The Tale of Skarrigg and the Nine Crimson Stones

Prologue: Ezokarrian

Ezokarrian longed to rest. The march in the wilderness had been hard. The cultists had been fanatics, and their losses had been heavy. Dozens of his warriors had fallen to the witch-cult and their twisted minions. Oh, they had defeated them, put them to the sword all right, but they were a determined foe, to say the least. Determined, and... disturbing.

The other wizard had mentioned to his master that these were the non-magical descendants of the coven and their patron. But Ezokarrian found that hard to believe. Most appeared to be normal, but even they had an aura of wrong about them. But it was the others that would haunt his sleep. Deformed in so many heinous ways.

So now he was tired and longed to rest. But he could not show weakness in front of his warriors. His? No, that was not quite right. He was the captain of the wizard's house guard. A great honor to serve such a great house as this. But they were NOT his men, but his lord's...just like he was oathbound to his lord's house. Like his fathers before him and his sons and daughters after him. These men were oathbound too.

"Gather your weapons. We will continue our advance soon." Ezokarrian raised his voice as he regarded the ancient sword in his right hand. Named Vime-De-A-Ne in the ancient tongue of the high archons. Forged on the mount of Heaven itself, the blade was of soulforged blue-tinged silver and when it caught the sunlight one could see the fine etchings of archon wings on the blade. The cross-guards and pommel were of the finest white gold and affixed at the apex of the pommel was a great glowing gem called Alonusahi'De-Madariatza that shone with the glory of the Mount.

The sword was anathema to the servants of woe, and to those beings from the vilest of outré dimensions. And Ezokarrian had wielded it in his Master's service for more than two decades, and before that his father had wielded it in the service of their master's house. Despite the memories it brought him – for he had taken many lives with it – the sword gladdened his soul, and its light banished his fatigue.

He sheathed the blade and went to speak with his master. After about a hundred yards he approached the perimeter formed by the other wizard's clockwork guards. A dozen metallic warriors, each in excess of six feet tall and weighing at least 500 pounds armed with exotic halberds. Ezokarrian suspected these halberds were heavily enchanted with killing magics. As Ezokarrian approached, two of the clockwork warriors "recognized" him and stepped aside with a whirring of cogs and gears, to let him pass.

His master's ally, the great wizard Xin, was known for his vast wealth and large clockwork armies, preferring them over mortal soldiers. Xin was also known for his many eccentricities, his radical theories on magic and his support of barbaric and non-human cultures and his 'what they can teach us' theories. It was Xin who was speaking as he stepped up to the group.

"I told you. I told everyone! But only you would listen to me! This, this vile...cult. This cult and the coven that leads them. They are a threat to the Empire! And I am telling you, that which they have called forth into the world. I have researched Him. And I tell you, he has fallen. One of the First Ones and he has fallen! And they have brought him here! We are all in grave danger." Xin was middle-aged, or at least appeared to be middle aged. His pate was shaved bald, and he had a long black ponytail, pulled tight from the back of his skull. He was paler than most azlanti, and gauntly thin. He had many multi-colored stones fixed directly into his flesh. As well as numerous others that spun around his head like moons around the world. Ioun stones, that's what they were called, Ezokarrian reminded himself. Xin was clad in the finest of blue satin robes. Many people found him 'energetic' to say the least. However, Ezokarrian found him to be manic. Manic and supremely arrogant.

"And you were correct my friend. The cult is a danger. But calm yourself, Xin. We need our wits about us if our incantation of binding is to succeed." Ezokarrian's master calmly replied. Ezokarrian's master was radically different in appearance and certainly temperament from Xin. He was tall, and muscular. With long dark brown hair and a close-cropped brown beard. He was tanned and handsome. But what stood out about him were his eyes. His eyes were solid glowing orbs of blue, showing neither iris nor white, let alone pupil. Ezokarrian knew this to be from a permanent magic of some sort. And Ezokarrian had always found this disconcerting as he never knew if his master were looking at him or not. Ezokarrian's master was clad not in robes, but in well-made traveler's garb. A drab green tunic, and brown trousers with worn, yet high quality boots. At his side he carried a cane, the wood was of a fine polished maple and it sported a silver dragon's head. Ezokarrian knew this was no simple walking stick, but an enchanted weapon of great potency.