Magdelan
September 1st, 2007, 10:35 AM
Twelve hundred years past the first day of life, two races collided in war. At stake was land above the rocks, the natural right to live under the blessed moon. Nine years of brutality and blood shed shook the world so fierce that the earth could no longer spin, and the last great battle was fought through the absence of light, while blankets of ashes rained from the skies. It was their infravision that lead the Elves to victory at last. The Dwarves were blind and helpless while they folded to cold steel and burning arrows. Few escaped to the depths below the caves under the earth… They tunneled nearest to the burning core, beckoning for mercy of Lords of darkness.
Now, rooted deep within the valley of Lloth stood a force of immeasurable light, a gift bestowed upon the elves from the most ancient of gods, the weavers of magic. A reward for the bravery that brought an end to the war, and a force that should serve peace, and love. The Sacred Tree of Life spread energies of this natural bliss throughout the surrounding terrain. All hearts that lived above his roots were warmed with what was good, and good they were to live within his blessing. Half a mile high and 200 feet wide, The Sacred Tree of Life stood tall, serving as a home for the mystical faerie folk, strengthening their magical ties throughout the realm. The Tree gave many blessings to the minions below, fallen leaves were collected for their magical warmth, and safely blanketed adventurers as they traveled through the shifting plains. Fallen branches bestowed magical presence on those with the knowledge of their use, and the droplets of due that rarely fell, held the strength to heal the wounded, and possibly lift the dead.
So great was the force of good within this sacred tree, that all evil could not approach it. Wicked witches and warlocks would loathe with disgust throughout surrounding shadows, but never enter the pitch that fell behind the tree. Here, their red hearts would writhe with agony. So great was this force of good, that those within would lead the realm, blessed with the trees enchantments.
And so came Lucious with his promise to deceive this force of nature on the night while all magic would rest. He gathered Ortholimue, the demon lord, master of summoning, Sorgred, the Diabolist, an artist of rune magic, and Broethius the ancient sinful dragon. Together, in reverie, they would compose a vile forecast. Let no one doubt the imaginative mind, or the insanity to follow their dreams.
On the eve of seven moons, Lucious masked Ortholimue with an aura of light. While the valley was feasting in celebrative intoxication, he surrounded the grounds of the sacred tree with evil enchanted wards and runes. Last he drew four magical circles upon each axis of the earth, and then snuck away into the darkness from which he came.
Several minutes before the rising sun four warriors approached the tree, each standing within the center of a chosen circle. Sorgred entered a circle of protection, positioned west, where the first shadow would fall. It was his life alone that must not fail for their vicious plan to succeed. His magic would protect them all.
Ortholimeu stood within the circle of summoning, drawn to the south of the sleeping giant. Broethius dropped into the northern quadrant, stationed upon a circle of power, while Lucious remained on the western front, within the greatest circle of knowledge.
Here they awaited the first break of light, for blood to shed in catenation. At this moment the night of rest had passed and magic was restored. The sleeping giant awoke, and all runes, circles, and wards were empowered with the bleeding self sacrifice. The sacred tree was now susceptible to those that surrounded it.
A great battle ensued through the forethought of Lucious. Within his circle he gained all knowledge of magic, and hailed furious spells of legend upon the creature. He summoned swarms of meteors, rained lightning bolts and hail, bombarding the tree while his hurricanes ripped through the branches. He dispelled all magic barriers and blessings, achieving vulnerabilities while weakening the regenerative process.
Broethius bravely breathed fire upon the bark of the base, targeting the roots so that the tree could not accept energy from the earth. His fire was hotter then hell itself and erupted like waves from his lungs, repetitive blasts, never ending. With all of his might, the sacred tree could not move Broethius from his station.
Ortholimeu summoned hoardes of demons, beckoning all of Hades helpers to answer his call. The earth erupted before him and demons fiercly approached the battlement, offering their strengths, sacrificing their lives. Hundreds of demons perished to the arms of the massive tree, and with each conquered force the evil essence was absorbed, healing the sacred creature, while slowly shifting his aura. The vile that forged within his depths began to internally rot his infrastructure…he was becoming the evil essences he absorbed.
As battle progressed a ring of knights surrounded the evil quadrant. Alas, they could not enter. The runes and wards activated by sorgred would hold them at bay or their hearts would tear with agony, and death would succumb. The sacred force was loosing.
