The Sturm und Drang By David Caplan

Please, sheathe your sword. Sit down. You look weary warrior and my fire is open to all that need comfort. Do not be afraid. No need for money. No. Please, just sit a spell with an old man. Company is so rare these dark days. Here. Have some gruel. ÔFraid it isnÕt very good. These arthritic hands do not cook as well as they used to, but itÕll warm your belly. Ah, there. Careful the bones. WhatÕs in it? Better not to ask, young man. Just eat, my friend. ThatÕs some armor you are wearing. A Knight? YouÕre kidding? IÕm sorry. Forgive me friend for being shocked. Not many of your kindÉ You lost 12,000 men today? Have a second helping of stew. Good. Food makes one forget. Mind the bones. Me? My name? Well, kind of you to ask, sir Knight. Been so long since anyone asked me. LetÕs see. I have had many names. Thousands even. Would take quite a while to tell you them all. You have the time? IÕve never had much use for time myself. What? Yes, my name. Well, perhaps IÕll tell you about one of them if youÕll lend an old man your ear for a spellÉNo, I donÕt mean that literally. Though there was a timeÉBut thatÕs another story. Let me tell you of the time I was called Nomon the Monk. You look so pale brave Knight. Are you all right? Have you heard this tale? Ah, ah, ahÉno weapons. No. No running away either. Fembrek Naffer Xabu! Now you promised and a KnightÕs word is his bond. Or so I remember. Forgive the magic bonds, milord but youÕll get used to them. Here. Let me feed you some more gruel as I tell you the tale of 300 years ago, in 4232 whenÉNow thatÕs no way to start. LetÕs try thisÉ

It blew in on a foul and festering windÉ
the day of infamy when all of the King's of Lankford and the first Emperor in 1000 years were laid to waste. This horror just after the telling of the coming of The Sturm und Drang. Sturm und Drang is of course from Ancient Normanic, meaning: turmoil; or literally: storm and stress. Ah, but it is also the long ago myth about a future time when the Black Army of QÕxuilÕnixfeÕzarlÕs Demons of Chaos would rise up from out of Therod's Pit and make war on Lankford; change everything in the Demon PrinceÕs image.

But you already know this, good knight. Quiet now. Just sit there and let me tell the tale. Hmmm. Think I still need to back up a bit.

In 3823, a time called The First Age of War for the sake of War, the kingdoms ignored the old Monk Nomon (thatÕs me) as he preached the fateful truth of this old Normanic tale: the dreaded Sturm und Drang. They were, after all, too busy making war on themselves. In fact, the entire known world of Lankford was at war with itself then continent against continent, country against country, town against town, family against familyÉ

Maybe a bit further backÉ

LetÕs go to 3523, the first two hundred years following the fading away of the First Age of Wonders. All of the Elves and Dwarves who had fought so valiantly along side the men during the Great Wars of The Age of Wonders had all gone back to their forests and mountains. Campaigns against, NefroxÕs Orc Armies, the Undead Lich Horde of Loggerhead Abbey, and of course the Colossal Crax Dragons and The Black World Wyrm, Fragnot. Yes, the Elves and Dwarves of Lankford had faded back into their homelands and become just myths, disappearing during the time that would eventually be known as The Age of the Magicus Anti-Trust and History-X. Now, without magical beasts to fight, the practice of magic became an a front to the human commoners way of life, the Crowns, and to the many orders of lesser Knights that formed from the disbanded Great Human Army. (The lesser orders of Knights came from the ashes of what was left of the Noble Knights of the Gray Gryphon: the sole Order of human Knights, unified for the terrors of the Age of Wonders. Most of the Gray Gryphon Knights had died in the final battle with Old Fragnot, the World WyrmÐbut thatÕs another story.) Now where was I? Oh, yes. There werenÕt many magic users left across Lankford, most having died along with their protectors, the Knights of the Gray Gryphon. The Wizards and Sorcerers of the West Tower, East Wind, Northern Eye, and South Rikune sacrificed the best of themselves to save everyone and keep the dark forces at bay. But still, even in their shallow numbers, the were the ones who brought the Wonders of the Age of Wonder andÉ Soon an order of anti-magic, giant Knight Zealots arose out of seemingly nowhere. In gleaming golden armor that protected them from all but the most powerful of Wizards, they rode across the land calling themselves, the Knights of Golden Order. Under their ÔpureÕ thumb and thought, a ban on Spellcraft called the Great Anti-Magicus Trust (thus the first part of the name of the age) was