Scene 1: The Entrance
Our heroes fall through the darkness for what seems like an eternity, bitter cold crushing the breath from their lungs, until they crash land in a crumbling stone chamber littered with rubbish. Thick dust and cobwebs cover the floor and the ceiling is lost in shadows. Statues of ancient gods and kings are set in niches and many exits lead to parts unknown.
As they gather themselves together figures begin to appear in several of the corridors, misshapen and brutish the stench of rot and decay flows from them. They begin to shuffle forward with eager anticipation, fresh meat is rare in the Labyrinth.
As they press forward an old man comes stumbling from another corridor waving a rough staff above his head. The creatures recoil from him and flee. “Hello there, the stone people are easily startled but they will be back and in greater numbers. We should move from here quickly.” Puzzled by the old man the group nevertheless agrees to follow his advice.
Some brief questioning later reveals the man is a traveller, lost in the Labyrinth for so long he has forgotten his own name or why he came here. He explains the nature of the Labyrinth, a many doored prison for defeated gods, immortals and heroes, each trapped within a prison of their own making. Over time portals have formed between these prisons and they now exist as a latticework of passageways which those who know them can navigate. The group explain that they are here to find and stop Sopias, the mad Primordial and the old man agrees to act as their guide although he warns them that the journey is a dangerous one.
Scene 2: Portals Galore
[narrativist gamer alert]I ran this as a series of linked skill challenges and I let each member of the group define one of the portal worlds they passed through. Each player could also author in one campaign level benefit/bennie/secret to gain but doing so increased the number of successes required and increased the risk of failure. I designed the last portal area although they got a choice of three. Each had a serious failure condition although I should have given a better idea as to what they might be.[/narrativist twaddle]
The first gate finds the group far in their own worlds past, at the height of the Empire of Reptos, Warlord and Dominator of the World. His slave armies have landed on what will become the City of Kings and he has gone to war with the Second Glorious Kireshi Empire. The Taken, Wizards enslaved to his service unleash life eating sorcery destroying the Kireshi’s once verdant forest home. Nearby on a mountain slope Reptos himself battles Ashura, Primordial of the Sun. The group make their way quickly through the battle, avoiding the clashing armies but veering close to the battling ancients. Reptos has set up a series of enchanted mirrors designed to reflect the image of the Primordial over and over, distracting him in his vanity. As the group slip away into the next realm Assamber furiously scribbles notes on their position, the time and date and various alchemical and astronomical formulae. They might prove useful in the future when Ashura rises as an undead monstrosity.
The second gate finds them in a vast underground necropolis, the remains of a civilisation long dead. It is home to undead of all varieties, as well as being the lair of the First Vampire, sire to Hu’Maa High Priest of Sopias. The group make swift headway given their extensive experience in dealing with the undead but they are not the only threat. Assamber leads the group off on a side trek through its ancient library looking for ways to neutralise Hu’Maa and Morn triggers a trap that drains the blood from their veins. Alerted to their presence undead flood the library and they are forced to flee without the information they desired.
The third gate finds them in a realm of elemental chaos, the forces of creation rolling and boiling all around them. Here are imprisoned the four Elemental Lords who’s strife keeps the world turning. Azhanti should be in his element here but he leads them into tumultuous storms, perhaps Vulcan’s influence reaches even past death. The group are forced into retreat by the unpredictable forces with Morn drawing on the power of the Hammer to stabilise the chaos and aid their escape.
The fourth gate finds the group in a City floating in the vastness of chaos. A bubble wraps the small space, protecting it from the madness but the place is filled with a sense of despair. Slack jawed humans wander the streets aimlessly watched over by impassive stone faced guards. This is the City of Solitude, where those chosen as the Champions of Humanity who fail or who turned away from their duty are banished. The group make a quick exit from the dour place but as Morn steps through the portal he turns and salutes them, one day they will be given a chance to redeem themselves.
