The Houses:

House of the Scythe ruled by Our Lady of Chains. She is proficient in the necromantic arts.

House of the Scorpion ruled by Scorpios artful and expedient in poisons and espionage.

House of the Wolf ruled by Lycanor. His clan shifts shape into the wolf by night.

House of the Black Star ruled by Magister Omicron Psi Thera. Omicron is s summoner of some capacity.

House of the Dragon ruled by High Imperator Lord Vaxor. The house is strong in field combat, but weak in magic. It is rumored that the House of the Dragon has fallen to madness.

House of the Black Rose ruled by the Lord of the Bats. They thrive at night.

House of the Black Veil ruled by Lord Phantos Oneiros, an illusionist.

House of the Raven ruled by Lady Morganna. A house of witches in which all members are women; they are initiates in conjuring, sorcery, and witchcraft.

And I... am the Spider Prince...

I. Our Lady of Chains and the Citadel of the Scythe

Black birds squawked and scattered outside the monolithic citadel; the fortress of Our Lady of Chains. From the horizon, the tower was a silhouette and appeared as a weapon itself with scythe-like blades running the perimeter of the top.

Green and fertile fields have long dried and withered to brown and grey and then cracked earth.

The birds alerted the warriors and guards of the oncoming charge that thundered in. The Lady's bronze-skinned warriors rode out in two-man chariots to meet the oncoming forces of Scorpios and Lycanor. The chariot wheels propelled the well-oiled blades of the Lady's forces.

The defenders of Our Lady of Chains rode over the dry, flat, cracked desert terrain—all that remained of once lush vegetation when the Empress once ruled. Toward the oncoming forces of the Scorpion and the Wolf the chariots rode—all dust and thunder. The armies met and clashed blades. Warriors raised weapons high. They yelled with rage. Swords crossed.. Sparks flew. Axes cleaved. Spears pierced. Blood splattered and ran into the cracks and moistened the once arid land.

The House of the Wolf shifted into beast form just before the lines of soldiers met and leapt into the fray. They waited till they could see the whites of the enemy's eyes. They sought the element of surprise. They were ravenous.

The small calvary of Our Lady of Chains, Sovereign of the Scythe, had been beaten down, her forces chipped away like the old crumbling stone; this, a temple where old gods are no longer worshipped… or welcomed.

The few remaining soldiers fought to the last; loyal as they were. They did not go without taking a few heads.

Her lady's forces fell and Scorpios and Lycanor charged and pressed the interior defenses. They penetrated her inner chamber.

Scorpios and Lycanor turned a corner only to face the last two sentinels who stood guard at the massive, steel-plated doors that led to her lady's chamber. The sentinels poised themselves and leveled their scythe-like halberds at the oncoming enemy. Their long, red capes ruffled. Shiny metal helmets gleamed, but they were no match for two seasoned veterans who dared battle long before the guards were even suckling a teat–no match for sons of the Dark Emperor.

Scorpios (House of the Scorpion), Lycanor (House of the Wolf), and Our Lady of Chains (House of the Scythe) were of the the same warring family; the Lords and Ladies of Darkhold Nocturne fought for the dark throne. Longevity was both a blessing and a curse. Some had become wise and ruthless and others had become weary of the war.

The blood of the sentinels flowed and puddled in the stone grooves. Scorpios and Lycanor headed for the massive doors. Two steel guardians in the form of seated lions flanked the door.. They came to life when Scorpios approached. Their inset emerald eyes sparkled. The eyes were made from the precious Lucifer Stones that fell from the sky. But Scorpios was ready for such a thing with a spell. Green lightning arced from his fingertips. The great, gleaming lions exploded. He walked over crumbling and charred flakes of smoldering skin and sinew that crunched under his boots.

Scorpios and Lycanor opened the great cyclopian doors and with a rumble they entered. The pattern on the floor was that of a classic labyrinth formed by different metals such as copper, bronze, and iron. The ceiling was high and vaulted. Steel structures and sculptures with long sweeping arches and curves like that of Death's long scythe-blade were arranged about the labyrinth: some stood like statues and others hung suspended from the vaulting. An overt sign of wealth on Darkhold for the planet was not rich in ores like Earth. Those metallic structures were reminiscent of cities, insects, astrolabes, and long-dead titans.