enforced. This, of course, quickly turned into an inquisition as rumors of a magic rebellion was in the air. Soon, all of the Orders of Wizards and Sorcerers were destroyed or driven out like the Dragons and other magical beasts that roamed the lands in the previous Age of Wonders. The old Darkness of the Yahli religion, also known as the Crux, made a desperate attempt to wage war before the Golden Knights came for them in their secret volcanic hiding places. The Clerics and Drow witches proved no match for these glittering giants of ÔpurityÕ whose armor was even immune to holy spells, dark or otherwise. The entire Yahli war was fought in secret from the commoners of the lands, Drows were no longer thought to existÐand would stay that way. Now in 3622 all of the Crowns of Lankford had a secret meeting, the first of many secret Royal gatherings. And at this great gathering in the Castle of SunÕs Birth in the city of Lankford Primus, they decided to take the reigns on these Knights of the Golden Order because they were becoming too powerful. So powerful that the Kings would have almost liked to bring the Wizards back to put them down, them and their Pure Law. This especially because the Golden Knights were now setting their sights on immorality and started killing anyone who provedÉimmoral. Of course, the Kings could not live with this because that was half the fun of being King at this time. (All of the Noble Kings had also been killed off in the war with Fragnot because they too were Knights of the Gray Gryphon. Rich noblemen and powerful Rogues were all that were left to take the reigns of Lankford). First the Kings would declare that the ÔgoodlyÕ Golden Zealots were to be the official guard of every kingdom, (thus under Royal rule). A dangerous plan, but the CrownsÕ only option without going to war. And next, the Kings kept the Knights of the Golden OrderÕs pious appetites wet with a secret plan. The Golden Knights would form an inner society called the Knights of Thorns and Contradictions. The Knights of Thorns would secretly organize a secret plan to burn all religious temples and clerics. (After all it was the gods, through the magic users and clerics, who brought the monsters of the Age of Wonders out of slumber (even if this was to unify the lascivious and lost people of The Age of Strife that proceeded itÐBut again, that is another story)). A new religion of the ÔGood SelfÕ was to be put in placeÐno gods needed, just the law. The Knights of Contradictions would be put to the burning of libraries and books of history, the historians who wrote them, and even any Bard who sung the tales of the wonders of the First Age of Wonders or before. (New histories of the KingÕs royal rights to their thrones and long lines of great families would be then put in their places. And, begrudgingly, the right and history of the Golden Knights to carry out Royal Edict (or so the Golden Knights would be told)). All the while, the Golden Knights of Order would pretend to wage war on their Brothers in disguise as they carried out what was named, The New Golden World Plan or History-X. The Knights of the Golden Order were not one for deceit, but they saw the purity of the plan and agreed. (The Knights of the Thorns and Contradictions also agreed to commit ritual suicide when the plans were carried out, because their actions would be against their strict Codex of Purity and Goodness.) Also they were cornered into agreeing to do the enormous task in just a yearÕs time. (King Gnarly of the Lakeshore Province, (formerly Rabble the Slick, pirate leader of the Dust Nomads) made a bet with the arrogant giants that they could not accomplish the plan in such a short timeÐtheir Codex demanded they rise to any challenge.) In one year to the dayÐthe Knights did it. 3623. This great and benevolent plan, New Golden World was put into place within one yearÐand none of the common people or common Knights were the wiser. However, it took nearly ninety percent of the Golden Zealots to be a part of the Thorns and Contradictions Orders to do it in such a short period of time. In a brilliant display of Whirly-Round (Royal Back-Stabbing), the Royalty blamed the hundred or so scattered Knights of the Golden Order for the terror of the Knights of Thorns and Contradictions and chased the remaining ones into hiding. The giant gleaming Zealots left without a fight, disgraced at having being outwitted by a ÔMan of the DustÕ as they called King Narklie. Of course their Codex called for revenge on the CrownsÉsomeday. Their word was their bond. Soon the Royalty deserved their place in the sun; (their new history books said so). The new religion of the Good Self was in place, people thought that humanity was the sole sentient life in