The fifth gate finds the group standing up to their knees in a murky, fetid swamp. In the distance a city can be seen surrounded by golden walls. Inside rises a Ziggurat on which is set a Throne. This is the realm of Dagon, once High Priest of Mael, he sought to usurp his master and was banished for it. The group don’t have much time to ponder such things as they quickly find themselves set upon by hostile locals. They make haste away not wanting to be delayed. Assamber summons a giant Dragonturtle from the depths of the muck to bear them across an enormous lake and away from the angry locals. Unfortunately it sinks beneath the depths part way across and tries to eat them. As the rest of the group race for the shore Morn manages to hold the beast off with the patented log in the mouth trick. The group manage to make it to the walls of the City but the trek has been draining. The very air seems to suck the will and energy from them. They must get out of this place and quickly if they are to have the strength to face Sopias. Artemis leads them into the ancient sewer system which reaches under the walls and many wrong turns later they find themselves in the bowels of the Ziggurat. Unfortunately Dagon has been alerted to their presence and as they leap through the portal he exacts a price, taking their power as his own.
Scene 3: Sopias at last!
The final gate leaves the group crashing into the Maw of Chaos, the prison of the mad Primordial Sopias himself. The Chamber is vast and dominated by its prisoner. A hundred feet high Sopias is chained to the floor locked in place eternally straining against the adamantine chains binding him. Once he was beautiful and mysterious, the soul of creation itself, but he devoured a portal to Chaos to save the world and it has changed him. That portal still exists here and it has warped him, now part primordial, part demon. Its presence has caused reality to fracture and many smaller rifts float around the room. Curled in front of him sits a great white dragon, its eyes filled with madness and its body having worn away in various places. Azhanti immediately recognises that it is no true dragon but a dream dragon possessed by a Demon Lord.
Its head rises as the group enters. “Turn back, there is nothing for you here mortals.” They are undeterred. They have fought dragons before and confidence is high. “Your interference will not be tolerated, leave or face the might of Demogorgon.” They decline and battle is joined.
Quickly things become more complicated. Demogorgon calls various allies out of the planar rifts; a huge clawed nycadaemon begins grabbing people holding them inside the rift so that chaos itself begins to dissolve them; a hulking carnage demon emerges and begins to lay about the group; a tall mass of pestilent chaos with mind rending whipping tentacles emerges from another and from all of them stream hordes of smaller horrors, rending and tearing wherever they can. Demogorgon advances on the group, “Your lives are forfeit, here my destiny will prevail, you cannot possibly succeed.” Each of our heroes feels a rending of their souls. At this place, at this time, the Threads of Destiny are the strongest they have ever been and the creature seems capable of manipulating and controlling them, perhaps even of severing them completely. They must endure the punishment or risk being extinguished forever.
The rifts seem to be the key. The portal Sopias consumed cannot be closed without shutting them off and the dragon keeps calling more allies through them as fast as the group can dispatch them. The group manage to shut several of them and Assamber brings down a Cloudkill across much of the room. The choking fumes begin to kill friend and foe alike but our heroes have significant healing resources unavailable to the demon. Morn manages to pin it in position but it seems to be a position it is happy to be in as it continues to drive him into the Cloudkill over and over again.
Slowly the tide begins to turn. The larger demons start to fall and the flood of lesser creatures is stymied by the poisonous cloud. Great rents have been torn into the dragon’s body but this seems to simply enrage it. Necrotic flames explode from the withered flesh of the dragon and black flames roll through the room. “I am eternal, I cannot be defeated”
This proves not to be the case. Bereft of allies he remains a serious threat but his time has come. At the last he begins to unleash his greatest power, rotting the souls of his enemies preventing them recovering from their injuries but it is not enough. With a scream which shakes the room the dragon dies and the spirit of Demogorgon passes back through the portal and into Chaos.
It is not over. The portal begins to buckle and strain. A clawed appendage shoves into the room trying to force its way into the world. Demogorgon risks annihilation to seek revenge on those who have stymied him. Assamber steps forward. The rifts are closed but the portal itself can only be closed from the other side. He gathers the power of the Spellstorm to him and steps forward. Entering chaos for the first time he looks into the Heart of the Spellstorm and the secrets of the Universe are laid bare there for the taking. Diving down he drives Demogorgon before him, sealing the portal behind. As he falls the flesh burns from his bones, seared by the power of the Vortex, the Heart of the Spellstorm. When he vanishes into the Vortex he is little more than bones, sorcery and a thirst for power. A new Lich is born but what role he might play in the future is yet to be seen.
