Prologue
Infestation
The town of Battleon hosts only the mightiest of heroes, and in their ranks was the hero who went by no name, but was called by the townsfolk the Holy Vigilante. Legend has it that he was as quick to hide as a shadow in the dark and delivers justice as the sun's rays penetrate the church-windows.
But even he can't solve everything. Lore is facing a mysterious danger, far from the likes it has ever seen before. A magical force is attempting to bring imbalance and destruction to the world, and it can only be stopped by the chosen hero. Many have prophesied that the Holy Vigilante would be the one to put a stop to it, but even he, as skilled as he was, would not be able to stop something that cannot be touched.
He told his fellow guardians that he would train in the forbidden Crystal Caves, and that he planned to learn the secret of the Crystal Orb, since he believed that inside it lies the answer to defeat the evil foe. It has been years since the Decay, or the Infestation, or simply, the Death Plague, has started, and he has yet to return.
This force takes many forms, and devours naught but all. Archmagi refer to it as "time itself, sped up by supernatural causes". They have also tried to locate the source, but all their magic led them back to where they started. Like a disease, it spreads out everywhere, and it seemed to have started from everywhere, and as time went on, things started to unwind.
Warlic, baffled just the same, locks himself up in his cabin and refuses to go out. Yulgar started mass-producing weapons for the guardians, through the command of Artix Krieger, the Paladin, since he believes this is the work of an undead force. Aquilla prepares her underwater army to defend against the decaying waters (though how she would do this, no one has any idea), Aria's pets have either gone berserk or have become incurably diseased, the trainers are just, dying off one by one, even the legendary Combat Practice Trainer.
Meanwhile, at Isle d'Oriens, Vince the drakel moves in and out of the boiler room, salvaging all the machines he can, and flushing it down the toilet. Adder does the same, except instead of spare parts, he is flushing down weaponry upon the earth.
Lady Tomo has become concerned with the fast and increasing deaths of her beloved creatures. She personally descends from the heavens and searches the earth for signs of a cure, going even as far as entering Darkovia, where she was met by a hail of vampires and a horde of wolves.
Speaking of Darkovia, Safiria and her legion has a feast on the sudden number of corpses that have flooded their gates, including her own. It was said that she was reduced to cannibalizing half of her army just to feed the other half, and that her castle was painted red all throughout just one night.
The turmoil at the vampire-side was an opportunity for the Werewolf King. As the vampires were called back at the battlegrounds, the werewolves attacked relentlessly, killing even more vampires on their way to Safiria. The battle for dominion is becoming one-sided.
Paxia's warring clans have suddenly halted, and have made a temporary truce. Iasus, the only legacy of the Kindred living today, attributes the Decay to the Nefrosanctus, and strongly believes that it is the one behind it. Paxus lays silent through the cold nights, still and static, as if in deep thought. Many travelers from all over the land have come to seek Paxus' knowledge, but leave without anything gained.
Back on Battleon, Twilly has ran off, and no one can find him. Many speculate that he's gone off to seek Zorbak, since who else would be so evil as to set off world destruction? Zorbak and his brother Kabroz might be at it again, and this time they have come too far. Would Twilly be able to stop them on his own?
Cyrus, the Dracomancer has descended from Dragonspine mountains, also seeking a cure to the death of his dear dragons. Through some unknown reasons, everything is reversed: the Fire dragons seek the cold north, even though it harms them. The Earth dragons seek the altitude, even though it weakens them to be so far from the surface. The Light dragons hide and cower in deep caverns under the Earth, even though it blinds them greatly. The Energy dragons line-up against the Loloisa shore, unable to cross the boundary between land and water, but are in pain from not being able to.
This sight has brought Cyrus to the edge of his sanity, and even worked together with Galanoth, the Dragonslayer (despite their twisted pasts) to find a cure.
What will happen to Lore if this continues? Everyone is asking themselves, but no one seems to be able to answer.
In the town of Battleon...
"Yulgar! The living room's on fire again!" Hans shouted from above, who was peering into the Inn's secret entrance to Yulgar's secret underground forge.