Lankford, and thought that magic and the gods had nothing to do with their lives. And after 100 more short years, magic and the gods had become simply fairy tales to scare children. Then, on one perfect day in Lankford, a single day in 3723 called The Age of OneÉLankford knew a unified peace that had never before graced any of the planets in the entire Universe and all of its planesÉ With all this peace and tranquility, the people found themselves quickly, well, bored. So on this perfect day, there was talk of becoming explorers again, rediscovering routes beyond the great deserts and mountains. And it was agreed this was a new direction for this peaceful world. But the Crowns and commoners and Royal Knights quickly took to infighting over who exactly would be the ones to lead these great expeditions and adventures and who would profit from them. The Crowns began bickering on the next day. As they did, old family squabbles began to breakout among the common people. And, the Orders of Knights who were left began to boast who was in fact the greatest of them, the noblest, the most chivalrous. The Prelates (teachers that the Kings set up) of the Good Self began to argue over who taught the best version of the Book of the Good Self. And within ten days following LankfordÕs perfect peaceÐWAR! War for the sake of war. No one really cared about any of these things they fought over, my Knight friend, they had inner and outer peace. But I guess even the peasants need more than a crust of bread. And war felt goodÐalive! (And very human.) It was like an old friend come for tea. So it began, making up the reasons for it as they went. Continent against continent, country against country, town against town, family against family, the entire Known World went to global conflict with itself. And now were back to The Age of War For the Sake of War. This is where I come inÉNow remember there is no magic, no Elves, or Dwarves, or Dragons or Orcs, just humans and war. Although, there was the burgeoning whispers of the gods once moreÐmen on the sharp end of a blade and about to die, find themselves thinking of someone to pray to to keep this important moment from being the end. Yes? It was in 3823 that the Monk, Nomon appeared and began pleading with the people to listen to his tale of the Sturm und Drang. Mostly, he spent his time among the peasants who were great adversaries of the thought of war for its own sake but powerless to do anything about it. In his sermons, the old monk spun the story of the Horrible 32 Great Artifacts of Chaos. Of the thirty-two, only these few were actually known to Nomon at the time: The Eye of Sabu the Dark Angel, the Tongue of Vasp the Scald of the Dusts, the Brain of Malfecencetane the Drow Queen, the five-chambered Heart of Tangleroot the Dire Druid, the hand of Thung the Mad Thunder Giant, the torso of Wokenfang, the Devil's Dog, and finally, the colossal skull of Sithloven the first Titan. Nomon preached that these artifacts and the others must be found and destroyed in a holy sepulchre or elseÉthe dreaded Sturm und Drang. He warned that, war for the sake of war was blinding the people to the fact that if the 32 Artifacts were gathered by Chaos' forces that they could be assembled into a great and terrible Golem. This Golem would be a force the likes of which Lankford has never known. Nomon begged the people to understand that if this vessel was constructed it could be filled with the spirit of the Demon Prince of Chaos, QÕxuilÕnixfeÕzarl himself! And when the Prince of the Void was here in this colossal unholy flesh-form, he could unlock the dimensional tear to his universe and let loose his demon army to set creation into the Sturm und Drang, Storm and Stress, into utter turmoil. Order and Law would be cast aside, Nomon said, the Scales of Balance shattered, and one mad god's face would be Lankford's only star. Nomon said the world would become The Black Box of Thorns and Contradictions, it would become like a wild stallionÐthree heads one day and 5000 eyes the next. Nomon went on to say that all of Lankford would then be sealed up and cast away into the belly of The Great Nothing Beast with no name by the other gods. The Know World would then become a playground for QÕxuilÕnixfeÕzarl, forever under his clawed thumbÐfree to be twisted and pulled as he saw fit. Forever more Lankford would be separated from the other planets and their linking dimensions and gods. Nothing in this New World of Chaos would be allowed to dieÐeverÐjust warped and fractured over and over ad infinitum. InsanityÐChaos locked in a box with itself for all timeÐThorns and ContradictionsÐSturm und Drang. Time came and passed. 