Note: All text displayed here is directly quoted from the games this TC is based upon.
~Index~
- Heretic: Shadow of the Serpent Riders
- Hexen: Beyond Heretic
- Hexen II
- The Chronicle of Deeds
- Legacy of the Serpent Riders
- The Serpent Riders
- D'Sparil
- Korax
- Eidolon
- Hexen II: Portal of Praevus
- Eidolon's Reign and Fall
- The Wake of Eidolon
- Praevus
- Heretic II
- The Journey of Siernan
- The Heretic
- The Outer Worlds
- A Way Home
HERETIC: SHADOW OF THE SERPENT RIDERS
When you first saw the seven candles, you knew. You knew - but any Sidhe would have known in the magic of the reflections pulsing across the ceiling of the Elder's chamber: each flame with its own power to burn, each flame tied irrevocably to the flow of the Earth's breath - the seven flames were the armies of the seven kings of Earth. Circling the candles stood the Elders of the Sidhe, leaders of an ancient elf race adept in arcane sorcery and keepers of the Tomes of Power.
From the East came the evil foretold by your forefathers: the three Serpent Riders, guardians of death everlasting. Their form was shrouded by black cloaks. Only their eyes were revealed; sunken with evil , dreadful intensity. As a sign of power they brought peace to the Eastern provinces. Those who believed in the sign created a temple in their honor; and it bore the mark of the crossed trident. Their worshipers were the Order of the Sign; blind followers, without will, void of spirit. As the power of the Order grew, even the seven kings of the Earth followed like cattle behind them. And after they controlled the great nations two Riders left the world. Only D'Sparil, the weakest of them remained while his disciples traveled the earth cleansing it in preparation for its descent.
Scorned by the other people of Earth, the Sidhe possessing powers of their own, remained unaffected by the spell of the Riders. The Sidhe are now considered the Heretics, the unclean, fit only to be wiped from the face of the Earth. The disciples of D'Sparil conspired with the kings of the earth to remove the last lands of apostasy. And while the armies of the seven nations gathered to destroy the Sidhe, the Elders convened to discuss the fate of your people. When all voices had spoke against the Order, the seven Elders extinguished the seven candles flames simultaneously. At that silent instant, a brilliant flash of light came from the east and the armies that had gathered against you were no more. Drained by their efforts, the Elders fell to the floor, listening to the single painful scream echoing from the now-scorched battlefield.
But then the forces of the Abyss took their vengeance. The ether had quaked with the Elders' magic effort, and the curse of the Order followed the trail unerringly to the Elders' conventicle. Suddenly the foul odor of death came and the earth opened to engulf the Elders in flames; the white-bright fire clinging to their flesh, knowingly and eagerly eating each layer of skin. Too, pouring forth from the earth like squirming maggots, came the forces of evil both beast and undead. They attacked in hordes like packs of dogs, first surrounding the weakest and biting and clawing their victims to the ground. As each Sidhe fell several beasts would gather to chew into their bellies like pigs into slop, their heads often deeply submerged into the gut with the victim's intestines slung half-eaten upon their own squirming bodies. When the day was done, the few remaining Sidhe were scattered throughout the land. The Abyss had taken the tomes and artifacts of your people as spoils of their victory. Alone, without weapons, the surviving Sidhe would surely perish at the hands of the Order of the Triad. The Elders' destruction of the seven armies had gone for naught.
While the other Sidhe had hid, their spirit broken, you thirsted for vengeance and rode East into the wilderness, in search of D'Sparil. Now you stand before the City of the Damned, its air thick with the stench of rot. Your hate drives you to see these creatures oozing their heart's ichor before you. Beyond these gates the dead and the creatures of the night writhe in dark corners, their bodies aching for your blood. With luck, some of your peoples' ancient artifacts can be found hidden amongst the dark passages beyond. For with only a staff as your weapon, the world is surely damned.
