A forgotten tome, a forgotten empire

((Adventures of a new character of mine I wish to store here. I hope I can keep up the writing. Credits to Melnerag when it comes to quoted parts.))

It was night. The with stars decorated sky and several lamp-posts were the only sources of light illuminating the near-empty streets of Dalaran city. There were several houses emmiting a dim light through the windows as well and in one of those cozy homes sat a wizard in his luxerous and comfortable chair beside a table on which stood a cup of hot steamy tea and a single white, half-consumed candle with a dancing flame providing enough light to read a book, leaving said wizard's face in the dark. He was one of the wardens of the Dalaran vault. A vault that imprisoned and maintained plentyful of malific items such as horrorfying artifacts looted from cultists or dark scrolls found within lost libraries of ancient and forbidden knowledge, and many more. As well-maintained this vault is, there is one section containing various tomes, most forgotten, casted into oblivion for no one ever to be read again. Or...perhaps still readable to some. Perhaps to the ones in charge of this notorious vault, like one of the wardens. One not being trustworthy after all.

The Warden made it himself comfy within his dark-brown leather chair and reached for his tea casually, breezing a gentle wind onto the hot surface through his lips before taking a gentle sip. He glanced at the cover of a tome which was resting on his dark-purple night robes, on his lap, with mild interest. The cover revealed nothing. It was a black worn-out leather tome with a grim demeanour. From the side one could see the pages were old and yellow-tinted. Deep in thoughts the Warden was thinking of how he found the tome in the back of the chamber where all sorts of books and tomes were stored. Usually there's only one or only a few copies of each tome as most tomes of evil-nature never get copied. Not in a way of mass-production atleast, but this tome stood there on the shelves between several brothers and sisters, twins, as if indeed mass-produced. After placing his still steaming cup of tea back on the table beside the candle, the Warden took the book within both of his hands with certain anticipation and decided to open it up.

"Compendium of Void."

He narrowed his eyes at the first words he read and flips through the great amount of pages swiftly to stumble upon several headlines. Revelation I, Revelation II, Revelation III, Revelation IV, Revelation V, Transcendence I, Transcendence II, Transcendence III. Rushing further through the pages out of high curiosity before reading its entirety, a page suddenly read Compendium of Hellfire. Manual of Faith, Manual of Flames, Manual of Glory. The Warden closed the book again before reopening it to start reading it properly.

Compendium of Void, Revelation I

When the ship of humanity is sinking, and all hope of former glory was lost: when no values were treasured and men were enslaved by the Light, a redemption finally manifested.

The Emperor, as it’s simulacrum, ascended from the void to lead and save us. His wisdom is infinite and judgement unbreakable.

At his beginning, stood a mortal man whose name is of no significance and whose greatness was limited by his flesh.

As he strode forth in time, and sought power he witnessed both victory and defeat. As every hidden truth, his real nature broke free…

In the flames and shadows he arose, a nemesis to all – bane of the standing order, yet he was not yet great.

His power was unmatched and as he obeyed every word, his eyes were opened and he saw the path. With his might he broke the shackles, with his will he conquered the wings of freedom and with his iron gauntlet he reigned.

His name was a curse, and his grasp brought wither – none stood in his path and won.

Yet to all what is limited, an end should come. Demise in form of dreaded death floated soundlessly from behind, ended was his reign and undone was his power – yet the final ward was broken.

He was free from the suppression, loose from the denial of power – the restrictions of his mortal body no longer applied to his great spirit, sent beyond the walls of world: and in his wisdom he prepared.

The Warden kept on reading eagerly all night long, all of the chapters, at a fast pace. The story was terrifying yet so magnificent. Interesting and...attractive, compelling. At the end of the read a realization manifestated within his mind: If all of this would be false, then why would the almighty and wise Dalaran Magocracy try to seal all of these tomes away from Azeroth?

