to the Pillars
Before the Dimension pillar, I lay
the eye of Azimuth.
Well done. You have found
Moebius’ toy. Azimuth, not content with summoning demonic thralls,
stole the Time Streaming Device in order to gather creatures from other
ages as well. Take care of the device, Kain. It will deliver
you in time.
The Legions of the Nemesis are on
the march from the north, crushing all in their path. ‘Twas not too
long ago that the Nemesis was known as William the Just, a caring and gentle
benefactor of the land. But, as his army grew in strength and he
himself grew in power, the veil of tyranny fell and one kingdom was not
enough. So many cities, so many dead. Willendorf will be sure
to follow. The Nemesis must be stopped or all shall be lost . . .
How can one stop an army?
You must rally the forces of Willendorf;
they are the last Hope of Nosgoth.
the Road to Willendorf
The specter of Ariel led me to Willendorf.
If I was to defeat the next member of the Circle, I needed to understand
his machinations. With this vague advice in mind, I set forth on
the road to Willendorf.
Strange, isn’t it Kain? That
one cannot quite accept that which sustains him: you in your death
and me in mine. But death cannot reign in a world without life
and soon you will find the quest ahead of you is yours and yours alone.
I can assist you no longer.
Willendorf, proud defender of the Realm, with its Warrior Elite and mighty
ruler King Ottmar. The Lion Throne had once held my allegiance.
But Willendorf’s days of glory had passed; it was the last bastion against
an unruly future.
Upon using Mist Form to cross the lake which leads
to the gates of the inner aristocratic section of Willendorf:
It would seem that only those of noble lineage were allowed to pass
through the illustrious gates of Willendorf Castle. And the enchantment
I had cast with my Disguise was not enough to fool these Soldiers of Hope.
I would need a stronger illusion to beguile them.
With this spell I can tear a creature’s soul from its body, leaving
its vacant flesh mine to control!
Reading a Willendorf
Mighty Willendorf had sliced open
the belly of the earth, reaping a bounty of precious metals and unearthing
Of these secrets, I had heard of
a tomb that contained an ancient forefather of King Ottmar himself.
Within the tomb, a fountain of blood
would allow me to cast the most noble of illusions, and gain entry to the
city of the Mighty Lion.
two Blood Fountains:
||Your strength has increased, for
our blood enhances.
Your magic energy recovers more quickly,
for our blood enhances.
Beguile form from the Blood Fountain:
Unlike the Mask of Disguise, this
spell actually allows me to cast away the guise of death for a time, allowing
me to walk among the living undisturbed. The spell also provides
a visage of nobility, for there are many who would easily divulge more
to those of highborn blood.
Entering Willendorf Library:
The great library of Willendorf. Filled with dull tomes of trite
accounts by pompous historians about matters that could not possibly be
of interest to anyone but themselves.
Reading a book in the library:
The book spoke of the birth of the Circle. The Circle served the
Pillars, protectorates to the strange power that gives life to our land.
At the unlikely death of a member, the Circle remains broken for a time,
until the Pillars can cull a worthy successor.
I came upon another book of interest buried deep amongst the library’s
tomes. It spoke of a small cult that existed in Nosgoth, ages past.
Wherever they traveled strange tales of human possession would follow.
Little is known of the god they worshipped.
Meeting the King
The foyer to the castle of the Last Hope is resplendent with the colours of Nosgoth Heraldry, lined by the heavily armoured elite knights of the king’s personal guard.
The court of King Ottmar; shades of my former existence. Proud
and self absorbed, surrounded by all the finery of the realm. Secure
in their ignorance. As I walked among them I smirked thinking of
the carnage that would befall them at the hands of the Legions of the Nemesis
. . . the glorious flames, the inevitable rape and pillage.
A courtier stops Kain by raising his hand.
Out of my way peasant! The stench of the fields hangs over you like a pall!
The King sees no one! He is in mourning for the princess!
He’ll be in mourning for his kingdom soon. And he’ll mourn for you even sooner if you don’t get out of my way.
Kain pushes past the courtier
Kain pushes past the courtier.
And so I won my audience, such as it was, with Ottmar. He cared
not of the invading armies from the North. Only of the plight of
Kain smirks and stalks off.
A birthday present. To celebrate her birthday I declared a contest.
Whoever created the finest doll in the realm would be granted a royal favor.
Hundreds of dolls were brought, but the winner was obvious. Elzevir,
the Dollmaker, created a toy of such beauty that all were captivated by
it. And all he would take in payment was a lock of her hair.
Soon after she became like this; a lifeless puppet. Whoever restores
her to her former self shall have this kingdom!
Thus my hunt for the Dollmaker began.
My daughter . . . I fear I shall never hear her delicate laugh again
. . .
Ottmar slumped on his throne like a rag doll, his beard matted with
the tears of his own self-pity. In my court, he would have long since
been usurped by one stronger, but in Willendorf they worshipped him, even
in his weakness.
I wondered what Willendorf would do when Ottmar’s death finally arrived.
Search for the Dollmaker
Exiting Ottmar's throne room:
Through whispers of the court, I learned that the Army of the Last
Hope, Willendorf’s proud militia, was in no condition to fight the invading
Legions of the Nemesis. They were busy scouring the lands to the
north, in search of the Dollmaker and Ottmar’s daughter.
I also learned of a tunnel, which would take me rapidly from Willendorf
to the suspected area.
This was once the most academic of cities, housing some of the most
prestigious universities in all of Nosgoth. While I would not weep
over lost tomes, I detested the sight of scars left upon the world at the
hands of the Nemesis.
Elzevir! I have come for the soul!
So, Ottmar sent you to kill me, eh? I can smell him on you -
Or is that the stench of the grave?
Dollmaker, I have no time for these games!
The soul is mine! I earned it! Ottmar GAVE it to me!
Then you shall earn it with blood!
During the battle:
You shall NOT have it! Mine!
Upon defeating Elzevir:
Farewell, my love…I was lucky to have made you…
What an odd little man. Now, to find the soul.
Elzevir imprisoned the girl’s soul in a small fabric doll. The
old man’s intentions I shall never know.
||Strange that such a tiny thing - a shred of burlap and silk with a
single lock of hair nailed to it, could bring a kingdom to its knees.
Small things frequently have enormous consequences.