The dark, armored figure stood front and center before the heart. In one hand, he held a huge sword bearing a set of gnashing teeth along the flat and skull motifs along the hilt. Behind the visor of his helmet, his eyes flared with fiery blue light.<br/><br/>Behind him kneeled four figures in black, hooded robes, their eyes glowing a ghastly yellow under their cowls. They were arranged in a semicircle around their commander, ebon swords drawn with the flat of the blade facing forward, tip against the crown.<br/><br/>Demvarien studied the Avatar of the Heart, the Dungeon Master. The voice in his head, that of his god, told him clearly what to do. Evil had to be reborn. He knelt, holding his great blade Anarazel before him in a posture exactly matching his knights.<br/><br/>"So be it," he said in a voice once clear and strong, now rasping and bestial in it's depth, "On behalf of myself, as well as the Knights of the Blackened Sword, I swear fealty to you. We shall safeguard this dungeon, and the forces of darkness shall be reborn."<br/><br/>Demvarien turned around, facing his knights. "Go," he ordered, pointing with a gauntleted hand, "ensure the tunnels are secure, then split up. Two of you will take up guarding the Hero Gate; the other two shall guard the entrance to this chamber at all costs."<br/><br/>His servants bowed their heads, rose, and went off to see to their assignments, the heavy armor beneath their robes clanking and scraping.