The Warden wasn't obsessed by the tome. Not yet, but he couldn't halt himself from investigating the matter. Most books, tomes, scrolls, scriptures, what ever, were mostly about ancient dark arts, each work written by a single madman like a warlock, necromancer or worse and these evil-minded figures weren't exactly writing their works over and over again. The vault contained alot of copies of this tome the Warden took however. And it didn't explain of rituals like demon summonining or raising beings from the dead, nor curses and the likes. No, this tome was describing a wise and mighty emperor, an empire built from the dust of the bones of the enemy, of followers; apostles, apprentices and templars, a dark master. The Light and the Nether, darkness and chaos, an infinite void. Certain teachings or a way of life were also found in this tome, almost religious. This emperor was considered god-like, and was worshipped.

After examining the entire forbidden library of the Dalaran vault, the Warden didn't get any wiser on the subject he wished to know all about. And that didn't sate his curiosity, and displeased the Warden. He contemplated his next steps. He dared not to ask his fellow wardens, for what he had done was punishable. Exile-worthy, perhaps imprison-worthy. Hunting further for more clues became more futile by the day, week, month, as he scanned subtle through the Dalaran vault, nothing connected to this tome. It became time for a change of plan. The Warden had no wife or family living with him in Dalaran. All he had was his small and cozy home within the center of the giant floating purple city, and some friends. Friends that would choose Dalaran's side if they figured out that the Warden was uncontrolably, and ilegally, messing around within the notorious Dalaran vault. Thus, leaving Dalaran city for further investigation was a plausible option. The obession for the tome and the story it contained evolved, grewing larger and larger. The Warden resigned from his Warden-position, left behind his home and became a travelling Wizard hunting for knowledge. Questions were hurled at the Wizard as to why he resigned, was leaving and what he had in mind for his future but the Wizard managed to keep the truth in the dark and the lies in the light. Not a single glance over his shoulder was given as he stepped into the portal that'd lead him elsewhere.

A new journey had started for the Wizard. Wether it would be a glorious one or a nightmare he did not know, but little did he care for that. Naturally did he fear, but the age was catching up on him and perhaps it was time to give in to the gamble, to spend his final years a thousand times more appealing than the average could ever dream of, the poor souls.

Compendium of Void, Revelation II

In the stirring chaos of the Nether, at first, the visions of his past wisdom imbued his shapeless spirit, returning him to conciousness.

In the beginning, he saw an endless field of light and he felt the tranquility of death, his great spirit was free of troubling thoughts and all seemed clear, and in it he found satisfaction.

Yet as the first drop of his wisdom returned, he noticed how the light was blinding his ever-watchful eyes, and that he saw no more but it’s souring blight.

And so he closed his eyes, seeking the answer from within. As the searing pain left his eyes, and cold eternal darkness was spread in front of him, he could finally think clearly – undisturbed by the bright light.

And now he realized his hands and legs were shackled, yet he did not weep for as he had no desire to move, nor a destination to go.

As the second drop of his wisdom returned, he no longer saw content in this suspended state: the great empty darkness before his wary eyes was filled with dreams and desire.
As he did his first movement, voices screeched in his head calling to stop, powers drained on his endless might and the predator birds flocked biting pieces of it for their own use.

Plagued by the parasites, he did not know what to do – the more power he deployed, the more was taken by their endless hunger and more and more of the birds of prey came by, until he finally submitted.

In the still empty pool of his wisdom, a third drop descended. He saw that his power was denied.

With his will he crushed the wicked predators, gone were the parasites, disappeared were the suppressers, hungry eyes of the surviving peered at him in uncontrolled lust for his power, yet by his will they were repelled, the fear of him forced their respect.

With his mighty fists he ruined the bindings, and with his legs he broke free and fell into the Void, his suspension was ended.

In the Void's infinity, he found chaos which brought wisdom – at every heartbeat it created something new and remarkable, it knew no rules or restrictions, it was horrific and awesome, dreaded and attractive – and he embraced it.

A man in rugged worn-out travelling robes set foot in the Stormwind mage tower, his head covered by a cowl and thus the eyes covered by a thin layer of shadow, the mouth and the grey beard surrounding it only for display. He reached with both hands for the cowl and dragged it backwards off his head, revealing the entirety of his head. Withered grey hair accompanied the beard, and a remarkable dark skin. An overall old, slender and wrinkled face with a pair of stern eyes. It's a tall figure, tall and slender of body. The Wizard. Traveling through the portal went well.

