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==[>_ The Legacy of Asphydl _<]==
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"Of what use could gifts be to one who has all"
A forgotten king once told me,
Emperor of a vast land, with mighty people
An undefeated army
And all the riches he could desire.
"Tell me, King", the voice spoke
Twisting seductively around him
"What do you desire the most in this world?
What would you move and heaven and Earth for,
Who would you never let Death claim
That you'd fight the Gods themselves?"
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Item: Gauntlet
Name: Gift of Moloka'ash
"Oathbreaker"
"Crimson End"
"Black Butcher"
Many names have been assigned to me over eons, and even more lost to the throes of time. Yet, among the multicasual relationships and nexuses of love and loss, of elation and regret, none holds harder in your hearts than one-
greed. At the core of each and everyone one of you mortals, there are possessions, and there are gifts. Items only Death's grasp could ever part you from, now or later. Whether it be thine wife, a wench of fair skin and even fairer hair, claimed from death perhaps? A prized sword, made from the finest of metals that not even the Old Empire's greatest smiths could hope to match? Or maybe, perhaps there was a more primal urge eminating from within your naked chests, beating under that thin, hairy flesh of yours. So long as anything in this world desires what others have, I cannot truly die. I am an ideal, invulnerable to the passage of time, ebb and flow as it may.
Assumed Names: The Mourning Star
I was formerly a Great Wyrm, one of only 8 within the entirety of the Realms of this world. We had divided the spoils of this land up for ourselves, each of us claiming a domain under and over the firm soil of this land, and codified it under the Heavenly Pact. Order and life was simple-Mortals knew their places-grovelling and begging at our talons for their meager resources and food, in exchange for ignoring their mere presence. Yet, the Gods above, our direct peers, had no seeming issue with our treatment of them. They shared our disdain for our followers, and seemed to accept their fates as it was.
How foolish of a sentiment it was ignoring their views entirely.
One of them, his name forgotten but his face burned to memory, granted these imbeciles the one gift we had forbidden them from having, our fear of a collective revolt enough to earn a un-animous agreement from all 8 Great Wyrms.
Knowledge. He taught them how to access the magic that for so long only us and the rest of the Drake Host could possess, and from that point onwards started the so-called "Dragon's End". For 200 years, war was waged between us and our former subjects, turned against us by the insidious gods and their thrice-damning intervention. With divine help, and separated from one another, all of our lands and ourselves fell to their purview, one-by-one. Soon enough, I was the last to remain, before unleashing upon the humans a struggle so enormous, battle scars from that day still remain. Somewhere towards the northermost edge of this cursed continent, lies a massive gorge in the earth, an enormous wound leagues long at its widest diameter. Yet, even I fell to the combined powers of mortal ingenuity and godly power.
They locked my bretheren in I in specially forged Platinum Coins, 8 for each one of us, cutting our Souls directly out of our still cooling bodies. Disembodied screams and anger resounded as we were locked into our celestial prisons, the last sensations upon all of our minds before slumber being the victorious screams of our captors.
It was ages before I awakened, and memories and understanding came to my confused brain. Then I remembered. My brothers and sisters, as rulers. Our overthrow. Tossed into prisons and thrown like mere rubbish. Looking around my prison, I found out exactly how I came to be. Whether by chance or proxy, certain hexes and inscriptions on my prison had been scratched and damaged, releasing some of the bonds on my soul cairn. While I wasn't completely free, it was just enough to exercise my powers-
and it was enough.
In their hubris, the Gods had forgotten about me, never even deigning to bury me where no one could find me. Instead, I had been left out in the open for mortals to find, and lo and behold, my
saviors arrived. It had been so simple to whisper thoughts and suggestions to the party of explorers first. Then upon "discovering" me, latching onto the weakest link. Watching his eyes glaze over with joy, and then green envy, as he rolled my sleek, silver prison over and over in his hands. His look of wonder returned to normal, but further in his brain, I knew-he just simply
had to have it.
