Category Archives: Avatar of Fear

Avatar of Fear, Book, Cazic-Thule, Erollisi Marr, Froglok, Gift of Life, Mithaniel Marr, mobile, Morell-Thule

From Pond to Paladin, Vol. II

Leave a comment

Morell-Thule, the forsaken son of Cazic, and brother of Terris, took notice of Terris manipulations of the slumbering God, for while Terris is the Queen of Nightmares, Morell is the King of Dreams. For reasons unknown, perhaps simply to foul the plans of his wicked father and sister, Morell-Thule stole the gift of life that had been taken from the slumbering Mithaniel and escaped into his Demi-Plane of Dreams. Knowing that his enraged family would soon visit his home, Morell divided Mithaniel’s Gift of Life, scattering one half across all the swamps of Norrath, the sacred lands of his father, Cazic-Thule.
Where Mithaniel’s Gift of Life fell upon the swamps of Norrath, the first Froglok Tads were born. Those first Tads had the hardest trials of our people. Until that point, the swamps belonged only to the foul and destructive creatures of the dark gods. Fortunately the gift of life that had brought our first ancestors into being also empowered them with the bravery and valor Mithaniel Marr had exhibited during his trials in the mortal realms.

Once the swamps had been seeded with the first of our kind, the Lord of Dreams, Morell-Thule, visited Mithaniel Marr’s twin sister, Erollisi Marr. While the Goddess of Love blissfully rested in the lands of the fair elves, Morell-Thule visited her in a dream and gave to her the second half of Mithaniel’s Gift of Life. It was soon to be evident to the fair elves that their visiting daughter of the Gods was with child and they took her to an uninhabited region of the frozen northlands of Antonica, where they could tend to and guard her in seclusion.

While the elves watched after Erollisi, the first of our ancestors grew from Tads into adult Frogloks, and Morell-Thule gifted them with dreams of the imprisoned Mithaniel Marr, and visions of a means to free the brave son of Tarew. So it came to pass that from all the swamps of Norrath, the first Frogloks rose in arms against the minions of Cazic-Thule, fighting valiantly to the site of Mithaniel Marr’s imprisonment, guided by visions from the Lord of Dreams.

for uncounted years the Frogloks battled the evil inhabitants of Norrath’s swamplands, learning the lessons of both victory and defeat. Alas, Cazic-Thule is an ancient and powerful God and his minions are numerous and diverse. Try as they might, the ancestor Frogloks could not reach their imprisoned God, but never did they cease their efforts, despite the daunting odds.

Then, after some time, a small army arrived on the borders of the swamp that was Mithaniel Marr’s prison. Not an army of Frogloks, but an army of Northmen, the children of Erollisi Marr. They too had been guided by visions and dreams of the imprisoned God from whose life they were conceived. Seeking justice for the imprisonment of their father, the Northmen joined with the Froglok armies and the alliance of Froglok and Man succeeded in freeing their father Mithaniel Marr. The minions of Cazic-Thule and the Avatar of Fear himself fell before the unity and valor of the children of Marr. For the first time in the history of Norrath, the swamps were not safe for the evil creations of the dark gods.

It was in the brave and selfless actions of the ancestor Frogloks and Northmen that Mithaniel Marr discovered the mortal trait of Valor, and because of Morell-Thule’s honorable delivering of the truth of our origins to our ancestors in visions and dream, Mithaniel also chose to champion the virtue of honesty as well as valor.

Such is the tale of my Lord Mithaniel Marr, and the origins of my fellow Frogloks, and of our distant brethren, the race of Men. It is a shame that so many of our kind, as well as many of the race of men, have strayed from the virtues of our ancestors. My Mithaniel Marr bless us, his faithful servants, with the powers to redeem our fallen kin from the clutches of evil.

Avatar of Fear, Avatar of War, Book, Cazic-Thule, Feerott, Freeport, Green Mist, Guk, Karana, Lizardmen, mobile, Ogre, Rallosians, Urduuk

3rd Lieutenant Gerrog – Logbook

Leave a comment

3rd Lieutenant Gerrog – Logbook
Second Edition

This is the journal of a very important Lieutenant in the Second Rallosian Empire.

Entry 14: We march through the Feerott. It is a good march. It is a quiet march. Nothing lives within the Feerrott since we have last passed through. The General personally leads us. The Arm of Vallon marches behind us. The Rathetear Mountains is our destination. We will stomp on the bones of the gods we once defeated. This time they cannot stop us.

