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> Brief for the First Upperworld Campaign
post Jun 9 2016, 08:36 AM
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Primus buckles and shakes as ripple of supernatural power pass through every part of it, every forest, every mountain and every lake feels it, this buckling is not a physical one but a lifting of the soul.

All creatures be they small, great or good, feel a lifting of spirit. A darkness on the heart is overthrown and a feeling of joy runs through the soul of all that is not of evil heart. Those of evil are a lost and leaderless, there is a vacuum in their souls. They crave direction the vanquishing of Spite has this impact on good and evil. Slowly the the realm spirit of Primus and the Land of Legend feel a fog that was in place for the last 17 years slowly clear.

Slowly in the distance a few figures can be seen and are coming into focus as they look on Primus and other adjacent realms with relish.

Out of the Fog a huge axe wielding man bearing the scars of thousands of battles walks out with a slight limp. He is decked out in full steel plate that is bursting at the seams with mounds of muscle under it, the only part not covered is best described as a face is in fact a visage of battle. When he moves it is hard to tell where the Plate starts and where the muscle ends. His face is fixed in a permanent snarl as his jaw line is one large scar from left ear to mouth. He smiles and whispers one word from his broken lips that hits Primus like an avalanche. SLAUGHTER!!!

Striding out behind him from the Fog a full head higher is a being with a flaming skull for a head with the body of a very tall and thin Elf wielding a Morning Star. He is wearing a pitch black cloak which seems to absorbs all light around it, if ever there was a vision of the void then this being personifies it, dread seeps from his eyeless sockets. The lidless sockets fix and a word is mouthed that hits like a sledgehammer. TERROR!!!

Then out of the Fog comes a shuffling a gnarled old man with a hunchback wearing, dark red robes and holding on to an onyx staff which shimmers with the light and the darkness of a billion galaxies and the voids in between them. Where his fingers touch the staff is devoid of all light. He smiles and says a word that is barely above a whisper and yet is has a catatonic impact on Primus. TORTURE!!!

The fourth figure emerging from the Fog is a four armed creature that is fully twice the height of all those present. He is a three headed demon, he has the head of a serpent, an unknown race of ancient folk unseen by any on Primus and the third and final is that of a Wyrm made of stone but yet fully moving. As he locks his gaze on Primus the forces of evil tremble and recognise true power he screams one word. CHAOS.

The final figure to enter out of the Fog is an old man that looks on with tears in his eyes, he has seen this before and knows what is to come. He is dressed in grey robes wielding a staff of wood. He looks with utter sorrow on Primus, his face changes from tears to one of hope. He whispers all before hear. HEAL

It has ever been about the Old Gods.

The Fog in between Primus and Upperworld is cleared.

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