It was wonderfully delicious watching him squirm, as my whispers grew to full conversations, and then roars. I held sway and promised him riches as his eyes darkened and bags drew under his eyes. I licked my lips in glorious ecstasy as he began killing his party members, terrified, wide-eyed expressions frozen as crimson ichor spilled all over my host's tunic. Of course, the City Guard saw to it differently-before I changed their minds, once they saw my glorious body. And from there, after infecting the City Captain, my revenge was only part-way accomplish. Over several mortal months, I spent my time weaving the Captain's way up through the echelons of the Old Empire, before finally finding my real target-the Mad Emperor himself.
As soon as he saw my metallic lustre, the yellow light glancing off the pure slick sheen on my prison, it might as well have been child's play to infiltrate his mind. From there, each and every orchestrated action, from the dissolution of his trusted council, the inflated increase of taxes routed to his personal coffers, and numerous wars-all my doing. Each and every move weakened the much-vaunted Empire all the more. But in its final days, when Rebellions struck, Levies turned tail or joined the revolutionaires, and they broke down the Castle doors-it was perhaps harming the King's eldest daughter, Florentina Adventia.
Even in death, long buried and feasted on by worms, her memory
disgusts me. She was one of the few who stood in my way, who resisted my calls of wealth, glory or power. For she had no need of it, for she had the love of her father. Her proud, strong father whom I turned into a flesh socket, a puppet for my designs and choosing. When she was making to escape, it was my visage, not her father's she saw, as I ordered her to be shot down. It was my black snout, gleaming white maw, and orange orbs she saw as she fell to her death, laughing coarsely.
From there, however, I chose to let the Mad Emperor regain control, and by that moment, he was totally broken inside. As he continued onwards with his thoughts of selfishness and glory, I watched him mirthfully ascend into the heavens, never to be seen again as his subjects and kingdom alike fractured. Not even a God could fix what I had started. As I found refugee, this time in an escaping Knight, I decided to languish once more, and get some rest.
Only to find out that certain mortals were just quite hard to kill.
Waking up, I found my gracious "guest" speaking as to news of the New Kingdoms, of upstarts who had settled on the remains of
my artwork, my
masterpiece, and ruined it with their soiled presence. Perhaps it was time to begin my legend anew, and finally, awaken not only myself, but the rest of the 8 Great Wyrms.
Domains:
Mind [5] – Greed shall always become a constant among foolish mortals, no matter how much they may refuse. Even the most foolhardy and goodhearted hero isn't immune to indulging in their personal wants and desires. All I do is-
loosen-their inhibitions from interfering with their reverly. Who am I, to get in the way behind a pawn from infecting others with a sickness of the mind. Looking at my perfect body is all I need to begin worming my way into their minds, feasting and eating away at their resistance like maggots to rotting flesh. Nor will I settle for only one gracious host, when I could always have more warm bodies to enact my violence.
Life [5] - Even though I may no longer possess the physical prowess or strength I once had, this doesn't mean I will let my hosts languish with weak hearts, weak minds, and muscles. Eons of study and practice, far better than that of even the greatest Mages and Wyches in existence, have ensured that I will never let myself lose to another mortal, for the rest of time itself.
Goal:
1. Find a Wielder of great power, renown and wealth
2. Spread my "gifts" to all New Kingdoms
3. Take control of the New Kingdoms, and find the Imperial Church.
4. Recover all 8 Great Wyrms from their prisons, and enact a Mass Sacrifice.
5. Revive the Great Wyrms. All Hail the New World.
Connections:
Destruction:
- Collect the 8 Great Wyrms
- Make a wish upon the Gift of Moloka'ash, then renounce it.
- Bathe them in the blood of 777 Virgin Girls from the Vako Septum of the Imperial Church
- Removed of all Magical protection, cast all 8 Coins into a fire light by a hero, pure of heart and mind, before they must jump in themselves.
=} First Wielder {=
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