A set of tunnels that leads into the undergroound of Lost Woods, which is ripe with untapped magic power that did affect the metals underneath the forest's surface, thus giving the Black Knight Aethelnoth reason to order his minions to search for such metals, little did he know there was much more that he would find...

Tunnels and tunnels were being made by the tireless beamos and miners, searching for more spots filled with the ore that'd later be refined into Infernum. They were quickly progressing to the depths of the lost woods, eventually finding many ancient roots from very old trees, and magical ore right underneath them.

A shadow knight was sent to the mines to work as a foreman, and was checking the tunnel structures until he saw the beamos unearth an unusual object from the walls. He approached to take a better look at it. It was covered with earth, but it seemed to be a helm. However, it was not the most impressive thing in this object...the power it emanated...Lord Aethelnoth just had to see this personally...

*minor restart*

Aethelnoth arrived soon, coming back after the battle in the Lost Woods, rushing after he felt the power of the helm through his minions. He took it from the foreman's hands, and took off the dirt on it, though most of it had been cleaned away by the shadow knight.

It was hauntingly familiar...not just the helm...the energy...some weak willed person would probably fall for its evil call...but not him. He searched the helm for an inscription or anything that'd help him know where he had seen this before...

Indeed there was an inscription, it said:

You who have stumbled across this helmet, throw it away at once! It belongs to the traitor king and Lord of the Damned, T'cherak Maghiande. Have you somehow got your hands on this helmet, throw it in the deepest pits of hell, for that is where the god of death belongs!

The inscription was writting in ancient hylian, though it was still readable.

A smile cracked upon the black knight's lips. T'cherak, eh? Seems life had gotten the best of him. He chuckled at his little joke. However, did he really want this man de-- banished from the realm of light? As far as he remembered, T'cherak had great necromantic powers...now this was an interesting turn of events.

He wouldn't be foolish to put the crown on and hope for powers...no, he knew that'd be the foolish actions of a power thirsty villain. He had to go further...he had...to revive the necrolord. Why, with the power of undeath on his side, he wouldn't have to worry about being outnumbered by Hyrule and Termina's forces!

He had to know just how to do so, though...he knew demonic rituals, but he wondered if T'cherak's helm was bound to him the same way his armor was to him...there was only one way to find out...

He released a tiny bit of dark energy upon the helm, hoping the magic would activate it.

As soon as Aethelnoth fueled the helmet with dark energy, he could feel his soul being ripped out of body and transported someplace far away. That acutally did not happen, and all he saw was a vision, but the feeling was like that.

Infront of him was a plateau of ice, and he stood there, around him was nothing but a raging blizzard. So, suddenly out of nowhere, a GARGANTUAN version of T'cherak appeared, pointing his now tremdously large sword at the tiny, tiny Aethelnoth, a vision that would bring a chill down the spine of even one such as powerful as Aethelnoth.

When the King of the Damned spoke, his voice echoed over the snowstorm. "Who dare to disturb Death god!?". Either he did not see it was Aethelnoth or this was a vision that struck anyone who tried what Aethelnoth had tried.

"Speak, maggot, or I shall make you witness, the TRUE meaning of despair!". The massive plateau was covered in light-blue runes, and some of them seemed to grow bigger as T'cherak spoke. Even though a blizzard was raging, the hills of Snowpeak could be seen far in the background, cleary it was Snowpeak.

Aethelnoth had to admit he did not expect a vision, but to see T'cherak act the way he did, well, he remembered how much the necrolord liked to look imponent, but who didn't.

He chuckled. "Well, it seems your memory may be getting a bit rusty, Death God. I thought you'd recognize someone with a soul like mine from very far..." He seemed rather calm in this situation, though he was somewhat worried with a possibility of having activated a curse on the helm.

Regardless of that, if T'cherak's power was so far reaching in here, this couldn't be reality, not even Ganondorf was able to twist reality like this.

"I guess I do have to explain why I am here, though. Well, I have found your helm, apparently buried by some hero, and that made me wonder whether you'd want to return to the world of light...or you want Sartor to get what's rightfully for more able lords of darkness?"

The sword was stabbed into the ground, only a few inches away from Aethelnoth. As T'cherak moved closer to the plateau, he began to shrink in size, until he was 'only' about three and a half meter high. The sword shrinked at the same time as he did, until it was roughly the same height as Aethelnoth. The Death God took the sword out of the ground, adjusted his glove, and looked at Aethelnoth.

"You", was the first he said. "Aethelnoth". The King of the Damned sheated the sword and folded his arms. "You claim you have found my helm, and that Sartor is in charge now? That fool does not know how to lead, and neither does he desire what I desire". As he spoke, the blizzard began to rage behind him. "So you claim you wish to bring me back to the realm of mortals? What could be your motive for this act?".

His voice was as demonic and echoing as always, but he somehow seemed even more "one" with his armor now, and it was covered in ice on various parts. If Aethelnoth was to meet his eyes in this other realm or whatever it was, he would feel like T'cherak's glowing blue eyes could see straight into his soul. "How long time has passed?", the Lord of the Dead demanded to know.

"I have nothing that binds me to the living anymore, T'cherak. That is my reason. I care not if you wish to unleash undeath upon the earth, all that matters to me is that I establish my kingdom. But I know this does not come by that easily, no conqueror can hold the world's control alone.

This is why upon this day, 200 years since the time where the Crusade still marched the earth, I call forth an alliance. I believe we can both benefit with eachother's goals. If you aren't concerned with a vast underground kingdom, I am not concerned with a world of undeath above.

The demons and the unliving shall tread the earth, and the demise of light and chaos will follow. What say you, T'cherak?"

Aethelnoth offered his hand to the necrolord, waiting for a handshake to seal the deal.

Even though T'cherak absolutely hated everything that was not undead, he was still a former king, and knew the manners that came with it. "As you wish". The undead king reached out his hand and shook Aethelnoth's hand. "Bring the helmet to the Snowpeaks, further instructions awaits you there!", he said. "200 years? Hmphf.. I have been gone for long, but the world shall feel our wrath!". He turned around and looked out over the mountains, since the blizzard had now stopped, indeed revealing Snowpeak.

"Very well then, Aethelnoth, you have your alliance, come to Snowpeak and we can talk". Once he said that, the Death God got all blurry, in fact, the whole scene got blurry, and Aethelnoth would find himself back at the mine again.

(Darn, sorry for the long wait, This week I had to do some college tests...didn't expect such an erratic schedule, but I promise that now I'll post more frequently, the final exam is tomorrow luckily :D)

"I shall then meet you at snowpeak, T'cherak." Without another word, the black knight then found himself back at his headquarters. This was just perfect, he found himself a villanic ally he had dealt with in the past. Now nothing, no one, would stand in his path...he would create the Underworld, and the world would soon feel its might. The perfect kingdom, hidden away in the depths of the world.

Aethelnoth turned and left the mine, bearing the helm of the Necrolord in his hands.
*to the Underworld's Entrance*