Once it was commonplace for me to receive summons from far travelers and dignitaries, usually seeking access to
the reserved areas of the great library or receive counsel through the knowledge i have gained over a great many
years in this city. I was never a busy man but neither was i sociable, and such encounters would always be subject
to my desired time and the patience of those seeking it.
So; strange it was that i found myself leaving the comforts of my room to venture down into the visiting hall of the
library at such a late hour, and with no prior arrangements. I can only say that the look upon the face of my old and
trusted retainer was so full of worry and urgency that for once I did not argue. Descending the stairs I could hear
the wind and rain outside growing, the distant thunder bespoke of a coming storm the likes of which the city had not
seen in ages. As I entered the room there before me stood four men, cloaked and hooded, they were soaked from
the storm outside, I could see little if nothing of their faces and each carried with them some oddly shaped package
tightly wrapped in dark cloth. So taken aback by this sight I was that I stood there frozen for some time before one
of them finally spoke.

"Are you the Grand Scholar?"
"Master of Lore?"
"Warden to the Black Spire?"
"Gate Keeper of the Abyss?"

At the mention of that accursed title my mind began to race, for within the city stood a relic of time, long forgotten,
meant to be forgotten. A tower created when the city itself was new during a time of great turmoil and spent blood
as the world itself fought between good and evil, creation and destruction, life and death...
"Who are you, and how do you know of this?"
I watched as they looked to each other and then with a nod turned back to me and presented their arms. Thrust
forth and sleeves pulled back to the elbow, upon each of them the veins bulged against the skin in a distinctive sigil,
dark and purple, and with each heartbeat a fresh flow of stark red would pulse through; it was at this moment I felt
it, burning upon my chest where it hung, the key to the gates of that tower. Handed down through countless
generations it was, never to be removed, never to be shown, never to be forgotten. My heart racing and my voice
weak I could barely breathe out the words I feared to be true. "Must i go with you?"

"Ready yourself and follow"
"The tower will accept us"
"You will mark this day in history"
"Come, he is waiting"

Their words fell upon me like ice, driving cold into my very bones, and without hesitation I pulled forth the key from
its chord around my neck, "then let us begin" ...
We walked out into the storm and made our way to that dark blight pricing the sky, the tower was not far, in a city
of light, law, and justice, it served as a reminder to the world of times past when demons resided in the hearts of
man. Once beautiful it had been burned long ago with many inside, the act of a dying scribe gone mad who
promised the return of chaos and creation without the bonds of mortality. The closer we came to the gates the
hotter the key burned against my skin. Oh how I wish their had been someone, ANYONE!, to deter me from this
madness, but my body moved of its own volition, and the storm drove all to their homes to hide. we passed no one
as we made our way to the steps of ruin.
Approaching the gate my body trembled and as I drew forth the key from around my neck lightning lit the world
around us, I could see the blackened tower beyond, soot covered and burned, it stood as a monument of agony and
death. My hands burning as I grasped the key and unlocked the gates which slowly opened of their own accord.

"Please say that my task is done, I have brought you this far and wish no more of this"
"You will walk with us"
"To see and to serve"
"Steel your mind and soul" -
"And remember what the world has forgotten"

in stark terror I followed them, unsure of who I was anymore. Now in front of me they pushed past the gates and into
the open maw of the tower itself. We ascended the spiral stairs passing by skeletal remnants on the verge of dust,
until at last we stepped upon the roof itself. Open to the skies and unadorned but for a single depression in its
center, filled with water from the storm though not a drop would break its clear mirrored surface. I stopped and
watched as they encircled the well and each threw aside their hoods.
Eyes should never burn so bright as theirs did, pure white against the dark, one by one they stepped forward and
gave an offering to the well. Blood, flesh, Bone, and Soul. As they stepped away I could see they were no longer
apart of this world, their eyes had turned pitch black and the bodies pale and ashen. it was then that they unfolded
their crimson cloths, producing instruments made from the dead. Skin stretched over bone and sinew pulled taught
against dead wood, as they began to play one stepped forward and raised his voice in an infernal fury.
The water writhed and bubbled as lightning split the skies. Thunder shook the very foundations of the tower itself. In
horror I watched as a ghastly figure rose before me with piercing red gaze. He smiled upon each of them until at
last he looked to me, in that moment I felt my eyes begin to bleed and rupture, my sanity strangling me to hold on.
I awoke hours later blind, terrified, and alone. The last thing I remember; the horrid dead voice, raging out into the
storm.

"Go forth my heralds and break the world, never to sleep, never to rest.
Create and destroy all that there is
In your wake shall rise the Tartarus Horde
Reclaim existence for the chaos and the storm"