"Argh! I told Twig to keep the fireplace in check! Sometimes these fires have a mind of their own." The blacksmith responded, and with a loud and sudden clank, heavy footsteps came one after the other, rising through the Inn.
Yulgar stroked his beard. His once brown hair has turned charcoal-black due to many nights in the forge. His apron was stained with oil, and his arms had multiple cuts and burns on them. He's been busy these past few months, supplying hundreds of weapons every week to the guardians that go in and out of town.
The master is starting to get tired. At this rate, Battleon won't be able to keep supplying weapons. We need another forge... no, we need more smiths. Adder's celestial weapons are certainly one of a kind, but they take too long to manufacture and the demand for weapons increase everyday. Darn! If it wasn't for this plague!... Hans thought to himself.
"Oi Hans! Stop staring at the fires and do something! Get a bucket of water will 'ya!" Yulgar shouted, with stress and anger. He himself thinking deeply about the situation of the Undead war.
"Sorry sir on the way!" Hans ran off to get some from the back.
"And where's Twig for the love of Lore! Managing the inn is no two-man job!" Yulgar grabbed a loudspeaker and rushed outside.
"Attention Mr. Twig! if you can hear this message, then haul your feet in here now!" He shouted such that everyone in the town could hear it, which was untimely, because it was just about two hours after midnight.
He rushed back inside, to see that Hans has begun terminating the fire. "Sir, we are running out of water. The watershed's drying up and no word seems to be coming from the neighboring towns." Hans gulped. The fires grew steadily small as he doused them with water and covered the other areas with blankets. "If this continues, we might not-"
"HAHAHHAHA!" Yulgar bellowed with laughter. "Don't be so negative there, Hans! We'll be doing what we've been doing for the past few months, until we can and until the end." Yulgar grabbed a nearby hammer, and threw it down to the forge, out of randomness. "Now, let's get back to business. The guardians are arriving when the sun rises. I want a new batch of weapons ready!"
Meanwhile, above the Inn, Blackhawke was busy containing the kraken inside the Inn's shower room. But even it slowly weakening, and the forces binding it to the shower are too. If the plague isn't stopped soon, the space-time seal around the bathroom will collapse and the kraken will completely destroy the Inn, a second faster before Yulgar even notices. The other room, labeled 42, is slowly opening. The duct-tape is unfolding, if not, at a slow rate. The bolts are getting loose, and strange sounds are starting to emerge from the secret chamber.
The attic is empty, except for some opened boxes and crates. The window has gotten old and dusty, the wood unpolished and dirty. Cobwebs have been found here and there, since the labor force as decided that maybe hygiene is maybe not the best thing to consider at such a moment of crisis.
Robina Hood's been out of town recently. She has completely devoted herself in the mission of hunting in the wild, as it was now her philosophy to deliver death to the wild and dangerous beasts of Lore before the Decay kills them. So far, the Decay's only been affecting non-humans, which works for some degree to everyone alive, but the steady decline of resources proves to be a problem everyday.
The other shop-owners have completely closed their businesses. Battleon has become more of a outpost for war, with the Guardian Tower as the headquarters. Warlic is no where near coming out of his shop, Aria's slowly descending into madness due to her pets' deaths, the hero's no where to be found nor does he intend on returning anytime soon, and Yulgar's running out of fire. What would be the fate of Lore's most famous and most central town?
At the southern valleys, near the Canyon of Lost Souls, two enemies meet to solve a common cause. It was Cyrus the Dracomancer, leader of the Order of Dracomancers, and Galanoth the Dragonslayer, leader of the Order of Dragonslayers. Cyrus has changed into his humanoid form, wearing a simple robe and carrying a sheathed long-sword. At his side, Galanoth was in full-battle armor, like he always was, holding tightly his awesome Dragon Blade, reacting strongly to the presence of the Dracomancer.
"You really think the answer lies here, Cyr?" Galanoth asks, looking deeply into the darkness of the pits.
