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* Albus Henrik Brian Amador * Professor of Demonology, Wizard of Blackwell Tower. 101 - 180 S.A The air was thick with soot, the sky held no stars, the background filled with Shades of the long-deceased; Shadows wandering aimlessly, only to occasionally cast a glimpse in the direction of the strangers, whispering: “You shall join our fate if you do not turn back.” “Turn around whence you came” “The Aenguls forsake us here… Leave” The Old Wizard knew such sights were to await them here: Aegis’ long-deceased and abandoned population, the aftermath of conflict between Aenguls & Demons, of Cataclysm & Catastrophe. Descendants’ Unresolved Tragedy. . . They had to come here. They could not turn back. Lest Aevos be subjected to the same fate. A strange stone edifice stood in this desolate waste, veiled by the smog and soot with only a bright Sapphire fire raging in the centre; three corpses hung loosely upon wooden stakes, tied to the poles, decapitated and contorted. The latest prizes of an unholy hunt. An obscured figure knelt to the flames. Beside them rose two Paladins of Old. God-Forsaken. “Why do you come here?” Dark Times, Dark Days. Corruption of Deific beings & Demons Unleashed. “Sol Invicta - Daughter of Order, We come under dire circumstances and we seek counsel.” Weapon drawn, A grotesque item of Blackened Crystal: The Rotting Claw of the Lion. They had found whom they sought: The Lion of the Abyss. But no counsel was granted. “You seek advice from one that your Lord damned to the ruins of Aegis, where the Isles of Sheerok have no connection... No truth.” The terrifying trio began to step forward, fanning out and flanking the doomed. Forsworn and forsaken fighters judging the gathering: their Order. On the hip of one, the head of a Herald. Another Trophy. “Order is that the weak kneel and the Strong protect those who cannot wield the sword. They understand their place and know when to be dealt with. . . I am bound here. . .Bury your blades in your necks, help the fight that renders here & I shall make you part of my legion. To stand against the tide of Mordring here in the Abyss.” What happened next was a chaotic scene. Some fought. Some fled. Most died. The Old Wizard had come, alongside his niece, abiding to one Mantra: It is better to save an innocent life than to take a guilty one. It is better for the soul. They had failed to save her, for she could not be saved. A thrall to the whims of Aenguls. So, they ran. Abyssal chain wrapped around the Old Wizard’s leg, tripping him up and landing him in the ash and soot; looking up to his kin, his student and the future hope of many, Albus shouted: “GO!” He turned about to his assailant, One of the Forsaken, Abyss-Walking Paladins of Yore. It was a Horrifying Spectre: Ethereal Chains held in a Gauntleted fist. “Vyr Battle Here is being fought on Aevos. Y’am an Old Man, Niet long for this world…” “That is True - You have had a long life. The others here are Young, they do not see your wizened brow and homely face. Die Well.” The ethereal chains began to whip up about his body, tightening about the neck of the Old Wizard, forcing him to gasp for air. Flashes of Azure mist flared from the chains, the Old Wizard attempted desperately to rid himself of those chains, but to no avail. With a secondary attempt, the flash fizzled and Albus lay in the soot once more, his gaze up to the sky. The Nausea set in first. The pain came next. Cut in twain at the waist. The Wizard of the Blackwell Tower looked up towards the Blackened Sky. He’d spent a lifetime defending against Demons, to be felled by a Demi-Aengul’s Death Knight. But, He would not join the Legion of the Lion of the Abyss. He would suffer a Fate worse than the Shades. His Soul, Collected by Sol Invicta, would be consumed within her Phylactery. He ceased to exist. Within the Confines of the Old Wizard’s Tower, A large parchment with a series of sealed letters: Here in lies, set forth, the Last Will & Testament of Albus Henrik Brian of the House of Amador. Son of Radmir of the House of Amador. Professor of Demonology, Chronologist, Voidal Wizard & Custodian of the Blackwell Tower within the Duchy of Brabant. I name as the executor of my Will: Ser Sterling Percy of the House of Whitewood-Blaxton, Duke of Brabant and Lord of Lotusgrad. An Accounting of my Actions, to be published to those who wish to read it: Throughout my life, I have sought out the evil that stowed-away within the Amadorian Flagship from Asulon, detailed within the Diary of Daniel Amador. The Demon that had killed my ancestors and our Great Founder, before the emaciated survivors of my House landed on Anthos, bringing along that Demon of Misfortune and Misery. I swore, on the relics of my ancestors gathered by Nataliya Amador, that I would defend my House and all Descendent-Kind from the evils of Demons. Through my exploits, after a lifetime of study and research, I was ultimately able to defend the Duchy of Brabant from an Armoured Infernal Hellhound. In that great battle, when I lost my dearest Papej, I had summoned a great tornado and felt at the peak of my powers. However, if you are reading this now, then I have been felled during a desperate expedition to the Abyss to save Aevos from the Darkness that is Here. I have borne witness to the Aengul Xan, uncharacteristically enraged at his followers & who will descend upon Aevos, bringing about a new conflict between the Aenguls and the Demons. Azdromoth, Arch-Drakaar and Leader of the Azdrazi, Wars with the Order of the Golden Lion to the detriment of all Descendent-Kind. His Holiness, Pontiff Caius Primus, makes Crusade against Hexicanum & Gashadokuro. Darkspawn plague the Northern Kingdom of Ravenmire where King Bo I Rostova, disowned of Amador, fights to defend his people. Ser Sterling Whitewood-Blaxton leads the Silver Crusade against the tides of Moz Strimoza's Hellspawn. Descendent-Kind must Unite. Unite, or surely, you will fall and Aevos shall suffer the fate of Aegis before it. I leave but one hope to Descendent-Kind, the girl who was denounced by the Sons of Horen & whomst has borne great pain for Redemption, fighting still for all. Professor Albus Henrik Brian Amador, on the 9th day of The First Seed in the 180th Year of the Second Age. A Series of Letters that I would wish delivered to their respective parties: To Ailure of the Order of the Golden Lion: To His Holiness, Pontiff Caius Primus: To His Royal Highness, King Ivan VIII of Haense: To His Royal Highness, Bo I Rostova, King of Ravenmire: To His Grace, Ser Sterling Whitewood-Blaxton, Duke of Brabant: To The Right Honourable Henrik Amador, Vikomit of Zveslund: To Faeryel & Sarah Artenin, The Grand Magister of Hohkmat & Vizier of Fire: To Lord Karl of Falkner & Mirasul of Val'taelu: To Katherina Sophia: To Vindyr Di Ixolar: OOC: