Background

The Darkspire

One year ago tonight, I was a junior ensign on the Blazer, a 2 masts sloop patrolling the south eastern coast of Svimohzia. We pursued raiders and made sure coastal villages were safe. We hit a storm during the 6th days of our third trip. We got shaken badly and lost both sails to lightning and fire. On the morrow we had no idea of our real position, since the heavy fog blocked most of the sun.

Our lookout spotted what seemed like an island on our starport side. We managed to maneuver the ship nearer, and realized it was not an island, but a huge basalt column rising from the seabed.

We tied down the ship to the surrounding rocks and studied the gargantuan monolith. A slew of swears hit us then, the captain was red as a beet, looking at the formation.

— THAT IS THE MOTHERFUCKING DARKSPIRE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

Turns out we were stranded at the base of the legendary cursed Darkspire. Among  sailors it has a dread reputation, of death and fear. I was young and full of piss wanting to prove myself, so me and six others volunteered to go to the column by rowboat to see if we could find anything to help.

When we finally set foot on a ledge along the base, everything seemed muted…sounds, colors, light.

— There are fucking stairs going up here!
— Stairs? Might be people still living here, with ressources we can use.
— Not much choices boys, up we go!

We went up and up. It rose in darkness, a circular set of stairs going around the spire. Many dark corridors seemed to go deeper in the stone, but fear stopped us from using them. I cannot explain it now, but we all wanted to see light again, and had to go up. We got to the top…and it was night. Broken columns around us, we could see the stars shining on the sea miles below. Then it talked.

Thank you for coming, now I will live again.

The shadows moved and started taking the men. It seemed alive and entered their mouth, eyes and noses leaving a dried husk. I fell to my knees and prayed to the gods, all those I knew then. Through the tears I saw i was kneeling on a symbol of a huge raven, recognizing the sign of the dark one I prayed to the Dark to give me a quick death.

— you know of the master?...You might be of use then.

And that my friend is how I found myself in an agreement with the Malgrave. He is the dark shade of the last high priest of Darkspire, stuck between life and daemonhood. He agreed to let me live my life as I see fit, as long as I bring him souls to fuel his rise to his next form of existence as a Daemon lord of the dark one. Now prepare yourself…this will hurt…may the long night be kind to you.