The Chamber is silent. With the sealing of the Portal Sopias quickly recovers from the madness. His form shifts and shrinks, returning to human proportions. Purple mist rises and his eyes clear as if awaking from a long dark nightmare. He smiles, humanity has recognised its potential, has done what he could not and defeated the forces of Chaos which had so plagued him. Perhaps there is hope for them all after all. As he opens his mouth to speak Artemis shoots him through the eye with the Bow of Ashura slaying him instantly. He stands, shock, confusion and fear play across the face of a God and then he explodes. Primordial blood sprays through the room covering our heroes. It burns where it touches skin, infusing, changing, empowering and terrifying in one long moment of ecstasy and agony. Images flash through their minds, places and times long past, worlds created and destroyed, futures come and gone, places and times that could have been or that might be. All the dreams and fears of a Primordial, transmitted by his blood overwhelm them.
As they struggle to overcome the intensity of their visions a sound intrudes into the chamber. Tap, tap, tap. The sound of a plain wooden staff striking the stone floor. Their guide emerges from the shadows but as he does so he begins to change. His back straightens, his form fills out, the lines of age fall away from his face. “I thank you my children for freeing me. Truly I choose well with you. You have now fulfilled your Destiny and I Reptos, am once again free. No longer can this prison hold me. Let the world tremble at the coming of the Warlord.”
From thin air he draws out a black bladed sword and drives it into the floor. The walls shudder and the chamber collapses. Reptos teleports out returning to his stronghold, the City of Kings, as our heroes fall through the walls of reality itself as all about them crumbles. Darkness claims them and all that is left is the pulsing heartbeat of a Primordial beating within each of them....
*cut scene*
The Arkhosian Empire was once the heart of the Dragonborn civilisation but with the Sundering it fell to its human slaves. The Dragonborn were in turn enslaved and forced to fight one another by the many different city states, cults and religions which came to dominate the continent. That all changed when Khitai, now Emperor of Arkhosia, rose to power. He reunited the Dragonborn, brought the Clans together and conquered the continent.
With his ascension to power the worship of Vulcan was reinstated and he has worked long and hard to resurrect the dead Primordial. To this end he bound four of the spirits of the dragon god ancestors but the fifth escaped due to the meddling of our heroes. That work is now undone and the four great statues have been reduced to rubble. Above the winter palace the five great dragons dance and swoop through the air, their presence intoxicating and exhilarating to their children who are swept away in a frenzy of lust and bliss.
As Sopias dies the bells of the Temples of Vulcan begin to ring. The end of time has begun and in the temples the great gongs of Vulcan shiver and crash to the ground. A new symbol can be seen engraved in the holy places, a fist clenching a bolt of lightning. The oracles are overcome with visions and before the Temples crowds gather to hear the word of the Avatar of Storm, Azhanti has come to lead his people to greatness.
As Azhanti falls through the world five dragon faces whirl and spin around him. “We are free child of the Storm and you have played your part in that. Once each will we help you in the days to come before we return to the stars from which we were born. Take good care of our children for they will need your help and guidance...”
*cut scene*
In the deepest and most remote region of the deserts of the City of Kings, on a blasted salt flat known as the Hammer of the Gods, the most ancient spirits of the desert gather. Spirits of Earth, Fire and Air are gathered together to declare the beginning of the Great Hunt. “Three are declared worthy to be Master of the Hunt. Artemis, of Clan Antarion who slew the Primordial Sopias. Kubolta of the Hashashin, who slew Shraal, Lord of Entropy and Strom of the Kraken who faced death himself but did not die. Only one may be chosen. Let the dance of death begin.”
In the hidden reaches of the Shrouded Oasis much has changed. It was once a verdant land of jungles and rivers but now thick boiling mud, sulphurous ash and choking vapours fill the region. The sacred groves have been chopped down, the Temples defiled and the First Tree itself is under attack. Ashura, now fully descended into undeath, seeks to undo the life he himself breathed into creation. Soon the Third Glorious Kireshi Empire will emerge from the remnant of their last home to bring a wave of destruction to the younger races.
In the rocky fortresses of the great desert the Pashtun, the people of the desert, gather in their many thousands. The great enemy Reptos has returned to the City of Kings and seeks once again to Dominate all of Humanity. In vast underground caves they gather by the hidden lakes and rivers. It is time to awaken the ancient powers which have been sleeping here for so very long. It is time for the Spirits of Water to rejoin the Elemental Court to oppose the rise of Reptos.
