A cool autumn wind whipped across the Savannah, sending rippling waves
of motion through the vast expanse of swaying grasses to break against
the great looming mass of the Great Rock. That prodigious landmark had
rested in those fields from time immemorial, home to a host of strange
creatures and an often-hunted cult of beast worshippers. The dark,
winding tunnels of its inner depths had seen many strange sights, but
this night in particular was to emerge as one of the most memorable in
its long and sinister history.

A small group of mages from the Arcane Kindred stood within the immense
natural cavern of the Hall of Stars, glancing about uneasily at their
surroundings. Thousands of tiny crystals sparkled up and down the
chamber's walls, with a million gleaming facets reflecting brilliant
spots of light back and forth across the gloom of the abyss. Sindri
stood in the cavern's centre, a heavy crystal staff held reverently in
her hands, while the rest formed a protective circle around her.

"Shelfilwe nereandor fanisti norashale pora!"

The words resonated out from her mouth to fill the cavern, her voice
pregnant with ritual power. As the syllables echoed up through the high
reaches of the immense chamber, the tiny crystals along the walls began
to blink out, one by one. Within a moment the entire cavern had been
plunged into complete darkness. Then, before the eyes of the gathered
onlookers, the massive crystal atop the staff in Sindri's hands began to
glow with supernatural brilliance, as if the thousand tiny lights that
had previously animated the cavern's walls were now concentrated in this
single gem.

Then came a strange sound from somewhere deep below - a massive
grinding, rumbling groan that seemed to shake the entire rock for a
brief instant.

"What was that?" someone whispered, but no one replied. Faces had grown
pallid, shoulders had sagged, and expressions that had previously been
only nervous now bordered either on panic or grim resignation. They had
all read the Mojushai prophecy. They had all seen the words written on
the scroll that was found next to the staff. The crystals of the Great
Rock had been imbued with elemental magic that kept bound an ancient
horror. Now that the magic was removed, the likelihood was high that the
thing, whatever it was, had been freed.

"Better us than the servants of Chaos or Darkness" someone had murmured.

"If we don't restore the staff ourselves," someone else agreed, "we will
be helpless against the beast when another releases it."

Now it was done. The mages retreated from the newly darkened cavern.
Only one remained, a young human named Aromaros. Mustering his courage,
he pressed down into the most foreboding depths of the Great Rock's
caverns, where the strange Ophidians are said to dwell. Moments later,
the echo of his sudden death was felt across the lands by those who
walked with the deathsight.

For days and months thereafter, the deaths continued. First confined
only to those daring enough to venture into the Rock's deepest tunnels,
they soon spread out. Tomacula was struck first, a tribesman brutally
dismembered before the statue of Khalas, and then Thera, where a group
of murdered villagers was found in various states of ghastly mutilation
amid a pile of rubble. Rumours flew of an elephantine monster, ravenous,
covered in tentacles, immensely powerful, and as terribly silent as it
was impossibly swift. Parties of warriors set out to find it. The lucky
ones returned empty-handed, while the others joined the ever-growing
list of names that flashed through the minds of the deathseers.

Further complicating the matter, reports began to circulate of the
return of Han-Silnar. The infamous traitor of the Aldar and slave of
Lorielan had not been seen since the tribunal banished him to the
Crystal Realm with his divine mistress, but now he was moving again, hot
on the trail of the monster. Incredibly arrogant and condescending, he
demanded information from those he encountered but refused to grant any
about himself, swiftly dismissing or refusing to speak with mortals
whose appearances did not meet his approval or who happened to make some
remark that struck him the wrong way. Almost all who interacted with him
ended up frustrated, possessing no more information than they had before
the encounter.

Then Ashtan itself was attacked. The creature roared through the narrow
streets of the ancient city, leaving a trail of carnage and mayhem in
its wake before vanishing into the night. Furious, the city's warriors
convened and set out for the Great Rock, determined to conclude the
matter once and for all. They were met by a party from the Church and a
group of staff-wielding mages from Cyrene determined to finish what they
had begun. Together they plunged into the foreboding gloom of the Great
Rock's subterranean halls.

The results were initially disastrous. The beast appeared and vanished
without warning, snatching up vast numbers of warriors in its tentacles
and hurling them eagerly into its gaping mouth. The tunnels ran with
blood, and the screams of the dying echoed in the ears of those that
remained. Concealed by profane magics, small groups of Occultists raced
furiously through the narrow passages. Some were seen to speak earnestly
to the creature even as it slew them, while others almost appeared to be
attempting to guide it toward some unknown destination.

The beleaguered hunters finally tracked the thing to its lair, an
abysmal cavern far beyond the previously explored reaches of the Great
Rock's tunnels. They surrounded it, protecting themselves with magical
shields that the beast was unable to penetrate, but no one seemed able
to destroy it. Those that tried were swiftly slain, and the remainder
grew increasingly unwilling to lower the protective screens of their
shields. It seemed a stalemate.

Just as all hope seemed lost, the cavern was illuminated by a burst of
white light. The mighty Arcane dragon of Cyrene, Alvar, moved into the
chamber, the bulk of his reptilian frame almost matching the size of the
monster itself. In one claw he held a magnificent staff crowned with a
shining crystal, the source of the white light, and all present observed
the monster recoil in fear from the sight of it. His eyes set with
fierce determination, Alvar raised the Staff of Law and pointed it at
the monster. Brilliant light lashed out to slam into the beast, whose
roars of pain shook the Rock to its very core. Again and again the
dragon attacked the monster, and the staff's radiance banished the
darkness of the deep caverns with the blinding force of direct sunlight.
Finally, Alvar struck the killing blow, and the beast succumbed with a
defeated groan.

Though the monster was slain, many mysteries remained unsolved. What lay
beneath the great stone seal that fills the floor of the cave where the
creature made its den? What was the Staff of Law, and where did it come
from? What was the meaning of Han-Silnar's return? Were the rumours
spreading about the recent activity of the Occultists true? There was
certainly more to come.

Penned by My hand on the 19th of Aeguary, in the year 476 AF.