The shift of energy and balance was overwhelming; the creature felt his essence turn with each demon slain. Fearing the forceful transmutation, the sacred tree focused all energies half a mile below the zenith. The ground shook and moaned, sadly rumbling, roaring! An explosion of roots tore through the four drawn circles. An enormous energy drain rippled through the atmosphere, the shockwave pierced all magical beings and then folded into itself. The great destruction of the sacred tree stretched open Ortholimeus’ gateway to hell, and the evil quadrant fell within.
When the blanket of ashes cleared all that was left was the army of knights, in awe of the great destruction. The paladin Darius approached the point of impact. While he stood this ground a single drop of rain fell from the sky, landing on his chain mail gauntlets. To his disbelief, the droplet contained a single seed, the recirculation of life. Proud of his discovery, he rushed the seed to Myrrhine, head of the House Velalisier, Mistress of Lloth. Darius presented her with the enchanted seed to grow within her womb. The heir of Lloth would truly be, a unique, and supreme being.
While the child grew strong within her, Myrrhine began to suffer. Nightmares, cold sweats, and demonic visions surfaced. She gained the strength to manipulate fire, and her urine ran black. The priests of Lloth advised her that the child was evil, begging her to destroy him before he was released. It was now obvious she contained the hate from each demon that was defeated during the great battle of Lloth. So she sent Lenith, a trusted rogue, to the forrest to scavange a living poison. He returned late evening, with a deadly black widow spider. Myrrhine swallowed it whole. Once inside her stomach the critter chewed into her womb and attacked the boy inside of her. The taste of enchanted pitch the spider stole from his blood increased her powers, her appetite, and her size.
Myrrhine collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood while not a word escaped her lips. Her stomach tore at three seems while a monster one hundred times the size she swallowed emerged from her chest. The great arachnid quickly poisoned Lenith and wrapped him in silk, then escaped into the forrest. Let all travelers beware of the woods in which she settled, thought today lain somewhere in the northern realm.
Moments past the departure of the spider queen, a child emerged from the womb of Myrrhine. He wasn’t an Elf or a Dwarf at all, but some sort of racial Halfling. His skin was deep purple, with a tone of red… his hands bore sharpened claws. His head had hair as black as night, his teeth were black as well. His eyes were solid onyx marbles, chilling to the bone. His appearance, was unnaturally evil. The child placed his hands upon his mothers chest, then dropped a single tear. With his spell her soul returned and her wounds were woven clean. Her heart was not as dark as his, as her empire would remain.
In this form was born Magdelan, son of Myrrhine, prince of evil, and destined lord of darkness.
Now, rooted deep within the valley of Lloth stood a force of immeasurable light, a gift bestowed upon the elves from the most ancient of gods, the weavers of magic. A reward for the bravery that brought an end to the war, and a force that should serve peace, and love. The Sacred Tree of Life spread energies of this natural bliss throughout the surrounding terrain. All hearts that lived above his roots were warmed with what was good, and good they were to live within his blessing. Half a mile high and 200 feet wide, The Sacred Tree of Life stood tall, serving as a home for the mystical faerie folk, strengthening their magical ties throughout the realm. The Tree gave many blessings to the minions below, fallen leaves were collected for their magical warmth, and safely blanketed adventurers as they traveled through the shifting plains. Fallen branches bestowed magical presence on those with the knowledge of their use, and the droplets of due that rarely fell, held the strength to heal the wounded, and possibly lift the dead.
So great was the force of good within this sacred tree, that all evil could not approach it. Wicked witches and warlocks would loathe with disgust throughout surrounding shadows, but never enter the pitch that fell behind the tree. Here, their red hearts would writhe with agony. So great was this force of good, that those within would lead the realm, blessed with the trees enchantments.
And so came Lucious with his promise to deceive this force of nature on the night while all magic would rest. He gathered Ortholimue, the demon lord, master of summoning, Sorgred, the Diabolist, an artist of rune magic, and Broethius the ancient sinful dragon. Together, in reverie, they would compose a vile forecast. Let no one doubt the imaginative mind, or the insanity to follow their dreams.
On the eve of seven moons, Lucious masked Ortholimue with an aura of light. While the valley was feasting in celebrative intoxication, he surrounded the grounds of the sacred tree with evil enchanted wards and runes. Last he drew four magical circles upon each axis of the earth, and then snuck away into the darkness from which he came.
Several minutes before the rising sun four warriors approached the tree, each standing within the center of a chosen circle. Sorgred entered a circle of protection, positioned west, where the first shadow would fall. It was his life alone that must not fail for their vicious plan to succeed. His magic would protect them all.
