In the days when the Army Resurgent had returned from their battle with the Great Elder, and they had swept aside lesser foes that sought to challenge them upon the road back to the Promised Land, word reached the Dark Lord that there arose a power in the West who fought not with sword and helm, but with spears thrown through the air in such multitudes that they blotted out the sun at the height of noon.  Led by an exile they were, who had once followed the Dark Lord in the Great Saban’s wandering days, when they raised armies of mercenaries who fought only for wealth.  But as the Merciless Saban had done before, he returned to an army that lay without a leader, and West of the Great River he bred them into a feared force.  And it was said that exile marched toward the Promised Lands, and many wise men said, “This will surely be a challenge for the Army Resurgent, as these men darken the morning sky with their spears like none we have seen.”  But when they arrived in the Promised Land, the Great Saban lay in wait, as did his loyal men, and verily that mighty Western Army lay slain where they stood before their spears could leave their hands, and so great was the carnage that their field general was drug to the safety of their camp before the battle was close to its finish.

Verily, the peoples of the Promised Lands knew great joy after this victory, for the wise men had said that they would be greatly challenged, but it was not so.  Yet soon a messenger arrived to the Great Army’s camp, and he went before the Dark Lord, and in private he brought dark tidings.  After the messenger took his leave, the Dark Lord sent word throughout the camp that a council should be assembled, and in his chambers there gathered his most favored of captains and counselors.  ”My loyal minions,” he spake, “heavy is my heart this night.  This messenger has come before me with tidings that chill my bones…not because of what might befall us, but because of what I must do.  For the messenger has spoke truly, ‘Most Unforgiving and Terrible Master, one whom you once loved has traveled to the far South, and even to the lands where the Angel once ruled did he go.  And though your wrath, great and terrible, fell upon these people, he has raised them, and he has told them that you taught him your ways, and he promises to give them teachings as you gave him of old!  But his ways blaspheme your ways, and the Process is not honored.’  I know the Student of which he speaks, for dear to me he was once, but now he holds me in contempt.  He has raised the Angel’s Remnant, such as he calls them, and he trains them as a perversion of the Army Resurgent.  We must march to meet him where he sits, for these people have seen the Glory of the Process before, and such they will see again.”

And the Army Triumphant was gathered, and southward they did march, and they made camp just outside the swamplands where the Student had assembled his forces.  And scouts went ahead to view the foe, and they returned to the Dark Lord and spake, “Our Merciless Lord, their infantry moves swiftly, in the manner of our very army, yet slight do they seem even in their armor.”  And the Dark Lord knew at this moment that all was well.

The following day, the Dark Lord waited until the sun had fallen, and then he bade his men advance.  Yet the Student was ready, and his swift infantry struck quickly, and it seemed as if the Army Resurgent would be driven out of the swamplands and even back to the Promised Lands from whence they came.  Yet again, it was not so.  For the swift blow that the Student struck was but the tiny thorn in the paw of the great lion that riles him to anger, and verily the Army knew this anger, and so terrible was their retribution that had the Angel not exiled himself to the uttermost West even he would have shed tears as he viewed the destruction of those he once held dear.  The Student’s field general fell in the onslaught, overwhelmed by the power that he could not withstand, and he was drug from the field, leaving the Student’s forces leaderless and confused.  Yet even in their confusion, they knew full well that naught awaited them but utter dark, and they despaired and fled.

And when the battle came to a close, the Dark Lord came to the Student, and he said, “Long did you follow me, and much did I teach you, and you were dear to me upon a time.  So thus, I shall spare you, but no mercy do I show you, for what my wrath has wrought is worse than further I could do.  Look upon this field, where your men lay, and my men stand, and know that justice has been done upon you.”  And the Student looked upon the field, and verily as the sun rises in the east were his forces no more.

And the Army Triumphant returned to the Promised Lands, and a great multitude of their peoples met them in victory.

Little is written about the battle whereupon the army of the Dark Lord’s youth marched upon the promised land, for with such ease did he brush them aside the scribes of the Great Saban deemed it unworthy of their ink, and also even the scribes of Saban’s foes fell to the sword on that day, so that none were left to return to the North, and only memories did they send from whence they came.

