It was a stormy night in the Darkenwood. Lightning flashed and thunder
roared high above as cloaked figures made their way towards Lord
Twilight's Grove. From within the cowls of their robes, they nodded
grimly to Sharbrena, Cleric of Darkness, and she narrowed her gaze at
them with a penetrating stare.

The cloaked figures continued their procession and soon found themselves
ensconced within the Shadow Realm. They quickly began making
preparations for their Ritual. Candles, daggers and various ritual
implements were placed before a Holy Altar to the Dark Father.

Meanwhile, just outside the Shadow Realm, strange things began to happen
in the Darkenwood. Sharbrena began to chant, "Maranatha, Maranatha" over
and over again. As she continued her invocations, a sizzling bolt of
darkfire leapt into the Dark Father's Grove and was quickly absorbed by
the obsidian plinth located therein. Sharbrena intoned the arcane word
once more and suddenly a tear appeared in the fabric of reality and she
vanished within.

Unbeknownst to the spectators in the Wood, Sharbrena had used her
formidable powers to teleport directly to the Shadow Realm. She had
decided to participate in the Rites that the Darkwalkers had diligently
researched and prepared for.

It had been decided that the Rite was to be performed before a massive
throne of blasted metal, blackened and scarred by magicks beyond mortal
ken. Skulls, corpses and maggots had been intricately carved into the
throne, and the lit torches set in adamantine sconces on the obsidian
walls guttered, reflecting moving shows that writhed in an unholy dance
about the corpses of the dead.

Howls and shrieks issued forth from the throne, walls and ceiling, which
were in a state of perpetual flux. The obsidian appeared to melt and
distort into a screaming face. Sections of the ceiling sporadically
dissolved as long dangling pseudopodia of an unknown substance stretched
out to investigate any new arrivals that came into the throne room. The
floor beneath squirmed under the pressure of booted heels. The shadowy
glow of the flickering torches cast everything in a subdued light that
made it quite difficult to concentrate or see. An appropriate place,
indeed, for this Dark Rite of Ceremonial Magick to take place.

A Bishop Seraphim of the Dark Order, functioning as the High Ritualist,
began the Rite by calling for a moment of silence. Each of the
ritualists began to focus and center themselves. Sharbrena, who had been
chanting, ceased, and the rest of the Darkwalkers bowed their heads in
quiet supplication to their Dark Lord. Whilst the others continued their
silent prayer, Sharbrena resumed her arcane chants.

The High Ritualist then intoned a prayer whilst placing five candles in
front of the throne near a cloth that had been provided for the
Ceremony. By this time, strange things had begun occurring in the
Darkenwood. Sharbrena's chanting was sucking the essence of Darkness
from the Wood. The trees in the Darkenwood began to turn ashen and
Urania, the Spirit of the Darkenwood began to die. Druids, Sentinels and
others concerned for the well-being of the Wood swarmed there and began
to investigate the strange happenings. Meanwhile, as the Darkness was
pulled from the Wood, the ritualists were filled with power and
strength.

At one point, the influx of power flowing into the Shadow Realm had
reached such a crescendo that Urania screamed for it to stop, her pain
was so great. Shabrena on the other hand, became greedy for more and
redoubled her efforts to siphon every last bit of Darkness from the
Darkenwood to power the Rite.

The High Ritualist lit colored candles in turn, whilst proclaiming their
respective symbolic meaning: Brown for loyalty and devotion, green for
protection, blue for faith, black for unity, and yellow for pride and
remembrance. After all the candles were lit, the flames flickered
slightly and mysteriously turned into darkfire.

By this time, equilibrium had been reached between the Darkness of the
Wood and the Darkness of the Shadow Realm. The Darkwalkers looked about
in confusion wondering what was happening. Sharbrena cackled with glee
and promptly stepped into the shadows before any of her brethren could
discover what she was up to.

After a few moments, the ritualists resumed the Rite, assuming that
Sharbrena had been the cause of the disruption. Each of the cloaked
figures spoke in turn and offered words of praise to their Dark Father.
Offerings were placed before the throne, and the dim outline of Lord
Twilight appeared on it as the a Cardinal Auphanim of Darkness intoned a
prayer taken from "The Discourse of Dusk Trismegistus."

As the last of the offerings were placed before the throne, the candles
erupted into a great conflagration of darkfire and consumed the entire
chamber with their heat. The candles and the offerings vanished, but
oddly, the Darkwalkers were left unharmed. Pleased that the Rite had
been a success, the High Ritualist ended the ritual and led the
Darkwalkers in a solemn procession outside the Ritual Hall.

Sharbrena has vanished utterly from the Realms, her purpose remaining a
mystery even to those Darkwalkers who were present.


Penned by my hand on the 12th of Valnuary, in the year 318 AF.