200 turns of the year-mark hour glass. Nomon's preachings went on despite the years. His passion for the truth to be known was seemingly keeping him alive. But still, the Kings and Royal Knights did not heed his warnings, though the peasants and many of the goodly lesser Knights were becoming devote followersÐkeepers of the myth. The Wars for the sake of Wars went on into 4023. Plots and politics, treaties and alliances were made and broken. Heroes, Monarchs, demi-Lords came and wentÉThere was no sign of the old and ancient wonders still, except in the tales of old Nomon. That is untilÉ Out of the vast Desert of the Forgotten came rumors of a dying Sphinx wandering into Ali-Kaffar Sultanate. Rumors circulated through LankfordÕs peasants that this, supposedly extinct, magical beast spoke of an excavation deep in the desert wastes before it died. The half woman-half lion said that there were strange dark beings working to unearth a twisted canine torso the size of the Ali-Kaffar Sultanate itself! The lovely Sphinx finally died but not before whispering, "Nomon sawÐNomon truth. Tell the Emperor." (She was a dear friend, the Sphinx. Her name was Daleth Bet. Her life can be found in The Annuls of the Known and Unknown by Sufiar the Great Keeper of All Things Born. His Great History was kept with the Elves so not destroyed by the Golden Knights of Order.) At the end of 4023 the body of the Sphinx was shipped to the isle of Lankford Primus, for the viewing of the newly crowned Emperor, Sir Hogarth Graymoore. The new Emperor was a fierce warrior out of myth and mystery himself. Square chin, broad shoulders, blue eyes, curly auburn hair. He was a not a Royal Knight, but a General, a common Knight of the Iron Gauntlet. It was rumored however that he was a distant descendent of the famed Princess Aki-Doj (Lone Swan), first female Shogun of the Aki-Doj Dynasty and the crusher of the Yahli Uprising in 1023 during The Age of the First KingdomÕs Fracture. "Timing is the thread in the quilt of great menÕs livesÉ" The New Emperor: They needed a new hero to heal the landsÉand history spit one up. In 4023 the Kings and Royal Knights of Lankford looked upon the two continents and their countries and provinces and saw that their wars for the sake of wars were becoming fruitless. Their coffers were empty; the spoils of war, lands, and other booty were bare at best. All of the lands were barren, burned and tainted with the unburied dead. They were unable to grow food or sustain peasants to work them, make their weapons and siege machines, or support the live stock they needed to keep their armies fed. Pestilence was spreading. The religion of the old gods was spreading. Dark forces were being seen on the outskirts of the territories. Whispers of the return of the Elves and Dwarves were being heard as well. Tales of these lost races having seen the humans at a ripe time of weakness and they were going to lay siege to everything and re-claim the world for themselves, the First Born of the gods. And these rumors if trueÐwere right. The wars had also taken its toll on the Royal Knights and the common ones. There was so much killing that their numbers could not be replenished anymore. Even the Great Military Academies of Turthage and Lankford were sparse in their numbers. At the same time of the fall in the warrior class, the peasants and surfs were growing exponentially everyday, breeding like rabbits despite their famineÐrebellion was in the air. So the Kings and the few remaining leaders of the Orders of Royal Knights gathered together in the Great Truce of 4023 and decided to declare an Emperor. The position of New Emperor was to be given to a man of the people, a common Knight perhapsÐa hero. His position and task, one of reunification. He was to be a leader dedicated to reestablishing trade, setting up and carving out new plans for revitalizing the farming and cattle, the cleaning up of the battlefields. He was to also be a builder, building roads, cities and new churches dedicated to old gods. He was also to finally carry out the plans for organized exploration of the Unknown World. A man of the people, the Emperor was to rally the peasants, give them businesses or small plots of land of their own to care for and tend, control of the new churches even. (The Good Self religion had all but disappeared by now into scattered monasteries of fanatical monks.) The Emperor was to be a Beloved, a flower from the weeds of what the Kings and Royal KnightÕs lust for war had sewnÉAnd then he was to be murdered and made a martyr. Kill this new flower, yes. Of course the Crowns would dress the assassin as an Elf or a Mountain DwarfÐfor the Kings still knew where these races hid. Yes. With the death of the peopleÕs Champion all the lands would be unified once more like in the days of the past, in The Age of