HEXEN: BEYOND HERETIC
Heretic chronicled the adventures of a heroic Sidhe elf who challenged the forces of D'Sparil, the weakest of the three dimension-traveling Serpent Riders. His victory was hardly insignificant, but while he battled D'Sparil the other two Serpent Riders were far from idle. They were hard at work sowing the seeds of destruction in several other dimensions. One such dimension is Cronos, the world of Hexen: a Human world, but one where the forces of magic are both stronger and more strictly controlled than those of the Elven world.
The Humans have learned from painful experience that while magic can be a powerful tool, it also contains more destructive potential than any other force in their universe. From this harsh realization a disciplined and orderly society has developed, one where every citizen has knows his place, and where the vast majority of common men are held in thrall to a few ruthless, powerful leaders. Wielding magical powers and arcane artifacts, these men overshadow every other Human force on Cronos, suppressing individual thought and action in the name of the greater good.
Within this strict order, three organizations maintain the fabric of Human society: The Legion, the Arcanum, and the Church. In an uneasy balance often threatened by petty squabbles and escalating power struggles, these three organizations share absolute dominion over all of humanity. The Legion represents Human military strength, using brute force backed by magical weapons to impose a strict and inflexible order upon the populace. The Arcanum is the center of learning for all magical studies, and as such it determines who will or will not have access to its wealth of arcane secrets. The Church acts as a bridge and buffer between the Legion and Arcanum, using a mixture of magic and military training to maintain the balance of power while secretly furthering its own interests. Together or separately, these three groups control every aspect of Human life.
Each organization is led by a single man: Zedek, Marshal of the Legion; Traductus, Grand Patriarch of the Church; and Menelkir, Arch-Mage of the Arcanum. These men are the ultimate embodiment of power on Cronos. Cold, calculating and devoid of concern for anything but the advancement of their own status, these leaders were the first to fall under the sway of Korax, the second of the three Serpent Riders. In return for their allegiance, Zedek, Traductus and Menelkir were rewarded by Korax with the dark gift of Unlife. Using the powers granted them by Korax, as well as the relics already in their possession, all of Humanity quickly fell under their spell.
Only three Humans escaped the geas of the leaders' new powers: Baratus, a Warrior of the Legion; Daedolon, a Mage of the Arcanum; and Parias, a Cleric of the Church. Now these three have sworn to destroy the leaders they once followed, and anything else that gets in the way as they execute their task. Entering the mystical portal used by Korax to reach their world, the three become hopelessly separated, forcing each of them to attempt on their own that which they had little hope of doing together: find Korax's stronghold, defeat his legions of grotesque minions, and finally destroy the Serpent Rider himself.
Their task will be a difficult one indeed. It is well known that Korax's special powers stem from his control of the Chaos Sphere, which he uses to warp and corrupt everyone and everything he touches. Though not the mightiest of the Serpent Riders, Korax is far more powerful than D'Sparil was, and his lust for power is matched only by his hatred for all living things not under his control. Can he be vanquished?
Only time will tell.
HEXEN II
It was precisely one year ago that Eidolon came to our world of Thyrion. On the evening before his arrival, a rain of fire streamed down from the sky, scorching citizens and buildings alike on the four continents of our fair planet. By dawn the populace was fearful and demoralized, and they fell quickly before the march of Eidolon’s vile Golems. The attack was bold and carefully executed. All four continents had fallen by midday: a sad tribute to the withered resistance of our four mighty nations. Even now I am shamed to think of it.
Now, a full year after the conquest, Thyrion still huddles in a state of constant fear and dread. The conquest has ended, and many humans yet survive–but in these times of trouble, life itself is a meager blessing. Eidolon’s minions overrun the land and kill its populace for sport. The cleverest humans make themselves unobtrusive, avoiding Eidolon’s creatures and attempting little more than to survive. It is under these dreary conditions that I write the manuscript you now hold in your hands.
Several hundred years ago, in the time we now call the Age of Dreams, there were rumors of the Serpent Riders. The Serpent Riders were a trio of horrifying demons, wielding powerful magic and commanding vast, formidable armies. They possessed the power to travel from world to world - and everywhere they went, they spread chaos and despair. Their motives were unclear, but their goals were obvious: they wished to possess. That which they could not possess, they strove to destroy. No world was immune, not even our beloved Thyrion.
