Crown of Painby Donal
Few people realize the precarious balance upon which all things rest, and too easily forgotten are the events that nearly topple us from our place. Each person lives their life by their own agenda, pushing things as best they can in the direction they see fit, tipping the scales in their favor. Fortunately, for every step a person takes in one direction, there is another determined to forge ahead on the opposite path. Nature maintains a natural balance within itself, for it is the only way to survive.
By themselves, mortals rarely possess the power to force things significantly out of balance, and nature will resist those who can. Beings from beyond our plane of existance, both good and bad, are the ones who threaten the natural balance of things. Far too many times have we nearly been pushed over the edge by these forces, and yet people forget them far too soon. The following is an account one such incident.
I am by no means a gifted scribe, but that should not be important. This tale is not meant to be entertaining, but a sobering reminder of how close we have been to obliteration. I have spoken to many who know nothing of this event, and I aim only to inform those people of what has transpired in the past so that they may be better prepared for the future.
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For weeks, rumours had been spreading of terrible nightmares. Tales spread from tavern to tavern, only to be dismissed as wild gossip. Only when people experienced them during the waking hours did they start to worry. Random people would drop to the ground, head in hands, writhing in agony as insane voices tore through their minds speaking of the horriffic acts they were about to commit. Great winged beasts haunted the dreams of children, who awoke crying and too frightened to speak of what they saw.
As the visions intensified, scouts from Makilor reported increased activity from the Tarr in Korzen. They had caught glimpses of the Tarr experimenting with magic, and overheard rumours of a new ally they had found. King Ran ordered a small expediton into their territory to verify these reports. The party was ordered to carry magical scrolls of any type, for fear that the Tarr would use them to enter Makilor if anyone were to fall in battle.
The mission was not overly successful. Confirmation of the scouts' reports on increased numbers, and a small stash of magical artifacts that the Tarr could use to move silently in and out of cities were the only things found. There was still no evidence to show the reasons behind their recent actions.
Days later, the Tarr staged a raid on Zyankia. Whether or not they had any specific reason for attacking the city is unknown, but a message was recovered from the body of a slain officer. The Tarr had taken to burning their paper communications in hopes of rendering them unreadable, but enough was left to decipher it. By the time we understood what it meant, it was already too late.
We ... ind her. As th..... daught... she... key.
If th.... find.... first then we're... and ....
Igno..... visions. They're j...... intimi... us.
BURN ..IS WHEN .... REA.. IT.
The Tarr continued their aggression and invaded Halkann next. Their onslaught was fought off and Countess Margret, along with the young child in her custody were spared. As the Countess shared her account of the attack and speculated on their reasons, a strange robed figure darted out of the shadows and grabbed the young girl, dissapearing as quickly as it came. It turns out that the young girl was named Kairjyn, Old Elvish for Hope, and was the last rightful heir to the throne of Korzen. Kairjyn was Korzen's last hope for liberation from the Tarr, and she was now in their custody.
Another message between Tarr officers was discovered after the battle, leaving us with a glimmer of hope.
Brin er ali . e's no good us d.
Keep watc r he d s. hey her .
ur hi wh ead it.
Unless the Tarr had changed their plans recently, they intended to keep young Kairjyn alive. Countess Margret begged all those who were willing to scour Entia for any clue that could lead to Kairjyn's whereabouts.
As time passed, the visions plaguing Entia's populace continued to grow in strength and frequency. Instead of insane ramblings, they now echoed orders and threats to those unfortunate enough to experience them.
Give us the crown.
Give us the crown.
Give us the crown or hope dies.
Nobody knew at first which crown the voices spoke of, but it was immediately evident to those searching for Kairjyn that she was the same Hope that the visions spoke of. There was now something to base their searches off of.
It was reasoned that the crown must be some lost ancient artifact, for the Tarr had not made any additional raids to larger cities, and nothing strange, aside from the visions, had been occuring since Kairjyn was taken. The focus of the search shifted to ancient writings, hoping they would contain even the slightest hint that could help.