But it is written, mere days after this first victory of the Army Resurgent, that the Dark Lord stirred in his quarters, and he could find no rest, and he called his generals before him, and said, “My mind is troubled.  For once, I led an army to the far east, and made war upon the Great Elder, who has reigned since the world was young.  And though there could be no victory then, for my forces were few, I had my revenge when he followed me here to the Promised Land, and I smote the ruin of his men upon these hallowed grounds.  Yet still, my heart has no peace, for when the scribes lay down these histories, will they not say that I had the mastery only on my own battlefield?  Will they not say, ‘Verily, the Great Elder held his lands to the end of his days?’  We must prepare the Army, and march to the far East, and there shall the Great Elder be thrown down.”  And one of his generals said, “Our most merciless master, who will lead the men?” And the Dark Lord spake, “It is settled, for I have a great warrior who came from the coast, and upon the bay of this land did he dwell, and he throws his spear with might.”  And they brought this soldier before the Great Saban, and he said, “My Dark Lord, my loyalty do you have always,” and he bore his bare chest, and upon it was a crude marking which he himself had made with ink and nail, and though it was unsightly, the Dark Lord knew that it showed the fealty of this warrior.  And he was clad in great armor, and the Army followed after him.

And so the Army marched north and east, and verily in those days a great storm went before them, and it drenched the Valley which the Great Elder called home.  And even as he prepared his army, his generals saw he was weak, and they knew that he could not withstand the even greater storm that was to come, and they said to him, “Great Elder, let us take you to the top of the Valley, where you may command your troops from afar, and can survey the whole of the field of battle.”  And he did not perceive that they did this because they doubted not that his days of valor were behind him, and he agreed.  And they took him to the very top of the Valley, where they thought him far from danger, but it was not so.

When the Army Resurgent marched into the Valley, at first they marveled at the Great Elder’s forces, for great was the splendor of their banners, and their armor looked as it did in the histories they had read, and doubt creeped into their minds, for truly there was a time when none could withstand such a power.  But helmet to helmet they clashed, and sword met sword, and as the battle wore on the Army Triumphant knew their victory was assured, as the army before them withered with every splinter of the shield, and they recoiled with every strike of the spear, and the Army’s dominance was known to all.  And many of the Great Elder’s peoples had gathered, as they knew not that their leader was but a shadow of a time long past, but soon they realized that the Dark Lord’s power was not to be stopped, and they fled far away about the green fields and the mountainsides.

And when the Army fought their way to the very top of the Valley, those that remained before them fell to fear, as the Great Saban emerged from the masses, and he made his way to the Great Elder.  And the Great Elder rose slowly, and shakily, clutching his sword and his staff, and even as he raised the sword it fell from his hand, for no strength was left in him.  And the Great Saban approached him, and the Great Elder knelt and awaited his fate.  But the Dark Lord’s heart grew soft, and he reached down and held the Great Elder upright.  And he took the sword that had fallen, and he placed it back in the Elder’s hand, and he spake, “With valor and courage have you fought all your life, and with honor have you met me here when perhaps wisdom bade you to flee.  And so your lands shall you keep, and also your men, those who still live, and we shall return from whence we came, so long as you recognize our mastery.”

And the Great Elder sheathed his sword, and he bowed in graceful defeat.  And the Great Saban took his Army Resurgent, and to the Promised Lands they returned.

In the beginning, the Dark Lord was bred in the Eastern Lands, and his skills were honed, and his countenance was great.  And though he was but a youth, his name echoed through the valleys, and through the mines of his homeland, where hard men dug for rocks that yet burned when set to fire.  And upon the field of battle, the one that would be called The Great Saban donned armor, and he swung his mighty hand, and his enemies fled before him.  His father raised him in the ways of mighty warriors, and friends around him called him, “Brother,” although neither sibling nor peer was his equal.  And when the One that would be the Dark Lord came of age, he journeyed West into the unknown regions, and settled in the heart of the land, he and his mate, where he would fight among lesser men and hone his craft during the battles of that age.