Ortholimeu stood within the circle of summoning, drawn to the south of the sleeping giant. Broethius dropped into the northern quadrant, stationed upon a circle of power, while Lucious remained on the western front, within the greatest circle of knowledge.
Here they awaited the first break of light, for blood to shed in catenation. At this moment the night of rest had passed and magic was restored. The sleeping giant awoke, and all runes, circles, and wards were empowered with the bleeding self sacrifice. The sacred tree was now susceptible to those that surrounded it.
A great battle ensued through the forethought of Lucious. Within his circle he gained all knowledge of magic, and hailed furious spells of legend upon the creature. He summoned swarms of meteors, rained lightning bolts and hail, bombarding the tree while his hurricanes ripped through the branches. He dispelled all magic barriers and blessings, achieving vulnerabilities while weakening the regenerative process.
Broethius bravely breathed fire upon the bark of the base, targeting the roots so that the tree could not accept energy from the earth. His fire was hotter then hell itself and erupted like waves from his lungs, repetitive blasts, never ending. With all of his might, the sacred tree could not move Broethius from his station.
Ortholimeu summoned hoardes of demons, beckoning all of Hades helpers to answer his call. The earth erupted before him and demons fiercly approached the battlement, offering their strengths, sacrificing their lives. Hundreds of demons perished to the arms of the massive tree, and with each conquered force the evil essence was absorbed, healing the sacred creature, while slowly shifting his aura. The vile that forged within his depths began to internally rot his infrastructure…he was becoming the evil essences he absorbed.
As battle progressed a ring of knights surrounded the evil quadrant. Alas, they could not enter. The runes and wards activated by sorgred would hold them at bay or their hearts would tear with agony, and death would succumb. The sacred force was loosing.
The shift of energy and balance was overwhelming; the creature felt his essence turn with each demon slain. Fearing the forceful transmutation, the sacred tree focused all energies half a mile below the zenith. The ground shook and moaned, sadly rumbling, roaring! An explosion of roots tore through the four drawn circles. An enormous energy drain rippled through the atmosphere, the shockwave pierced all magical beings and then folded into itself. The great destruction of the sacred tree stretched open Ortholimeus’ gateway to hell, and the evil quadrant fell within.
When the blanket of ashes cleared all that was left was the army of knights, in awe of the great destruction. The paladin Darius approached the point of impact. While he stood this ground a single drop of rain fell from the sky, landing on his chain mail gauntlets. To his disbelief, the droplet contained a single seed, the recirculation of life. Proud of his discovery, he rushed the seed to Myrrhine, head of the House Velalisier, Mistress of Lloth. Darius presented her with the enchanted seed to grow within her womb. The heir of Lloth would truly be, a unique, and supreme being.
While the child grew strong within her, Myrrhine began to suffer. Nightmares, cold sweats, and demonic visions surfaced. She gained the strength to manipulate fire, and her urine ran black. The priests of Lloth advised her that the child was evil, begging her to destroy him before he was released. It was now obvious she contained the hate from each demon that was defeated during the great battle of Lloth. So she sent Lenith, a trusted rogue, to the forrest to scavange a living poison. He returned late evening, with a deadly black widow spider. Myrrhine swallowed it whole. Once inside her stomach the critter chewed into her womb and attacked the boy inside of her. The taste of enchanted pitch the spider stole from his blood increased her powers, her appetite, and her size.
Myrrhine collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood while not a word escaped her lips. Her stomach tore at three seems while a monster one hundred times the size she swallowed emerged from her chest. The great arachnid quickly poisoned Lenith and wrapped him in silk, then escaped into the forrest. Let all travelers beware of the woods in which she settled, thought today lain somewhere in the northern realm.
Moments past the departure of the spider queen, a child emerged from the womb of Myrrhine. He wasn’t an Elf or a Dwarf at all, but some sort of racial Halfling. His skin was deep purple, with a tone of red… his hands bore sharpened claws. His head had hair as black as night, his teeth were black as well. His eyes were solid onyx marbles, chilling to the bone. His appearance, was unnaturally evil. The child placed his hands upon his mothers chest, then dropped a single tear. With his spell her soul returned and her wounds were woven clean. Her heart was not as dark as his, as her empire would remain.
In this form was born Magdelan, son of Myrrhine, prince of evil, and destined lord of darkness.