrest. The throne sat in the middle of a large chamber, the only light shining down on him, keeping the rest cloaked in darkness. Even so, small lights began to fill the area around him. Was it an arena? No, an ampitheater. Shadows in the shape of men filled the seats of the chamber, all watching the bored young man expectantly. He didn't seem to notice. Rather, his attention was turned to a length of dark, silken ribbon, which he ran between his fingers idly. An aura of corruption and malice permeated the audience, but no such aura was found around the man. His was the power ultimate; the darkness made pure, the primordial chaos.

Eventually, the crowd settled, and the young man spoke, still not turning his attention away from the ribbon. "Who are you?" His voice, though dry and bored, was golden and melodious, carrying through the chamber as though he was speaking in all places at once.

"Who are we?" The crowd echoed.

"You are the absolute of darkness. My eternal corruptors. My anticross."

"Anticross." Again the crowd echoed.

"The embodiment of this world's truth. The Anima Mundi. The damned soul of this blighted Arkus."

The crowd stood silent.

"Who am I?" He asked once more.

"Master Therion." The crowd this time answered.

"The Beast of the Apocalypse. The Black King. The Holy Corruptor. Yes, Master Therion."

"Master Therion." The crowd repeated.

"Though you, and through us, this world shall know chaos, and through it peace. It shall know death, and through it, hope."

A dark angel descended from the rafters of the chamber, landing noiselessly beside Master Therion. His aura radiated the purest hate that only the mad could ever glimpse.

"Hope..." Growled the angel. "Is naught but an illusion. A lie. A fairy tale."

The smallest hint of a smile rising to Master Therion's lips, he rose from his seat. Looking to the dark angel, he set a hand on his armored shoulder. "Well then, let us begin a fairy tale." And with that, set out into the darkness beyond his throne.