Derys'Alth

So it was that in the beginning of the ages as recounted by mortal thought, a great gift of good was bestowed unto the peoples of the realms. A forging had occurred which shaped the face of history for time eternal, forever after altering the flow of life and death. The Darkstone was given to the peoples of the realm, a gift beyond measure, beyond understanding, beyond what they deserved, for the tale of mortals is often all to simple. They grab and yearn, seek and plunder, kill and ravage, often in the name of something larger than themselves and always in vain. The gift was too great for their hands, and they shattered it in their folly.

However, other stories stem from such great events, often missed by even the most aware and watching of eyes. Forging is not the most precise and clean of pastimes, often bits and pieces of the work escape, flying off in varied directions from the source. When a power so great as The Darkstone is forged, the fragments which get lost are no less powerful, only less potent, requiring time and effort to mature and cultivate. They may also possess only one aspect, one side, of the work in its entirety. And so it was in the great forging of The Darkstone that a bit, a speck, was lost. It flew off unseen, a dark piece broken free from The Stone, cracked off by the heavy blow of that immortal hammer, unnoticed, unwarranted, and left to its own devices.

When The Darkstone was new to the world, much strife and turmoil swirled around it. Battles raged between the great, and at times, the not so great had their hands in the wars and fighting. Deeds of heroism and loss ruled the day between the clashing peoples. During these times that speck which was broken free in the forging was yet small and diminutive, its power not fully realized. It lay itself down in a vale of surprisingly little notice; a simple little dell out of the way of the rest of the world, and this was all to its own design. The time of ages it needed to become what it would, and so it waited in hiding, nurturing that which it was. A seed set into the lands, spending its time preparing, known only to itself as Derys'alth.

It came to be that The Darkstone was shattered and another age changed the realms. Strange murmurings of horrible shadows stalking the lands were heard. Mortals continued their battles of conquest and strife. And what was the seed grew, its new roots dug into the soil. Its small shoots rose into the air. Yet even now the world was too preoccupied with other things to notice the hidden blight, even as it spread its grasp.

Time slipped on, and in the reckoning of those who die, another age formed the ways of the land. Great hatreds arose between the races, devouring them in their bloodlust. The protectors of old were lost and scattered. The shadows lurked once again amidst the lands, even as vain attempts to find the pieces of shattered Darkstone were attempted. On one fated night a celestial event, long prepared for then, and long forgotten now, altered many things: miracles were wrought in that twinkling glow, and darknesses conceived. The sapling, now grown in stature, toughened its black bark and spread its branches under the heavens, laying the groundwork of what was to come. Those who had not seen before what darkness lay in that vale could not help but notice now. A great oversight to miss such a thing, but long had it waited, hiding and diminishing itself in the forgotten vale, until that time, showing itself to the world, safe in its power as it had grown strong in the long years. But more it had to do, for still it was growing and creating its dark ways.

Prophecy was spoken and so began another time. Fighting continued amongst the many races, shadows haunted the thoughts of the living, and worse things waited behind them. Destruction was brought to the mightiest of mortals and the strongest of towers. Derys'alth could now show itself in its true form and begin to spread its power, and so it was that foul weather beset the realms and a new feature was discovered. Fogs rolled from it, obscuring thought and vision, lending death to those who went into its grip. None who ventured in had returned; and thus the Misty Vale was born. At its center, unknown to the mortals, was the black tree; its age lost in the vastness of time, its anger grown beyond understanding, its darkness all it knew. A growing presence and will it had now in the realms, but a figure of form and substance understandable to the mortals it needed. Plots were hatched under its dark limbs and it pushed one creature to become renown amongst the mortals, raised up as a hero in their eyes. However, it chose surprisingly, but wisely, for it also knew it needed an understanding of which it could not find in its murky woods. In its darkness it knew not what it faced in the opposition, the light was something it could not fathom. Thus, the being it chose lived of the light, and was pure and true to the light in all its ways. Great power the mortal attained, through its own will and with the backing of the evil presence lurking in the Misty Vale. When one day, darkness from another source allowed the Derys'alth to seize what it wanted, passing through a vampire's bite into the chosen frame. A form understandable to the beings of the realm Derys'alth had now become in Barset, and all would tremble before it and its minions. So it was that the Darkness Forger was and began his plans.

Those who were present in the age of the flourishing of Derys'alth cursed fate that such times would fall upon them.

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