For weeks the blasted, pitted remnants of the Engine of Change had been plagued
by the most extravagantly destructive sandstorms it had ever experienced: vast,
scouring, sweeping affairs that blinded even the most hardened ur'Guard and sent
the beggars and orphans (ordinary sights on the blackened, uneven roads of the
City) scuttling and crying for shelter with their high, reedy voices. This
awful weather, coupled with a notable lack of decisive victories against the
rising colony of New Celest in the west, had resulted in declining popularity
for the reigning Iron Council of the time and the reigning Governor of what was
referred to by citizens as the "Sovereign Territories of Magnagora" and by
Celestians as "The Bastion of the Taint". The Governor in question - a
long-standing viscanti noble named Arkhum i'Xiia - was becoming increasingly
desperate. Though he had worked extremely hard to build up the failing
territory bequeathed unto him by the previous leader (a drunkard and fool
elected in a period of mindless prosperity, when it had seemed Magnagora could
do no wrong), he had accomplished little due to lack of funds. And as for
military might? Military might was a joke, as hordes of viscanti fled from the
failing territories and seeked either reclusive lives in the mountains or
sanctuary in New Celest. And so it was that on the 4th of Elhorian of the old
calendar (and the 4th of Estar, 201 years before the Coming of Estarra in the
new) Arkhum i'Xiia called a meeting of the three Senators and the reigning City
Ministers of Magnagora to make an announcement...

* * *

"Hail, citizens. My thanks to you all for attending. As you are all no doubt
aware, we have a problem. Our-"

"You're DAMNED RIGHT we have a problem! We have a spineless, gutless little
bastard for a Governor!" bellowed the Champion of the ur'Guard, a heavyset and
notoriously ignorant orclach. "We need an ur'Guard leading us! Not some
bewinged nihilistic little PONCE!" Although there were some shocked mutters at
this violent outburst, the reaction at large was as Arkhum (and the ignorant
bastard of an orclach, no doubt) had expected: either silence or the nodding of
heads at what was now no doubt a common lament among the citizens.

"Do you want me to gut him, Lord?" the Champion of the Nihilists enquired. A
tiny dracnari with leathery red scales (and most influential member of the
Guild present, given that the elderly Heresiarch and Mystagogue were almost
always engaged in meditation, spurning politics for enlightenment),he looked as
if one good blow would bowl him over, yet he glared at the orclach with such
vehemence that the fool was at least momentarily cowed.

"No, Mohet. I am afraid the erstwhile Torturer has outlined my basic message
for todays meeting. I regret to inform you all that, although I appreciate your
backing my twelve-year stint as leader of Magnagora, I am stepping down.
Elections for my replacement will begin in two months time. I would prefer to
leave without any unfortunate assassination attempts, after all, unlike my poor
predecessor. And I am indeed hopeful for a strong military leader to take my
place and marshall what is left of the Midnight Legion to victory once more."
Arkhum spoke quietly, yet with great authority, as befitted one of his stature.
The assorted nobles and city leaders bowed their heads: with the exception of
the Guildmaster and Champion of the ur'Guard, who put theirs together and began
to speak in hushed tones, expressions of triumph adorning their battle-scarred
faces. "Unless anyone else has anything to add to the meeting, I suppose that
is all for-"

"I have something to add, Governor. I propose that all remnants of your
hideously inept reign are swept aside upon the appointment of new leader of
Magnagora, and I likewise propose we perform this cleansing in the
time-honoured way: by showing our loyalty to the Demon Lords and departed Elder
Ones by offering you as a sacrifice unto them." the Guildmaster of the ur'Guard
- a massive, sinewy brood viscanti with ebon flesh and a pair of proud, sloping
taurian horns rising from his forehead - proclaimed.

"That's an outrageous proposal, as you well know, you d'Vanecu dog. If you
attempted to harm Lord i'Xiia in such a fashion, you would answer not only to
me, but to the entirety of the Nihilists Guild." Mohet hissed, lashing the
ground with his barbed tail. His archdemon and the Nil Grim Horror growled in
unison, fluttering their vestigial wings threateningly.

"Oh, I am not merely suggesting this idly. I am putting it forward to the vote.
All in favour of removing Arkhum i'Xiia from the political arena - permanently -
raise your right hands." the Supreme Commander ordered. To the rage of Mohet -
and the tired amusement of Arkhum - at least three-quarters of the assorted
emissaries (several of them Nihilists) raised their hands. The ur'Guard support
was unanimous: the Geomancers almost so: the Nihilists largely outraged.

