It was once the Citadel of Morning; a shining ray of white light to confront the relentless, black tide of evil from the south; it was the Order of the Knights of The Black Forrest's answer to the sinister citadel of Doomcloud, the primary seat of the Evil Uprising; it was dedicated to the light that drives away the darkness of night. It was hope. Now it is ten thousand fold more terrible, more sinsister and more hope defiling than the ancient pile of Doomcloud was ever thought to be. Now it is the primary seat of the Lady Undeath, Seska, the mate of the Prince of Hell on Earth and the most horrible lich to ever roam the realms of man. It is a place filled with gloom, with utter souless dispair; a place without hope. It is unlike the far newer seat of the Realm of Abominatus, the HellsMouth Keep. Seldom are any sounds heard here. No cries for mercy, no screaming in torment. It is a dead place of the dead; the perfect seat for the nihilistic Seska. There is no light. There is no joy. There is no hope. There is only mourning. Indeed, now; it is The Citadel of Mourning.