You have received 2947 fall damage.

Wail did not die. Sure, his pelvis got a taste of tough love – but more than that? Nothing. He opened his eyes and looked around. What a sight – bottom of the spike pit. Not a single scratch on him. Excluding the fall damage that left his health points in the single digit percentages. Due to some miracle, he managed to fall in between the spikes. His assailant? Not so lucky. Wail got a lovely chance to look at her impaled figure before she disappeared into particles. With a few presents left behind – a luxurious dagger and 20 gold coins. Truly, another hard earned prize.

Gathering it all up took only a second. There was no point to hesitate after all – time was of the essence. Also, you never knew when some sneaky rodent jumped at the opportunity of shiny things.

Once done with all the looting, Wail decided to sit down and munch down on some stale bread. Alone. In a dark pit of death. With who knows what lurking in the shadows and no obvious route of escape in sight. Smart man that Wail. A master at setting priorities. Never wasting a single minute.

Belly full and satisfied, now all he needed to do was find a way out. And what do you know? It was but a few steps away – a narrow tunnel that might lead to an even more dangerous location. Yet Wail didn’t have much of a choice. Wait for his trusted colleagues to rescue him? Or find a way out by himself? Difficult choice, to be sure.

Wail was forced to almost crawl his way through the small tunnel - like some sewer critter. Didn’t like them much - due to the wet fur, they burned terribly. Other than that? He was paid, got some loot, tummy full of cheap cardboard bread and even his assailant was dead. Competition is most likely gone and no one was after his poor self. Heck, even darkness wasn’t much of an issue with fire in his hand. Things couldn’t be going any better.

As such optimistic and self-preserving thoughts caressed his inner-mind – Wail finally came out into an opening. A dark little chamber - illuminated by the light from Wails fireball. Probably its’ first light in ages.

A barren chamber with the only object in it - a small rectangle shaped platform. Frankly, it looked like a stone coffin, but that might just be Wail being morbid.

On it - a simple dagger with a bone hilt, its’ smooth surface shimmering in a deep purple. Considering how old and un-kept the place was – the weapon itself seemed to be in tip-top shape. Robes accompanied the dagger – black, with red embroidery and weird symbols on it. Items. One wouldn’t need to stress his mind to guess what would happen next.

Peculiar dagger

Description: A strange dagger made out of unknown material.

Durability: 40/40

Damage: 25-33

Requirements: Level 75, 20 Strength, 60 Intelligence.

*Unknown

An almost useless item, with unimaginable requirements. Wail wasn’t fooled by it one-bit. Obviously - certain conditions needed to be met - to unlock the true stats. Same story with the robe…

Simple black robe

Description: A worn black robe. Maintained in good condition - unaffected by the passage of time.

Durability: 31/35

Defense: 15

Requirements: Level 75. 60 Wisdom, 80 Intelligence.

*Unknown

Wail didn’t care though. He threw a fireball on the floor - just to maintain the lighting and be a rebel. Placed the dagger in his satchel and picked up the robe. As he did so, a sudden change to his environment startled him enough to almost drop the robe. Almost. Wail was clutching it too hard though. Instincts always win in such occasions.

Dark, red light lit the whole chamber - turning the feeble light from Wails’ fireball obsolete. Wail could feel a sickly churning in his very gut - like someone was flashing red light into his eyes, blinding him, feigning superiority. All of it came from indistinguishable writings and oval shapes that appeared on the stone coffin.

For a few moments Wail struggled to understand the situations, but the coffin just kept on drawing him in - making it hard to concentrate. Shapes and letters were pulling him away, somewhere deep and strangely disheartening. It took only a few moments, but suddenly Wail could understand what was written on the coffin, what it all meant. Like he was watching some cheap movie with a poor excuse for effects and a barely visible plot line.

*******

A red aurora lighted the nights’ sky – as the blazing fires engulfed the metropolis, its’ people beaten and broken. Walls and structures crumbling - a thousand years’ worth of culture destroyed in one red night.

“Their white knights rode in with torches in hand - slaying all who resisted, bringing down their own sense of justice upon the population. Their devotees paid homage, sacrificing symbols and servants of our own Gods to theirs” – a voice boomed - “Fall of a people, of a kingdom – under the domination of another”

A strange bunch the victims were as well. Even though their body structure seemed almost identical to that of humans - they had pale white skin. Long-straight dark hair. Small-bent black horns - tracing along their scalps. Eyes either red or black. A peculiar breed of species - vanquished by humanity. Wail could truly empathize - the weird were always the ones to suffer discrimination.

“Bound in chains, scattered to the edges of humanities Empire. Fated to suffer humiliation, ill-treatment, torment – slavery”

Deep underground they slaved away - in black narrow tunnels, high enough only to crawl in. In the fighting pits they fought ferocious animals, against unfavorable odds - slaughtered. All for the amusement of the victors. Even in the empires inner political struggles they had a spot - serving as front troops. Arrow fodder, with no protection or weaponry.

“Yet the will remained unbent and their Gods did not abandon them” – the voice continued – “Forgotten powers awakened within their kind, striking fear in the hearts of foes. Rebellions flared, with God’s chosen at the very forefront. Leading the struggle”

Cities and villages burned, the victors - now the ones running for their lives, with huge figures in toe. Horned, engulfed in fiery fury - they wrecked vengeance upon the land, slaughtering all who stood in their way.

Humanities armies overwhelmed by their own loved ones. Their dead bodies taken by tormented souls of the vanquished. Back from the dead, roaming the plains of the living - in search for retribution, yet unleashing it on their very own.

A reborn nation was forming, with a tall robed figure at its forefront. Facial features hidden in the shadows of a hood. Back straight as a string - age did not seem to burden him. That or he hid it very well.

Wielding fire and shadow the figure led its’ people though a darker, bloodier path. But towards a future - a future none of them had before.

“Yet it was not meant to be. Humanity called upon their own Gods for salvation and their prayers too were answered. Wielding blinding light, with fanatical devotion and received boons, they managed to retake all that was lost. To stand above all else, to rule and judge as they saw fit”

Only the robed figure remained now. He stood looming on a hill – overlooking the prospering Empire of humanity. Their cities bustling with activity - the land once again at peace. All the strife and conflict forgotten. His people gone.

Sadness and regret weighted heavily on his shoulders almost visibly. The back bent now. With no purpose to fight for - all he could do was vanish’ in the passing of time. Together with his people. Defeated. Forgotten.

+2 Wisdom.