On one of the pages of Revelation IV the tome describes how the Emperor screams out, his voice soaring over the broken land of Outland. A place to visit in the near-future, so the Wizard decided, and he inclined his head towards several wizards of Stormwind as he made his way out of the Tower and ventured into Stormwind city. The evening was drawing near and traveling by portal was energy-consuming. Although the Wizard's time was finite, over-rushing things tends to be a bad call of handling. A room at the Gilded Rose was rented, the bed was entered and the eyes shut close.

Just like the emperor of the tales, the Wizard now gazed at the darkness, sealed away from the Light. It was indeed calm, and comfortable for thought. This gave him room to reflect upon himself and his ideas which lead to a conclusion. Outlands wasn't easy to reach and walk on, not all alone. Stormwind was known to be harrassed by cults and other darkness relentlessly, and a southern kingdom of this eastern realm, just like the Dark Portal, the gateway to Outlands, was located in the southern lands of the Eastern Kingdoms. Perhaps there were individuals walking around in this kingdom too, who knew more about this tome. Duskwood or perhaps even the city itself. Maybe, the Wizard thought. Maybe he should take it one little step at the time.

The wizard couldn't help it and fell asleep, dreaming off, as if traveling through the void of chaos.

Blinking his eyes and stretching his arms, the Wizard awakened from his slumber. Azeroth was embraced by a new day. Through pondering and dreams new ideas and plans came into existance, the obsession growing further.

Compendium of Void, Revelation III

With his eyes shrouded by ignorance, his gaze filled with dreams and iron will resilient to denial and suppression, with his hands free of shackles and filled with souring might: this was the hour of his return.

As he had no flesh, the great wisdom of the Void did not harm him and the embrace of chaos was soft and warm. It’s endless complexity did not strike insanity within his great mind.

As his power knows no limits, it was a pain for him to know the necessity of return to the mortal realm, for parts of his power would be lost. Yet with his endless wisdom, and eyes full of dreams he did this sacrifice to save us all.

Show me your loyalty, give me your hand and follow me wherever I go, should your faith and devotion remain unscarred – the embrace of the wisdom shall find you”, He said to a friend of his former life.

In awe of His wisdom and the realisation of his own weakness before His glory, the man submitted, and called Him “master”, thus the Emperor was born.

A God is born when he is needed, and he gains shape when one calls out his name and basks in his wisdom, He ascended from the Void, and the simulacrum of his wisdom, crafted in flesh, manifested itself, the Emperor now had a body.

“You have gained the fourth drop of wisdom, now go and spread my word” said the Emperor to his apprentice, yet the clever apprentice stated that there is no one wisdom.

Fear is the greatest nemesis of men, one which has dreams and the power to fulfill them commits the crime against his nature and the Emperor if he does not fight for them, spread them, and sacrifice in their name.

“Your understanding is veiled, and your view obscured. Accept the embrace of a wiser, and follow me into the glory – do not doubt the things you do not understand”, stated the Emperor, and His apprentice submitted and so was it done. Thus gave He one of His arms to the apprentice, to craft and reign in His name, for as apprentice he was now ready.

He presented the apprentice with one of His eyes, to see the truth of chaos, and then the Emperor gave apprentice a bit of his wisdom, to comprehend and withstand embrace of the Chaos.

As last He gave the apprentice His name, to have His authority.