"Very well. I suppose I cannot argue with the will of the Council. When shall
my public execution take place, and at whose hand, Commander?"

"At midnight on the First of Elhorian, the eve of the new year, at the hands of
the new leader. You have under a year to live, once-Governor. I suggest you live
it with whatever remains of your dignity. Good day." the Commander swept from
the chambers, followed by a delegation of ur'Guard and flanked by the
Commandant of the Tower and the Queen's Own Torturer. After some muttered
conversation, the delegation of Geomancers followed him, closely tailed by the
Nihilists, with the exception of Mohet.

"Lord, what are we to do? The ur'Guard massively outnumber any other Guild in
the City. They'll be watching all of the exits, and they no doubt possess
backing from the Archmage of the Geomancers. There will be no way to escape,
and no way to overpower them." Mohet said, touching Arkhums shoulder with one
clawed hand.

"I am aware, my nephew. Do not worry. There may well be some way to turn this
situation round-abouts yet."

"I do not see how. You are going to die in under a year, and long before that
time, we will see a wretched ur'Guard puppet leader installed as Governor."

"Whether or not I die is irrelevant, as you well know - in the end, the dance
of death unites all, poor or rich, great or meek, in its deadly embrace. In the
meantime I will seek council with our Masters. Do not dismiss me so lightly, my
nephew - I may not have a plan, but I do have an... idea." and the queer gleam
in Arkhums eyes quieted Mohet, for he could sense that he did.

* * *

The official proclamation of the election went out the very next day, and the
first individual to put his name down was the son of the Supreme Commander, a
youth of extraordinary charisma and physical strength. Even Mohet was forced to
admit that, compared to the other candidates, the young d'Vanecu was by far the
most qualified for the position of Governor, and was nearly universally voted
for. He was proclaimed Governor under three months after the climatic meeting,
though he spurned an official ceremony, cryptically stating that he would
instead be officially burdened with the mantle of leadership at the new year,
"sanctified in the blood of the old regime". In the meantime he led several
skirmishes against Celestian forces in the west, victorious in each, even
managing to strike down the Guildmaster of the Paladins, lopping his arm off in
a frenzied single combat and skewering the hapless Light-lover upon his own
ceremonial blades. The viscanti hermits of the mountains began to cautiously
return to Magnagora, and though they were whipped for their desertion, the
ranks of the Magnagoran military soon began to swell again. The legendary
charisma of the young d'Vanecu was especially instrumental in this: two months
before the ceremony in which he was bound to strike down Arkhum i'Xiia, he
mounted the Tower of Inescapable Damnation and gave a spirited speech exalting
what he christened "The Engine of Transformation" and "The Bastion of the New
Way". A month before Arkhum was to be executed, the city of Magnagora had been
turned around completely, an Empire once more, led by Emperor d'Vanecu, a
constant plague upon Celest, dubbed by some the "Prince of Darkness" (a
prestigious title once conferred upon the mysterious head combatant of the
Night Coven).

Arkhum, however, had retreated entirely from the political arena, as the
Supreme Commander had suggested, "scrounging together what dignity he had left"
and instead embarking on a pilgrimage to the Plane of Nil. He consulted the
Demon Lords, seeking unique advice from each. Lady Nifilhema suggested he
torture the young d'Vanecu, promising to cease if he, Arkhum, was proclaimed
Emperor in his stead - and continuing regardless. Lord Ashtorath laughed in
Arkhums face, proclaiming him a coward, and stating that a TRUE Nihilist would
have followed Mohets excellent advice and destroyed the ur'Guard, installing in
their place puppet leaders who could be dominated suitably. And though Lord
Baalphegar applauded the misleading efforts of the elderly i'Xiia, he likwise
stated he did not have any suggestions of where to go from there. Although he
did give the old Governor a single cryptic piece of advice:

"Lord Luciphage teaches the principle of Domination, and states that you must
overpower your foes. I, however, teach the principle of Misdirection - of
Treachery. If you wish to defeat your foes, there is no better way than turning
them against each other. Perhaps if you could find a way to combine these two
principles, you would see the path to victory. Walk well, Arkhum." the
pestilential voice hissed before the i'Xiia nobleman found himself outside the
Pit of Dark Fates once more, bound in webbing, as if molested by some manner of
gigantic arachnid. Yet his face was and eyes were alive with a fell light, for
the words of Lord Baalphegar had confirmed what he had suspected all along. Two
days later he called a meeting of the Nihilist leadership who were most loyal to
him, and began to formulate a plan.