The Lady of Chains stood–a beautiful queen, noble in her demeanor. High Mistress of the Necromantic Arts. Scorpios and Lycanor were alert as they approached. Side by side they stepped as she stood before her throne with an air of scorn. Both Scorpios and Lycanor marveled at her beauty once again for they had not seen her in a very long time. They caught her in the middle of a ritual to raise the fallen soldiers out on the bleak plain; once again calling them to service. She looked up from ritual workings as smoke billowed from the brazier before her.

Tall, thin, pale, and serene. Her long raven-black fell below her well-formed hips. Bracers covered her thin and delicate forearms. Metalworks were form-fitted around her neck, breasts, and hips. The paints that women so often use for lips and nails were glossy and black. Her eyes were large and violet, set above high cheekbones. She stared at the invaders, unflinching. She lifted her chin at them in defiance. She was a proud woman. She held the shining steel Scepter of Circe in her left hand. She clicked a small button on the scepter. Three curved blades like crescent moons clicked out at the business end of the scepter.

"My lady, your forces have been annihilated, you have been taken. Surrender," said Scorpios.

"My dear brothers and betrayers, I am forced to play this game of death with you. I hold nothing but sorrow in my heart. You may gain much from my demise, but know that I will not go easily."

They approached closer, and with much caution, for the lady had a fierce reputation as a sorceress across the lands.

"Careful, my lady. I implore you to surrender. For if you surrender you will be treated with–"

"You fools,” she broke in, “there is no surrender in Darkhold Nocturne!" She leveled the scepter at them and lightning forked out. It struck them both. They writhed in pain. She stepped on a plate before her on the floor. The long blades of a giant sculpture shifted and fell from vertical to horizontal on a great hinge that seemed to creak with the pain of the ancient. The blades flung out and swung out in an instant with a great “whoosh.” Scorpios heard the shift, sensed the whir of the blade, and reacted to the gleam of deadly steel. He turned his eyes to Lycanor who was now in two pieces–sheared at the waist.

Scorpios smiled. He rose from his warrior's position and sheathed his sword. "Ah, dear sister, just as planned." He strolled over to the Lady of Chains with open arms. They embraced and held one another close. "It is good to see you again." He held her and kissed her.

"These machinations of endless war make me weary,” she pouted.

"But you have done well,” he gazed at her beautiful face and caressed her chin. He thought about her skull and high cheekbones.

"We have sacrificed our own men to deceive the others–too many men. I told you another plan could have been more effective."

"Bah, 'tis but a trifle. Mercenaries can be found from here to the Far Reaches. It is of no consequence. There is only one constant in Darkhold… war. You and I will rule together, side by side, as Emperor and Empress. A feat yet unknown in Darkhold Nocturne."

“The years of war have left no resources. We are at the end.” She looked up at him. “What of the prophecy Scorpios: there can be only one?"

“That depends on which prophecy you believe. Prophecies are never certain–always open to interpretation, and offer little hope for those they supposedly guide. Don't be so superstitious. Let us enjoy this victory, dear sister.” He kissed her cheek ever so delicately.

It was quiet. There was a pause. The Lady of Chains stiffened as Scorpios had quietly removed the hidden, poison-covered blade and slipped it into the recesses of her soft, smooth belly. She clung to him as she gasped her last drafts of air.

“A plague on all these houses...” she said.

The poison concocted by the alchemists of House Scorpios was quick. He touched her lips with his finger. “Shhhh... he whispered to her as he held her. The prophecy holds, my sweet... Never again a spell will you speak.” She looked into his deep, dark eyes with her last exhale. The sparkle of life in her violet eyes passed out of existence like a dying star. He smiled as he held her corpse. He danced a waltz-like dance with her limp, blue-gray body across the labyrinthine pattern of the floor, amidst the metallic sculptures. He set her lifeless body in her throne of gleaming steel on its dais and perched her just right with loving attention to detail–a doll maker with his creation now complete.

He stepped back to admire her and then kissed her porcelain cheek. He brushed it with his hand. "Now there's a pretty picture, dear sister. You always were a sight.” He paused, cocked his head and admired her as one would admire a fine and rare artifact.

“And now you will stay here with your steel structures of art, you noble bitch; a rather fitting crypt... Never you mind, you'll be hermetically sealed here for all eternity. I will lay the spell for you, dear, sweet sister.”

He bowed to her before he left. He closed the massive doors behind him and cast the Three-Pronged Ritual of Binding and Sealing. And a throne chamber became a tomb. And there Our Lady of Chains is sealed for all eternity.

And then there were seven…