When nothing was found in the libraries, priests prayed day in and day out, pleading to be blessed with a vision to guide them. They were stunned with what they saw, for they had no way to describe it to others. In the words of one of the priests, what they saw was "a room without walls". A party was formed to visit the Halls of Chaos, for it was the only location where such a place could exist.
The battle with Lord Chaos was bloody, but ended in victory, and an ancient scroll was recovered from his sanctuary.
In the Month of Famine, year 1038, a great plague descended upon the lands of
Dawnspasture. Deep within the heart of this plague was the one called Scythen.
He sought for himself to gain the fabled diadem of power, and convinced such a
powerful item could be nowhere but the lands of the Elves, he sent upon the
peaceful citizens of Dawnspasture a fate likened to no other. Inch by inch, year
by year, the plague seeped into the land and people, distorting thier minds and
disrupting the fertile earth.
As Scythen bent his will upon the land of Dawnspasture the people began to turn
upon themselves, friend butchering neighbour. Few survived long the awesome
might of Scythen's will and soon the land was as naught but a nightmare brought
to life. The lands soon became known as A'krel, the plagued lands, as indeed it
seemed the fears and paranoia of its past citizens had turned upon them, darkening
thier hearts, and destroying the lands as surely as any plague could do.
After Scythen assumed A'krel as his base of power he scourged the land in search
of the diadem of power but his efforts revealed no harvest. Rumor holds the diadem
to be an awesome force, forged of magic, pain, and sacrifice. Legend holds that
whomever posesses it holds the key to rule our world with power mightier then the
Gods themselves.
At this point, most agreed that the diadem mentioned in the scroll must be what the Tarr, and who ever was sending the visions, were after. The priests continued their prayers for information, but were unanswered. Alas, hope was not lost, as fate pushed a small party of adventurers deep into the jungles and swamps of Darkun Moss, all the way to the doors of a dark temple. Upon exploration, a parchment was found in one of the basements, revealing more information about this strange diadem.
Long before humans came to Balric there existed in the desert an outpost that
operated as a trading post between the southern and northern nations of the
Elves. During the First War of Dominence the post was destroyed by a great
force of magic, obliterated out of existence, and quickly swallowed by the
ever-shifting bassalt sands. The sacrifice given through this destruction
brought into being an object of untapped power, carried to the Tower by the
soul survivor of the awesome catastrophe, and given into the High Council's
hands for safekeeping and study. Less than a year later the item disappeared,
along with the man who first carried it out of the desert. Though the Council
bent thier power upon divining the location of both man and item, no trace was
ever found.
Dwyllyn Mworylyl
Royal Scribe of Queen Amaradia Fiodien Elil-Tarith
The parchment did not hint at the location of the diadem, nor give an indication of a place to look for further information. Fortunately, those still out scouting for clues returned with news of activity in the ruined city of Rac Semdar. Once again, a party of all those wishing to help was assembled, and the journey to Sanaluth's territory commenced.
The exepedition was met with an overwhelming force of Sanaluth's minions, which were disposed of as fast as the party could manage. To be certain there was no threat left, it was decided that Sanaluth himself must be subdued along with his minions. There is no need to go into the details of the battle, as everyone should be aware of his strength, so the only the only thing left to mention is the curious book found in his posession. The relevant section read as follows:
As we study the diadem we learn more and more that it's power far outreaches
any wielded by our Council, indeed it diminishes our combined might to a small
trickle. Though we use our power to study the diadem none among us dare to
place the crown upon our heads. We have warded it against any man who may
bear malicious intent. If we could ward it from all mortals we could but it repels
our stronger spells. The last time we tried the rebounding force killed three
upon our Council. So in an effort to make the world safe from the power of this
strange diadem we have limited it's use to one of pure heart and good intent.
