An old flame
Sat upon his Infernal Throne, none may challenge the supreme power of Glaaki on the Chaos Plane, but he does not rule over an empty Court. While the ancient, tainted prison is shrouded in secrecy and mystery, scholars agree there must be at least a dozen other Chaos Lords of immense power that dwell upon the mysterious world. Among them, one of the best known is Pyradius, the Firelord.
His origins are a secret to all but the most learned, but it is much more common knowledge that Deucalion, the Righteous Fire himself, once crossed his path. Enraged by the kidnapping of his servant, the atavian knight Haldoran, the Bloodsworn God rampaged through the Chaos Plane, and Pyradius was grievously wounded by a flame much unlike his own, a fire that seeks to burn all that which taints Creation.
Over a century did he seethe over his horrible wounds, his missing leg, though what meaning time has for a creature so alien to our world is impossible to say. Doubtless, the followers of Good saw it as a permanent victory, for who could undo the damage of a God?
Imyrr Rousseau believed he could.
Like any mad scientist, his plans began with elaborate proposals and impossible ambitions but, to his surprise, they were met with approval by the forces that dwell in the shadows of Ashtan. It would require great sacrifice, enormous amounts of effort, and a city united, but there was, indeed, a way to find revenge for the Firelord. Millions of gold evaporated seemingly overnight, and the Archon Ascendant set the city on a new course.
First, they built a profane pyre that made a mockery of Targossas’ own, crafted with iron and burning with the sickening stench of flesh, for it was their enemies that served as fuel. Dark rituals fanned the flame and channeled it into ancient idols, and eventually it all came to a head in the most bizarre of circumstances: a party.
Drugged, drunk, and full of euphoric dance, the citizens of Ashtan gathered to celebrate Chaos itself, a form of worship that needs no Gods and transcends the stiff customs of other nations. The scents of sweat, vomit, and blood filled the air, until the revel’s true purpose was revealed through a world-shaking summoning. Using the tools they had created through years of effort and slaughter, Pyradius himself was brought onto the Prime, if only for a moment, and there he brought truth and knowledge to those who sought Ruin. His words remain a mystery to those outside the Seat, but its citizens soon gathered again on the grounds of their sworn enemy, looking for a fight.
Targossas could not have expected such disastrous consequences from what appeared to be a mundane raid. The first inklings that something was off came largely from outside the Dawnspear, as the typical tank detonation Sapience is so accustomed to left an indescribable sense of wrongness. Elyra Al’Jafri was the first local to investigate and report, scouting out the destroyed location and finding, instead of rubble and ruins, a horrifying sight of Chaos taint, unlike any other the Prime has experienced in recent memory. One by one, the citizens of Targossas gathered to assess the damage, and inevitably they were horrified, revulsed, or sickened.
With the assistance of Halos Vorondil, Elyra quickly led a prayer and sermon to lift morale during these uncertain times, but the question on everyone’s mind needed not be spoken out loud: what horror has Ashtan brought to our world, and will it happen again?
Summary: After years of experiments and rituals, Ashtan succeeded in unveiling a new, tainted tank that left the horrors of Chaos upon Targossas.