Seed Of Evil I

A Story by Jason Damstra

A scrap of an idea that may or may not eventually turn into something. First in a series of a few concepts relating to the origins of a "big bad"

The elder fortress of ___________ had, for many years now, been allied wholly to the forces of evil.

The structure itself was of a unique design, the ancient race having built their fortress into the shape of a tower - vast glittering stones of black granite, hewn from the hidden quarries of the east, piled high to form a towering monolith that could stand firm under the never ending assault of time. The ever crafty elder race then took further steps to ensure the safety of their work: they commissioned an enclave of eight druids to grow a superstructure, in the form of a large tree, around the tower. This magical plant was nourished from a cold, fresh underground river and grew strong from the warm rays that danced across the peaceful dale in which it found itself.

Its thick fibrous bark and living bulk protected the fortress from all assailants, sealing every point of egress save one. A small hollow hidden in the upper reaches of the great plants boughs served as the towers point of entry. From here, the elder race could launch patrols and merchants astride great and wholesome winged beasts, the giant eagles of the north.

Little did the paranoid elders realize that the powers of evil delighted in closed communities; just as evil thrives in closed minds, ones veiled in false sanctity.

Evil manifested itself in the form of a small, pale worm... one that at first rankled its way through the tough, woody roots of the great tree from far, far below. It gnawed, dug and slithered its way in from submerged subterranean darkness, emerging into the cellars of the great tower fat and bloated. From here, deep in the depths of that grand tower it set about whispering, coaxing, pleading with any mind willing to pay heed, minds distracted, weak or idly content in their security.

It gnawed into these soft minds as it had gnawed through the tough pulp of the towers great shield. It convinced those that heeded its soft and gentle voice to perform small acts of evil; to be greedy with rations, to steal from comrades, to shirk duties and give in to slothful whims.

In time, these petty acts of evil led to greater ones, violence and mistrust erupted in great, fiery bouts of pent up wrath, growing ever more vicious and bitter with every passing day.

Eventually, the great eagles fled, sensing the foul taint of evil they left their former allies. The remaining elders now trapped within their sanctuary turned upon each other: violent slaughter abounded on all floors of the once great tower, staining the chambers of their refuge with blood. Those who survived, without regular trips to replenish their food stores, succumbed to cannibalism and isolation induced madness before eventually perishing.

The worm, down in the dark dank depths thrived off the evil committed around it, growing ever more terrible and obese as it dined on the shed life force of those that died at the hands of their kin. From here the worms foul bile poisoned the roots of the great tree. Corrupting its very form: the bark blackened and grew knotty, sprouting corpulent growths and razor sharp thorns. Seeping gashes split the once smooth surface of the trunk, spewing forth thick and viscous sap that oozed in poisonous rivulets to the base of the tree. The corrupting influence of the tower also poisoned the lands around it. Strange pools welled up from Stygian depths, making the ground soft, spongy and damp. In time these lands turned into a foetid bog, one shrouded by curling mists that extended in all directions until reaching the mountains that surrounded the great and terrible tree. Here, the ancient stones held back the spread of the corruption.

It was in these shrouded lands that the worm ruled. Lording over whatever decrepit creatures made their homes in the heavy fogs and vapours that silently swirled in the hidden bog.