With the corruption that runs rampant in our mortal blood we feel it is a safe bet
none will ever gain control of the crown.
Toren Chardoveth
First of the Council of Thamut
With the discovery of this ancient text, several people immediately leaped to the smae conclusion. Whoever had Kairjyn, a young girl whos heart was definitely pure, was seeking the fabled diadem of power, whos power was sealed from those not pure of heart. If Kairjyn could be forced into using the diadem, and the ancient texts spoke the truth, her captors would be in the position to impose their will against all humanity. As a result of this new information, efforts in the search for clues were doubled, and a party of adventurers managed to recovor journal by an explorer, detailing events that were too similar to be dismissed.
While traveling through this part of the world I've been homesick more then I
care to recount. Maybe this has affected my dreams, but then again, maybe
not. I've been having nightmares lately of monstrous animals that strike terror
into the core of my very being. As an explorer I'm used to fear, but this terror
is like nothing I've experienced before. I dream in the waking hours, while I
stand at the prow of my ship, while I eat, drink, and confer with my navigator
over maps. It seems no matter what I do these visions plague me with sights
of carnage, death, and blood. The mutilation is too much for me to go into
detail, even here in my private journal. I don't know what these monsters are,
or if they're only flights of my imagination, but I sense doom looming on the
horizon of my life. Maybe my end is nearing and the Gods are giving me
warning that I have won no favor in thier eyes, and my afterlife will be
unpleasant. Whatever the case may be, I pray to Phaet for redemption and
Lysaer to guide my path to safer waters.
Jarugon Sarond
Captain of the Crimson Lady
About the time the journal was found, the priests, who had continued their prayers for visions, brought news of something in Cordelia that peaked their attention. They had been blessed with a vision of an overturned carriage, ransacked by bandits, laying on a trackway in the city. All those availible headed out to investigate, and small diary along with a diamond necklace were recovered from the wreckage. Sadly, there were no signs that the occupants of the carriage survived.
My husband and I are on our way to visit with the Maron family in Halkann
and to pick up our charge for the next few months, Kairjyn. We miss the
darling child and will be glad to have her back in our home once more. She is
too sweet for words, and as innocent as a babe. Such joy she brings to our
household! I wish with all my heart I the poor dear never discovers what has
come of her homeland, for such knowledge would surely break her pure spirit.
The necklace and diary were taken to Countess Margret Maron in Halkann, who immediately recognized them as belonging to the Hourn family, friends of the Maron's who were to take care of Kairjyn. Countess Margret also confirmed our worst fears, that Kairjyn could indeed be forced into wielding the diadem.
With suspicions confirmed and time running out, there was but one lead to follow. The first text found spoke of the Plague King, Scythen, and how his lust for the diadem fueled the destruction of Dawnspasture. With hopes that he may have found information on its whereabouts that was unknown to the searchers, they set out for A'Krel, formerly Dawnspasture, prepared to do battle with the King if necesarry.
Though the assault lasted days, and Scythen fought bitterly to the very end, but his might could not stand up to the determination of those who confronted him. The information gleaned from his posessions set a clear course of action for the searchers.
Throughout history, people have spoken often of strange dreams that
seem more fearful then the worst living nightmare. Demons, they call
them. The twisted fears of our worst flights of imagination, but they
are very real. Long, long ago Demons dwelled upon the surface of our
lands, contending with the evolving races for survival. They were
blood thirsty, cruel, and heartless; killing on whim or fancy. They
destroyed for pleasure, and few could stand against thier combined
Hordes. As they grew in numbers, the benign Gods who favor Phaet's
Creation took matters into thier own hands, and banished the Demon
Hordes to a realm of darkness in an effort to preserve Creation. When
the dreaded Hordes were within the darkness, the portals to the ether
world were sealed by the Gods, and the Demons were left to dwell,
alone with thier hunger for blood and desires for power. Out of pity for
the species, as they too were of Creation, one was left to live in the
mortal realm, alone and in solitude, unable to mate and reproduce.