During the brand new day the Wizard was out on investigation and made well use of his connections, navigating himself closer and closer towards the first clues. Whispers and fingers guided him deeper and deeper into the mage quarter of Stormwind city, the Slaughtered Lamb to be more precise. A historian clad in crimson robes, which occasionally sought the pleasure of a drink and smoke inside of the shady and macabre venue, could supposedly be of any aid in regard of the tome. The night had dawned yet again and the Wizard decided it was time to advance. Stepping through the darker alleys of the quarter, his pace accelerated by the moment until halting abruptly before the door of the infamous slaughtered lamb. The door squeaked as it opened up and shut close again. There weren’t many making use of the venue, and even less making use of their tongue. A vapour lingered in the dry air, shades filled up every single corner of the bar, a couple of dim lights coming from oil-lamps and hoods were pulled up, most eyes nailed into the Wizard, who slowly walked towards the bar. He inquired at Jarel Moore about this Historian, who in turn nodded silently towards a table in the most furthest corner of the place which was used by indeed a man clad in the crimson robes as told, comfortably hung back in the chair, toking from his pipe and casually reading through the pages of a book. He moved himself towards the Historian who exhaled a large, thick cloud of smoke, enforcing the vapour that was lingering about.

“Good evening.” came from the Wizard with a hoarse voice. The Historian arched a brow and glanced up from his book at the hooded Wizard: “Evening…” A moment of silence descended upon the two until the Historian decided to break the ice and offered the Wizard a seat. “If you have something to talk about, then please, do sit down.” The Wizard thanked the Historian and sat himself down into the chair, folding his arms before him as he made his gaze rest on the Historian.

“I’m in search of a man who’s well-versed around history. The darker side of it and the fingers are pointing at you.” replied the Wizard with a little hesitation in his voice yet sternly.

“I may be able to help. Enlighten me?”

The Wizard narrowed his eyes and pondered over the Historian’s words in yet another moment of silence. Was this crimson man really trustworthy? Perhaps there was some need of more patience? The Wizard could not find the answers to these questions that clouded his mind briefly and gave in to the gamble once more. He pulled before him his bag, opened it up, revealed the tome and placed it upon the table, giving it a push into the direction of the Historian.

“This is a copy of a tome I recently obtained. I want you to analyze it and bring me all the information you know of it. This will remain between you and me, and I shall pay you greatly.” The Historian didn’t seem to hesitate at all and simply regarded the Wizard with a formal nod: “Give me one night.”

“That means we shall gather again tomorrow where and when?” – “Same place, same time.”

The Wizard inclined his head and arose from his seat again, adjusting his hood and mantle accordingly and took his leave.

“Until then.”

~~~

Compendium of Void, Revelation IV

“A strong and mighty spirit needs a fitting vessel”, said He to His apprentice.

They both turned their ever vigilant eyes to their past, and saw the abomination they had spawned. One with power has the right to use it, one that has created has the right to undo his child.

His creation was long corrupted by ignorance, run by imbeciles: and so it was undone in the lands of lighting and flame, and those who survived the onslaught joined Him in awe of his power and wisdom.

They followed Him beyond the world, into the scouring eye of the unknown. Basked in his might, they were cleansed, the apprentice’s job was committed, a vessel was found, thus the Netherdawn Empire was born.

Nether for the source of the wisdom he has in his hands, Dawn for the embrace of the new age and empire for this is what His name is, all bound together in allegiance of loyalty and faith.

“Let the one after me be called a Darkmaster, for as he has my eye, my wisdom and my arm” declared the emperor, his apprentice becoming his official face – bringing His glory to His minions and reigning at His side.

“They cannot stand my mighty gaze and withstand the aura of my presence, you shall go to them, and with you, you shall carry the burden of my wisdom” he stated , and sealed the apprentice’s duty.

“And you will be known as the Templar, for as you guard the very temple of my glory and might, as loyal shepherds you care for my flock and see over the vessel” he screamed out, his voice soaring over the broken land of Outland.

With His words the Templar spread out, running and ruling over every bit and fraction in His name, simple minions watching them in awe and doing their very bidding, for the Emperor speaks through them.

“You my apprentice, shall gain an own guard: the Apostles, to spread my word to the unrighteous and ignorant, cleanse them from blindness and bring them into my embrace” he stated with love.

As His words reached the Old World, the Apostles were born and carried His wisdom on their lips.

“As I gave my power and might for the flesh, shall you give your flesh to me for my wisdom and might, for as you are Bloodsworn – you cleave the heretics and serve the Empire with thy blade and thy spell” he said with the voice of a stoic father.

And thus the Bloodsworn were born, standing in their plate or dreaded robes, bringing end to all who oppose the keepers of Hellfire, giving their lives for His glory.

