It began as Brymstone stood at the hearth of of the library's fireplace, the fire long gone out, glowing embers illuminating the confines of the fire pit in a sporadic flickering of orange and red. The recurring doubts of how the battle to bring the world of men to embrace the truth of death and denounce the flesh was one that seemed to have no end haunted his thoughts with insistent preoccupation. Staring into the smoldering white heat of a coal still breathing life within the charred remains of the fire he reasoned to himself. He was not willing to wait or abide the timeline of an eternal war in which victory would be achieved by mankind's acceptance of an inevitable demise. This was not victory by honor, only attrition. For this very reason he made the long journey to the North, to the forsaken lands and the forgotten tomb of the Black Captain of which he had heard rumors of late. His travels only confirmed the whispers that spoke of a great evil that had been awakened, the tomb was empty and the darkness that it had once contained was now freed once more into the realms of man. This revelation brought to bear all his resources and nefarious contacts until one night he received word that there was one who could offer information, the kind that no one should ever go looking for. An old crone who lived within the crags of crescent mountain had knowledge of one who could tell him what he needed to know. She told him of a mage, Malus Blackstaff who had accumulated a vast number of parchments and tomes from the time of the Elven Wars when the kingdoms of men were in their infancy. Soon the Eldritch Society was set upon and Brymstone acquired all he wanted to know. Within the brittle piles of parchment and dust encrusted tomes was a rite that would summon that which should have been long forgotten and left to the ashes of ancient history. This brings us to the present, Brymstone paces in anticipation upon the high steps of his tower, assembled are the items needed for the night's ritual. A brazier burns hot and bright in which is placed the items that will initiate the summoning, the final act is to sacrifice the life of a victim who's life force is forcibly taken, it is done and the brazier burns with smoke as the blood of an innocent bubbles within it. The fire goes out and only dark, black smoke remains and swirls within the cross breeze atop the tower. Silence is now Brymstone's only companion as he surveys the slick crimson stones beneath his feet. The smoke began to thin, swirling to the edges of the parapets then dissipating, revealing a figure, pale and gaunt but who's eyes were of piercing darkness. "Who summons me" a voice that resounds as the grinding of steel upon a sharpening wheel. "It is I, Brymstone who has summoned you here", a reply was not forthcoming. "I wish to bring an end to the age of man", Brymstone braced himself for whatever would come next. "Do you " the cold darkness that emanated from the figure was now palpable, even to one such as Brymstone, who was devoid of all flesh and feeling. "Join me and we will destroy all that is, we will bring forth the orcs and all those who are enemies of man to bring about a new age of darkness". This was a moment that Brymstone knew a choice must be made, a pact with such a creature would mean war with the realm of man. "I will" and so the enemy of men has gained a new vassal. The ghostly figure rose to his full height, and in an ancient tongue long forgotten, claimed his stronghold, Minas Morgul.
