Lost Sarras
Horror. When I think of all that has come to pass, I wonder how I am still sane, how my soul has not given into overwhelming horror. So many others worthier than I have sucumbed to death, mutation, madness, and above all the unconquerable horror. Why have I endured when they have not? Is this continued existence a blessing or the most wretched curse? For I must bear witness to things even more terrible than what has come before. Even now, as I write this, the open window and the titanic tossing cliffs below tempt me. But no. Even as I think of it, a wave of terror rushes over me at the thought of the sea, the dream-ladenth, nightmare haunted sea. I will not place myself in its embrace. I will not! I must not! No matter how much it calls to me, I must live and bear witness to those that follow. I must tell of the folly of men and the weakness of gods. I must tell you how the horror fell upon us.
In the borders of the Abyss and the Nine Hells, unbeknownst to the rest of the Great Wheel, the grim Blood War fell silent. Abyssal and Infernal were the first to be corrupted, for how could two kinds so totally opposed to one another as devil and demon ever find a pact, let alone peace? Only if they were changed- and changed they were, although they did not realize it. They turned their full attention of the rest of the Great Wheel, and thus began the Great Darkness.
Pelor was the first to succumb to the terror; even now, when I look at my own defaced holy symbol, smashed desperately against the stones of the temple I once led, I can feel the overwhelming terror and insanity that welled up within the god’s breast and poured out into his faithful. To a mortal it seems unfathomable that a god’s endurance and will have limits, but it is true. Pelor met his, burdened with the cares of the entire cosmos, and no matter how brightly he shined he could not overcome the emotions that ripped through his mind. He shone so brightly that he burned himself, and Pelor is now no more. There is only the Burned One. If you ever met anyone who claims to channel the might of Pelor, or wields his holy symbol with true power, you must kill them immediately if they will not repent of it! I have seen firsthand how the Burned One will corrupt and reshape anyone who draws too close to him, and even I, who has forsaken my old allegiance and power completely, fear that his ashy touch might have corrupted my mind and body.
The other gods were quick to follow. Corellon went mad, and nearly the entire elven race with him. They are lost to us now. They are like those from outside. Those who pray to Boccob say they can hear from him only weeping and wailing, and none of his strength will come to them. Erythnul is simply dead, and so is Vecna. Their slayers are utterly unknown and unseen. I can only hope that Moradin, the dwarves, the halflings, the gnomes, and their gods have all completely and utterly vanished from this world, for if the twisted things we find in the ruins of their homes and mountains are truly they, these races are to be feared and pitied above all others. Even the Infernals and Abyssals, the devils and demons, who started this horror are succumbing to insanity, as those who are outside reveal their hand and enter this world anew.
But, in the midst of all this darkness, even as our world becomes a blighted wasteland realm, there is a faint ray of hope. In order to undo this corruption and degeneration, one must find a wellspring of renewal, a new birth. As the gyre spins low, the fount will re-emerge. Most ancient and primal legend will come to life before our very eyes. Seek the Castle, seek the Kings! The Wounded King and the Fisher King, the Hanged Men. Lance, sword, dish, and cup. Drowned Sailor, Lady of the Rooks, the Man with Three Staves, the Wheel, the One Eyed Merchant. Find the World Grail, and unleash its waters to rejuvenate the world and lull the outsiders back to sleep. Find Sarras, the lost and sacred land, where the Grail resides. Gather all the strength of your soul, so that the world might be mended.