* * *

The public declaration did not appear until a mere two days before the
execution was scheduled, but was so widely read and distributed as to make
attendance almost mandatoy: "By Imperial proclamation, the Iron Council and
Ministers of the Empire of Magnagora cordially invite you to the formal
crowning of our most glorious Emperor d'Vanecu I, whose ascent to power will be
consecrated and sanctified with the public execution of our previous leader, the
snake, Arkhum i'Xiia. All Magnagoran Great and Minor Houses - particularly those
of d'Vanecu and d'Murani - are to be granted seats of honour at the banquet
following." And when the day of the execution and crowning arrived, the
noblemen and warriors of Magnagora assembled in front of the Northern Gates,
while the peasants remained in their meagre houses in the Gloaming, content to
listen to the aetherwave report. The streets were consequently deserted - with
several conspicuous exceptions...

* * *

"Lord Commander! Lord Commander! May I speak with you a moment?" a somewhat
frail-sounding and innately innocent voice issued from beneath the robes and
cloak of a hunched figure, indistinguishable from most of the beggars which
wandered the streets of Magnagora. The Supreme Commander, flanked on either
side by two heavyset orclachi Death Marshals and dressed in full, spike-adorned
battleplate, turned his head almost imperceptibly to acknowledge the tiny
creature.

"What do you want, maggot? I'm on my way to the Ceremony. Speak swiftly or my
blades will cut out your beggars tongue for daring to infringe upon my time."

"I merely wish to offer you a warning, Lord Commander." the slight figure
murmured, turning its beclawed palms out, empty, in a gesture of supplication.

"And what would that be?" the Commander purred in a deadly voice, his right
hand already positioned upon his right blade.

"Do not interfere with the Nihilists Guild again. You will survive this day, if
only as an example to those who would oppose us, but you will be a broken man.
Your son is going to die and so are your lackeys and stooges. The prominence of
the ur'Guard shall fade - the time of brutality and Empires replaced with more
subtle means of domination." the hooded creature drew itself up to its full
height, which was still about half that of the Commander, and spat at one of
his booted feet. The Commander's face briefly registered shock, and then anger,
and then utter, black rage.

"Nylyyg. Kharn. Rip this little bastard in half. I do not want to sully
mys...?" he realized too late the distraction the hooded creature had afforded,
and turned round to see four unfriendly hulking figures, rather than two
friendly ones: two Geomancers wearing signet rings, proclaiming their loyalty
to the Nihilist Guild, a huge archdemon, and the Nil Grim Horror. Nylyyg and
Kharn, his loyal Death Marshalls, lay prone, blood oozing from their mouths.

"Goodnight, Commander." hissed Mohet, throwing his cloak aside and gesturing to
his archdemon. The creature nodded and conjured a flickering ball of shadows,
which, before the Supreme Commanders horrified gaze, began to grow.

"No... NO!" the Commander bellowed, drawing his blades and rushing towards
Mohet. But even as he did so a soundless, painless explosion seemed to rocket
through his mind as the shadow-borne sphere struck his back, and everything
faded to black.

* * *

A hush fell over the assembled noblemen as the Supreme Commander and his
personal bodyguards strode towards the makeshift platform set up above the
Northern Gates. Around twenty feet long and ten wide, it housed a construct as
intricate as it was unsettling: no mere hangmans gallows but rather a complex
metal creation, superficially resembling a throne with many bizarre
accroutments and spikes, designed to simultaneously rip apart and crush the
severed limbs of the individual housed within when activated. Arkhum i'Xiia sat
within the confines of the macabre, twisted "chair", a look of dry amusement
upon his sour features, his wrists bound to the arms of the chair with strong
rope. Stood slightly to the right of him was Emperor d'Vanecu, son of the
Supreme Commander, clad in ceremonial, glyph-adorned fullplate, his brow
unadorned and his cloak flapping behind him in the considerable wind.

"Hark, the executioner approaches!" called the Emperor gaily, and the assembled
(pro-ur'Guard) noblemen tittered. Unsurprisingly, the majority of the Nihilists
had not turned up for the occasion, but one or two could be seen lurking
furtively around, enshrouded by thick cloaks and mantles.

