Lands of Lore 2 Story

There can be little doubt, even among the skeptics, that ancient Gods once visited our earthly plane. Records are rare or non-existent (after all, this was a very long time ago), but the persistence and urgency of the various legends keeps the memories alive. The creation of mythos of virtually every known civilization credits immortal beings in some form for lying the foundation upon which or mortal existence is based.

So, we can be fairly certain that something special did happen, but just who were these Gods, and why are they no longer here? The answers are to be found in the story of the Guardians of Destiny.

Most theologians propose that the great immortals either came to or fabricated our world as a means for them to create the one experience unavailable to omnipotent beings: Not Being In Charge. The life of an Ancient God is, unfortunately, horribly boring. There are no surprises for an Ancient God, no mysteries. Everything that happens is caused by them.

Our mortal world is then, perhaps like a vacation spa for the Gods, created in order that these all-powerful creatures could find a seam that allowed them to leave their powers behind and experience the feeling of Not Being In Charge. (This phenomena is also known as being At Effect, in counterpoint to being At Cause.) Being At Effect is certainly a delirious good time to an individual who has had to slog through the monotony of endless eons of being At Cause. Pleasure itself is, as an emotion, impossible for an All Powerful Being to experience. And therefore, our world, a dude ranch for the Ancients, was created.

Althrough divine intention was required for the creation of our universe, at some point in time it became common knowledge that such an arrangement, such a mixing of mortal and immortal, could only function if left alone by the Immortals. Effect cannot work if constantly interrupted by Cause. And so, by agreement among the Immortals, our world, the world of Effect, was not to be interfered with by the all powerful Gods. Effect could be watched as it slithered over the surface of our new planet. Effect could even be experience by those individuals who chose to leave their immortality behind and join with the mortals, but no God was allowed to reach into the fishbowl and bring his powers to bear on the mortal plane.

After additional untold eons, the novelty began to wear thin, and certain individuals among the Gods, indifferent to the delicate balance between mortal and immortal life, began to think of making the toy even more exciting. Proscriptions, prohibitions, and the heavy weight of moral cocerns notwithstanding, the unthinkable did occur: One particularly evil Ancient God was the first to break the sacred rule of non-interference. His name was Belial.

Belial, in an effort to add sport to his jaded existence, looked down and selected the Dracoid race as those mortals who would be favored with his attentions. A sickly sweet smile on his face as he strolled among the awestruck Dracoids, the horned Ancient dispensed fabulous new weapons and bits of Ancient magic as if they were lumps of candy thrown to mobs of adoring children. Heretofore, the mortals had been content to settle what national disputes there were with the equipement at hand; bows and clubs were fashioned from the wood that could be harvested from the forests, spearpoints and swords were forged from the metal dug from the earth, and even the mundane natural magics were summoned for the efforts of defense. But not the new weapons and awesomely powerful Ancient Magics fanned the dormant flames of militarism among the peaceful Dracoid, and they became a people possesse. War ruled their thoughts and conquests filled their dreams.

Ancient Gods are not in the habit of critisizing eachother, and so Belial's first ventures with the Dracoid drew little notice among the other Immortals. But as the favoured Dracoid race began to lay waste to the other nearby civilizations, certain Gods politely requested that Belial desist, and stop his interference among the mortals. As so often happens, courtesy has a strange reversing effect on malevolent souls, and the more politely his fellow Gods requested that he mend his ways, the more savagely Belial equipped and encouraged the now warlike Dracoids. Even the official censure from the revered Council of Ancients drew nothing more than a contemptuous chuckle from Belial, and his visits and gifts to the Dracoids did nothing but increase.

The closest neighbours to the Dracoid were the Hulines, and they bore the brunt of the fierce storm that swept out of the Dracoid lands. Valiant though their warriors were, the mundane Huline weapons were no match for the awful and wondrous new magics the Dracoids through at them. Wave after wave of courageous Huline troops fell in a futile attempt to protect their homeland. But their struggles were to no avail, and soon what had been a glorious countryside smoldered like the last embers of a dying campfire.

The pathos of the Huline cause did arouse sympathy among the Ancients, but the credo of non-interference still held firm, and no immortal could stoop to lend a hand. Several generations passed, and still the heavy weight of the Dracoids and their powerful Ancient Magic weapons ground the remnants of the once-proud Huline race into the bloody mud of the battlefields.

Finally, when the Hulines reduced to a meager few individuals, and the possibility of total extinction became probability, another of the Ancient Gods could stand no longer. Anu, known later to his mortal aquaintances as the Draracle, determined to save the Huline race from annihilation. Ancient magics now found their way to the Huline, for now his hands were stained as well, and in the eyes of the Ancient law, both Belial and the Draracle were equally guilty of the crime of interference. As equal as their crimes were in theory, the Ancients did understand the good intentions of the Draracle. But Belial's crimes could not be rationized, and his actions embarrassed the ntire community of Ancients Indignant that their official censure had been so rudely ignored, the Council of Ancients met again, and determined to take whatever steps necesary to end Belial's mortal interference forever.