So went the rumors, but few took heed. Some dismissed them as the ravings of a madman, or as fairy tales told to frighten children. Others disputed the very foundation of the stories, denying the existence of worlds beyond our own. And still others took comfort in obscurity: if other worlds did indeed exist, why should the Serpent Riders trouble themselves with Thyrion?
How naïve, in retrospect, were our great civilizations. The portents were numerous and easily read, but none - not even I, Sage of Mur - gave them more than a cursory glance. And now we have paid for our ignorance, as all that was prophesied has come to pass. The four great continents of our world have been overrun by demonic hordes, their denizens crushed, scattered, and cruelly enslaved.
Our world is, by any measure, utterly lost - and yet I cannot bring myself to believe it. Despite all that I have seen, I assure myself that salvation is yet possible. To this end I write the volume you now see before you. It is a history of the Serpent Riders' assault on our world, and, hopefully, the counterattack that will free us of their dominion.
At present time, the populace has little fuel for hope. None have risen to challenge the dark armies of Eidolon. Still, I continue to maintain my faith. In dreams and visions I have seen a band of unlikely saviors, a defiant flicker in the darkness that cloaks our world. Who these heroes are, I cannot say - but I shall present my visions in the pages of this chronicle.
My visions, in fact, are our only reason for hope. They suggest an end to Eidolon's reign, and the possibility of our world's restoration. Instead of calling this history The Fall of Thyrion, therefore, I have named it The Chronicle of Deeds, after the deeds of unknown warriors that will hopefully save us all. These deeds may never be realized, but I steadfastly maintain that they must - for I shudder to think of the alternative.
- Themedes, Sage of Mur
In ages past, the steppe dwellers of Kazul-Mokh prophesied the coming of Eidolon and his brethren. But to understand their stories, one must first understand their view of the universe.
In the steppe dwellers’ eyes, Thyrion is just one of many worlds. The other worlds of our universe appear as stars in the evening sky. By the steppe dwellers’ reckoning, there are precisely one thousand worlds besides our own, each appearing a single brilliant star. But this view of the universe posits many questions. What lies between the stars? What holds each world in place?
According to the steppe dwellers, the universe is filled with a clear but viscous gas known as Aether. The Aether is to the universe what water is to the ocean; it holds the stars in place, and fills the void between them. A great crystal sphere encircles the Aether, preventing it from escaping. Beyond this celestial sphere lies darkness: the very darkness we see when the sun sinks below the horizon. This darkness is an uncharted land of powerful demons and evil spirits, each slavering to crush our petty worlds, but prevented by the great crystal barrier.
The steppe dwellers tell of a brilliant magician who, seeking to travel to distant worlds, fashioned a ship of ironwood and silver to journey through the Aether. When the ship was complete he climbed aboard and sailed into the night, just as a mariner would take to the seas. The journey proceeded smoothly for countless days, but then disaster struck: the ship’s gossamer sails were torn in a great storm of Aether. Unable to steer or otherwise control his craft, the helpless magician watched his ship glide past the brilliant stars he had hoped to visit. Closer and closer loomed the celestial sphere, and the darkness beyond; the magician watched it approach with a mixture of dread and fascination.
Finally, the magical ship collided with the barrier. The vessel’s silver prow punctured the crystal sphere and cracked it open, allowing a trio of demons from the darkness beyond to slip into our universe. Horrified at the tragedy he had caused, the magician worked a final, mighty spell to close the rift, exchanging his life for the power to seal the cosmic barrier. He died quietly in the darkness between worlds, wondering if our universe would survive the terror he had unleashed. He would never know the answer, and neither, yet, do we.
So goes the story. Whether truth or fiction, it remains our best guess as to the origin of the Serpent Riders. Many have dismissed this tale as mere superstition, but I choose to believe it. Why? Just as the steppe dwellers foretold the arrival of the Serpent Riders, they also foretold the trio’s demise. For this reason alone, I fervently hope their prophecies are correct.
