(Black Wyrm - Dracolich)
The illusory writing from Adrian's Legend Lore appears in a neat, cursive script:
The Great Everlasting Wyrm, Mythika was a boon to the city of Kavzar. The Alliance of Dwarves and Humans that grew around her were adept in the ways of economics, architecture and military, and Mythika blessed them with her protection and magical prowess.
Through the use of this magical gift and the recently discovered stones in the mines beneath the city, we were able to reach technological marvels; energy-firing weapons, rapid transportation systems, and magical abilities for those without access to The Weave.
Using this newfound advancement, we wished to continue our rapid growth. To spread our influence through the world. Mythika did not allow this, she told us we must remain small and hidden, to protect against threats even more powerful than her.
We did not listen, and plotted against her in secret. Our chief scholar devised a ritual combining the technology of our kind with Mythika's own magic, to bring her under our control once and for all. And through deceit and betrayal this ritual was successful on her. We had retained the Wyrms power but reduced her mind to an empty shell - an automaton for us to control.
For the next 400 years our civilisation prospered, in no small effort to this control over the Black Wyrm. The Kavzar Dwarves dug mines and tunnels all through the continent, and the humans spread our civilization equally across the lands.
Unknown to us, Mythika had retained a semblance of her consciousness. A thought in a dream, so to speak, and using this anchor she spread her own influence and reconstruct herself through sheer force of will. Until one day, she disappeared.
The cities were plunged into chaos - our source of power and defense had vanished overnight. The next month saw our magitech crumble, enemies advanced on us unopposed, and natural disasters became commonplace. Acid rain, sinkholes, and rats. Oh the swarms of rats were endless.
This misfortune caused the humans and dwarves to part ways, with the Dwarves barricading themselves underground to stockpile their food, while infighting on the surface broke out.
Amidst this chaos, a travelling mage made herself known with a solution to end our suffering. She had us construct a tower to her gods, with the claim that once the structure was complete, the tolling of the bell would bring their arrival and lead us to salvation.
The neat cursive script begins to smudge and shatter, giving way to a new hand writing the illusions. A scratched-out, haphazard lettering:
Yes yes, the first memory of the First One was of the Black Queen. Leading us to tunnels to consume the Dwarf-Flesh. Then to surface to pester Man-Filth. Their city was broken, and more broken as we arrived. Stabbing in dark, taking eyes and tongues, and leaving to rot.
We listened to their bell, every moon for 13 moons. The bell echoed through tunnels, waking more ratkin.
The flesh was ripe and juicy, but the Queen made us wait. When Man-Filth tower was tall, she would signal. We would know.
Before 13th bell, we knew we had to go. Swarm gathered in empty Dwarf-Filth Halls. The 13th bell tolled, and we emerged. Ratkin devouring Man-Flesh, a delicious feast.
We saw the Queen in True Form. Agonising beauty atop tower, wings outstretched. Noise of her cackle was ohhh... so sweet.
