Dark Age of Wythia
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Storyline & Game History

Storyline & Game History

An altar lay empty out in the flats of Brockenthier Swamp. A sliver of moonlight from one of Thordia's three moons shines through the thick clouds above periodically, illuminating the sleek stone and marble body of the piece in an eerie light. Nearby, a few molejacks scamper among slime-covered shrubs, watching the altar with tension, paying little heed to the cold night air and the shrill winds.

Through the whispers of the wind the crunching of boots upon gravel can be heard, forming the sound of footsteps. Five throws away from the altar two hooded figures come into view and they appear to be carrying a heavy wooden chest upon their shoulders.

'Wondra 'at ta do wit' tis?" one speaks unintelligibly, while pointing to the chest he is carrying. The other one speaks in a far more shrill tone, "no need to worry about that Jondra, I will take care of it when we get there. Speaking of which that is it up ahead," he says as he points towards the altar. "All it will take us is twenty minutes Jondra and then me and you are five-hundred Torias richer. Think what we will do with that money!"

"Hehehehe," the unintelligent one seems to chuckle, "mumma lik money! Gi' ma muney ta mumma!"

The shrill man sighs, "you can do whatever you please Jondra, we just got to get there and do this. Thilius will be very displeased if we do not, and we will most certainly not get a reward." He points to the ground beside the altar, "lets put her down there and get started."

The two heave the heavy chest onto the ground, and take a moment to rest their tired shoulders. Their presence does not seem to scare the three molejacks hiding in the shrubs nearby. "I wish I had some water" the intelligent one says as Jondra seems to grunt in recognition of his thirst. But before they could drink their task lay ahead of them, and they took to it.

With fatigue they unlock the chest and open it. The chest is full of many things of which they had never seen but only heard. Wands, scepters, cloaks, potions, and other magicstuffs lie haphazardly packed inside. They pull the articles out one by one and put them on the ground, looking for the one that Thilius told them they would need.

After a few minutes of frantic searching they manage to find it, packed underneath everything else in the back corner of the chest. Jondra gets to it first and pulls it out with awe.

It is a small brown package with a picture of a dragon on it, and a warning label that reads in Thorian: "High quality dragon food, product of Thoria. Please feed dragons carefully. We will not be responsible for deaths caused by the mishandling of dragons."

Attached to the back of the package is a piece of paper, tied with a string. The intelligent man whispers to Jondra "when the clouds clear in a few moments, and the strongest moonlight reaches the altar, I am to read what is on this piece of paper, and after I am done we are to run as fast as we can from this place. For Thilius said if we do not then we will die a horrible death!"

A look of confused fear comes over Jondra, he clearly does not understand what his companion meant. He mutters a few things and begins to shake uncontrollably. He glances up at the altar, and he seems to shake even more. Chills run down his neck and spine into his gut, and his bladder goes loose.

Needless to say neither individual was thrilled when liquid began to trickle from Jondra's robe. "Ewww" the intelligent one slaps Jondra, "keep yourself under control! We got a job to do here!"

"Yeahssa" Jondra mutters.

At that very moment the clouds break open and the strong moonlight comes funneling down onto the altar. The molejacks sit still in wait, apparently pleased with the events so far.

"Ah it is time," the intelligent one says, untying the piece of paper and approaching the altar. As he begins to read the words a strong gust of wind comes out of the north, a blast of cold air so potent that even the shrubs shiver.

"February 14, Wythian Year 1366,

Ubras lactas comas mutas! Morbidius sopta nambus. Rise oh beast of filth, fill thine air with your unholy spirit. Bring wickedness to all that speaketh thy name. I forever live for you, and pledge my life for your gift of 500 Torias. I acknowledge that fifty years ago at this very moment the ceremony of the planting took place in the council chamber, and that today we shall see its fruit. Today is the day of the Gorgebirth, the time when Domeneeca and her master shall rise to rule these planes forevermore!"

At that time the molejacks instantly scurried out from underneath the brush and transformed into humans wearing black cloaks. Jondra and his friend stood speechless, feeling the effect of the transformation and of the words just read falling over them at once.

"Ordria Bindacata!" one of the men in cloaks shrieked as both the men were instantly in shackles.

"Summon the virgins, quick!" another one of the three men barked, "we do not have much time!"

"Transportas Novelas K5853-3:H:22-26!" one of them barked as both Jondra and his companion, still in shackles, were placed on the altar. Five innocent maidens, who appeared as if they had been ripped straight out of milking the morning cows, instantly came into being nearby.

"Ordria Bindacata!" the man spoke, shackling all of them. The three men then worked to move the maidens to the altar.

After moving the virgin maidens to the altar the men stood nearby. On their robes was the symbol designating them as members of the Council for the Prison Plane. Even Jondra knew they were one of the most feared groups of people in the entire multiverse. "Do we kill both men?" one of the council members said. Another, obviously the leader, responded "no, we only kill the intelligent one and the five maidens. We are to leave the 'tard alone, the master wants to use him as the vehicle."

"Sure thing, just give the signal boss," one says.

"We wait a few more minutes until we hear the screech of Domeneeca. Once the screech pierces the air we will slit their throats and let the blood spill. At that point Domeneeca will be raised followed by the master, who will immediately enter the 'tard. We then need to feed Domeneeca, and our work is done. It seems simple but we are to keep a tight watch. If that whiteknight guy shows up it will not be pretty, as for the first few hours Domeneeca and the master will be weak from raising. Only after that will they be able to hold their own in battle."