Dreams, (which was before The Age of Strife). And then under the new Emperor, one of their own, all of Lankford would gather together to fight the terrible Elven or Dwarven plague that was gathering to wipe the humans out. And as the 2nd Emperor rebuilt the Great Human Army, reopened the Great Military Academies, the other Kings would continue to rebuild and salvage the lands, open trade again. It was a grand and benevolent plan, almost as good as The New Golden Plan. And just as the last of the 22 Kings put their mark on the document called: The EmperorÕs New Clothes, a strange and wonderful thing occurredÉ General Hogarth Graymoore was dragging what was left of his Navy from the bloody battle against Duke MonfediessÕ Armada off the Styrgian Coast. Graymoore took his last remaining ships, the Horn of Past and the Destiny, and his sole surviving twenty-three Knights of the Iron Gauntlet to the port in the peasant village of Prayton. There, the "victorious" Graymoore and his men began to make camp on the Prayton shores. The villagers offered Graymoore and his common Knights food and comfort from their meager rations. This was the peasant classÕ responsibility, but secretly some of the Nomonites had plotted to kill the General and his men, common Knights or not. (The Nomonites were a growing secret order of peasants dedicated to the spreading of NomonÕs teachings and awareness to the CrownsÕ and the KnighthoodÕs dismissal of the Sturm und Drang). But on the night of the planned attempt on Graymoore and his menÕs lives, the General saved a strange leper from a mob and vowed to take the dying man under his careÐWith this act of mercy by the Knight, the assassination was called off. Much to the dismay of his men, Graymoore gave the strange emaciated leper his bed and what rations he had left. He was determined to live up to his vow to nurse the sickly man back to health. He said he seen enough of killing and thought it time to save a life. "This too was the noble deed of a Knight," Graymoore said. His men thought him quite gallant, but they were men of war and were determined to set out to find it. It was on this night that the 22 Kings were putting their mark on the EmperorÕs New Clothes plan in Lankford thatÉ The General stood on the shore of Prayton waving his men farewell. NchÕOblet the seven-foot leper was standing by the GeneralÕs side along with the people of Prayton. And as the Horn of the Past raised its anchorÐit exploded in a great ball of blue light! In the wake of the blast, from out of the sea came wave after wave of shiny Blue-scaled Men with great clamshell shields and crystal tridents. The peasants ran screaming back into their unfortified townÐthough there was no escape for them because Prayton was built into the base of great salt cliffs. Graymoore however, without weapon, stood his ground against the thousands of these bizarre men from the deepÐand so to did NchÕOlet his faithful leper. As the peasants reached their dead end they heard a thunderous crash and turned to see a lightning bolt streak out of the sky toward Graymoore, just as the Blue men were upon him and Nch. Miraculously, Graymoore was unharmed! The Blue Men fell back and the peasants could see why. Clasped tightly in the brave KnightÕs hands was a huge Golden Greatsword and the word "Nod" echoed upon the thunder. With one mighty blow, (or so it was said), General Graymoore smote the Blue Men from the waters and saved the peasants and the town of Prayton. "Timing is the thread in the quilt of great menÕs lives," Nch was said to have said as Graymoore named him his Grand Viser. And so on the tail of this great miracle and new tales of magic and wonder, valiant General Graymoore, NchÕOblet the mysterious, seven-foot, bandaged leper, and a handful of the Nomonite peasants of Prayton set sail for Lankford in a ship called the Destiny. The telling of his heroic act reached Lankford and the gathered Kings long before Graymoore made it to the capital city. It also spread like wildfire over the two continents of Lankford, growing quickly into myth with no magic to speak of for so many centuries. And as General Hogarth Graymoore, Knight of the Iron Gauntlet, General of the Turthage armies and her fleet, barer of the magic Golden Greatsword triumphantly entered LankfordÕs gatesÉthe Kings and heads of the Royal Knights were waiting to unanimously crown him, Emperor of all Lankford. Ten days later, before the throne in the Castle of SunÕs Birth was barely even warm, the body of the dead Sphinx was brought before the Emperor along with the tale of what the great beast had said, "Nomon sawÐNomon truth. Tell the Emperor." Now poor Graymoore was expected to know of such mystical beasts because he was the bearer of the magic