Brymstone opened the heavy oaken door to his crypt with a determined grin, he ascended the stairs, intent upon his destination. He walked straight to his sarcophagus. Upon reaching the stone effigy, carved in his image he grasped the sides firmly and slid the heavy, black marble forward to reveal the contents within. His old armor and axe which had laid in state began to resonate with a dark, ominous pulse as if in response to his presence. "It is time once more, the age of man stands at the eleventh hour, let us see if he is truly worthy to keep this realm, for The Dark Legion has risen!" Brymstone donned his grisly armor and secured his eldritch axe, turned and grinned as a fiend most often does when his machinations come to fruition. As quickly as he had arrived, he departed into the night, a shadow soon to spread across the land.
