Post by Antessima on Dec 4, 2004 1:15:20 GMT -5
Using a powerful spell of sleep, the sacred prophet
Prosper has been able to steal Siawyn's ancient book,
the evil tome by which Asmodeus was able to ensnare
him and twist his mind. However, Asmodeus himself
came to Siawyn and released him, bidding him hunt down
Prosper and exact revenge for this theft.
Prosper, meanwhile, has used his own spells to hinder
Siawyn's hunt. He is relying on the power of an
ancient relic which was foretold by his forefathers'
forefathers to be capable of breaking the spells of
even the most vile of the fallen, even Asmodeus
himself. This item, if it can be assembled in time,
can destroy the book and release Siawyn's mind from
the clutches of Hell.
Long, long ago, the seer of Thalos, Crindal the White,
used many powerful spells blessed by the Creator
Himself to create the mystical Headdress of the
Priest. When he had made it, he proclaimed in a voice
so loud that it is said the depths of Hell shuddered,
'BEHOLD! THE POWER OF EVIL HATH BEEN BROKEN!' In a
fit of rage, Asmodeus mustered many legions of demons
and other vile minions and teleported them directly to
Crindal. Knowing his own mortality, Crindal breathed
with his final breath a spell which split the
headdress asunder, the pieces vanishing across the
vast reaches of the realm, and none knew their resting
places.
Until now. One night, as Prosper lay sleeping on his
mat, a vision came to him, and Crindal's voice spoke
out of the depths of time. 'Behold, the time hath
come! Asmodeus' hand reacheth out of his vile hole,
and the mighty Siawyn hath become his minion. What
once was mighty and fearless for the cause of
righteousness hath been twisted and defiled, becoming
naught but a wretched shadow of Asmodeus himself,
delving in evil and bloodshed and sorcery! Seek ye
now the items that I long ago sought, and assemble ye
the Headdress of the Priest! Ye must search for their
resting places, indeed searching to the ends of the
earth!' Suddenly Prosper awoke in a sweat, cursing
himself that he lost the vision before Crindal spoke
more of the pieces of the headdress and where they
lay. As he lay back on his pillow, his hand strayed
to the floor and touched a piece of paper. Puzzled,
he picked it up and looked at it. A cold chill ran
down his spine as he read it.
A list of locations was on the piece of paper.
Nothing specific, nor any hint of what to look for,
but a final inscription read: 'Here lie the ancient
pages of my tome, wherein I hath chronicled the deep
and perilous quest to assemble the headdress. Time is
not upon our side; Send thee adventurers to these many
places, bidding them learn of my lore, and journeying
onward in search of the pieces of the headdress!'
Prosper trembled, fearing that this might not come to
pass, for as of yet, he knew not what to do with the
headdress when he had it, IF he ever was able to
assemble it again. It had been thousands of years
since Crindal first bound together the holy items with
powerful spells; could a lowly prophet such as he
follow in those footsteps? As he pondered these
thoughts in his mind, he idly flipped the paper over,
and noticed, startled, that there was something else
written: 'Asmodeus hath ensnared him with an evil
tome; Ye must part the twain if ye are to succeed in
destroying this manifestation of Hell!' Prosper
fainted.
When he awoke, his heart knew his purpose, and he
fearfully resolved himself to his task. Slipping into
Rhyoden in the middle of the night under a moonless
sky, he stole into Siawyn's chambers unseen, and while
the champion lay in his bed, clutching the tome to his
chest, Prosper uttered a powerful spell of slumber,
aided in his casting by a higher power. Quickly,
Prosper snatched the book, but Siawyn broke through
the spell and awoke, leaping at Prosper. Thinking
quickly (and wisely), Prosper blew a handful of
diamond dust into Siawyn's eyes, and when Siawyn had
cleared his blurred vision a few moments later,
Prosper was nowhere to be found.
Thus began the terrible hunt of Siawyn. Bellowing
with immeasurable rage, he stormed out of Rhyoden
without waiting for General Quagar or any of the other
officers to follow. Belatedly, he called to Quagar to
join him in his hunt for justice as he was
disappearing over a hill. As Quagar jumped to his
feet to follow his Champion, he noticed a small scrap
of paper lying on the ground. He picked it up and
read the following words: 'Remember thy heritage, and
the former glory the realm enjoyed of old!' He sat
down, stunned, as if a hammer had smote upon his
forehead, the lingering spell of Asmodeus' book
failing as memories came flooding back. Courageous
deeds...triumphant parades...and the blessings of the
gods who favored Rhyoden and its righteous denizens.
