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The Age of Heroes The world wasn�t always Godless. For as long as anyone can remember, perhaps thousands of years, the Gods stood as examples for mankind. The world was shaped in their image, and all time passed in a seemingly endless Age of Heroes. Mankind was full of wanderlust and hungered for adventure. It was a time of mighty hunters, and beautiful princesses, dashing warriors and lustful barbarians. It was a time of the arts; each hero�s song was sung again and again by beautiful musicians. It was a time of magic too, for the gods looked down upon the people and granted fantastical powers to their faithful. Mages and priests of the gods created wonders that spawned legends of their own: Swords that cut time, rings that sought treasures, cloaks that made the wearer invisible, and necklaces that made the wearer forever beautiful. Of course, great heroes need great villains, and during that time, monsters and evil men lurked in the dark parts of the world. In every village and every town, good men and women arose, and answered the call to heroism. The Gods looked down from their thrones in Heaven and were pleased with the world they had shaped. Good perpetually strove against evil, and evil was continually defeated. Great champions overcame impossible odds with prayers to the Gods on their lips. Men had no fear of death in those days, for the heroic dead came to Heaven and became angels: the servants of the Gods. Evil men had cause to fear death, however. For in dying they would journey to Hell, where Chexamo the Lawbinder dwelt. In Hell, evil souls became devils through torments designed to bring out their true forms. Locked forever in the prison of Hell, devils were tormented relentlessly, their only respite: the ability to torment others. The most powerful devils served Chexamo directly as his messengers and enforcers, but this too was a torment, for the souls of powerful evil men were at the beck and call of a God for eternity. And so lived the world for years uncounted: Each generation producing mighty heroes to save the world from frightful threats, the Gods smiling down upon their perfect world. The host of Heaven was filled with mighty souls, and all in Hell were locked away in punishment. Heroism ran in the blood of nearly every man and woman, and the world was a place of greatness and freedom. Until the rise of Zarathos� The Fall of Zarathos Zarathos was a mighty wizard and true servant of the Gods. He defeated the dark wizard Hastonor, and used his magic to force the ravaging orcs back into the Northlands. He created many great magical wonders, and personally protected the lands of Oastaonia and Hkalseine from harm. Among his enchanted creations was a Truthseer, a mirror that answered all questions truthfully. Zarathos was a scholar and studier of the human condition, and he knew that there were often truths that one did not wish to hear, so he crafted Truthseer to focus on these painful revelations. One fateful day, Zarathos asked the mirror if his wife truly loved him. The mirror answered that she did not. When Zarathos asked if she had ever loved him, the mirror answered that she had not. When Zarathos asked if she loved another, the mirror confirmed that she always had. Zarathos asked the mirror if his brother was the other man; the mirror answered that he was. The world began to swim around the mighty wizard. During his life he had traveled and adventured far from his wife as often as he had been near her. He had always left her in the care of his beloved brother. Suddenly, Zarathos realized that his four children were not his at all, but the products of familial adultery. In a blind rage, he slaughtered his so-called children. Then he hunted down his betraying brother and drained away his very life-force. When his wife returned to the tower, she found her loved ones dead at the hands of her husband. Zarathos confronted her with her duplicity even as his magic ripped the life-essence out of her. She admitted to always loving his brother, but claimed, as she died, that she had always remained faithful to him, despite her where her heart lay. Zarathos returned to the mirror to ask if his wife�s dying words were true; Truthseer confirmed that they indeed were. Again the world began to spin. Zarathos had slain his family for false reasons. His beloved children, his wife, and his only brother lay most cruelly slain by his own hands. Worse: In slaying his family members, he had committed an unforgivable sin against the Gods; his soul was now assuredly doomed to an eternity of torment in Hell. As a religious man and a scholar, Zarathos knew well the terrors that awaited him. He was caught in a trap of his own devising. Filled with indignation and crazed with loss, the great mage sought a way to protect his soul from the punishment of the Gods. He crafted an ornate box, and pouring into it the lifesblood of his family, he worked a ritual that tore his immortal soul from his body and bound it to this phylactery. The flesh fell agonizingly from his now unliving frame, and Zaraathos knew that he could never again walk among men. He had become a horror worse than any challenge he had fought. Worse than Hastonor, worse even, than the impious orcs from whom he protected the civilized lands. |
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