*cut scene*
On a blasted rocky plain covered in snow and ice a single giant warrior stands leaning against his hammer. His armour is covered in rents and tears, blood spatters him and his body aches. All around lay broken bodies, demons, elementals and archons. All of them invaders from the Realm of Chaos seeking entry into the world his people have sworn to protect. He is the last of his kind. The bodies of his kin scatter the battleground as well and he knows that soon he must fall. When he does there will be no-one left to hold back the forces of dissolution. The elementals are gathering for another assault. Wearily he stands, shifting his weight and lifting his hammer for yet another battle.
Out in the depths of Chaos, in the very deepest part of the Abyss, something stirs. It is vast and its movement sends lesser demons fleeing in terror. Malevolence exudes from every pore of its being and in the distance it can hear the ringing of bells. The stench of humanity is caught on the breeze and a low growl emerges from its throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, it begins to rise following the trail. Far in the distance it can see a crack, the reflected light of a broken Skydome. Once more The Beast will feed on man flesh.
As Morn falls through the darkness the tattoos on his arms, long a symbol of his enslavement, erupt in blue flame. Bright red eyes burn in the darkness before him and The Beast looks long and hard into his soul. Soon, it says, very soon.
Our heroes fall through the darkness for what seems like an eternity, bitter cold crushing the breath from their lungs, until they crash land in a crumbling stone chamber littered with rubbish. Thick dust and cobwebs cover the floor and the ceiling is lost in shadows. Statues of ancient gods and kings are set in niches and many exits lead to parts unknown.
As they gather themselves together figures begin to appear in several of the corridors, misshapen and brutish the stench of rot and decay flows from them. They begin to shuffle forward with eager anticipation, fresh meat is rare in the Labyrinth.
As they press forward an old man comes stumbling from another corridor waving a rough staff above his head. The creatures recoil from him and flee. “Hello there, the stone people are easily startled but they will be back and in greater numbers. We should move from here quickly.” Puzzled by the old man the group nevertheless agrees to follow his advice.
Some brief questioning later reveals the man is a traveller, lost in the Labyrinth for so long he has forgotten his own name or why he came here. He explains the nature of the Labyrinth, a many doored prison for defeated gods, immortals and heroes, each trapped within a prison of their own making. Over time portals have formed between these prisons and they now exist as a latticework of passageways which those who know them can navigate. The group explain that they are here to find and stop Sopias, the mad Primordial and the old man agrees to act as their guide although he warns them that the journey is a dangerous one.
Scene 2: Portals Galore
[narrativist gamer alert]I ran this as a series of linked skill challenges and I let each member of the group define one of the portal worlds they passed through. Each player could also author in one campaign level benefit/bennie/secret to gain but doing so increased the number of successes required and increased the risk of failure. I designed the last portal area although they got a choice of three. Each had a serious failure condition although I should have given a better idea as to what they might be.[/narrativist twaddle]
The first gate finds the group far in their own worlds past, at the height of the Empire of Reptos, Warlord and Dominator of the World. His slave armies have landed on what will become the City of Kings and he has gone to war with the Second Glorious Kireshi Empire. The Taken, Wizards enslaved to his service unleash life eating sorcery destroying the Kireshi’s once verdant forest home. Nearby on a mountain slope Reptos himself battles Ashura, Primordial of the Sun. The group make their way quickly through the battle, avoiding the clashing armies but veering close to the battling ancients. Reptos has set up a series of enchanted mirrors designed to reflect the image of the Primordial over and over, distracting him in his vanity. As the group slip away into the next realm Assamber furiously scribbles notes on their position, the time and date and various alchemical and astronomical formulae. They might prove useful in the future when Ashura rises as an undead monstrosity.
The second gate finds them in a vast underground necropolis, the remains of a civilisation long dead. It is home to undead of all varieties, as well as being the lair of the First Vampire, sire to Hu’Maa High Priest of Sopias. The group make swift headway given their extensive experience in dealing with the undead but they are not the only threat. Assamber leads the group off on a side trek through its ancient library looking for ways to neutralise Hu’Maa and Morn triggers a trap that drains the blood from their veins. Alerted to their presence undead flood the library and they are forced to flee without the information they desired.