~~~

The night after veiled over Stormwind city and the Historian and Wizard sat before each other once more at that very same table amidst that very same atmosphere. “What do you have for me?” questioned the Wizard immediately after sitting himself down. The Historian took his time as he exhaled another of those clouds of smoke casually: “Well…” - the Wizard tapped his fingers on the table in rhythm as if being impatient, looking at the Historian eagerly.

A long conversation took place between the two, mainly about thoughts, theories, suggestions and the likes, about nearby regions and places far away. About certain people of the past and people who might still are dwelling about. In the end the Wizard took a deep breath as he realized nothing solid came rolling off the tongue of the Historian, except for the final part: “…but now that I have read this, I am very interested in it myself…”

Yet again the clock-work of the Wizard’s brain started to race like no other time before. What is he trying to say? He wants in? It may take years if I try to handle this on my own, but how much can I trust this man? What if he’d be more of a burden than aid, or worse…what if he’s a backstabbing opportunist? The brain kept cracking inside the Wizard’s skull, gazing at the Historian thoughtfully, almost as if in trance.

“Maybe we should go for a little walk as we talk things over?” came from the Historian, the Wizard snapped out of his trance, replying “…A sound plan.”

The Historian stood up from his chair, took his pipe and stuffed it into his satchel before making his way outside, followed by the Wizard. It was chillier outside than earlier, or that’s how it felt at least. They strolled in silence. Eventually they made a turn to the left and stumbled upon a dead end. It is there where they decided to stop to continue with their business, the eyes warily searching for any spies or other scum, their voices whispering.

“So back to the point, I take it that after reading the tome both of our ideas match regarding the places we should be visiting in the near future?” asked the Historian, even though the Wizard had not approved of his aid just yet.

“Yes, that seems clear. However, I have this feeling that searching for places or items related to this tome may be futile. It may be, it’s trickier but, more productive to try and find people who know more of the story of this tome. If this empire and emperor used to exist, than it used to be magnificent, which means people saw it happening. Cultists or followers of the Light, commoner or guard, anyone. But firstly…may I ask of your name…and why’s this tome so interesting to you?” – The Wizard eyed the Historian inquisitively as he spoke, now waiting for an answer.

“My name…” said the Historian “…is Reynar Derrow. I’m interested in this tome due to several reasons. It’s a story that seems familiar to me. It’s a fascinating read and I’m looking for some answers myself as well. I believe those answers may be found if I decide to give you a hand.”

Yet again the Wizard contemplated about his plans. Yes, working all alone would be mad, and thus the Wizard gave in to the gamble for a third time: “My name is Athonos, and I’ll take your hand.”

The Seekers of the lost Emperor were born.

Compendium of Void, Revelation V

As the Empire emerged from the smoldering ruins, reborn as the phoenix from the ash, the Emperor turned His gaze and regarded His domain, and He was pleased.

“We fight against the very fabric of this world, one is either with us or against us” – he heralded, and the Darkmaster told that to the people.

“One against us, will know no rest from the sharp tongues of my apostles and the sharp steel of my bloodsworn!” – he stated, and so it was.

“One with us, shall be trusted by all else, I embrace you as sons and daughters and as long as you remain loyal, shall lead you on. Should you fall into disgrace, you will be exiled from my house!” The Emperor commanded, and all obeyed.

“Live as sisters and brothers, only together can we survive the onslaught of the vile suppressors, advancing against us as a swarm of vile Silithid!” he said, and ended his speech.

Can't believe I haven't came across this.
Fucking amazing work, man

Posting on his behalf as he can't log in to his account!

Hey Spracky. I was browsing these forums for some good old nostalgia and noticed you posted in my story here. Sadly I could not continue the story, mainly due to the increased inactivity on the server at that time which demotivated me. It's fun to see you recognize what this is about, but then again I did not expect otherwise. Are you active again in WoW? If so, perhaps gimme a poke through Swindle if you can. I'd like to ask you something.

Greets from Crojwin