Chapter 3
rom the pen of Zenfar Blutsporn,
Chief Archivist of the Black Circle and last living member of the Legion
of the Damned.
My children: I am dying. The blessing laid upon me by the Lord of Chaos
is finally coming to an end, those comrades of mine who had survived the
war with the foul and treacherous League of Seven, have already fallen and
I know I am now the last. This does not embitter me, I know that at the
last battle we failed our master and let him be banished by wicked and
deceitful magic. I know that I have lived fully six hundred years since
that shameful day and that is indeed, terrible proof of our dark lord's
continuing and benevolent power - even though he now resides in Hell.
I
believe that my continued survival is due to the fact that I have more
than one demonic ancestor and that our master is still in need of me. Or
so I hope. But I feel that it is my place to speak some sense to you as my
life draws to a close, like a final curtain. I am the last of the Damned,
and although the League gave us that hated name - I am proud to be called
such. But you you are a bunch of back biting, bickering and foolish silk
wearing whelps! This new so-called generation, those that call themselves
the Black Ring. You may have created many fine ceremonies to glorify your
insignificant doings, but none of you has felt, as I have the pure glory
of standing shoulder to shoulder with your demonic allies and facing down
a phalanx of battle-ready dwarves, all howling like rabid wolves and
chanting the name of their goddess, Duna. None of you has cast warspells
at the foe in bloody battles or slaved over a hot branding iron, marking
prisoners for brutal sacrifice to our black-hearted master.
I have seen all of this, and I have done all of this, and much respect
it has earned me from you young fools! In the heyday of our greatness, we
lived for one pure goal only, one reason: To avenge the wrongdoings done
to our mighty order by those mortal fleas they murdered our Archwizard and
drove us like cattle from our home in Stormfist castle. They dared to
question our research, our ways and us so in the name of survival and
vengeance we made a terrible pact with the legions of Hell. The Seven
races then had the gall to call us the Damned! Because our only allies
were demons, they too are fools and all should be crushed. But do you know
whom I despise more than those festering fools, that loose rabble of
semi-intelligent drooling subspecies in Rivellon. Yes, you, you meekly
lair in the mountains dabbling in minor hate magics and petty, pathetic
storm gathering how great you are you young whelps do not know that you
are alive!
Where is your fire, your spirit, where's the cold ruthless hate that we
of the Damned were renowned for? You don't know how to kill; most of you
have only committed a tiny amount of the killings that we once revelled
in, during most of your whimpering lives added together! And what were
these killings? They were the results of all the petty in fighting in your
precious Black Ring. That is what they were! Heed these words that I write
now, it is your duty, your purpose and right to butcher, enslave and
murder those mewling pathetic fools in Rivellon torture the Seven races of
Rivellon - for what they did to us in the past, show them your heart and
then tear theirs from their still living breast! But now comes the time
for you young bastards to take note of my words, listen and mark these
with your lives do not ignore what I am about to share with you unless you
wish to live in those pretty mountains of yours and play at being wizards?
The great Archmage once forged a sword into which was placed a wicked
secret, yes the life force, a fragment of the Lord of Chaos - into that
blade he placed part of himself it was a second chance for our master.
With Chaos banished from the mortal plane, it remained as a subtle link to
him, a tenuous but permanent link to our beloved master. But Ulthring was
slain at the last battle, his Sword of Lies was taken and used against him
by that bastard of a young Battlemage Ralph, curse his name and his line!
Why the sword did not take the young fools soul I do not know, he must
have had a mind that was as strong as dwarven or elven steel. The human
then took the sword back to Stormfist castle and neither he nor the Sword
of Lies ever left those cold stone halls again. I do not know what
transpired within that place, perhaps Duke Ferol murdered the apprentice
for the blade, perhaps it was stolen perhaps it still lies within those
walls!
But as I write this, I can feel my spirit failing me, my spies have
informed me that the present servants and castle staff do not know of the
artefacts presence nor of its power. So the secret of its location may be
held deep within the Ferol family alone. I will take my own life at
Brokentooth Crag, since I have always enjoyed the view from up there I
will not simply die and fade like a whisper on the wind. So with my last
breath this I command of ye all let old hatreds be unshackled, begin the
quest once more for revenge and sow discord amongst the races of Rivellon
- with the races in upheaval there might be enough disorder to bring the
Chaos Lord back to us, then revenge can be ours for the taking even though
I shall be long dead. Murder and maim, cause hatred and suffering, bring
the lands to a destructive brink. Remember my children that the Seven
races think that the Lord of Chaos safely locked away and the Damned truly
dead and gone. With my death the latter part shall be true, but I leave
with you a legacy of hatred and revenge they are ignorant of your
presence, they may not even know that you exist so you can swiftly move
against them. But be subtle, use their own ignorance and prides against
them - infiltrate their petty lives and bend your every will to finding
and recovering that Sword, for the Sword of Lies is the key to Hell
itself. Now go forth my hateful children, rob, steal, murder and undermine
spy and torture commit every evil act that you can think of - retake the
Sword of Lies, open the gateway to Hell and I will be there to greet you,
I and the rest of the Legions of the Damned and together with the aid of
the Lord of Chaos - we shall return and turn what remains of the lands
into a charnel house.
Yours in eternal darkness and hate,
Zenfar Blutsporn.
(Click for a bigger image)
The End ...