"Didn't we kill him?" another one goes "I mean there is no way he made it out of that cavern alive. I bet his own Gods got him, that Thiona never was happy with the idea of ordinary mortals crossing planar barriers. I am positive she found out and ended up doing away with him."

"Last check showed he was still alive. Somehow he made it out, he sure is curiously strong for a mortal."

"Wow" another said as the awaited shriek sounded, earlier than expected.

One of the councilmen summoned a knife and quickly cut the throats of the five women and the intelligent man. Jondra looked even more confused now that he was alive and his companions were not. He was the only one who felt the warm sickly blood spilling across the soft marble surface of the altar.

The night instantly went still. The wind stopped blowing, the dirt stopped moving, the clouds stopped rolling across the sky, settling in a thick layer overhead. The earth beneath them began to tremble, softly at first, then more rapidly. The three councilmen stood through the entire quake, totally unmoved.

Upon the end of the quake, a tiny wisp of smoke rose from the blood on the altar and folded itself into the shape of a dragon above them. Each fiber of the smoke seemed like ornate jewelry in the air, soft and beautiful as it moved. Jondra was fascinated with the "funie pictah" above him. Slowly the folded dragon began to grow bigger and more intricate. The councilmen watched as the smoke made wings and legs, claws and teeth.

"Domeneeca, the beast of the ancients, shall rise from the pool of blood that is shed upon the altar on the day of the Gorgebirth. This blood shall come from the murder of five innocent virgins who have been exposed as little as possible to the ways of the Dark One. Domeneeca takes the shape and form of a dragon. It is one hundred and thirty feet long with eighteen sets of gigantic wings and has one hundred and twenty feet. It inhales oxygen and exhales a combination of fire and cyanide. All creatures that near its breath, either Angelic or Demonic, will perish instantaneously. The claws of the beast contain a deadly infectious disease, and wherever it lands the disease will spread to the local townspeople, killing between sixty and ninety percent."

After the smoke had extended to one hundred and thirty feet, the creature began to materialize in midair. The wisps quickly turned into hides and scales, feet and wings. At once above the altar extended a beast so huge that its space cast an enormous shadow over the land, blocking out the moon.

"MOVE MY PRETTY," a voice screamed into the air. Now, rising out of the altar was a white ghostly figure with what appeared to be a crown of skulls and thorns. Domeneeca did what she was told and flew up into the air and out of the way for the rising ghost. The ghost came to a halt overhead the altar and addressed the three cowering councilmen.

"WHY did you kill SIX?"

The three councilmen were crunched up on the ground nearby under a tree, shivering in fear. As if to make his point the ghost raised a white scepter and pointed down to the six dead bodies and Jondra below.

"Aahhahahahahahahahahahah", one council member stuttered, "he was just there, with the 'tard that you ordered brought to you, so so so so, we killed him"

"I ORDERED that you kill FIVE, and yet you kill SIX! Do you realize the implications of what you have done! The magic that has risen me may not be completely effective! There is now a chance that when I am created I will not be complete, that I may even be destructible! Do you realize what this means you petty fools!"

The ghostly figure shrugged and called to Domeneeca: "consume them honey, you're probably hungry after so much time asleep. We shall worry about their stupidity later�"

Domeneeca then proceeded to fly down towards the councilmen, mouth open. Jondra wet himself several times as he saw the gaping teeth come down and tear into the bodies of the men, instantly making their three whole forms into thousands of tiny pieces. Domeneeca softly chewed their bodies and swallowed, seeming satisfied. She then proceeded to land nearby, managing to flatten several trees and shrubs in the process. A moment later she gave a haphazard belch, spitting out enough fire to light three adjacent shrubs on fire, and enough cyanide to kill a few thousand small animals.

"Good girl" the ghostly figure said with a smile� "now it is my time. At the moment the moon shines once again, I shall enter this figure (pointing towards Jondra), and upon these planes I shall walk forevermore, indestructible to any force that exists. For I am the Evil One, God of all. I shall exist solely for the purpose of destroying the Wythian plane and the dumb gods that control it, and at last this great multiverse will have a prison plane where much suffering will ensue at my hands. Ahhh yes Dommie girl there will be plenty of meals for you� (Domeneeca is smiling)� Wythian warlords make a good brunch I'd say.

"Why yes," Domeneeca says, finding now that she can speak� "there will be many hot and pleasurable nights for us indeed. We shall steep in the enjoyment of the destruction of these mortals and their unintelligent supreme beings. I will personally enjoy consuming that one called Thiona, for she has made my sleep a miserable one."

"And I will feast upon Rothskar the Half-God, my greatest enemy, the leader of the Order forces of Wythia" the Evil One says.

(The moon light shines down on the swamp once again).

THE TIME HAS COME! The Evil One screams as he forces himself downward into the gaping mouth of Jondra. At the moment the Evil One entered him Jondra blacked out, never to reawaken. When the eyes of Jondra opened again a few minutes later they were the eyes of the Evil One.

The shackles that Jondra's body had once occupied were instantly broken as Domeneeca made herself ready to be mounted. The Evil One made no hesitance in climbing up on her back.

"To Wythia darling," he said while patting her on the back.

"Yes dear, right away!"

With that they flew off into the night.

And let the Fifth Generation of Dark Age of Wythia begin!