According to the texts of Yavenar the Astromancer, the Serpent Riders’ first attack occurred two thousand years ago, on a remote world whose name is forever lost. This world was a place of dense population and seven mighty nations. The Serpent Riders subjugated the world’s seven great leaders by trickery and guile, for they had not yet attained their full power in this universe, and could not crush the world through forthright aggression. One by one the nations fell, as if by clockwork; their corruption and decayed traditions had left them vulnerable to the Serpent Riders’ deception.
When the seven great nations had been subverted, they were left to fight amongst themselves. D’Sparil, the youngest and weakest of the Serpent Riders, was left behind to act as puppeteer. He gleefully pulled the strings of each nation, pitting former allies against each other, and sending peaceful nations to battle. He planned to continue this cruel game until every nation had collapsed under the weight of war and famine. The two elders, meanwhile, departed. It was their intention to wreak havoc in new and unsuspecting worlds.
Only the Sidhe, a race of heretical elves hiding in the secret places of the world, were left untouched by the Serpent Riders’ poison. Recognizing the threat to their world, the Sidhe elders contrived a mighty spell that crushed the greatest of the Serpent Riders’ armies, leaving behind only a fraction of the mighty horde. But D’Sparil, sensing the source of the magic, retaliated with a storm of pure energy that killed the elders to a man.
In the wake of this great magical battle, with the world apparently withered beyond salvation, a single nameless Sidhe assaulted D’Sparil’s stronghold: The City of the Damned. Using the Sidhe elders’ Tomes of Power, mighty artifacts that enhanced the properties of his weapons, this lone elf scored an improbable victory against the forces of evil. D’Sparil was crushed and his minions killed or scattered. Though merely a shadow of its former self, the world was finally free of the Serpent Riders’ poisonous influence.
The next target of the Serpent Riders’ wrath was Cronos, a populous human world. Cronos was a land of unification and oppression, where all of humanity bowed to the triumvirate of Legion, Arcanum, and Church. These three institutions controlled every aspect of Cronos, each exerting power over a meticulously defined sphere of influence. As such, Cronos was both disciplined and fragile: by subverting the leaders of these three institutions, the Serpent Riders instantly gained control of the entire world. Zedek, Marshal of the Legion, Traductus, Grand Patriarch of the Church, and Menelkir, Arch-Mage of the Arcanum succumbed quickly to the Serpent Riders’ promises of immortal life.
As before, a single Serpent Rider was left behind once the world was largely enslaved. This time it was Korax, the second most powerful Serpent Rider.
On Cronos there was no such thing as the Sidhe, no secret conclave to expunge Korax’s grand army. But there were three brave souls who fought against Korax’s might: Baratus of the Legion, Parius of the Church, and Daedolon of the Arcanum. Together, these three adventurers fought their way through the twisted realms of Cronos, ultimately defeating the chitinous horror that was Korax. Their victory marked a grand day for all of humanity, once again signaling the vulnerability of the dreaded Serpent Riders.
Eidolon’s power is immense, his grip on our world absolute. Some citizens believe his hellish reign must come to an end, and look to the improbable victories against D’Sparil and Korax for inspiration. But for most, the future is uncompromisingly bleak. Eidolon, the oldest and strongest of the Serpent Riders, is reputedly many times more powerful than his vile brethren. He is certainly aware of the weaknesses that led to the downfall of D’Sparil and Korax, and will do his best to guard himself against similar circumstances. Indeed, he has already taken such measures: in addition to his own troops, he has surrounded himself with the remnants of Korax’s and D’Sparil’s broken armies.
The task at hand is formidable. Whoever challenges Eidolon must destroy his minions on all four continents, then challenge Eidolon himself within his ebon stronghold. The dangers are great, from beginning to end. The dank jungles of Mazaera seethe with giant Scorpions and Spiders, while the pyramids of Thysis are replete with Mummies and dreaded Stone Golems. No less formidable are the horrors lurking in the ruined cities of Septimus, or behind the crenelated walls of Blackmarsh.
