.--. .-. _ : .; :: : :_; : :: `-. .-..-. .--. .--. .--. .--. ,-.,-. .-..-..-..--. .--. .--. .--. : :: :' .; :: :; :`._-.'`._-.' ' ..'' .; :: ,. : : :: :; :: ..'' '_.': ..'`._-.' :_;:_;`.__.'`._. ;`.__.'`.__.' `.__.'`.__.':_;:_; : :`.__.':_; `.__.':_; `.__.' .-. : .-. : `._.' `._.' .. Origins of the guild of Abyss Conjurers In the olden days when humans hadn't emerged so triumphant over other races there was no peace. Everyone made do with what they got, some less, some more. Naturally, Darwinism was what mattered as the strong bouldered their way through every creek and valley, unmindful of the sufferings of others. Those days, survival was all that mattered. Thus, the weaklings, the thin ones, short ones, despicable ones, had to focus on something else, something to give them edge, something to give them what the creator had granted to others. Unfairly. And the logical solution? 'The creator hast abandoned us!', and so they turned their heads on the other direction, downwards, towards the fiery plane of Abyss. And so strong was their devotion to the subject, and so many were the followers, that a demon answered them. Out of curiosity, or to get the incessant buzzing finished, it answered the meaningless mortals. And no mere demon was it, either, but the King of Abyss, most awful of them beasts who prowl that plane. The profane lord of all, it promised mortals something they had craved for generations. Power, it promised, and asked but a small price. Their souls.