"Hail, my son." the voice of the Supreme Commander was unusually cool, almost
cold, and several of the assorted nobles turned their heads oddly. But the
Emperor seemed unperturbed and beckoned for the crowd to move aside, allowing
the Commander to walk through and carefully climb the ladder up to the
platform, while the two Marshals who had accompanied him took their places
between the crowd and the platform, evidently security measures. The Commander
approached his son, turning his eyes upon him, and the younger d'Vanecu stepped
back, for he could see nothing of his father in the gaze that met his own: they
were crimson, burning with an unflinching, unabashed hatred.

"You... you are not my father." the Emperor stammered, stepping back another
step. "Guards! Marshals! This man is an imposter. Come and deal with him." the
young leader stared wildly downwards, but was met with a horrifying scene: two
Geomancers, clad in signet rings bearing the seal of the Nihilists Guild, stood
beneath the platform, and an impenetrable wall of stone had been summoned
between the crowd and the Northern Gate. Although some of the hardier souls
attempted to climb it, they were buffetted and driven back by the elemental
mastery of the two mages, blown by air and beaten with rocks until they were
forced to fall back.

"I believe you are mistaken, my son. Come closer." the possessed Commander
purred in the voice of Mohet, stepping towards the hapless man who would have
been Emperor, had it not been for the machinations of the i'Xiia. Bereft of
blades - not anticipating a situation the assembled guards could not handle -
the younger man uselessly tried to beat off the approaching behemoth with his
fists, but to no avail. The body of the Commander was as hard as rock, and clad
in the hardiest battlemail he possessed, and Mohet's will was as strong and
brutal as his tenacity in combat. A gauntlet-clad hand extended and grasped the
throat of the charismatic ur'Guard, crushing his windpipe effortlessly, before
lifting him into the air and cracking his back across the plate-clad knee of
his father. That accomplished, the broken corpse was thrown almost
indifferently aside, while the Supreme Commanders body strode over to the
iron-shod execution device and swiftly cut through the ropes that bound Arkum
i'Xiia.

"Are you well, my uncle?" Mohet asked.

"I am." the older i'Xiia rose to his feet, rubbing his wrists tenatively and
adjusting his robes.

"I presume you are willing to forgive, and speak to your subjects?"

"You are half right," the new Emperor smirked, striding towards the front of
the platform. "NOBLEMEN OF MAGNAGORA! A new time has arisen. Though doubtless
you will mourn the passing of Emperor d'Vanecu, he was but a tool - a means to
an end. The end is now, and I am the instrument by which it will be exacted. I
am Arkhum i'Xiia, your new Emperor."

"You're an insane old bastard! You'll be executed by the ur'Guard!" rang out an
outraged voice.

"MURDERER! MURDERER!"

"YOU'LL ALL BE EXECUTED! DEATH TO THE NIHILISTS!" the crowd surged forwards,
unmindful of the buffets of air and stone which flew towards them, and began to
scale the wall.

"Your orders, uncle?" Mohet inquired, a wry smile breaking the countenace of
the Supreme Commander (who, within, had awoken and begun to weep helplessly at
his plight and the loss of his son).

"As we discussed."

"GEOMANCERS!" bellowed the Champion of the Nihilists, utilising the lungs of
the Guildmaster of the ur'Guard. "BOULDERBLAST THEM!"

And as the screams began below, Emperor i'Xiia had only one comment:

"And to think, I was willing stepped down peacefully."

* * *

And thus rose Arkhum i'Xiia, the snake Emperor of Magnagora. Considerably more
politically minded than his predecessor, the old i'Xiia was a wily and cunning
leader: now that he finally possessed a strong military and funding from which
to draw, his ambitious plans possessed the grounding they needed, and he
launched many successful campaigns against the city of New Celest before his
eventual death, nine years after his crowning. His reign was perhaps the most
prosperous of all the leaders in the modern history of Magnagora, a time when
great buildings were built, great advancements made in the realm of science,
and the worship of the Elder Gods began, with Shrines to several prominent
Divine who were deemed worthy being constructed. And although the golden reign
of Arkhum i'Xiia was marked by an extremely nationalistic mindset in Magnagora,
most of his subjects gravitated towards military matters, and it was extremely
rare to see politicians arise - especially within the ur'Guard.