[center][h1][u][b]ACT I: As Darkness Fell[/b][/u][/h1][/center]
[center][i][b]Part I: An unlikely start[/b][/i][/center]


[center][IMG]http://i65.tinypic.com/1ghjl3.jpg[/IMG][/center]


[center]Two weeks have now passed since the Mad King and his followers destroyed the combined armies of the realm and rose an ancient power.  In the days that followed, the mortal realm has started to spiral downward into a frenzy of desperate civilians fleeing the horde and a shadow of hopelessness to fall over the people.  All across the long edge of the demonic army, the lands of the Human, Elven, and Dwarven civilizations burn. Villages, too numerous to count, have been razed to the ground while massive cities have found themselves under siege while slowly losing their grip on their defenses.  Ahead of this coming darkness, a number of villages and cities have begun to evacuate; with countless of their citizens running to the fabled walls of the Castle Estel.   
 
The Castle Estel was the oldest castle found in the entire realm, with legends talking of it being constructed by the gods themselves as the last beacon of survival.  Perched on steep cliffs in the center of the Chasm of Reckoning, the long divide that neatly bisects the western and eastern parts of the continent, overlooking the deep canyon from the singular and lonely mountain.  Surrounded on all sides by the deep canyon, and with only the two long bridges of fate running in and out from the east and the west, the Castle had become a logical fallback option for them.  The walls have never been breached by any assaulting forces, and the legends go this is where the Goddess Roffella ascended to the Goddess well-known throughout the realm. 
 
The actual story is often stranger than the myths, however.   
 
Time has a funny way of perverting the truth, or so Mulad says.  In his countless years of service as a Grand Wizard Mulad has read all the books in the Grand Library; from the tale of Roffella and her rise to the fall of the First Imperium of Man some two thousand years ago.  In his studies, Mulad had found time and time alone to be the great equalizer of all.  Yet Mulad knows that these stories have more parts fabricated than not, with essential pieces of information lost through time through translation errors or downright sloppy work. What isn't perverted by time quite yet is the threat Mulad and his would be heros face. The darkness that spreads throughout the realm has taken notice of their plans; with a hastily put together and sloppy execution of Mulads call to arms noticed by those who would do them harm.  Even now, dark forces work in concert with the beasts on the ground to intercept and destroy the group.  The culprit for the enemey knowing their plans, one may ask?  None other than the various posters and letters sent out in the wake of the defeat, calling on all who are able and willing to join this Grand Wizard as he adventured to retrieve a long forgotten artifact of great power.  Even now, as those who chose to respond march on the meeting point, dark forces stalk their moves and wait for their chance to strike.

Mulad had chosen a place to distract those who gathered of that fact.
 
Mulad had decided that the first meeting of this group would be in a place that is perpetually happy, one where he could reveal his grand plan to fix the world and at the same time earn the trust of those who he would eventually learn to count on for his life.  As Mulad approached the location from the south a memory began to flicker in his mind, and Mulad let himself fall into it and he began to relive his first experience at the Six Corners as he walked, eyes closed as he did. 
 
- - -  
 
"[i][b]Can I interest you in a trinket – turn around and watch the magic – increase your male vigor – I thought you were dead – I am not lying, this weapon killed a dragon – are you sure it cost that much to– look at my wares – what do you have for sale – the Dark Crusade shall soon end – I'm walking here - you sold me junk – I'll give you half and still that be – when this is over – guards are so – he looks like fun– I am a healer – I am not interested – do you know of – that food smells amazing – this place is amazing.[/b][/i]" 
 
The familiar sounds of the Six Corners and its fabled trade bazaar, the finest such place to buy a bit of everything and all of anything in the Firen empire, filled the ears of Mulad and a smile began to slowly creep across his face.  The six corners stood where the six long Roads of the King intersected at their only common location; and in the years since the massive undertaking required to construct this massive transportation network, a massive trading outpost had sprung into existence. The would be adventure could find anything they needed here for whatever journey they found themselves on; weapons, armor, potions, fancy colorful cloaks, and much more.  
 
Not only known for the supplies, the local food had as much draw for the adventurer as did the trading with a local tavern called the Crossroads Inn being home to the realm famous Chef Mincy; a Firen woman who had once cooked for the King himself before she left with his blessing to bring her cooking skills to the world; and oh could she cook.  You name it; roasted chicken, boiled pork, lizard tail, rat skewers, poultry and whole fish placed between a sliced loaf of bread were just some of the many unique and somehow delicious food that had a home in her tavern.  The building itself was four stories tall with an open center design that allowed those sitting on even the highest floor a clear view of the bands playing their music below.  The walls of the tavern were covered in various pieces of artwork, all of which were donated by the happy patrons that had become regulars in their travels.  From a personal portrait of the King himself to an artist's rendition of the Battle of a Hundred Nations, so many paintings in fact that the walls have come to resemble a museum more than a tavern.  The furniture was well carved with rich tapestry's covering the comfortable chairs and barstools.  The outside of the tavern was adorned with many different unique and artistic engravings on the many poles that supported the building; the local artisans donated their work for weeks of free food and grog and much celebrations were had in response.   
 
Mulad smile widened as the memory took him back to when he first visited the place.   
 
