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The constant loss of life was just too much for Treznor to bear, and the thought of losing yet another companion was the last straw. The price of such an exchange was steep – forever under an evil watchful gaze in exchange for considerable power.Īmong those was Treznor’s good friend, Whurral, with whom he shared everything. As the days passed, the number of accomplices lost to forced supplicancy rose, as they finally submitted themselves to Thoran’s will and signed Quaedam’s contract of damnation. Unfortunately, such a grand plan needed time, and not every willing participant could stand the daily torture at the hands of the Graveborn Warden. It wasn’t long before plans to escape the Black Prison garnered the support of dozens of unwilling Graveborn, all eagerly committing to the execution of the plan. However, such a desire could never be realized in this hell hole. The country they protected no longer existed, but they were still Imperial Guardsmen and their duty had never changed – they would unite those forced into unlife, the unwilling Graveborn.ĭesperate to break the curse of eternal unlife, they called themselves the Tainted. Those that refused to submit their will had their restless spirits imprisoned and horrifically tortured in the Black Prison.Īmidst such chaos and terror, Treznor and his friend Whurral stepped forward. The innocent citizens were massacred, then condemned to an eternal unlife. Gone was the just and righteous ruler the people fondly remembered, replaced by a tyrant that sacrificed the city, forever forsaking it as the playground of the Graveborn. The fanatic populace welcomed the King with open arms, opening the gate and ushering the Graveborn in. They were once Imperial Guardsmen leading their small units of troops, the only ones who took up arms to fight off the invaders at the walls in the face of indifference from their peers.īut it was now Thoran, having become The Fallen King, who had returned to the city with hordes of undead soldiers in tow. It was a time before radical change overhauled King's Manse, when everything seemed driven by magic, the pace gathering on a path towards destruction.
![forced eternal arena forced eternal arena](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/08/a1/91/08a1914e211c4df3e7ad6e85180ddffb.jpg)
So, he closed his eyes and simply let his mind wander, drifting as if on a delicate breeze, taking him back to a time long since passed. Sleeping itself would be a fine luxury, let alone having a lovely dream accompany it.
FORCED ETERNAL ARENA PATCH
Treznor was pondering as he lay back, hands behind his head, sprawled out comfortably on a patch of high-ground northeast of the Island of the Banished.īut alas, truth is his humanity has long since ceased to be. Treznor’s horse wasn’t far away, swishing its tail as it paced about. Perhaps he’d even have another lovely dream. Overcast skies without a chill to the air, the gentle lapping of waves against the rocks gentle and lulling. It was the perfect afternoon for catching a good nap.