Slowly shaking his head as he came to terms with the
enormity of his and Siawyn's deception, his mind
struggled to figure out how to right the wrongs he had
committed. Suddenly, he remembered Siawyn, and the
murder he promised to all who stood between him and
his ancient book. A terrible fear gripped at his
heart, knowing the chaos and destruction that was
Siawyn's rage. In a flash, Quagar leapt to his feet
and out of the barracks, the very spectre of Hell
lending wings to his feet as he sought to find Siawyn
and stop him and his terrible quest.
Such was this dire race, Prosper fleeing for his life
and for the lives of all who treasured goodness and
righteousness, Siawyn chasing him to retrieve the book
of horrible spells and curses, and Quagar flying after
Siawyn to try and stop him before all was too late.
Those who resided in the mountains near Rhyoden
trembled with fear as the storm roared through the
valleys below. As Prosper ran, he called to the gods,
who in their mercy teleported him to a place of
secrecy and sanctuary, wherein he might have a meager
chance to withstand Siawyn's advance until the
Headdress might be retrieved and assembled. As Quagar
ran, however, someone else took notice, and was not
pleased. The general had nearly caught up with Siawyn
when a demon appeared in front of him, chuckling
evilly as he leered at Quagar with a mischievous look
in his eye. Fear gripped his heart as Quagar
recognized Asmodeus' emissary to Siawyn. 'Not for
you, General,' hissed the demon, and with a snap of
his fingers, he teleported General Quagar into the
unspeakable horror that is the Shadow Rift. Such a
cry did Quagar give as he vanished that even Prosper
in his far-off hideaway heard him and knew his fate.
Now a call has gone out throughout the realms, bidding
hardy adventurers to aid Prosper in his desperate
hour, to seek out the parts of the ancient Headdress
of the Priest, and to rescue General Quagar from the
pits of despair! Let all those whose cause is
righteousness, whose hearts know no fear, and whose
steps falter not; let them step forth, and take up the
cry of the righteous: 'BEHOLD, THE POWER OF EVIL SHALL
BE BROKEN!'
Prosper has been able to steal Siawyn's ancient book,
the evil tome by which Asmodeus was able to ensnare
him and twist his mind. However, Asmodeus himself
came to Siawyn and released him, bidding him hunt down
Prosper and exact revenge for this theft.
Prosper, meanwhile, has used his own spells to hinder
Siawyn's hunt. He is relying on the power of an
ancient relic which was foretold by his forefathers'
forefathers to be capable of breaking the spells of
even the most vile of the fallen, even Asmodeus
himself. This item, if it can be assembled in time,
can destroy the book and release Siawyn's mind from
the clutches of Hell.
Long, long ago, the seer of Thalos, Crindal the White,
used many powerful spells blessed by the Creator
Himself to create the mystical Headdress of the
Priest. When he had made it, he proclaimed in a voice
so loud that it is said the depths of Hell shuddered,
'BEHOLD! THE POWER OF EVIL HATH BEEN BROKEN!' In a
fit of rage, Asmodeus mustered many legions of demons
and other vile minions and teleported them directly to
Crindal. Knowing his own mortality, Crindal breathed
with his final breath a spell which split the
headdress asunder, the pieces vanishing across the
vast reaches of the realm, and none knew their resting
places.
Until now. One night, as Prosper lay sleeping on his
mat, a vision came to him, and Crindal's voice spoke
out of the depths of time. 'Behold, the time hath
come! Asmodeus' hand reacheth out of his vile hole,
and the mighty Siawyn hath become his minion. What
once was mighty and fearless for the cause of
righteousness hath been twisted and defiled, becoming
naught but a wretched shadow of Asmodeus himself,
delving in evil and bloodshed and sorcery! Seek ye
now the items that I long ago sought, and assemble ye
the Headdress of the Priest! Ye must search for their
resting places, indeed searching to the ends of the
earth!' Suddenly Prosper awoke in a sweat, cursing
himself that he lost the vision before Crindal spoke
more of the pieces of the headdress and where they
lay. As he lay back on his pillow, his hand strayed
to the floor and touched a piece of paper. Puzzled,
he picked it up and looked at it. A cold chill ran
down his spine as he read it.