"Don't call me Cyr. And as a matter of fact dragonslayer, I know the answer lies in there. The souls of a thousand, condemned to an early death by the tragic earthquake. Rumors say of a vicious spirit that traps them in the Canyon, sealing their chance of moving on from purgatory."
"Hmm..." Galanoth kneels, and listens for a sign. To his surprise, he heard a whisper, a ghastly voice telling him to jump in, and save the people. He stands and leaps backward. "What in carnation! You must be mad Cyrus! You want to disturb the already restless souls?"
"You are surprised. I would not blame you. I was dubious myself, when I heard this from my source. I inquired greatly about the nature of this mission, and in return I was told that a mystic cure coming from the heart of Darkovia flows through an underground channel and finds itself here. I was also told that the spirits' aura strengthens its effects. If we can get to that channel, then we might be able to fight back."
"A source? Care to tell who it is?"
"If I could, I would."
"Oh you-" he impaled the Dragon Blade to the ground. He approached the Dracomancer with brisk and solid steps , grabbed him by the collar and said, "are you telling me, you brought me all the way here, to risk my life against the unnatural, all because an anonymous source told you so?" Galanoth prepared to punch, but Cyrus quickly got free of his grip. "Has the plague caught up to your mind too?"
"As far as I could see it, Galanoth, you're not suggesting any better ideas. It's either this, or we give up entirely."
Galanoth sighed. He turned around and grabbed the sword. "Tell me how you got the message in the first place, at least." He pointed the sword at the sky, then directly to Cyrus. "Or I'm going to go hunt every dragon alive, even if it means the last of my journey."
"You really want to go that way?"
"You forget that my Order was formed to eradicate the world of these terrifying beasts. You also forget that I'm only going with because I like my job so much handing it over to some disease would be bothersome."
"Bothersome because your pride in killing my kin doesn't allow you to admit that you'd be rendered useless if the dragons disappeared altogether? Bothersome because you can't admit that we're just different sides of the coin, but unlike you, without the Dragonslayers me and my dragons would be much better off in the world? And we'd finally be able to proliferate, just like thousands of years ago."
"Yes indeed, that might be the case. Everything else is slowly dying, and the dragons are being dragged along with them. It might be that the age of the slayers are coming to a halt. Finding a cure would be terrific, because it would benefit much more than the dragons themselves. If you really believe that the cure lies beneath the ground, then I make no effort to stop you."
"Then come with me, and let's solve the problem together. When enemies cooperate, it is often when the desired outcome is achieved."
"The cost outweighs the benefit. I'm bargaining my life, as I cannot cut through ghost-flesh, yet you tell me that the cure might be down there?"
"You think I'm not risking my life as well? If I die here, Dragonspine falls-"
"It was going to fall anyway, not unless-"
"We find the cure. The best chance of doing so is through this Canyon." Cyrus summons his wings, and transforms his left hand into a red-dragon claw.
"Hmm. I'm not going to be the one that dies first. Hey, do you think, we should call him to help us?" Galanoth looks into the distance.
"I heard he went away to a far away place; leaving him alone to train might be the best chance we have of winning."
"Not until we bust this Canyon apart."
Cyrus grinned. "You've changed your mind. Why?"
Galanoth had a plan. But it was so radical, telling anyone now might make them think he's gone insane. But it might serve as a very good contingent in the case Cyrus was lying all along, or if they don't find what they were looking for.
"I've decided. I am going down there with you, but on one condition."
"What?"
"You stay out of my way."
Galanoth summons a wyvern, and rides it into the Canyon deep. Cyrus follows steadily, relying on his wings to guide him down. And together they descend, into the Canyon of Lost Souls.
In the darkness of Darkovia, a great battle is stirring, greater than those it has hosted before.
At the swamps near the vampire castle, thousands of wolves have attacking, putting the vampire army in the defensive. Protected by the shadows of the land, the vampires hide in the dark and strike quickly and retreat just as fast. They couldn't handle the lycans as efficiently as the wolves could, not until the sun has completely set.
Safiria, the Vampire Queen, walks in her halls of blood, wearing a ruby-colored plate-mail that shines deeply in the reflection of the candle light. She goes to the topmost tower of her home, just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared after twilight. Atop the fortress she felt the power of the moon strengthen her and her army, and the presence of the night empowered them even more.