sword. But he was, after all, just a man, an uneducated man at that. All he knew of was war and honor. Quickly, the fickle Kings and Knights and crowd began to whisper and spit about having made the wrong choice. It was at this moment that NchÕOblet, the towering, bandaged, leper, stepped up and repaid his Emperor. Hidden in his deep cowl, Nch spoke of the mystery of the Sphinx and how since time began they were great Oracles and tellers of prophesies, but also riddles. He told tales of how the old gods combined the best of all races to make these great beasts and that they bore the burden of knowing and divulging the "Truth." Wherein he was finished, Nch ordered that the old monk, Nomon be sent for at onceÐin the name of his Emperor of course. And so it was decreed, so it was done. A great search went out to the many lands of Lankford for the mysterious monk. And following on the search partiesÕ heels was the tell that perhaps it was Nch who was a Wizard and saved Graymoore from the Blue Men by calling on the ancient powers to grant him Nod. Though not many people believed this, most had great faith in brave Graymoore to lead them from The Age of Wars for the Sake of Wars. And as the search went on, the tales of Nomon and the Sphinx spread as well as her tale of Wokenfang, the DevilÕs DogÕs body being unearthed in the Desert of the Forgotten by Dark Forces. After three months the Nomonites had ceased to be a secret order and were now gaining stature in every community. Nomon himself was being hailed as a Prophet of Old and Sayer of the old gods. Religions and temples of the old gods sprung up more and more. Clerics even began to magically heal the sick. After four months the Nomonites found old Nomon (me) out in the Normanic Barbarian Lands where the tale of the Sturm und Drang had originated. He had grown a great following among the Giantmen of the frozen tundra and was raising an order of Knights of his own to carry on for him should his death arise. Nomon made the arduous journey south to Lankford under the care of his Nomonites and two of the Normanic Giantmen, Grendal and Frostbeard. Quite sickly when he arrived on the Isle of Lankford, Capital of Lankford, Nomon was called before the Emperor, Nch, all of the Crowns and Royal Knights, and the thousands of people that were in Lankford Primus for the telling of this great SageÕs tale. Wheezing and coughing, his Giant Normanic Knights by his side, ancient Nomon rose himself high up on the castleÕs turret. Before the thousands of people and his followers, Nomon lifted his weary arms and spun the tale of the Sturm und Drang and the coming of the forces of Chaos. He told the telling with a ferocity that shook the very walls of the Castle of SunÕs Birth. For the first timeÉeveryone believed. They believed in the old gods and magic and the old monsters and wonders of the past. As the crowds began to buzz with tales of wonder, the Normanic Knights began to help the old monk down from his perch. But as they didÉ "WHY!?" NchÕs screechy voice cracked the air as he wailed out toward Emperor Graymoore. All of the thousands of people fell silent. "Why are you making me do this!?" Nch pleaded as his bony bandaged hand rose high up into the night, trembling. The leperÕs other hand appeared to be trying to wrestle it back down whenÉCRACK-KOW! A bolt of green lightning raced from the clear skies striking down Nomon and his Giantmen, leaving charred, twisted corpses. "NOOOOO!?" Nch cried out, falling to his knees. Weeping, he began staring at his hand as if it were a viper or not his own. "You used me! It was you all along!" Nch screamed pointing at the bewildered Graymoore. As he did, a glowing light forced its way up and out of NchÕs milky black eyes and shot straight into GraymooreÕs, knocking the Emperor back. "LIAR!" Graymoore howled as he hit his head on his throne, "IÕll defeat you with your own magicsÉLICH! HeÕs a LICH!" Graymoore struggled to raise his Golden Greatsword and pointed it at the bodies of the slain Normanic Knights. Amazingly, up their giant corpses rose from the ashes, blue fire still in the eye sockets of their black and burnt skulls, their bodies now encased in freakish golden platemail. "This will work out better than we thought," King Boontin of Turthage whispered to Merklie, King of Lurlath. "These two will make martyrs of themselves against magics and the gods and we can go back to the New Golden Age." The undead Golden Giants began to groan, "Death to the Crowns!" in a voice that froze all of the royalty, peasants, and spectators dead in their tracks. "KILL THE LICH!" Graymoore ordered the Golden Death-Knights, but they just howled and pointed their glittering hammers at each of the twenty-two Kings one at a time, "Death to the