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Pre-story to Divine Divinity
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
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