Our story begins one cold All Hallows Eve in April 1987 when fate unites four lost souls from across the kingdom as they each endure their own pilgrimage to the mighty domain of King Lud, where the clan of O’Deon host a ritual at the Smithy of the Hammer where the mightiest warriors of the world come together to test their axes, sacrifice virgins and drink their blood. This was the moment they finally understood that their destinies would ultimately be bound to form an army of undead immortals that would strike fear into the heart of every living creature in the land. And so it was that two years later in May 1989, the Nightlord was born.
As darkness descends on the 6th of December 1989 the Master of the Darkness is unleashed upon the unsuspecting sleepy town of Isleworth. The gardeners of Isleworth, who, up until this day were known for being quite jolly folk, woke the following morning to find their first born dead and drained of blood. Mothers wept and children screamed as they realised that this was only the beginning.
Six weeks later, the Ford of Brent fell to the Nightlord, but the great cats of the Ford were not about to roll over and die, and for the following 2 years, would become the arch-nemesis of the Nightlord, and it would become their destiny to do battle there many more times.
And so it went on. The Nightlord’s rise was swift and inevitable as it drew it’s First Blood. Over the following six months Woolwich, Hackney and Clapham succombed to the might of the Nightlord, but necessity took him back time and again to the Ford of Brent to fight the army of lions that refused to accept defeat. It was later revealed that this particular breed was particularly stubborn, for it was a red lion.
Despite this distraction, the Nightlord had its eyes on a bigger and grander prize – to take the Throne of King Lud, which lay beneath a majestic canopy of stone in the heart of Lud’s territory. But to get there, the Nightlord knew it would not be able to achieve this alone, and in September 1990 the Nightlord joined forces with the Decimator in its first attempt to battle for the prize that lay within the Marquee.
It was an almighty battle, with casualties on both sides, but it became quickly apparent that this fight would not be won in one night, and so the Nightlord withdrew to fight another day.
A month later, the Nightlord drew on the lessons of the past and with the aid of some Extreme Noise Terror, brought the mighty Dome of Tufnell Park crashing down. Once again, the fear of the dark lord was justifiably enforced, and with a mighty Kerrang! and by the power of the Mörat, the people of the Kingdom quickly became aware of the uncontrollable power that had been unleashed.
This did not bode well. For now, the people of the Kingdom were ready to fight back. But the Nightlord was prepared, and as the battle for the Bush of the Shepherd ensued, the Nightlord called in the Artillery, and sent for the miraculous power of the Holy Moses. But alas it was not to be; their cohorts were unable to cross the seas to join the battle, and so the battle for the Bush of the Shepherd was lost. The Nightlord was captured and tried in Bethnal Green for crimes against the kingdom. The Judge handed down the Maximum Penalty. and sent the Nightlord into Exile. in the tallest towers that lay within the isolated fortress at the End of Graves, hidden deep in the realm of the Insane.
A calmness descended upon the land, as the good folk of the Kingdom thought they had seen the last of the Nightlord, but they did not realise that what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. Indeed, the Nightlord’s cunning knew no bounds, as he used his powers to transform a primitive rodent into a Konkrete Gerbil. which he trained to burrow through the walls of the tower and alert his undead army that were already searching for him.
Once freed from his imprisonment, the Nightlord realised that he should enforce his power further afield. But while he feared that it could possibly work out stranger in a strange land. he also knew that he must amass greater metal forces. before returning to battle for Lud’s crown once more.
And so in March 1992 the Nightlord joined forces with the army of the Toranaga, and launched its first surprise attack on foreign shores. The unidentified soldiers of Cardiff died where they fell, and to this day their bones are left on the city walls, lest it ever be forgotten. Continuing inland, the newly joined forces laid waste and carnage wherever they went, leaving a trail of desolaton in their wake, leading finally back to Lud’s Canopy of Stone, for the next of what was to become many furious battles.
