| Bryce DeLavanedel, Cleric of Adon |
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| Volume XVII, Regency of Raelgar Chapter 1 Dark days have befallen the Great Empire of Jord. For nine months now, a great Dragon whom the People name Black Kalgalath, after the terrible dark beast in the legends of long ago, (see volume III: VI, Emperor Daeldulus) has been ravaging our once fair and powerful Empire. It has slain virtually all the great heroes of Jord, and for the most part, those not dead or fled despite their oaths, have been incapacitated. Even the great warriors of Adon have suffered such, and few who wield the Sacred Hammer yet remain. Our great armies lie dead or scattered. Our glorious and shining capital, Jordreich, lies now in ruin. The imperial Treasury, apparently one of the creature’s initial targets, is |
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| utterly gone, and the Great Temple of Adon, the largest in all the west, lies smashed, its holy relics and shining pillars ripped asunder, its great golden doors beaten into tremendous bowls and carried off by the monster laden with the treasures of the Imperial City. And even the vast holdings of Jordreich have not appeased the Beast. It has continued to attack the cities of the Empire, carrying off their treasures and leaving naught but ruin in its wake. For all of their courage, the defenders of Jord have not been able to issue even the smallest harm to Black Kalgalath. Some have claimed to have seen the Beast, in its arrogance, allow time for those defenders who stand against it to flee, and to those who seek not to defend the treasures of their cities, the Dragon ignores, thus do the simple folk survive. But to those who fight, the Drake shows no mercy: rending buildings and warriors alike with massive, dark claws and burning all with unholy fire which vomits forth from twixt massive jaws. Before the attacks, we assumed Dragons to be constructs of fantasy: creatures of myth like Elves, fairies, halflings and the like. Now plunged into the dark and forgotten tales told by old mothers long past, we find ourselves ill-equipped to deal with such circumstances. Many formerly prosperous burghers flee now to the countryside, for the dark Drake, in its search for wealth, has left the poor people to themselves. Now at least we see the wisdom of their simple lives. Observing the immunity of the farmlands, some more enterprising merchants have sought to conceal their riches buried beneath the soils of follow fields. But always, Black Kalgalath finds them, ripping gold and gems from the quiet earth and disappearing into the night. Even traveling caravans are not proof against the marauding depredations of the Dragon. Merchants and nobles alike, fleeing with their treasures to other lands are assailed by the Beast in the night: their wagons and coaches carried away, their horses, still within their traces, carried screaming into the darkness. Following the destruction of the armies, roving bands of brigands stalk the roads of Jord unchecked, stealing goods and what smaller coinage has survived the Dragon. Some few reports speak of these bands even containing deserted soldiers from the ranks of the Imperial Army, for without men to lead them, nor funds to pay them, some among the army have forgotten their oaths and become a second plague upon the Empire. Yet in this, our darkest hour, there remains hope: to fight a Legend we seek a Legend. Our noble and courageous Emperor Pelias died upon the steps of Imperial Treasury that black night. At his side, wounded by the same blow, Trent Kilgore, Captain of the Imperial Guard, Minister of the Empire, survived, only by the dubious blessing of his bestial heritage. (see Volume XVI: IV, Emperor Pelias) After a long convalescence, the Captain, with the blessing of the Regent, formerly Chancellor, Raelgar, who rules in the name of the Heir, Princess Kytheria until her majority and marriage, and the Patriarch of the Temple of Adon, began an intensive search among the surviving texts in the great underground stacks of the Church and the Empire What he sought was a weapon from the days of Legend, a weapon of such extreme power it nearly destroyed a God. The weapon is the Kammerling. A great hammer, forged and wielded by Adon, the All-Father, against Modru the Dark One, during the Great Apocalypse, and used to win the war for the forces of Good. The Kammerling, the ancient talisman which has become the Symbol of the Church, is hoped to hold such power that it may strike down even so mighty a beast as the Dragon. What the Captain found in his search is the last known location of the Kammerling. With this priceless information, the Captain has brought together a small squadron of soldiers, members themselves of the Imperial Guard. He has chosen them from the varied elite units of the Guard, seeking a group small enough to travel lightly and quickly, varied of skill and adaptable enough to deal with any circumstances which may evolve along their journey and above all, loyal beyond death to the Empire. The squadron will then set off on a journey into legend, to find the Hammer of Adon, to save the people of Jord, to survive the terrible wastes of the Desolation, to slay Black Kalgalath. The hopes of all the people of Jord, mayhap all of Mythgar follow them into peril. May Adon protect them. -An entry in the Histories of Jord as written by Aranor, Imperial Scribe, On the Thirteenth day of the Tenth Month, Pass of the Sun, 2436 |