Though, even as though he was an admirer of the arts, Mulad did not approach the tavern to view the decals or did he enter it to see the artwork inside; rather it was a smell, one carried on the winds, which brought him in.  At first, it was subtle and teasing in nature; with each passing breeze bringing with it the sweet promise of succulent food.  As he moved closer to the tavern doors, the aroma became over powering.  The sweet smell of cooked chicken seasoned to perfection permeated through the air outside the doors; a smell so good that it pierced through the smell of urine, bad hygiene, and various other nefarious smells before it reached his nose.  The sweet smell of the nectar of dragon root, paired nicely with a dash of pepper and salt, grabbed him by the nose and forced him through the door and into the establishment.  Once inside, Mulad could hardly hear himself think over the roar of the crowd.   
 
"[i][b]I love you wench – how about a song in honor of – this food is amazing – you are full of it - I swear I killed a dragon – I once saw the King in – the last time we were here – Mincy this food is – three more drinks – how about a song about – you want to take this – I love this place – where are we-[/b][/i]" 
 
Oh, how the crowd was alive that night.  Each person was as drunk as the one next to them, with many men wrestling each other over who took home the prettiest wench and much more drinking to the various victories their friends had in battle. Some were boasting of their own victories; some far-fetched while others hitting home the chaos of battle. In-between swigs of their grog each and every patron would dig into the plates of food that seemed taller than the average Good Folk themselves to the hungry eyes before them.  The food never stood a chance.  Seasoned to perfection, and paired with all sorts of different vegetables, the plates were devoured in minutes as the patrons spared no bean or lavors leaf as they quickly devoured all in front of them.  The plates, clean as a whistle, were returned to the bar top where they were cleaned a second time, loaded with food, and dished out to yet another hungry patron.   
 
Mulad quickly became intoxicated in the atmosphere, and after many drinks blacked out amongst many new friends.  As Mulad fell deeper into this memory, his smile spread further across his face.  He remembers the faces of those new friends, the taste of that sweet food, and how alive the crowd was that night.
 
As Mulad opened his eyes, with a wide smile that crossed from one corner of his face to the other, the memory of the Crossroads faded away and reality came crashing down around him.  The sight of the Six Corners had changed.  Gone were the colorful, vibrant people and their market stalls; replaced instead with over a hundred dead bodies which littered the streets.  The sight of broken and burned out market stalls replaced the various colorful hues that once adorned this place.  The sweet aroma of fresh food had been extinguished, and now the smell of death and ash was all that Mulad could smell.  The smile dropped quickly from the face as his eyebrows crunched together while the corners of his lips dipped downward. The place had been destroyed with not a single house left untouched by the vicious assault that had fallen on this place.

 His eyes, wide and open, stared at the remains of the tavern; a ruined shadow of what was once great.  Mulad stood there for a moment, hands clenched into a fist, as he looked.  After a brief moment had passed, his body quickly lurched forward towards the tavern.  Quickly making his way up the few steps and he soon found himself near what remained of the door.  He paused as he reached the door.
 
"[i][b]Who did this to you, Mincy,[/b][/i]" Mulad asked the silence as his eyes quickly darted into the ruined building as a look of longing fell upon his face. 
 
 "[i][b]I ask that the spirits of the departed to reveal the perpetrator of this crime,[/b][/i]" Mulad started to spin a spell deep within his body, channeling his magic as he spoke each word.  He felt his inner magic slowly flow forth from his core, through his left arm, and finally into his left hand; which he slammed on the ground in front of him.  "[i][b]Let me hear your final words, reveal to me the architects of your demise,[/b][/i]" Mulad continued as he released his magic into the area, "[i][b]so I may yet bring them to suffer for their sins.[/b][/i]"  As Mulad finished the spell thin, bright blue, bands of fogs began to rise slowly from the ground next to his hand before they shot out into the area; the bands danced around the bodies of the dead before the silence that was once deafening was drowned out by the wailing and cries of fear of those departed souls that haunted the area. 
 
"[b][b]Why are you – oh my god – please stop – why is this –someone help me – run for the – I have three children – tell my family - not my daughter – where is my – someone help me – take it, take it – please stop – have mercy – someone help me- where did they- what is happening – why me- cultist are – they're everywhere -[/b][/b]" 
 
Mulad poured more of his magic into the spell, releasing an additional two additional seekers while his mind focused on one word in particular; cultist. 
 
"[i][b]Cultist are- there – watch – cultist are everywhere – from the west -[/b][/i]" 
 
"[i][b]Cultist,[/b][/i]" Mulad spoke as he summoned the wisps back to him with all four falling into his hand before he clenched his fist and thus breaking the spell.  "[i][b]This attack was recent enough, they came from the west and swept through this town like the plague[/b][/i]," Mulad continued as he pulled himself off the knee and turned around, facing his body towards the west, "[i][b]the west, the west is still very safe, no demons nor have there been reports of cultist activity that way unless,[/b][/i]" Mulad paused and scanned the area.  His eyes drifted from the north to the south while keeping parts of vision towards the west.  "[i][b]Of course,[/b][/i]" Mulad muttered as he walked himself over to one of the few benches that remained unbroken and sat down with a heavy thud.  Those that had heard his call for adventure would soon be arriving at the six corners, expecting to hear the plan to save the world over a hearty feast of the best food they ever had.  Mulad raised his right hand and placed it on his forehead, covering his right eye, and shook his head from side to side.  He did not know who he could expect to head the call of adventure.  Thousands would receive, read, or hear details of the quest through word of mouth, yet there was no way for Mulad to know who would answer his call. 
 
"[i][b]So much for that,[/b][/i]" he spoke to the silence once again as he sat on the bench, rubbing his forehead and thinking of what to tell the group when they arrived.  The group of adventurers was coming from numerous different directions, and within half an hour they would arrive at the Six Corners, or at least what remained of it.  From this now dark place they will begin their quest.[/center]