Despite all these travails, there is yet another peril: the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, who serve Eidolon as generals. Each governs one of the four great nations, and each must be defeated to end Eidolon’s infernal dominion. Can any hero, however powerful, face all these perils and emerge victorious? Only time will tell.
HEXEN II: PORTAL OF PRAEVUS
Eidolon’s power was immense, his grip on the world absolute. Some citizens believed his hellish reign would never come to an end, yet in time he too saw defeat at the hands of a band of brave adventurers. Eidolon, the oldest and strongest of the Serpent Riders, was reputedly many times more powerful than his vile brethren. He was certainly aware of the weaknesses that led to the downfall of D’Sparil and Korax, and did his best to guard himself against similar circumstances. In addition to his own troops, he surrounded himself with the remnants of Korax’s and D’Sparil’s broken armies.
The task at hand was formidable. Whoever challenged Eidolon must destroy his minions on all four continents, then challenge Eidolon himself within his ebon stronghold. The dangers were great, from beginning to end. The dank jungles of Mazaera seethed with giant Scorpions and Spiders, while the pyramids of Thysis were replete with Mummies and dreaded Stone Golems. No less formidable were the horrors lurking in the ruined cities of Septimus, or behind the crenellated walls of Blackmarsh.
Despite all these travails, there was yet another peril: the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, who served Eidolon as generals. Each governed one of the four great nations, and each had to be defeated to end Eidolon’s infernal dominion.
Victory is sweet.
Peace is fleeting.
Eidolon is destroyed. Thyrion struggles on the long road to recovery. Weary from battle, four heroes return to their homelands. The Paladin returns to Septimus to rebuild the Temple of Kravnos and train new brothers in the way of battle and honor. The Assassin takes up old practices though they pale into insignificance against the challenge of Eidolon and his minions. Filled with new power and ambition, the Necromancer, strives to make Thysis his own through the subversion of its people. There are none to oppose him, for tales of his might are not exaggerated. The besieged castle of Blackmarsh stands silent and foreboding. One day the Crusader must venture in to vanquish any of Eidolon’s minions that still lurk within.
Blackmarsh is well accustomed to a variety of seasons, but the warmer climes of Mazaera, Thysis and Septimus are not prepared when a sudden and unexplained winter descends upon all of Thyrion. The harsh winds carry a taint of evil bringing devastation to all living things. Time passes, but the bitter cold and snow do not. The inhabitants huddle in the remains of cities and towns with little hope of survival.
Into this misery wander refugees from lands to the north who speak of the appearance of a new continent. Perhaps it rose from the sea or drifted in on the bitter winds of winter’s fury. As the snows subsided, it was just…there. Few who ventured into this new land ever returned. Some spoke of a temple of strange design in the snowy mountains. Fearful beasts and powerful magic prevented further exploration. The bite of winter seemed to emanate from this land bringing lethal cold and hardship to the people living there. Thus they wander in search of a warmer and safer home.
They arrive in Blackmarsh as new signs of activity appear within the castle. Deeming it time, the Crusader leads an expedition to the lair of Eidolon; the place of the final battle. After a short and decisive battle with Eidolon's minions, the Crusader's persuasive questioning of the vanquished foe reveals that these vermin serve a new master. A being of dark sorcery and magic named Praevus is now lord and master to those who once served Eidolon. He resides in a new land to the north called "Tulku". Protected within the embrace of endless winter, he works to bring his plans to fruition. Only by strong persuasion does the Crusader uncover the details. Praevus holds the imprisoned souls of the three Serpent Riders: Eidolon, D’Sparil and Korax. For years he has labored to bring about the means to transfer these banished spirits into his own depraved soul. By adding their powerful energy to his own, there would be none to stop him from taking all of Thyrion.
