Before you read the following: I wrote this with a few gaps for the reader to fill in and solve out of their in-game knowledge in case anyone was wondering why this post was so "gappy"
I hope you enjoy it!
Curses, preached to be blankets of dread that inflict anguish onto men and women regardless of their current state. Curses that are said to make a man so weary, that even the most protestant of people would acquiesce to its demands.
As you can imagine, this would bear great consequences to the people of Dal Riata. Farmers forgetting to feed cattle, guards forgetting to ward off thieves and kings forgetting to dictate! Such consequences would have to be dealt with immediately, before dangers embedded themselves into the vast lands which formed Dal Riata.
As one man clambered his way across border between Shalemont Ravine and Stonevale, with such alacrity, that numerous times he nearly slipped. But as he sat on the ridge gazing down over the warm orange haze that shrouded Stonevale, a dark empty feeling entered his heart making him feel cold. However, this feeling was not appeasing, neither was it encouraging. Instead, it caused him to gaze down at his marble veins as they slowly became discoloured. He felt the lust to breath. Stumbling to his feet, he watched as what was kind and cheerful, became repulsive… But never had a man felt so much power. Both you and I know that such avarice would lead to problems, however, Morden did not. The wind rustled his hair and his eyes were luminous green, he turned his head leaving the warm glaze of Stonevale, and began journeying back to Lirs Reach.
He swaggered through the gulley between Lirs Reach and Shalemont Ravine, Brazen with the knowledge of the power he’d gained. One could not resist the temptation to use this power though. Morden had always been obsessed with the “Blackstone cabal” but such organisation had never been uncovered. So whom was this man in which brusquely dismissed his servants, walked with his head so high but was yet so afraid of prying eyes that he felt were transfixed upon his back. Under the ominous green light of the temple of Belenus, Morden met with this man.
“Morden…” the hooded silhouette muttered
“My lord” Morden replied trying to sound unexcited with such an encounter
“Such dark times for Dal Riata Morden, such dark times. And yet I feel my contacting of you was but very harsh, thus I apologise.” He said calmly.
“My coming to this location was very simple my lord, I but followed the guidance that you’d given me”
“Oh no Morden, this light is not the work of me, it is what happens when the keeper of Belenus “forgets” his duty” The silhouette replied in a cruel laugh.
“Oh, so it wasn’t a signal then?” Morden asked inquisitively
“Just a hint to get you to, well turn around and see the light” he laughed.
“You know what is required of you Morden, together; we shall rule Dal riata…” He concluded before disappearing into the shadows…
Readers, we must not be complacent, but we must not fear. Our hero now lies on the beach, awaiting his call.