In the quiet of a summer night, the prophet Averroes awoke from a fitful
sleep, his eyes wide with worry. "I must inform the Citadel at once," he
murmured, his immediate destination the emerald tower at the heart of
Shallam.

Pacing slowly over the flagstones in the courtyard of the Citadel of
Light, the prophet recounted his vision to the Caliph. It was indeed a
troubling omen: a dark presence watching the Citadel... searching for
something. The old man wrung his hands, apologising that he could not
tell more.

After the prophet's departure, Lukis Op'Shae sat for long minutes in
silence, thinking, then called for Lord Templar Draekar Rian. "Shallam
must be warned," he whispered beneath his breath.

~ ~ ~

Dark vapours rose from the bog near Ashtan, where the cultists of
Oblivion sat in dark council far beneath the festering earth. Outside
rumours spoke of a mysterious stranger within the surrounding caverns,
heavyset with cloudy red eyes, but even the most creative and chatty of
Ashtan's rumourmongering gutterfolk could not invent an explanation for
his presence. Amongst the tight-lipped Babelonians, however, plans began
to take shape and directives flew from mouth to mouth. An artefact of
great import must be recovered from the Jewel of the East, and
Mordanyconus, Babel's High Priest, had made one thing very clear: they
must not fail; much was at stake.

~ ~ ~

A month flew by, and two great city-states readied their armies, neither
holding a full picture of the events that lay before them. Shallam knew
only that an assault upon the city was imminent; Ashtan awaited orders
from their Babelonian allies of a specific target within the city.

~ ~ ~

When the storm broke, it broke quickly. Chaos wreathed about Ashtan's
soldiers and mages as they assaulted the proud gates of fair Shallam,
their destination the courtyard of the Citadel of Light. Beneath the
stones, they were told, lurked a power from the ancient world, sealed
away for untold centuries. As they attacked, multicoloured rays of Chaos
struck at the shining Paladins who barred the way, faithful defenders of
the Citadel. The challenge was met with unmatched strength, however;
with Lord Draekar at the command, the Shallamese bravely turned back
assault after assault.

Against Shallam's robust defence, the forces of Ashtan were sorely
tested; the ranks were stricken by death and reinforced by resurrected
warriors, while heated commands roared back and forth across telepathic
links. General Tanris Rozzan, knuckles white, led each charge himself,
and each time he found his way blocked by a burnished shield or a wave
of elemental flame.

As victory slipped further from their grasp, Mordanyconus summoned the
attacking forces back to the Caverns of Enheduanna. As followers of
Babel and Ashtani allies retreated into the dark and the dust began to
settle in Shallam, those attuned to the realm of Death were subjected to
a veritable torrent of lives being snuffed out by a powerful Chaos storm
on a plane separate from ours. Scores of luminaries and peasants alike
perished in the unknown land, with strange monikers such as the Supreme
Pontiff, Magnate of Tournes Bend, and the Priests of the Spear branded
indelibly in the visions of all.

Secluded beneath Ashtan's bog, Babel's followers slumped in defeat,
taking little notice as their red-eyed guest vanished from this plane...
until a moment later, when his death joined those singing across the
planes.

Then, a new horror: from the planar tear opened by the visitor's
departure emerged a portion of the Chaos storm's destructive power.
Roaring out of the caverns and massing in the air above the bog, it bore
down upon the walls of Ashtan without mercy, striking down all in its
path. Noblemen scurried to reinforced chambers, tramps huddled in
gutters, and an eerie silence fell upon Sapience.

An ominous wind then began to rise, stirring the grasses and trees of
the continent. Above Ashtan, the very air trembled and shattered, and
from beyond the firmament stepped a figure feared and reviled by some,
worshipped and revered by others, and known to nearly all: Babel, God of
Oblivion.

"Enough," thundered the Mad God, effortlessly taking the storm in His
hand and secreting it away, sparing the Bastion of the North from its
fury.

Spirits changed in an instant, the cultists of Oblivion suddenly
elevated from despair to exultation at the stirring of the bleak God
from His deep meditations. Across the continent, the forces of Shallam
were shaken from their hard-won victory Ashtan, apprehensive of what new
dangers now lie upon the horizon. Who truly triumphed on this day? As
speculation spreads, all must agree: defeat and victory pale in the face
of the powerful omen that is the return of the Master of the Abyss.

Penned by My hand on the 11th of Valnuary, in the year 575 AF.