The third gate finds them in a realm of elemental chaos, the forces of creation rolling and boiling all around them. Here are imprisoned the four Elemental Lords who’s strife keeps the world turning. Azhanti should be in his element here but he leads them into tumultuous storms, perhaps Vulcan’s influence reaches even past death. The group are forced into retreat by the unpredictable forces with Morn drawing on the power of the Hammer to stabilise the chaos and aid their escape.
The fourth gate finds the group in a City floating in the vastness of chaos. A bubble wraps the small space, protecting it from the madness but the place is filled with a sense of despair. Slack jawed humans wander the streets aimlessly watched over by impassive stone faced guards. This is the City of Solitude, where those chosen as the Champions of Humanity who fail or who turned away from their duty are banished. The group make a quick exit from the dour place but as Morn steps through the portal he turns and salutes them, one day they will be given a chance to redeem themselves.
The fifth gate finds the group standing up to their knees in a murky, fetid swamp. In the distance a city can be seen surrounded by golden walls. Inside rises a Ziggurat on which is set a Throne. This is the realm of Dagon, once High Priest of Mael, he sought to usurp his master and was banished for it. The group don’t have much time to ponder such things as they quickly find themselves set upon by hostile locals. They make haste away not wanting to be delayed. Assamber summons a giant Dragonturtle from the depths of the muck to bear them across an enormous lake and away from the angry locals. Unfortunately it sinks beneath the depths part way across and tries to eat them. As the rest of the group race for the shore Morn manages to hold the beast off with the patented log in the mouth trick. The group manage to make it to the walls of the City but the trek has been draining. The very air seems to suck the will and energy from them. They must get out of this place and quickly if they are to have the strength to face Sopias. Artemis leads them into the ancient sewer system which reaches under the walls and many wrong turns later they find themselves in the bowels of the Ziggurat. Unfortunately Dagon has been alerted to their presence and as they leap through the portal he exacts a price, taking their power as his own.
Scene 3: Sopias at last!
The final gate leaves the group crashing into the Maw of Chaos, the prison of the mad Primordial Sopias himself. The Chamber is vast and dominated by its prisoner. A hundred feet high Sopias is chained to the floor locked in place eternally straining against the adamantine chains binding him. Once he was beautiful and mysterious, the soul of creation itself, but he devoured a portal to Chaos to save the world and it has changed him. That portal still exists here and it has warped him, now part primordial, part demon. Its presence has caused reality to fracture and many smaller rifts float around the room. Curled in front of him sits a great white dragon, its eyes filled with madness and its body having worn away in various places. Azhanti immediately recognises that it is no true dragon but a dream dragon possessed by a Demon Lord.
Its head rises as the group enters. “Turn back, there is nothing for you here mortals.” They are undeterred. They have fought dragons before and confidence is high. “Your interference will not be tolerated, leave or face the might of Demogorgon.” They decline and battle is joined.
Quickly things become more complicated. Demogorgon calls various allies out of the planar rifts; a huge clawed nycadaemon begins grabbing people holding them inside the rift so that chaos itself begins to dissolve them; a hulking carnage demon emerges and begins to lay about the group; a tall mass of pestilent chaos with mind rending whipping tentacles emerges from another and from all of them stream hordes of smaller horrors, rending and tearing wherever they can. Demogorgon advances on the group, “Your lives are forfeit, here my destiny will prevail, you cannot possibly succeed.” Each of our heroes feels a rending of their souls. At this place, at this time, the Threads of Destiny are the strongest they have ever been and the creature seems capable of manipulating and controlling them, perhaps even of severing them completely. They must endure the punishment or risk being extinguished forever.
The rifts seem to be the key. The portal Sopias consumed cannot be closed without shutting them off and the dragon keeps calling more allies through them as fast as the group can dispatch them. The group manage to shut several of them and Assamber brings down a Cloudkill across much of the room. The choking fumes begin to kill friend and foe alike but our heroes have significant healing resources unavailable to the demon. Morn manages to pin it in position but it seems to be a position it is happy to be in as it continues to drive him into the Cloudkill over and over again.
