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November 23, 2000

The End of an Era

The End of an Era

...and with him, died an era. The Dark Tower was abandoned, left to only the vermin and apparitions that feasted upon the emptiness that remained. The death of the Master had left the Tower in utter chaos. Factions split and once again brethren turned against brethren in a bloody rage and struggle for power. The very structure and unification set forth by the malevolent father, the dreaded lord Xander, was ripped apart as the disunity of the Cabal shook the very foundation of its vast and eternal history. No longer did the Cabal posses the wisdom and guidance left to them by the seemingly ancient priest of darkness, the very man that had once been the very breath of life into the lifeless decaying corpse of evil within Sosaria. Xander was the last link to the �Age of Darkness� and all its wisdom, and Na-Krul was his last disciple. The Age of Darkness, a time eons ago when the darkness was so thick no ray of light dared to penetrate its thick and deceitful aura, a time when the great lords of apocalypse sprang forth all Armageddon upon the weak and exasperated. The time when even Beast British shrank in fear to the name of the greatly powerful ancient wizard Mondain, and his legions of daemons. It was then the Dark Tower emerged, spewing forth from the womb of Sosaria into the ravages of time, consumed by the future�

When One Hand sunders
The Dark will slumber
When Eight stones stand high
The Dark will rise
Xander was the very herald of time, the awakener of our people, and the source from which our roots stemmed. With the death of Na-Krul, our link to our history, our birthright, was lost and shattered. And so it was said, when one hand sunders, the Dark shall slumber, and we did. The Cabal scattered, falling into a councious slumber, escaping the cruel fate that had begotten them. What was left of Na-Krul�s followers soon followed. The Tower had become abandoned, empty, and hollow of thought. Cursed by a spell of slumber begotten to them by the very treachery of an age old ally. But now our ancient beckoner has once again awakened us, and the dark shall rise again. Our ancient glory shall be revived and all shall taste the blood lust of our enlightenment. I give a calling to my brethren, my fellow brother and sister who fought by my side in the great war and felt the festering wound of betrayal. My brother and sister who also in the past had become students of darkness and disciples of Na-Krul in an era of blasphemy and revelation. My brother and sister who wish to reclaim their birthright from the foul phantom of death. We must drop our swords, and reclaim our history. I, Arwyn Blackheart, have grown too old. I have rested my sword and shield upon the shrine in a quest of knowledge and understanding to the recovery of our past. Already, the Zargonians have seen the light in our darkness, and join the brotherhood of evil splendor. I call to the citizens of this world, join us in our quest�

I beseech you.

Arwyn Blackheart,
Loremaster of the Tower

Posted by Nobody at November 23, 2000 12:35 AM

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