The vampires retaliate violently. Most of them where vampire warriors recruited by Safiria ages past. Some where the incredibly powerful Dracovamps that have lost their humanity completely to dragon-blood, yet have been converted also by vamprism. These hybrids are considerably more powerful than the normal brood, and considerably harder to control, but the queen has her ways.
"My kin! The time has come! As death creeps in from every corner of Lore, should we succumb to it through the wolves? I have given you immortality, but it seems that the Plague is stronger than eternal life. But as long as the sun sets and the moon rises, we will never die! We may have diminished our numbers, but our strength has increased nonetheless. For your brethren that died for the battle and for you, take vengeance on the lycanthropes, make them regret attacking our deadly abode!"
Immediately multiple shouts and war cries echoed through the battlefield. With their selves fully pumped, the vampires attacked both above and below, those with the gift of flight barrage the wolves from the skies, clawing them at the chest and hurling them with such force they fall like a star. The warriors below elegantly dance around the battlefield, making precise cuts and fast movements, their Blood Swords gleaming in the moonlight.
They are being able to cut through the horde, but the more it continues, the more the other wolves regenerate.
We wouldn't be able to advance at this rate. Wolves are pouring in from the north, and Constantin's not to be found anywhere. Something's not right here. Safiria observed the battlefield from above.
"You could end this easily, my queen." An old voice sounded from behind her.
It was Orlok, Safiria's vampire lore keeper. He was tasked by the Queen to unlock and regain the ancient vampire secrets, as the Vampire legacy goes back thousands of generations. He was old, probably as aged as Safiria herself. But unlike her, he clearly showed signs of aging: crouched back, white hair, wrinkles around the mouth and eyes, and a pale-grayish skin, unlike the traditional moon-white.
"Orlok, I thought you were underground, managing the scrolls. You told me you had the key to victory? I am interested in knowing.
"And you would be pleased, my queen. I should have thought of it the moment the Plague struck Darkovia."
"You mean to move out of the forest and attack the nearby towns? That's rather and old technique to regain our strength, but that's not what I was asking you to do."
"No, of course my queen! Far from it!" He walked to Safiria's side, bathing in the moonlight has thousands of vampire warriors clash against Constantin's forces. "When the Plague struck, your gift of unlife started weakening, and for the others, it got so weak that it was beneficial for the army to consume their remaining life force."
"Yes, I noticed that when our numbers have considerably decreased compared to the wolves. But what I can't figure out why they're increasing in number, while we, the creatures of the night, are dying-off! That shouldn't even be possible!" Safiria clenched the obsidian so hard that it cracked under her strength. "I would go down there myself, and I would probably annihilate half of their numbers. At first I was honoring the rules of war: if their king isn't with them, then I should let the ranks go equally. But at this point-"
"Forgive me for interrupting, my queen, but I think you'd like to hear this next bit." Orlok cleared his throat.
Before he could continue, Safiria went into full battle-mode. She summoned her wings, her eyes glowed red, and her fangs protruded. Her nails grew into deadly claws, and marks of blood appeared on her face and palm. She jumped high into the sky, into the center of the moon. From below the werewolves looked in awe, as the Vampire Queen swooped down from the heavens. As they saw their leader coming, the vampires found a new strength.
"The queen has gotten impatient. But no matter. When enough blood has been spilled, she will know how the war will turn on her favor." Orlok raises his collar against the night wind. He looks to the moon, thinking of how such a beautiful thing would want to hide after the evening passes. "But the question is, what would the wolves do about it?" He goes back inside, grinning, laughing. He knew it was going to be inevitable.
Many conspire that the Devourer is returning, or that the Void is starting to merge with the physical realm. Or maybe the undead are finally moving out of their dark tombs and started invading. Perhaps the explanation lies even beyond the realm of current knowledge. There are indeed many proposed explanations, but as the world slowly declines, one thing can be for certain: if it is not stopped, then soon there would be no one to ponder on how to prevent it.