Hereitc  - The Story

By Shadowcaster

They are the Elders of the Sidhe, leaders of an ancient elf race adept at arcane sorcery and keepers of the Tomes of Power. They stood solemnly, surrounding seven candles, each flame tied irrevocably to the flow of the Earth's breath. And from the Book they read the prophecy of Armageddon. "The three come from the Eastern wilds and they shall be given dominion over all that believeth in them. He that hath an ear, let him hear that the children of the Sidhe will be driven before them and on the day that the children of the Sidhe are no more, the Earth shall be forever lost to the Abyss."

From the East came the evil foretold by your forefathers -- the three Serpent Riders, guardians of death everlasting. Their form was shrouded by black cloaks. Only their eyes were revealed, sunken with evil, dreadful intensity. As a sign of power they brought peace to the Eastern provinces. Those who believed in the sign created a temple in their honor; and it bore the mark of the crossed trident. Their worshippers were the Order of the Sign -- blind followers, without will, void of spirit. As the power of the Order grew, the seven kings of the Earth followed like cattle behind them. And after they controlled the great nations, two Riders left the world. Only D'Sparil, the weakest of them, remained while his disciples traveled the Earth cleansing it in preparation for its descent.

Scorned by other people of Earth, the Sidhe, possessing powers of their own, remained unaffected by the spell of the Riders. The Sidhe are now considered Heretics, the unclean, fit only to be wiped from the face of the Earth. The disciples of D'Sparil conspired with the kings of the Earth to remove the last lands of apostasy. And while the armies of the seven nations gathered to destroy the Sidhe, the Elders convened to discuss the fate of your people. When all voices had spoke against the Order, the seven Elders extinguished the seven candles' flames simultaneously. At that silent instant, a brilliant flash of light came from the east, and the armies that had gathered against you were no more. Drained by their efforts, the Elders fell to the floor, listening to the scream echoing from the now-scorched battlefield.

But then the forces of the Abyss took their vengeance. The ether had quaked with the Elders' conventicle. Suddenly the foul odor of death came and the Earth opened to engulf the Elders in flames, the white-bright fire clinging to their flesh, knowingly and eagerly eating each layer of skin. Too, pouring forth from the earth like squirming maggots, came the forces of evil both beast and undead. They attacked in hordes like packs of dogs, first surrounding the weakest and biting and clawing their victims to the ground. As each Sidhe fell, several beasts would gather to chew their bellies like pigs into slop, their heads often deeply submerged into the gut with the victim's intestines slung half-eaten upon their squirming bodies. When the day was done, the few remaining Sidhe were scattered throughout the land. The Abyss had taken the tomes and artifacts of your people as spoils of their victory. Alone, without weapons, the surviving Sidhe would surely perish at the hands of the Order of the Triad. The Elder's destruction of the seven armies had gone for naught.

While the other Sidhe hid, their spirit broken, you thirsted for vengeance and rode east into the wilderness, in search of D'Sparil. Now you stand before the City of the Damned, its air thick with the stench of rot. Your hate drives you to see these creatures oozing their hearts' ichor before you. Beyond these gates, the dead and the creatures of the night writhe in dark corners, their bodies aching for your blood. With luck, some of your people's ancient artifacts can be found hidden among the dark passages beyond. For, with only a staff as your weapon, the world is surely damned.

These are the words in the tome of the Heretic. These set the stage for the battle and war, which you are to embark on. An elf, alone (perhaps) and unarmed (in the beginning) against the unholy forces of darkness everlasting. Good Luck!

Hereitc II - The Story

By Shadowcaster

I am going to try my best to explain the tale of the Sidhe Elf (Corvus) which destroyed the darkness of D'Sparil. Well, here goes:

...As the earth tremored with the horrifying screams of the dying D'Sparil another portal was opened. It was the only one within your sight, and you had no other choice but to walk through it. You walked wearily through the portal wondering where its mystical flow would take you, and as you stepped through the portal, the Dome of D'Sparil fractured under his feet, shattered into a thousand pieces letting the warm water of the ocean, that was held back so long rush in with unknown force.

You emerged from the portal into a strange and dark realm. You had hoped and you had prayed that you might be returned to the open arms of your friends within your home realm, but it seems that D'Sparil would not allow it to be so, sending one last curse on you. You must now make this realm your home, or at least, a place to stay until you can return to your true home.

You wandered through the lush wilderness of this region, and soon found a town to look for help. The people here were strange to you, and in turn were frightened of you. It seems to be the nature or habit of all peoples to fear what is unknown to them, and that meant you. You wandered through the town, people closing doors in your face, rushing to close their windows when you passed, or just plain hiding in the shadows.

You finally found a small house with an open door and a warm light. You knocked on the doorway, trying to remember all manners long-since used. An old lady walked up to the doorway and greeted you. She was kind and let you stay over the night. She gave you leave to explore her small house, but stayed out of sight often. It was strangely as if she was hiding a dark secret from you...

You slept well that night and thanked the kind old lady for her hospitality as you walked out of the house. You had a strange feeling that something was not right. D'Sparil was destroyed; he could not be plaguing this small land could he? What had happened here that was still unknown to you? You would find out soon enough.

As you left the town a group of creatures started to gather about you. They had but two legs, no arms, and large, very large teeth. You did not trust these creatures and pulled out the crossbow, which was hanging at your side from the last battle. They looked at it and screeched, and proceeded to swarm over you. You knew there would be no overcoming them with their numbers being so large. You reached into your pack as you were flung to the ground, and grasped the Chaos Device. Saying the gating spell, you transported yourself away from the harm of these beasts.

You stood up quickly and braced yourself in case of another swarm of creatures. Far off you could hear the creatures you had fought trying their best to find you out. You put up the Crossbow and reached for the Tomes, trying to get more prepared if they should find you. You walked back into the far end of the town, which you were in last night, but something strange had happened. The houses were empty, and a few of the creatures you saw earlier rushed out of the houses. You quickly dispatched them with your spells and went into the houses.

There were no inhabitants there, no remains, and no foul stench of death... There was a tome lying on the desk in a bedroom of one of the houses however. You opened it looking for answers, and found this scribed in it...

"...Night falls once more, and we cringe in terror as we must sleep. We dare not though, for the darkness comes each night... The vapors of night are defiled and unholy, corrupt and impure... they lie over use like a blanket for their dark purposes. We have become theirs...their minions...well soon we will be...each night it creeps closer and closer. As the vapors come each night, the transformation continues...until there is nothing left. This land is deadly, and all who tread it have fallen under its curse... If there is a brave soul somewhere who reads this, find a cure for yourself before it is too late, from the east it came so search their first... but do not breathe in the fumes, for they are stronger than all else... the west may also hold the key, for it lasted the longest untouched... the vapors their are defiled but not in half-fold as much as those of the east.... I must go, for the transformation begins...Hurry..."

After reading these words your hands were cold and clammy with the apparition of death. You knew what must be done, for your tasks never end in the shadow of D'Sparil's death. His last scream was a curse indeed, and whence it was laid upon you, all you touch was corrupted; now even this land is defiled. You must undo what the darkness has done, the plague laid upon this land must be lifted...or you must fall prey to it.

Once again you are set in the shoes of the Sidhe Elf, but now you must free a land of this magical plague which was placed upon it. The plague transforms all of the inhabitants into beings of darkness, and you are inhabited by it now. You must search the lands for a cure, armed with weapons of old, or those of new; you must defeat this foe fast, before it defeats you.

This page was last updated on: February 6, 2009

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