Slowly the tide begins to turn. The larger demons start to fall and the flood of lesser creatures is stymied by the poisonous cloud. Great rents have been torn into the dragon’s body but this seems to simply enrage it. Necrotic flames explode from the withered flesh of the dragon and black flames roll through the room. “I am eternal, I cannot be defeated”
This proves not to be the case. Bereft of allies he remains a serious threat but his time has come. At the last he begins to unleash his greatest power, rotting the souls of his enemies preventing them recovering from their injuries but it is not enough. With a scream which shakes the room the dragon dies and the spirit of Demogorgon passes back through the portal and into Chaos.
It is not over. The portal begins to buckle and strain. A clawed appendage shoves into the room trying to force its way into the world. Demogorgon risks annihilation to seek revenge on those who have stymied him. Assamber steps forward. The rifts are closed but the portal itself can only be closed from the other side. He gathers the power of the Spellstorm to him and steps forward. Entering chaos for the first time he looks into the Heart of the Spellstorm and the secrets of the Universe are laid bare there for the taking. Diving down he drives Demogorgon before him, sealing the portal behind. As he falls the flesh burns from his bones, seared by the power of the Vortex, the Heart of the Spellstorm. When he vanishes into the Vortex he is little more than bones, sorcery and a thirst for power. A new Lich is born but what role he might play in the future is yet to be seen.
The Chamber is silent. With the sealing of the Portal Sopias quickly recovers from the madness. His form shifts and shrinks, returning to human proportions. Purple mist rises and his eyes clear as if awaking from a long dark nightmare. He smiles, humanity has recognised its potential, has done what he could not and defeated the forces of Chaos which had so plagued him. Perhaps there is hope for them all after all. As he opens his mouth to speak Artemis shoots him through the eye with the Bow of Ashura slaying him instantly. He stands, shock, confusion and fear play across the face of a God and then he explodes. Primordial blood sprays through the room covering our heroes. It burns where it touches skin, infusing, changing, empowering and terrifying in one long moment of ecstasy and agony. Images flash through their minds, places and times long past, worlds created and destroyed, futures come and gone, places and times that could have been or that might be. All the dreams and fears of a Primordial, transmitted by his blood overwhelm them.
As they struggle to overcome the intensity of their visions a sound intrudes into the chamber. Tap, tap, tap. The sound of a plain wooden staff striking the stone floor. Their guide emerges from the shadows but as he does so he begins to change. His back straightens, his form fills out, the lines of age fall away from his face. “I thank you my children for freeing me. Truly I choose well with you. You have now fulfilled your Destiny and I Reptos, am once again free. No longer can this prison hold me. Let the world tremble at the coming of the Warlord.”
From thin air he draws out a black bladed sword and drives it into the floor. The walls shudder and the chamber collapses. Reptos teleports out returning to his stronghold, the City of Kings, as our heroes fall through the walls of reality itself as all about them crumbles. Darkness claims them and all that is left is the pulsing heartbeat of a Primordial beating within each of them....
*cut scene*
The Arkhosian Empire was once the heart of the Dragonborn civilisation but with the Sundering it fell to its human slaves. The Dragonborn were in turn enslaved and forced to fight one another by the many different city states, cults and religions which came to dominate the continent. That all changed when Khitai, now Emperor of Arkhosia, rose to power. He reunited the Dragonborn, brought the Clans together and conquered the continent.
With his ascension to power the worship of Vulcan was reinstated and he has worked long and hard to resurrect the dead Primordial. To this end he bound four of the spirits of the dragon god ancestors but the fifth escaped due to the meddling of our heroes. That work is now undone and the four great statues have been reduced to rubble. Above the winter palace the five great dragons dance and swoop through the air, their presence intoxicating and exhilarating to their children who are swept away in a frenzy of lust and bliss.
As Sopias dies the bells of the Temples of Vulcan begin to ring. The end of time has begun and in the temples the great gongs of Vulcan shiver and crash to the ground. A new symbol can be seen engraved in the holy places, a fist clenching a bolt of lightning. The oracles are overcome with visions and before the Temples crowds gather to hear the word of the Avatar of Storm, Azhanti has come to lead his people to greatness.