A heavy sigh escapes the Crusader. It seems that madness, greed and the lust for power never die. They simply find residence in another host. It is clear that he and his three companions may not yet rest. If there is to be a Thryion to live in, then their path lies north. Looking down into the blackness of the newly created tear in the earth, the Crusader decides to begin his investigation there.
In a dark and unnamed place, red-skinned hands grip the sides of a steamy basin with barely contained fury. Within the swirling steam, the watcher has seen the Crusader questioning those once faithful servants of the great one. Her heart burns with rage as she hears of their betrayal to serve this…Praevus! Blasphemy! To even consider betraying the sacred soul of Eidolon in such a way is more than she can bear. The four who were once her enemies now share a cause with this Demoness. She also will go north to confront and destroy any who would deny Eidolon his honored rest.
Patience is a virtue with which Praevus is well acquainted. For years he has waited and carefully observed events in Thyrion. The dominion of the Serpent Riders seemed endless. Yet, he knew they must one day fall. Together, they could have been invincible. Apart, they each bore enough weakness to ensure eventual defeat. Years of study revealed the nature of power possessed by each rider. If those fools could not see the value of combining their skills, then they deserved their fate. Better that one of greater wisdom should benefit. With the passing of each rider, Praevus gathered the soul spheres containing each final life essence. Skillfully he preserved the life essence within each one until the time of reckoning would arrive. Now with all three spheres in his possession, the time has come. Soon his work will be complete and all the power of the Serpent Riders will be his to command. Thyrion will be the first world to bow before him. But not the last.
Few things are known about this mysterious being. It is clear that he is a sorcerer of great power and experience. One would do well to respect his abilities in the mystical arts. None have actually seem him, though he is said to be somewhat humanoid in nature. He resides in a temple hidden within the land of Tulku. There he works what final magic is required to prepare for the day when he will draw the souls of the defeated Serpent Riders into himself.
HERETIC II
Darkness has descended upon Parthoris again. I fear that this time there shall be no one to lift the damp veil that has blanketed my beautiful homeland. The plague struck quickly, and it was not until too many were infected that anyone took notice of the creeping death. Now, city streets are filled with the noxious green plague vapors that cause insanity and then death to any that are unfortunate enough to inhale it. Most are warped and twisted into a blood-crazed rage that drives them to assault nearly any that they encounter. My people have fared better than the Sidhe, but even those noble beings have regressed into mindless barbarism. Perhaps I will be able to find some means to cure this terrible nemesis that has befallen my homeland. If not, I fear all will be lost.
Excerpts from the Chronicles of Parthoris
compiled by Tholia, Ssithra Historian
Ages ago, when Parthoris existed in relative peace, five races walked the land. The Seraphs had withdrawn beyond the Worlds End Mountains. Each race built great cities, temples, and centers of wisdom from the knowledge that the great Seraphs left in the wake of their passing. But the Seraphs left behind more than their wisdom when they removed themselves from the affairs of Parthoris. Their passing left the young races vulnerable to the powers of the Outer Worlds.
It is said that the Seraphs foresaw the coming of D’sparil, but if this is true they did nothing to intervene.
As the five races settled into their destined roles, three majestic demon brothers began to formulate a plan of conquest of three different inner worlds. D’sparil, having watched the passing of the great Seraphs, prepared his armies to sweep across Parthoris.
On the Day of Darkness, D’sparil opened World Ripples in each of the great cities of Parthoris. Andoria, K’chekrik, S’chekrik, Vendra, Savria, Thurge, Biskol, and Silverspring. He marched his armies into these cities, and by nightfall each was under his iron rule. Only Silverspring managed to resist his conquest for a short time. The Celestial Watcher had the night before seen a change in the star patterns which allowed Silverspring to prepare for the coming doom. Most fled the city and hid in the Darkmire swamps and the Kell Mountains.
As D’sparil began the second phase of his conquest, the four races that had fallen to his might on the Day of Darkness were subjected to the powerful charisma of D’sparil’s presence. Over time, they succumbed to his will and freely chose D’sparil as the rightful ruler of Parthoris.
D’sparil reigned supreme, until a hero arose to combat his evil.
