In the Far South, where the lands of the Berserker tribes lay?desolate lands, with shingle-hills, low-topped mountains, and volcanos that sprouted like flowers in a mountain-clearing?the tower of the south lay. To some, it is called the “Dark Tower,” to others it is known as the “Pinnacle of Shadow.” Residing in its many-roomed, corridor-spanning, dim-lit halls of black stone, the Dark Lord sits upon his throne of shadows. Atop its pinnacled, spiraling, steepled limits, his throne is set before a vast, glassless window?arched and carved in the black stone of the tower itself. With scepter in gnarled, bent hand, the Dark Lord calls out orders and expects them to be answered. If they are not?or ill met?to the dungeons he sends thee!

Rounded battlements with guard-towers and multiple precipices with carven gateways or arched doorways, goblins swarm the ledges edged with chutes built for firing arrows or rolling stones through. No one passes the gates aligned with goblin warriors and guards upon every side. And if thee would, ye would find yeself in a courtyard overcrowded with marching goblin forces ready for war. Past the courtyard that spans for many miles, another gateway?the only entrance and exit leading into and out of the tower’s flesh?is carven into the black rock of the tower. A ring of battlements surrounds the lowest level of the dark tower, where the doorway lay. Barricaded with massive locks and bars, the doors are nearly impenetrable. Past the guarded door, the finest-trained goblins and trolls lurk at either side.

A hallway aligned with foul statues and many corridors lay at the other side of the doors, where a staircase gradually spirals upward at the end of the long hallway?in a greatly lit hall, where innumerable doors intersect, leading further into the bowels of the tower. Up the staircase, past the lower levels where the steaming armory, awful-smelling barracks, and storage spaces lay, the topmost levels lurk with the stench and image of the Dark One.

Below and into the surface of the black stone flooring, the staircase leads down into the torture chambers, corridors of dungeons aligned with cells, and the interrogation rooms; delving ever deeper into the Mountains of Dusk upon which the tower was built by goblins and trolls long ago, for their shadow-cloaked master.

From the tip of the pinnacle, higher than any bird can fly, there lay the ceiling floor?where the Dark Lord will climb to and gaze out upon the Waste Plains to the north, and the unnamed mountain ranges to the south?where the Dragon-lords breed and domestic the serpents of the far Far South, where their empire strikes fear into every heart which gazes upon its mighty power. And eventually the Sea of Serpents spans out until the edge of the map, where the world’s end lay.

Below the Gazing Floor, as it is called by the goblins and Berserks under the rule of the Dark Lord, his throne room spans out?where his dark throne sits at the windowsill, with the black canvas of his emblem blowing in the faint breeze this far above the lands below. Upon either side of his throne two guards always stand, never moving, at attention. As well as at either side of the door to the Dark Lord’s back, there stand two more unmoving guards.

If strong heart ye be, then the very sight of the Lord would break your soul and sanity if ye travel this far up into the clutches of the tower. Clothed in shadows that furl about like his cloak, with glossy helmet set upon his brow, and a low-hanging scabbard for his sword at his side, he would send any warrior running, screaming. Even those Berserkers, goblins, and Dragon-lords who chance to look upon his figure without fear of death recoil at his every word.

In the Far South, where the dark tower lay, in the highest reaches of its black stone, the Dark Lord gazes out with smoke-rimmed eyes that seek destruction and malice; where he sits upon his dark throne, among the furling flags marked with canvas the tint of the tower’s flesh. Even from this far above the lands below, he can see and identify the marching forces of Concordia to the north. They cross the far away Unnamed Plains, and draw ever closer to the Southern Ridges where is erected the abandoned southern lookout tower of the past Council of Wizards.

At the sight of the marching forces dressed in red capes and cloaks, baring short, swift swords as was the customary of Concordian soldiers, with the red flags decorated with the eagle upon them, the Dark Lord did not scoff or sigh, nor did he order for forces to intercept them before they come upon his doorstep.

No, instead, he smiled.