As Azhanti falls through the world five dragon faces whirl and spin around him. “We are free child of the Storm and you have played your part in that. Once each will we help you in the days to come before we return to the stars from which we were born. Take good care of our children for they will need your help and guidance...”
*cut scene*
In the deepest and most remote region of the deserts of the City of Kings, on a blasted salt flat known as the Hammer of the Gods, the most ancient spirits of the desert gather. Spirits of Earth, Fire and Air are gathered together to declare the beginning of the Great Hunt. “Three are declared worthy to be Master of the Hunt. Artemis, of Clan Antarion who slew the Primordial Sopias. Kubolta of the Hashashin, who slew Shraal, Lord of Entropy and Strom of the Kraken who faced death himself but did not die. Only one may be chosen. Let the dance of death begin.”
In the hidden reaches of the Shrouded Oasis much has changed. It was once a verdant land of jungles and rivers but now thick boiling mud, sulphurous ash and choking vapours fill the region. The sacred groves have been chopped down, the Temples defiled and the First Tree itself is under attack. Ashura, now fully descended into undeath, seeks to undo the life he himself breathed into creation. Soon the Third Glorious Kireshi Empire will emerge from the remnant of their last home to bring a wave of destruction to the younger races.
In the rocky fortresses of the great desert the Pashtun, the people of the desert, gather in their many thousands. The great enemy Reptos has returned to the City of Kings and seeks once again to Dominate all of Humanity. In vast underground caves they gather by the hidden lakes and rivers. It is time to awaken the ancient powers which have been sleeping here for so very long. It is time for the Spirits of Water to rejoin the Elemental Court to oppose the rise of Reptos.
*cut scene*
On a blasted rocky plain covered in snow and ice a single giant warrior stands leaning against his hammer. His armour is covered in rents and tears, blood spatters him and his body aches. All around lay broken bodies, demons, elementals and archons. All of them invaders from the Realm of Chaos seeking entry into the world his people have sworn to protect. He is the last of his kind. The bodies of his kin scatter the battleground as well and he knows that soon he must fall. When he does there will be no-one left to hold back the forces of dissolution. The elementals are gathering for another assault. Wearily he stands, shifting his weight and lifting his hammer for yet another battle.
Out in the depths of Chaos, in the very deepest part of the Abyss, something stirs. It is vast and its movement sends lesser demons fleeing in terror. Malevolence exudes from every pore of its being and in the distance it can hear the ringing of bells. The stench of humanity is caught on the breeze and a low growl emerges from its throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, it begins to rise following the trail. Far in the distance it can see a crack, the reflected light of a broken Skydome. Once more The Beast will feed on man flesh.
As Morn falls through the darkness the tattoos on his arms, long a symbol of his enslavement, erupt in blue flame. Bright red eyes burn in the darkness before him and The Beast looks long and hard into his soul. Soon, it says, very soon.
*cut scene*
In the City of Kings the air is thick with tension as if its people can sense the terrible conflicts raging in a dimension so close to theirs but so far away. The outcome of those conflicts will have long lasting repercusions, none more significant than in the City itself. As Sopias dies to Artemis and his quest for humanity's freedom from gods and primordials the echo of his death reverberates throughout the cosmos. That echo is channelled into The Spire, a piece of unbreakable Law carved from the Menbim Stone itself, an the death cry is amplified and extended. The Spire shatters and power flows out, uncontrolled and potentially devastating.
Throughout the City magicians, sages and astrologers gathered from around the world by Assamber and his disciples have awaited this very moment. Apparatus have been set up throughout the City to focus and channel that cry into the Temple of Mael. Once, at the height of the First Great Human Empire its scattered nations were linked by a series of stable permanent portals. Assamber has delved deep into these secrets and now his last gift to his people is to once again reactivate the City Network. The power of Sopias energises those long dormant portals and across the five continents people awake to pillars of blue flame erupting from ancient long since abandoned sites. Once palacies, temples and the homes of the mighty are now alive with sorcery and flame.
In the centre of the City there is little more than rubble. Onlookers gather to witness the destruction most thought impossible. As they stare rock and crystal alike begins to shift and tumble. From the ruins a new Palace rises and all within the City hear the Voice... "come to me my children, your Master has returned and together we shall subjugate this world and purge it of the elder filth." Reptos has returned to his Dominion and begins to reconstruct his slave army.