Again, the combined might of the Nightlord and the Toranaga was not enough, so in May Korzus. the warmaster was summoned from Brazil, but even with the Cerebral Fix ready to be administered, the throne of Lud would not fall.
To take the throne of Lud, yet more ferocity was required, so in the following month help arrived from across the oceans in the armies of the Nocturnus. and the Confessor, but this was still not enough. The wandering souls of those who had declared Paradise Lost and the Skyclad armies of the North also joined the war, and the roar of pitch battle became deafening, but still it was not enough to claim Lud’s throne, and so both sides withdrew.
Then something entirely unexpected happened. The Nightlord went to the aid of the warriors of Gomorrah in their fight against the sham that was known as Amer, and in the victory celebrations that followed, the Gomorrans pledged their allegiance to the Nightlord, and together they formed the most unlikely of alliances with a further three of the most feared armies from across the land, which would go on to rise from the earth like leviathans. From their Newly built Castle in the North, the armies of Doom known only as The Reign marched southward to prepare for war. As they made their way past the Borough of the Scar they attacked a prison and released the Incarcerated – a gang of the nastiest criminals, cut-throats and murderers ever to walk the earth. And finally, the Nightlord conjured the undead armies that were Decomposed to rise from their graves to strike terror into the heart of any man, woman or child that would cross their path. Together, these five armies would be known asThe Underground Titans.
Now they were ready. The stories of the trail of terror and desolation that these five great armies left in their wake are still told to this day as tales of warning by those who survived. For most, it was almost over even before it started.
In Birmingham, the Obnoxious stench of ripped flesh haunted the midnight air. The streets of Liverpool were stripped Devoid of all life as the Titans tore through the town to relieve it from its Usurpa. Outside Ipswich, the Genotype rose from their Cradle of Filth but they were not strong enough to defeat the invaders. In Grantham the Titans delivered their own form of Salem Justice. An air of total Decadence descended over Bradford as all forms of law, order and goodness were swiftly destroyed. A heavy Storm over Chelmsford washed away all traces of the battle, but the women and children were spared to tell the tale. Malediction before the battle for Newcastle only served to bring the ensuing rampage to an even swifter and decisive victory. The Teratogenic spawn even seemed to Die Laughing in an altogether surprise attack in Plymouth. Wokingham, which had for a long time been plagued by a Prophecy that they were doomed, was finally put out of it’s misery.
The campaign of terror was swift and brutal, and in less than four weeks in July and August 1992, The Underground Titans destroyed town after town, city after city, until they finally reached the outer walls of Lud’s lair.
The final battle was so intense that as they charged into the pandemonium the roar of battle could be heard for miles around. Lud’s armies, though weakened by fear from hearing the tales of the Titans’ campaign of terror, put up a powerful fight, but the ultra-violence of the Titans was too much for them. As they broke through to the inner sanctum of King Lud’s chamber, the Nightlord came face-to-face with Lud himself and quickly disarmed him. But the Nightlord would show no mercy, as he separated Lud’s head from his shoulders and drank the blood from his skull.
The Darkness of the Nightlord descended upon the land, as he ruled over it with an iron fist. and struck fear into the hearts of normal folk. And the Nightlord looked down and it was good.
Over the following year, the Nightlord continued to crush insurgence wherever his presence was required, but his grasp on his kingdom was all too short-lived. In April 1993, whilst preparing for battle outside the town of Reading, a stray arrow struck him from behind leaving him paralysed and unable to fight, and so he abdicated from his throne and became an outcast, disappearing without a trace. It was thought that he should have died of his wounds, but his body was never found.
Seventeen years on, many still tell the tale of the Nightlord. His legacy and his teachings remain, and they are still passed from Father to Son as a warning to those who might dare to oppose the return of darkness and evil. But there has always been an unease. Because there are those who know, deep in their heart of hearts:
THE MASTER OF THE DARKNESS SHALL RETURN.
So let it be written. So it is done.