And verily, many years passed, and the Great One commanded armies in the Far North, and then He journeyed down the mighty river to the lands where the swamps numbered as many as the trees, and there he raised an army of great men, and they triumphed.  And for a while, he seemed content…but it was not so.  And so he gathered a force of mercenaries, and made war upon those men who fought not for honor, but for riches, and this also contented him not.  And it was in these days that Elders from the Promised Lands approached him, offering him great wealth and lasting glory should he alight their fires of old, and thus he journeyed to the Promised Land, and verily there he made his Final Home, and there he raised The Army Triumphant.  In great splendor their banners flew, and so many great warriors did he call to his side that no one could withstand their charge.  To the Great City he marched them, and there the Angel was slain, and his tears wet the soil like the morning dew.  And from there the Dark Lord marched to the Far West, and the greatest among his opposition met him there, and Saban had the mastery.  Many splendored trophies were his wergild, and the Promised Lands once again held the envy of all the peoples.

As the times passed, many of the great warriors who fought for the Dark Lord departed, with his most sacred blessing, to acquire riches due to them by their great deeds.  And each of them he took by the hand and said, “Warrior, your blood and your sweat has fallen on the field of battle for me.  Go now, my faithful Warrior, and take for yourself the riches that I myself have known.”  And with his blessing they went, and they made names for themselves among the greatest of their craft.

Now it is said that great success may clothe a man in contentment, and great wealth may fold around him like the warmth of a mother’s womb.  But for the Dark Lord, it was not so.  And in time, the Promised Lands were assaulted by the Cursed People, and those folk believed themselves to be rid of the bane of the Dark Lord.  But again, it was not so.  For the Dark Lord raised another army, and he brought his soldiers before him, and he spake, “Verily, I stood at the helm as The Army Triumphant moved about these lands, and every acre of land upon which they strode bore their mastery.  Today, I take you, The Army Resurgent, and the mastery once again shall be ours.”  The peoples of the Promised Lands heard this, and they rejoiced, for they knew the time of battle was close at hand once more.

Now in those days, a whisper came from the North of a force that bore the hand of the Dark Lord in their doings.  And the Dark Lord sent scouts to apprise him of these happenings, and they returned to him, saying, “Our Most Benevolent Master, the tidings we bring are ill.  For there are those that dwell in the lands that you once called home, and those among the army for which you once donned a soldier’s armor, who speak your name with disgust.  They claim to be your rightful heirs, yet no homage do they pay you.  We tell you the truth, they wear the symbols you once wore, but to none of your teachings do they cling, and no reverence do they pay your name.”

And the Dark Lord heard this, and anger grew in his mighty heart.  And yet, so lofty were his ambitions, and so precise were his goals, that the Great Saban spake, “I have expected to hear this news, as my footsteps are followed by many.  Yet even though they revile my name, and though they desecrate my symbols, no malice shall be due them unless they encroach upon these Promised Lands, which are sacred.”  And he sent messengers northward, as his heart was soft toward those he once called allies, and he told them of his knowledge of their plots, and he offered parlay to them if they would stand down and pay reverence to his greatness.

But even as his power was known throughout the lands, the peoples he once called friends doubted his strength, and they said, “We have heard that the Dark Lord’s powers are but a shell of times long past.  The Army Triumphant has departed, and his strength wanes, and the time comes for our advance.  For the Dark Lord moved from these parts to the Promised Lands, and there he found great wealth and splendor, and so too shall be our reward when we smite him.”

And thus, as the Dark Lord himself had done in years forgotten by all but the eldest of the soothsayers, the people in the lands Saban once called home donned armor of white and blue, and yellow lightning they painted upon their helms, and they marched southwards toward the Promised Lands.  Great was their confidence, as they believed the Dark Lord’s throne to be dulled with age and weakened by the years.

And the Dark Lord heard of this march, and the anger left his heart.  He called forth his generals, and he told them, “I say to you, I have heard that these people whom I loved now call me ‘enemy’, and I hear that no reverence for my name do they have.  Yet no anger do I bear them, nor resentment for their insolence.  Great should my anger be, yet it is not so.  For I have learned, not by anger shall The Army Resurgent advance, but from strength of will only, and progress toward our common goal.  Southward shall they come, and here in the Promised Lands will we meet them.  And once again, The Great Process shall grow like the crops of the field, and the blood of the ones who called themselves my friends shall nourish its roots.”

And The Army Resurgent took to the fields to drill, with the Dark Lord’s watchful eye ever upon them, and on the most hallowed grounds of the Promised Lands they awaited their foes.