A list of locations was on the piece of paper.
Nothing specific, nor any hint of what to look for,
but a final inscription read: 'Here lie the ancient
pages of my tome, wherein I hath chronicled the deep
and perilous quest to assemble the headdress. Time is
not upon our side; Send thee adventurers to these many
places, bidding them learn of my lore, and journeying
onward in search of the pieces of the headdress!'
Prosper trembled, fearing that this might not come to
pass, for as of yet, he knew not what to do with the
headdress when he had it, IF he ever was able to
assemble it again. It had been thousands of years
since Crindal first bound together the holy items with
powerful spells; could a lowly prophet such as he
follow in those footsteps? As he pondered these
thoughts in his mind, he idly flipped the paper over,
and noticed, startled, that there was something else
written: 'Asmodeus hath ensnared him with an evil
tome; Ye must part the twain if ye are to succeed in
destroying this manifestation of Hell!' Prosper
fainted.
When he awoke, his heart knew his purpose, and he
fearfully resolved himself to his task. Slipping into
Rhyoden in the middle of the night under a moonless
sky, he stole into Siawyn's chambers unseen, and while
the champion lay in his bed, clutching the tome to his
chest, Prosper uttered a powerful spell of slumber,
aided in his casting by a higher power. Quickly,
Prosper snatched the book, but Siawyn broke through
the spell and awoke, leaping at Prosper. Thinking
quickly (and wisely), Prosper blew a handful of
diamond dust into Siawyn's eyes, and when Siawyn had
cleared his blurred vision a few moments later,
Prosper was nowhere to be found.
Thus began the terrible hunt of Siawyn. Bellowing
with immeasurable rage, he stormed out of Rhyoden
without waiting for General Quagar or any of the other
officers to follow. Belatedly, he called to Quagar to
join him in his hunt for justice as he was
disappearing over a hill. As Quagar jumped to his
feet to follow his Champion, he noticed a small scrap
of paper lying on the ground. He picked it up and
read the following words: 'Remember thy heritage, and
the former glory the realm enjoyed of old!' He sat
down, stunned, as if a hammer had smote upon his
forehead, the lingering spell of Asmodeus' book
failing as memories came flooding back. Courageous
deeds...triumphant parades...and the blessings of the
gods who favored Rhyoden and its righteous denizens.
Slowly shaking his head as he came to terms with the
enormity of his and Siawyn's deception, his mind
struggled to figure out how to right the wrongs he had
committed. Suddenly, he remembered Siawyn, and the
murder he promised to all who stood between him and
his ancient book. A terrible fear gripped at his
heart, knowing the chaos and destruction that was
Siawyn's rage. In a flash, Quagar leapt to his feet
and out of the barracks, the very spectre of Hell
lending wings to his feet as he sought to find Siawyn
and stop him and his terrible quest.
Such was this dire race, Prosper fleeing for his life
and for the lives of all who treasured goodness and
righteousness, Siawyn chasing him to retrieve the book
of horrible spells and curses, and Quagar flying after
Siawyn to try and stop him before all was too late.
Those who resided in the mountains near Rhyoden
trembled with fear as the storm roared through the
valleys below. As Prosper ran, he called to the gods,
who in their mercy teleported him to a place of
secrecy and sanctuary, wherein he might have a meager
chance to withstand Siawyn's advance until the
Headdress might be retrieved and assembled. As Quagar
ran, however, someone else took notice, and was not
pleased. The general had nearly caught up with Siawyn
when a demon appeared in front of him, chuckling
evilly as he leered at Quagar with a mischievous look
in his eye. Fear gripped his heart as Quagar
recognized Asmodeus' emissary to Siawyn. 'Not for
you, General,' hissed the demon, and with a snap of
his fingers, he teleported General Quagar into the
unspeakable horror that is the Shadow Rift. Such a
cry did Quagar give as he vanished that even Prosper
in his far-off hideaway heard him and knew his fate.
Now a call has gone out throughout the realms, bidding
hardy adventurers to aid Prosper in his desperate
hour, to seek out the parts of the ancient Headdress
of the Priest, and to rescue General Quagar from the
pits of despair! Let all those whose cause is
righteousness, whose hearts know no fear, and whose
steps falter not; let them step forth, and take up the
cry of the righteous: 'BEHOLD, THE POWER OF EVIL SHALL
BE BROKEN!'