Crowns!" The Kings too, all descendants of the Crowns who passed The New Golden Plan, were frozen by the wails of the Undead Northmen and their glorious armor. "Or not," Boontin managed to whisper before, one by one, the gold-plated specters smashed the bodies of the twenty-two kings into grease spots on the great rooftop balcony of the Castle of SunÕs Birth. CRACK-KOW! Lightning licked the sky, thunder crashed while this weird and ancient vengeance played out. Slowly Graymoore rose to his feet. Nch did too, bones creaking. The two mighty men stood eyeing each other as royal heads were smashed and bones were turned to powder around them with slow methodical thump-thumping in rhythm with the storm. Graymoore charged, howling the battle cry of the Knights of the Iron Gauntlet. Nch quickly uttered some guttural lost words and waved his bony hand. In a sickly green flash, the golden Greatsword Nod transformed into the World Wyrm, FragnotÐreturned! The crowd gapped as the fathomless Wyrm grew and grew. And soon the monster was large enough to swallow all of the souls of Lankford Primus. Slurping like a hungry toad, FragnotÕs ghastly tongues licked the life spark from 100 people at a time. Both innocent and tainted were quickly sucked into the World WyrmÕs fleshy maw, every last soul goneÐAll accept for Graymoore. Sir Graymoore, with his spirit back inside his own body, threw himself into the mouth of the Wyrm. He stabbed its thousand hearts with a new sword that had magically appeared in his grip. The selfless act done with the first Spellsword, a holy blade of pure life essence that grew out of GraymooreÕs Knightly goodness and honor. Sacrificing himself, the former Emperor drove the World Wyrm back into the Void before it could once again plague all of the known world. Emperor Graymoore was gone, leaving only his crown. "Awww, my pet," Nch wiped away a black tear as his enemy and old Fragnot slipped into nothing. Slowly, he shuffled up to the turretÕs edge, NomonÕs words about the unfolding events still crackling in the clouds. Grinning, the Lich surveyed all he had brought to passÐthe first step in the Sturm und Drang and a laugh roared up out of his ancient throat. Bellow him in the courtyard, terrible ghouls and ghasts and other undead horrors, that were once the gathered elite of Lankford Primus, began to chant the LichÕs nameÉ "NchÉNch!" Bubbling with evil pride the Lich took a deep dramatic bow and uttered more forgotten words. "NchÉNch!" There was an ill green flash and the stones of the very castle erupted with screaming faces and dark runes of power. Nch read the secret letters in their proper order and a damning thunder belched beneath his bandaged feet. Suddenly the entire island vomited and the castleÕs dungeon poked its head out as its tail dropped away into a twisting and insane passage to the Void of Chaos itself. Wide-eyed at his own power, Nch reached down and scooped up GraymooreÕs crown. Sweeping his long red cape back, NchÕs skeletal fingers trembling, he slipped the symbol of world power on his fleshless head. (Liches love crowns.) "At lasssst," he hissed and began to address the undead horde and the god of Chaos himself. "Fools! You cannot escape the prophecies of the past, nor the Thorns and Contradictions of the Chaos to come. And soon, O great god of Chaos, when I have gathered all of the Artifacts that Nomon spoke of, I shall put MY spirit inside of the Golem and I will become the Sturm und Drang! I will become the High Lord of Chaos, and I will be GOD-KING OF All OF LANKFÐCRUNCH!" "Death to the Crowns!" The undead Golden Knights of Order were soulless as well, and in their piety and thirst for vengeance they smote the Lich called Nch and flattened the EmperorÕs crown.

Since that fateful day, as you know, the EmperorÕs Crown has been imbedded on top the World Wyrm Castle, as SunÕs Birth is called now. The perfect platinum circle waits patiently for a new Champion of the People to reclaim it. They wait for a Champion to free the souls of poor haunted Lankford Primus and once again reunify the world before it is too lateÉif it isnÕt already. Sturm und Drang. Actually, I was mistaken. There was one soul that escaped the now cursed and haunted Isle of Lankford Primus, the Isle of Dead Kings, as it is now known. His name was Nomon the Monk, Nomon the Immortal, NomonÐme. At least in those days thatÕs what I was called. But thatÕs another story. Now there are secrets in the lines between my tale, Sphinx riddles and Thorns and Contradictions. Go free and tell the people now, brave Knight. Perhaps, you will find someone worthy to decipher them and perhaps it will be you who will be this new Champion of all of LankfordÉthe new Emperor. Now go, and may the gods be in your heart.