Deep in the cavernous bowels of the Kershalt Mountains, he was
condemned to live for eternity, and there he yet dwells; guarding the
lost knowledge of the Demon race.
This record of history written by Kohmach Rhardomos
For the Guardian of the Lost
The Keepers Records
A small party set off for the Kershalt Mountains in search of the demon L'Cath. Prepared for the worst, the party was stunned when the demon was willing to freely give up information. Perhaps he was so confident in victory he assumed there was no way for them to fail.
"Finally the time has come for my Kin to return to this realm. Long ago, when my Kin were being imprisoned in the ether, I was forced to watch. Before they sealed the portals, I set a curse upon this realm. When Hope rises, the seals on the portals will weaken, and the Demon Kin will return to this realm. By the power of Hope and all it commands we'll deal our revenge to the weaker races, and a hundred fold upon the so-called Gods who imprisoned us."
"Hope is out there.. I can smell it.. And so is the Crown of Pain.. I can feel it.. like an ache deep down. If the Gods were to prevent our return, do you not think they would have by now? Already the seals weaken, and my Kin prepare to enter this realm. Hope is ours, and soon the Crown will be too!"
"Run, pitiful fools.. run and hide while you still can.. When the Kin return, you will be our prey.. the Hordes will wash the surface of this land in blood.. And let the Heavens shake with the destruction of your weakling Gods. With Hope and Pain, they cannot stand against us."
"Now begone from this place. My patience wears thin and my dislike of you grows stronger."
With the final connections made between the visions and what L'Cath was willing to share, and the locations in Entia left to search exhausted, many had all but given up on finding the diadem, now known to be the Crown of Pain. Instead, effort shifted to locating the portal that L'Cath spoke of, in hopes of sealing it so the demons would be barred from our realm. People reported seeing demons pour out of a portal in a dark, mysterious forest, and so the searches began.
Once the portal was located, the searchers were immediately confronted by a pair of demons who had found a way to use it in its diminished state. At first, the two were far too much for the party to handle so a retreat was called. If the demons were to be stopped, a stronger force would be required. Mages were also sought out to research the portal to see if there was any way to close it.
Meanwhile, a young priest, determined to locate the diadem before the demons, gathered all the energy he could muster and focused his mind on the Crown of Pain. For a fleeting moment he saw the crown, still in the clutches of its last owner, who had long passed away. Other members of the clergy were asked to lend hand in locating the body which held the diadem, and were able to narrow it down to the Black Dunes Desert. Days were spent scouring the sands for anything out of the ordinary until the most likely spot was decided. The clergy spent hours digging through the sand until a small trapdoor was found. The Crown of Pain had been found. Humanity was one step closer to ending this threat.
As the fight with the demons raged on, the mages of Entia made their attempt to seal the portal. Knowing the cost of failuire, every ounce of focus that could be had was directed straight at the portal, and the collective hope of Entia was poured into its seal. The glowing slit in reality slowly closed in on itself... The mages were successful.
With the source of their power cut off, and with nowhere to retreat, the demons who had come through the portal were put down, leaving only the Crown of Pain to be dealt with.
Many had suggestions on how to keep the crown out of the hands of those who seek it, but all were rejected outright. The Crown of Pain could not be allowed to exist any longer, it had to be destroyed. Knowing that no magic could penetrate it, the crawn was taken to the peak of the highest mountain in Kershalt, and cast into the volcano. Some expected a more violent reaction, but the crown simply sunk slowly into the molten tock, never to rise again.
Despite the victory humanity had acheived there were no celebrations, for young Kairjyn, innocent and pure of heart, bore the wrath of the demons following the destruction of the crown. All hope had died for the demons, and Hope had died for humanity; yet as long as the past is remembered, Hope will live on within us. Should we forget our past, Hope shall be gone forever.