No Ancient had ever taken the life of another, but nonetheless a resolution was passed which sentenced Belial to death. To wrap up their solution in a tidy package, the Draracle was chosen to carry out the execution. After all, his hands were already dirty, and what more efficient means could be found? The Council of Ancients would use one criminal to erase another, and leave the rest of their community unsullied. Knowing that his execution was imminent and unavoidable, Belial developed a plan that would allow him to be resurrected after his death. In his chambers beneath the magnified City of Ancients, he created a huge magical Mother Beast. This Mother Beast was intended as an enormous antennae which would accumulate the radiations from the magic of Ancients. When sufficient Ancient Magic was acquired, the Mother Beast would focus this power towards the creation of a new god, and Belial would be reborn.

The problem in Belial's plan became apprent when, after his execution, the Immortals decided to leave the City Of Ancients, and the mortal plane entirely. Without Ancients nearby, radiations of Ancient magic became extremely scarce. When no sufficient amount of Anciet magic was available, the Mother Beast lapsed into a state of dormancy, and waited. All of the Ancients departed, and the City of Ancients sank beneath the waves. One Ancient however, did stay behind. The Draracle, convinced that someone should watch over the mortal plane to insure that Belial would be unable to fulfill his ressurection plans, took it upon himself to be that watcher. Determined that our world should enjoy it's own fate, unmolested by the further mechinations of an Evil God, the Draracle appointed himself the Guardian of our Destiny. The hibernation of the Mother Beast and the vigilance of the Draracle continued uneventfully for several thousand mortal years. The Draracle left the Southern Continent and took up residence near the human kingdom of Gladstone, and spent his time dispensing cryptic agricultural advice and weather predictions to the local farmers. Over the years all mortal knowledge of the Anciets was forgotten.

The story might have continued into nothingness forever, but was revived again due to the greed of Scotia, late sorceress of the Dark Army. Spurned as a lover during her youth by the then Prince Richard of Gladstone, Margarithe Fiston nursed a natural grudge against the royal house. She eventually married a prominent local landowner, and bore him a son named Luther. After years of peace, the war between the evil Dark Army and the opposing White Army of Gladstone flared anew. One of the first victims was Luther's father, slain by a raiding part as he accomplished the wagons to market along Gladstone's main road. Margarithe was enraged. Blaming the lax security of Gladstone for the loss of her husband, she combined this hate with her previous grudge to form a psychosis that deprived her of all normal reason. Turning enthusiastically to the dark side, she took the name Scotia, and buried herself in studies of the dark and magical arts.

Poor Luther, then but halfway through his teens, kicked casually at the weed for a year or so, but then left the far and the unpleasantness of Gladstone to seek his fortune elsewhere. His mother Scotia proved a good studeny, and soon her magical skills and unswerving hatred for Gladstone earned her the respect of all the Dark Army. She reigned supreme as the most powerful sorceress of her time. Still, her success brought her little solace, and she was determined to use her new talents to bring about the Death of King Richard.

Richard was no fool however, and access to his person was guarded jealously, lest a tratorous Dark Army agent should poison his food or engineer some treachery. Scotia's attemts to get close enough to do him harm were all in vain. Acting on rumours mentioned in several of her magic tomes, Scotia began hunting for the legendary Ancient Magic artifact known as the Nether Mask Surely the powerful Shape changing properties reputedly bestowed upon the possessor would finally allow her the disguise she required to kill Richard. Unbeknownst to Scotia, the Nether Mask was one of the last major sources of Ancient Magic left in the world. When she finally unearthed the mask from deep mud where it had lain safely for centuries, the Ancient Magic radiations emanating from it's activation awakened the long dormant Mother Beast.

Just on the verge of complete success, Scotia saw her evil plans fail, and she herself slain by one of the heroes of Gladstone. In her dying moments she attempted to send her most valuable possession to her son Luther. But the transmissioin became garbled in the ether, and Luther received a mangled version of the Shape changing magic. Luther would indeed change shapes, but he had no control. At a moment's notice, and without warning, he would leave his human form behind, and manifest as a lizard, or a hideous beast. Struggling back to Gladstone to seek a cure for his affliction, Luther was captured by soldiers of the White Army, and thrown into the Gladstone dungeon. Confused, and in great pain, Luther lay stunned in his cell, imprisoned for the crimes of his mother.

As we come to present times, the Mother Beast is still eager to accumulate enough Ancient Magic to resurrect Belial. Awakened from her slumber, she has begun to spawn her lesser children as a prelude to her final maternity. Grotesque spider-like creatures drop from her womb and tunnel to the surface to search for any remaining bits of Ancient Magic. Aided by timely change into a powerful beast, Luther has escaped the dungeon, and made his way to the Draracle, hopeful that this strange oracle can guide him towards a cure. Still conscious of his pledge of non-interference in mortal affairs, the Draracle has directed Luther to the Southern Continent.

The Gladstone mystic Dawn, alarmed by reports of the strange new creatures plaguing the Southern Continent, has come to the Draracle as well. Unsatisfied by his cryptic mumblings, she too has traveled south to forestall this danger before it threatens Gladstone directly. Both Good and Evil need the ancient magic of Luther's curse. Belial's mignons are anxious to kill Luther and acquire the Ancient Magic within his curse in order that Belial can complete his resurrection. Dawn and her allies are equally anxious to acquire the Ancient Magic in order that they may use it to prevent Belial's resurrection. While Luther will be the key to this puzzle, he is yet to learn his part. He may never get the chance...