Abyss conjurers
From Winterkill
.--. .-. _
: .; :: : :_;
: :: `-. .-..-. .--. .--. .--. .--. ,-.,-. .-..-..-..--. .--. .--. .--.
: :: :' .; :: :; :`._-.'`._-.' ' ..'' .; :: ,. : : :: :; :: ..'' '_.': ..'`._-.'
:_;:_;`.__.'`._. ;`.__.'`.__.' `.__.'`.__.':_;:_; : :`.__.':_; `.__.':_; `.__.'
.-. : .-. :
`._.' `._.'
.. 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.
--Mizzt 12:23, 4 September 2012 (CEST)
