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Page: 1 2
Pre-story to Divine Divinity
Chapter 2
n the wake of his master's death, Adept Ralph had been thrust into
several new roles that brought with them their own pitfalls and
problems. He was now the chief Battlemage in Rai'alor and the designated
spokesperson for the wizards of Rivellon - he was also slowly going
out of his mind. He had played his allotted part in the battle against
the Damned; it was he who had shot the yew arrow through the eye
of that accursed magus, Ulthring and then ended the bastard's foul
life with his own sword
and that had proven to be his undoing.
As his soul had called to him in triumph he had felt his psyche
slammed by a powerful and dominant mental attack, undermined almost.
Ralph was gifted certainly and accountably one of the most accomplished
Battlemages in the land, which required great mental reserves and
physical hand to eye coordination. The sword whispered to him in
dark laments and he could feel the pressure against his mental defences,
probing them, crushing them - crumbling them like a flaking old
stone wall assaulted by years of wind and rain.
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He had taken it out of foolish impulse and a need to sate the
burning desire of revenge, when he saw his master sacrifice his
life to save them all, a flame ignited deep within his breast and
he had driven the sword deep into the throat of the wizard - hatred
burning in his eyes. And as he felt the release from this deed,
joy was turned to black terror as the sword's foul presence reached
out and tried to take control of him. And from that moment on Ralph
had been effectively struck in twain by this dark power; he was
the grim young man who was the last survivor of that terrible battle
he
was also the dark entity that tried to oust his soul, to own him,
to possess him completely. As long as he remained in contact with
that sword he could feel the other presence growing in power and
strength, at first it had offered him a subtle deal - a merger between
both their bodies
unimaginable power at his fingertips. The
Adept had refused and this angered the sword's spirit greatly, now
it was bent to the task of annihilating Ralph utterly and completely.
The Adept knew that such a bargain was impossible to make with demons
or their ilk; they would simply enslave your soul while they used
your body for their own terrible ends. While he was not bound to
keep the sword, by compulsion or spell - he knew that a lesser mind
would be broken instantly and the force inside the Sword of Lies
would be free once more, with a living a mortal body to control.
He could not take that chance, so he kept the weapon with him where
ere he went, so that he could keep a closer eye on it.
He tried to force his eyes to remain open, weary and haggard, he
rubbed his forehead - he had not slept for three whole days now,
constantly he battled the fragmented soul of the Chaos Lord and
it was driving him mad. Those around him had noticed the change
in the Adept, they knew something was going wrong but it had remained
largely unsaid since the army's triumphant return to Rivertown.
He was a Battlemage (A dark and grim calling) and also he had witnessed
the fall of his master before his very eyes
they knew this
would leave some scars for a long time. They realised that he would
be prone to dark moods and taciturn behaviour, but his servants
noticed that he was not sleeping nor was he eating as much as he
should - each meal that came around, he ate less and less. He was
also growing pale of skin and visibly thinning - almost like a living
skeleton they thought. They sent a petition to the newly crowned
ruler of Rivellon's human lands, Duke Morreck Ferol, asking that
he might come see the young Adept. The Duke, thinking light of this
particular request took a day to find the time to visit, it was
this slight delay that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
As the Duke entered he beheld his friend, sitting cross-legged
upon the floor of his chamber in Stormfist Castle
a position
that he had been in now for nearly one day and a night. Ralph held
in his hands a drawn sword, and although his posture was non-threatening
the
other man was repulsed and reviled by the blade. The so-called Sword
of Lies might have killed its evil master but it had also done wretched
things in the hands of Ulthring before Ralph had slain him. Morreck
had known his friend since they were but small boys, learning the
arts of magic together. But as the man he held in his eyes before
him slowly turned his head to face him, a cold shiver shot down
his spine, for before him was a thin, pale and almost prematurely
aged youth with madness in his eyes. Deep in those eyes something
struggled to comprehend but was lost behind the glaze of a crazed
stare - like the eyes of a maddened dog.
Still the Duke lowered his voice and spoke respectfully to the
seated wizard, as respectfully as one addresses two of the leaders
of the seven greater races of Rivellon. He received no reply, so
he half-in-anger and half-in-frustration called Ralph by his old
childhood nickname of 'Blunderfoot' - this sparked something from
the other man and a weak smile came to his lips.
"I don't have much time." He said in a voice that was
hoarse with pain and struggle. "Lord Chaos, he was not
"
He coughed a little. "Fully banished
He left part of his
soul in
in." His eyes went to the dark blade held there.
"He left part of his soul in Ulthring's sword, and now that
self same blade
tries to steal my body
if it succeeds
then Chaos will walk the lands again." He looked at his old
friend and sighed heavily, before he clenched his jaw in pain. "Take
me to the secret place that your father said that we were to never
go again, Bucktooth, please
as quick as I may be old friend
I
cannot hold on much longer."
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