After following a band of orcs and giants into the old dwarven mine, the Lifeless Hollows, they found their corpses insinirated within a dead end. Stupid humanoids going into a death trap!
The party found a 25m high statue of Berdol Jadestone – the master of arms – within a huge room that had the feeling of being a entrance chamber, and first line of defence. He was holding a huge dwarven waraxe and a perfect carved jadestone in his hands. Alberic sensed transmutation magic eminating from the statue; a fire spell aimed at the jadestone opened the path and the enterance to the dwarven mines.
They followed the dwarven maze down, down, down – and finally arrived in a blocked hallway. It was blocked from their side, so the party used a couple of hours clearing the path.
When they finally opened the door they were met with a horrific sight of slayed dwarves – torn asunder, sliced apart, crushed bone, insinirated skin – in the thousands. The dwarves lay in small heaps, thrown around, and alot with a horrific sight on their faces. It was clear that they had put in a might last stand, but still being slayed like ragdolls.
The mighty hall measured 150*500 meters, with 5 doors on each side, and three rows of huge pillars running down the lenght of the hall. The doors on on ons side was carved with dwarves holding carts, handpicks, showels and other mining equipment. On the other side, the doors were carved with small coffins.
At the end of the long hall a huge explosion had blown in the wall – probably the entrance of whatever had slayed the dwarves.
General Adon, enforcer Jared and magister Alberich led the way into the first coffin-room; it was beautyfully carved and fully decorated with gold on all walls and roof. Diamonds, jade, gems and all kinds of valuables were lain in intricate patterns along the walls.
Suddenly, a “swoooshhh” sounded and each and everyone stared directly into the eyes of the Beholder … Alberic, Adon and Jared got hit by a multitude of rays… and everything went black. Deaths embrace.
Blackness. A dead man laying – beside a disintegrated figure and a parch dry figure, drained of his life – in a dwarven golden room. Blackness.
A thousand pictures flashed before his mind – past, present and future – and in the next moment he was watching a badly scarred warrior kneeling before Kelemvors gates. The warrior had 4 seriously beaten children chained to his belt.
“LOOOORRD! A return to the old ways. And I, Jared Stromgarde, shall lead. Alberich Maksim is with me. As is Adon Alantis and Grrimwolf Greatcleave. All in our first century of scarring. We have counted coup. We have slain enemies. Restored order. Shifted the heartstones of the Adicians and Skeggitoft. And now, with the new moon and in the year of your naming, King of High House Death, we shall weave our way to the Damned. To slay the children who dwell there. A return to the old ways…”
The warrior slowly rose to his feet, and half turned his back on Kelemvors black and white grand castle. Outside the doors heaps of empety corpses lay in numerous piles. Thousands upon thousands. The sky were completly black, not a single gust of wind, not so much as a fart.
“So i vow, belowed Prince. And i shall deliver unto you a feast of trophies such as never before blackened the soil of this land. Enough, perhaps, to free you from the stone itself, so that once more you will stride in our midst, a deliverer of primordial order upon all our enemies. And the children shall, after more than four millennia, once again tremble to the coming of the eternal fire. I, Jared Stromgarde, so swear."
The warrior completly turned his back on Kelemvor and spotted Jared Stromgarde.
“You! You have already failed! What do you do with these people of chaos?" the warrior rattled his chains. “Do they embrace the church of the eternal fire, or stack upon these piles of empety chaos after you drink their blood with the lance?” Pointing towards the gates of Kelemvor, the warrior said “He only wants the souls, and thus leaves the shells for recreation.”
Jared Stromgarde, a bit shocked, stood silent watching the warrior for some time. The warrior was older than Jared – maybe by 12-15 years – and had a brutal scar tracing from his pate, down- and across his left eye. It looked grotesque. In his right hand he was holding a lance, and across his back was strapped a huge shield with the symbol of Kelemvor.
After an unknown amout of time had passed Jared acted quickly, he drank their blood with the lance, and their corpses blazed up with the ethernal fire. Primordial order restored once again.
Blackness took Jarred – he was drifting, falling, tumbling within empteyness – and once again he found himself outside Kelemvors castle, gates now open, and a black, hooded man standing within the gate. “Welcome servant, step through, embrace my ethernal sleep. It is time for you have suffered.” West of the castle Jared spotted a smal village – quick of wits and with a knowledge of Kelemvors methaphor – turned his back on the gates “I am not yet done King of Death.” Jared felt a blazing heat within himself as he started walking toward the village.
It was in a complet chaos. Killings, robbery, rape. No order. Jared took it upon himself to restore the village; he warned them thrice – no success – then he started clensing chaos. His lance drank the blood of the children and sat their corpses blazing with the ethernal fire. The last one was the scarred warrior… he killed the warrior who was himself. Blackness consumed him.
Jared woke within a dwarven, golden room, staring into the eyes of the beholder. Inside him a distant flame burned.
Blackness. A disintegrated figure laying on the floor in the golden room of the dwarves beside a dead figure and a parch dry, drained figure. Blackness.
General Adon was leading a huge army, beside him was Odin, ruler of Skeggitoft, Beyard, ruler of Adicia and general Maxim Onearm. In the ranks behind him were the ruler of Grioshein and Vesmora, and 15000 eager soldiers. “ATTACKKKK!!!” Blackness, drifting.
Before him stood 4-5 robed – thin, shallow, skeletal – men with an army of chaos. Blackness.
His army were beeing obliterated with a rain of fire, magical demons, and people just falling dead to the ground. Blackness. Adon lies on his side – his horse beside him with a spear through the belly – with a mortal wound. A barbed, rusty sword pierced his right lung, punctured his belly and ripped through his back. Fading he saw Maxim killing creatures with his ghost hand. Blackness. As the last of his army get slaughtered by magical rain, Jericho The Arcane suddenly appears in front of the robed enemy slashing through flesh and bone. The frenzied enemy tries to obliterate him with arcane power, but the spells are deflected or absorbed. He cuts down the last robed enemies, then dissapears. Blackness consumes Adon as his last blood leaves his veins.
The general sees a huge black and white castle – gates open – with a black hooded man standing within, just to the west of the castle a little light flickers. Adon chooses to go towards the light, and embrace it.
Flashing before him was a excellent made road – flawless, traveling into a sunrise – and at the far end, before the sun, stood a tall man “You owe me Adon Alantis.” Blackness.
Adon woke within a dwarven, golden room, staring into the eyes of the beholder. Inside him a slight unease of death burned.
Blackness. A parch dry, drained figure laying on the floor in the golden room of the dwarves beside a dead figure and a disintegrated figure. Blackness.
Alberich woke within a dwarven, golden room, staring into the eyes of the beholder. Inside him a new knowledge burned.