Family revenge against tormentor. they shot

Family revenge against tormentor. they shot free#

Everyone is a slave, even those whom the Tormentor trusts. And so, his conquest was complete: the Tormentor's Empire set up, Karadon-Nor merely walking from the foundries of their own accord, spreading death and ruin among those who resisted, and forging the chains that would bind the world forever.ДЄnd so, a thousand years of misery descended on the world, and after a millennium, no challenge has arisen to defeat the Tormentor. The gods that had governed all aspects of the world had their pantheons stolen, gifted to the Tormentor. And when he had what he needed, he wove a spell, covering the world in it. Using this newfound power, the Tormentor performed a similar procedure one by one on the intrepid heroes, surging with unbridled, fell power. And the others watch in horror as the essence of Dalchien was drained through the sword, tainting the pure blade and fueling the Tormentor.ДЄs such, the doom of the world was wrought. Try as he might, he could not wrench the sword free, but neither could he release the sword.

Family revenge against tormentor. they shot free#

In fact, all were captured and brutalized as new, unseen models of the Karadon-Nor captured them and brought them before their foe.ДЄnd as he gloated over them, his laughter echoing through the halls of iron that made up his Citadel, Dalchien broke free of the bonds, his gleaming sword Reaver streaking forth to pierce him. And confronted by the horrors and hardships of the Labyrinth, none were able to return. The berserker Thrask, the dread wizard Azyrathon, the acrobatic assassin Inysaal, the Warrior-Priest Caideus, fell Warlock Mylar and, last in number but greatest in feats of heroism, Lord of the Northern Spire Dalchien, set forth to destroy the wicked enemy. Enslaving the populace, he set up mines in the surrounding hills to manufacture more Karadon-Nor to fuel his army.ДЄnd so it was that a small group of heroes was sent forth, six in number, to infiltrate the Labyrinth and defeat the Tormentor in the heart of his power. As his position became secure, the Tormentor sent out his shock troops, the mechanical Karadon-Nor, to harass the people of the surrounding country, scouring the land of resistance and bringing it under his control. Vast in construction, the entrance to the hellish maze stood at the southern frontier of the Grand Plains, yet the Labyrinth itself spread into the surrounding foothills and mountains, down into the Stygian caverns of the earth, preventing a direct attack on the Tormentor's stronghold. And as his influence spread, so arose around the Citadel an imposing feature: the Labyrinth. Until the spring of the world was marred as suddenly as the onset of a blight, that blight being the rise of a dark citadel, blackened as if by a thousand fires, ruled over by a cruel and foul magician. The people lived in relative happiness, with mostly fair and just rulers squabbling harmlessly for sovereignty.

It is said that over one thousand years ago, the world was a different place: verdant, lush and beautiful. But even then, there are few who know what their master looks like: using an endlessly established bureaucracy, the Tormentor has ensured that secrecy and deceit permeates his land, so that each man looks over his shoulder for betrayal, and brother kills brother, keeping all the world in flux so that no real resistance can rise up to oppose him. None remember his face, as since his rise to power, it has been covered with a plain, dark mask, from which glow eyes of deep, smoldering fire, the mouth contorted in perpetual, sadistic glee. They may or may not be actual theories, or rumors spread by the Tormentor himself to confound those that he has made his chattels.

To be fair, these may or may not be true. Others, a demon who manage to fuse his tortured essence to the soul of one of a prophet.

There is little known about this mysterious entity's origin some say he is an enchanter who made a pact with a dark god for unimaginable power.