Prologue

Rain fell, swirling around them, pounding their faces and making their weapons slippery. 

"So, you've made it this far. I must say, I'm almost impressed." The calm commanding voice echoed out, unhindered by the storm. 

Their target stood with his back to the approach of the battle-weary group, staring up into the endless black clouds. The man's robes fluttered in the wind, yet the striking crimson and violet of the deposed king remained dry through the dark deluge. The rain itself seemed wary of getting too near the land's great enemy, heavy drops stopped inches from him, trickling down the length of the invisible globe of magic that surrounded him. The same magic that created the transparent platform they all stood on, high above the broken siege below. The rain did little to quell the fires spreading through the once imposing city.

Two of five ragtag companions took measured steps forward, the others prepared themselves to fight from a distance. 

The first called out into the storm, their voice quivered, desperate to avoid what might be their last fight."It's over. We don't need to fight you. Your generals are defeated and your armies scattered. Even the land will heal from the damage you've caused."

"You've no more relics nor politics to hide behind anymore, Dark Lord." Adds in the second, the scorn in their voice dripping from their lips with the rain drops. "Why do you fight, what do you have left?" 

"Power." 

A flash of lightning briefly illuminates the sky around them as the man that caused so much suffering slowly turned around. He laughs as the water finally succeeds to soak him from head to toe. As the group begins their assault, His eyes pulse with malevolent light.
Then, with a snap of his fingers, the falling rain, the billowing smoke, and the charging warriors, slowed to a crawl and then froze in place.

"Let us show you fools just how much."