Historic Event

A Chapter by Strivion

A bit of history placed just before the Prologue

~ Historic Event ~

The Great Corruption

It was the 376^th year of the Second Era of man. Mankind had grown selfish in their equality, for where equality thrives in abundance lust for more will forever stir in the shadows. Mankind had abandoned the providence of the Gods and concerned themselves with ruling over one and other. The new-born lust of humanity spread like an infection, corrupting the mind and soul. The birthplace of this corruption was the grand city of Vasheera; once the marvel of the ancient world, and now the stain that plagued it.

Man had spread across the land, sewing kingdoms and territories in the blood of their brothers as father took life from son in disputes orchestrated from within the shadows of politics. Vasheera in time had become the capital of the most powerful kingdom; the Kingdom of Triggual.

The King of Vasheera at the time, King Denvin, lie ill and close to death in his chambers, tended to devotedly by his only daughter and heir, Redalia. Denvin’s brother Norimonde, general to his armies, had stormed into his brother’s castle with his men. He had been waiting for an opportunity to strike, and wanted for his own time upon the throne.

Norimonde made his way to his brother’s bed chambers while his men butchered the King’s guards. Redalia took her father’s sword and stood firmly at his side, Norimonde struck the child and threw her down. He grabbed at his brother’s throat and pressed his dagger against him. The King tried to ask why, but before the words fell his mouth the blade had made its passage across his throat.

Redalia again took up her father’s sword and plunged it into Norimonde’s leg. Again he slapped her aside, but this time his sword had been drawn, and he ran the girl through. Redalia’s last breath was spent on the words “May the Gods judge you all”. Norimonde drug the lifeless child down into the castle’s chapel, and threw her corpse upon the alter, letting her blood soak into its garments and spill onto the floor. Norimonde then announced himself sole heir to his brother’s lands and throne, and then challenged the Gods to humor Redalia’s dying words.

Norimonde maintained his station as the new King for only a few short weeks before the Gods answered his challenge. The skies were ripped in two and a great bolt of light crashed against the land, upon the very chapel Norimonde had laid his claim, incinerating it and splitting the ground in which it stood apart. The bolt of light dug its way deep into the bowels of the earth and then vanished.

Nothing more happened for days. Norimonde grew arrogant, believing that all to be the Gods capable of. One the end of the seventh day, however, stirring could be heard deep from within the fissure the Gods had opened up in the ground. Roaring and wailing came from the pit as it split open even more, into a great chasm that swallowed up the rubble of the chapel and devoured half of the castle. The Gods had delivered their punishment; they had released Karagnwadon the Fallen from the chains of Hasis upon mankind for judgment. Norimonde, in an act of cowardice, threw himself from atop of the castle, impaling himself on a spire.

The beast had the form of a man, a giant man in cracked and blood spattered golden armor with charred and splitting skin and flaming wings. He had long flowing platinum hair and his eyes were nothing but empty pits within the face, radiating a green glow and spilling fumes.

“Challenge me,” the creature called out before the onlookers, “Or else thy reign shall last forever, and thee shall suffer forever thy power.” Karagnwadon then channeled the energy from the pit into him, and in an eruption of black flames he took the form of a dragon, a flying black monster whose sole purpose was to spread death.

The land was cursed; Karagnwadon was followed from the chasm by creatures that raped men and women and feasted on the dead. In the wombs of the corpses they left behind birthed forth unspeakable evils, devils and abominations obedient only to the will of their master. Of the remaining leaders of men, and the great heroes boasting of their deeds, none took up arms against the creature. Armies trembled at its mention, and the earth itself rotted in its wake. No one dared stand against the beast. The Gods turned away, as Man had brought this judgment upon themselves.

Years past, and eventually a day did come when the beast was called forth to answer a challenge, though this challenge did not come from any man, but a child. Dante, a lowly peasant’s son who had been brought up respecting and honoring the Gods called out to the beast.

Karagnwadon appeared before the boy in his human-like form. Dante was no match for him no matter how he appeared, in strength or wit, but the monster underestimated the boy for one thing, his heart. Dante’s spirit was so pure and just that the Gods abandoned their blindness to the calamity. They magnified Dante’s spirit into holy righteousness and manifested the power into a dagger imbued with the essence of divinity. The beast lunged at Dante, exploding into his dragon visage, and yet the boy remained unharmed. Dante plunged the blade within the beast’s breast, and Karagnwadon was defeated.

The wounded creature slunk back into the chasm from which it had risen, abandoning its unholy minions to face the sword of the rallied alone.

Dante became the greatest of heroes that day, and eventually, he matured into the most beloved king the age of man had ever known, Dante the Benevolent. Under Dante’s rule, the worship of the Gods was once again celebrated by all. The people of the kingdom wanted for nothing. The Great Corruption had come to its end, bringing forth a new age, The Age of Prosperity.

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