Huddled in the occupied streets of Silverspring, now called the City of the Damned, a young Sidhe began to unlock the mysteries of the lost artifacts of the Seraphs. He unearthed an ancient magic wand that the Seraphs had made as a gift to the first Celestial Watcher. Its power was limited, but it was enough to allow Corvus to start fighting back against D’sparil’s minions.
As news of Corvus’s defiance traveled across Parthoris, he was dubbed the Heretic. He did not conform to the laws of D’sparil. He fought back against the ravaging hoards of the demonic armies. He openly defied D’sparil’s power.
Corvus traveled from city to city looking for D’sparil’s stronghold. He fought the legions with every step of his journey, but his search uncovered more than just D’sparil. He found caches of the Seraph’s lost magic, including one of the famed Tomes of Power. Using the newly unearthed artifacts, Corvus attacked D’sparil’s stronghold on the ocean floor with renewed vigor.
Face to face in D’sparil’s domed city, Corvus and D’sparil pummeled each other, blow after blow. Even with his serpent slain, D’sparil still came at Corvus with all of his demonic fury, but in the end it was a final blow from the Phoenix Rod that caused D’sparil to erupt into a conflagration of fury, fueled by the oppression of Parthoris.
D’sparil cried out in anguish as his robes and flesh were seared from his bones. With is dying breath, he cried out a curse that set into motion Corvus’s fate.
Corvus’s lost years in the Outer Worlds
as recorded by the Tome of Power Teejalla
D’sparil was defeated. Corvus stepped through the world ripple expecting to cross over into Silverspring. As he crossed through the dimensional portal, he discovered the full meaning of D’sparil’s curse. He was trapped in the Outer Worlds with no apparent means of returning home.
For years he wandered among the seemingly infinite landscapes that make up the Outer Worlds. Each new world was more desolate and alien than the last. He learned that D’sparil had two brothers that had laid plans to conquer other worlds, and as he traveled across the barren landscapes Corvus became increasingly aware of how widespread the taint of the Serpent Riders really was. Most of D’sparil’s army had been composed of creatures that were the twisted remnants of once normal civilizations, and he heard tales of the Serpent Riders using mass enslavement to bulk up the ranks of their armies. Corvus did not know where the other two Serpent Riders traveled to, but he hoped that these unfortunate worlds were more successful at stopping the demons than his people had been.
The only relics Corvus managed to retain were his fighting staff and the Tome of Power that I have imbued my essence into. All of his other weapons were rendered inert and useless. The knowledge contained in my pages became his most valued possession. I had lost most of my power after the battle with D’sparil, but I was able to refocus my energy slowly during the course of our travels. Eventually, I was able to reveal my presence to Corvus. I guided him, and eventually related the story of my creation.
Ages ago I was a Seraph, but I, along with my seven sisters, was given the honor of becoming one with the seven Tomes of Power. Each of the Tomes carried different pieces of our knowledge. Our greatest seers had foreseen our departure from the affairs of Parthoris and we knew the necessity of maintaining the wisdom of our race. The seven Tomes were created, infused with our life force, and then they were given to our cousins, the Sidhe.
Years of wandering the Outer Worlds hardened Corvus. Alone in the alien worlds, Corvus was forced to fight for his life with the only weapon that he had, his staff. He fashioned it into a pole arm of sorts by lashing a blade to one end. I began to teach him about the lost magic of the Seraphs. It was only after years of practice that he gained mastery of the magical foundations that I taught him. With this education, Corvus will be able to quickly learn and use most any spell based upon our tradition of magic.
Decades past before I stumbled upon a means for us to return home. Corvus was engaged in a fierce battle with a demon when I felt the opening of a nearby World Ripple. This Ripple felt different than any of the others that we had traveled through, I could feel the faint call of my sister Tomes from the other side of the ripple. They cried out in pain, for they were being used for powerful magic. The ripple was a means home.
Using the other Tomes as a beacon, I guided Corvus to the ripple. As he stepped through, I was confident that our search was, at long last, over.