Entry 17: We have changed course in the march. The forgotten temple of Cazic-Thule is within sight. The General tells us in command that the Amygdalans will join our ranks or they will be destroyed. I pray to Rallos that they refuse to join us.

Entry 32: We have entered the foothills of the Mountains of the fallen Rathe. The Amygdalans have refused to add their numbers to our ranks. Let them hide in the temple for as long as they wish. It will be their tomb. For now, we will take the land of our forefather’s defeat and turn it into victory.

Entry 40: The General has detached us from the Arm of Vallon. The Arm, hundreds of scores in number, will continue marching north. They are to cross the Lake of Tears. Then they are to annihilate the gnolls. The Arm of Vallon will conquer the Karana plains. There is no question this will be done.

Entry 57: My command, led by the General himself, have easily taken the Rathetear Mountains. The Hill Giants recognized our superiority and bowed to our will. The lizardmen have been eradicated. If I listen closely, I can still hear the sound of the dead gods of the earth weeping. The Rallosians are conquering Norrath. Their curse has failed.

Entry 61: Taking the Hill Giants with us, the General will no longer tolerate the insolence of the Amygdalans. Their claims of counsel received from the Avatar of Fear are worthless lies. Their Avatar would never have allowed us to capture the Gate leading to their dead god’s plane. The only true Avatar is the one that inspires us – the Avatar of War.

Entry 67: When I was a runtling, my mother’s mother told me of the temple of Fear. She claimed it was filled with unimaginable nightmares waiting to destroy the world. She was wrong. NOW it is filled with nightmares. Us. The Rallosians.

Entry 79: The final Amygdalan has fallen to the black blade of the General. The ones we have captured have been forced to watch as we begin to tear down their precious temple. They incessantly chant prayers to the god of green mist. If their god cannot stop us from tearing down their place of worship, what makes them believe their god will save their worthless hides?

Entry 83: This great temple lies in ruins. All that stands is the sacred tomb the Amydalans pray to at the center of this temple. We received word that Guk is being scourged as we speak. The split-pawed gnolls have been exterminated. The Plains are ours. Freeport is about to fall. The General is about to enter the heart of the temple and personally defile the tentacled one’s most holy of all relics – the Forbidden Sarcophagus. When he has done so, the Rallosian Empire will know that we have conquered one half of the world. The other half will follow.

Entry 84: Bring this journal to your commanding officer, Rallosian. They must know of the fate of General Urduuk. When the box was opened, a green mist oozed out, crawling into the General’s nostrils. He barely had time to grasp his throat before falling over dead. One by one, thousands of Rallosians suffered the same fate. I sealed myself away inside a nearby stone coffin before the vapors reached me. It will not be long before I run out of air, for neither air or Green Mist can enter this casket. I will die as a Rallosian inside this tomb. I will not die as a forever-cured ogre outside to the Green Mist.

Avatar of Fear, Book, Lizardmen, mobile, Rallosians, The Curse

1st Lieutenant Dergud, 289 AS

Leave a comment

1st Lieutenant Dergud, 289 AS
Second Edition

This is the journal of a very important Lieutenant in the Second Rallosian Empire.

Day 107, 289 AS: This world has not known the Rallosians for many centuries. It is time for the world to remember. We no longer suffer the curse of the Rathe. Now we will have our vengeance upon Norrath. The warning horns have been sounded for five hours. I have never heard anything more beautiful.

Day 120, 289 AS: The Feerrott has been our homeland for centuries. Nature has reclaimed it in our absence. We have returned. We will take it back. The bones of walking ancestors will no longer disturb the living as the Army moves forward.

Day 140, 289 AS: The General leads us to the south. I am not aware of our direction, but I have instructed my soldiers that they are to destroy everything they see. We have sighted more lizardmen. They have been destroyed.

Day 160, 289 AS: The Avatar walks with us and tells us that we will be given even more help. We do not need help. We are the Rallosian Empire. We do not subjugate. We do not enslave. We annhilate.

Day 170, 289 AS: The lizardmen have been driven even further south. Many villages have been found and razed, but this is not satisfying. Our goal is not to kill lizards, it to destroy frogs. And then we kill everything else. We are spending too long in our goal. But our soldiers are obedient.

Day 193, 289 AS: The soldiers have been tested today. We have reached the forbidden temple and find it filled with life that must be destroyed. They followed the General’s orders given by me. This makes me proud. They did not kill the tentacle-headed creatures that guarded the temple. This does not make me proud.

Day 199, 289 AS: A week has passed and now we march again. The Avatar and the General spoke with the tentacle-headed creatures. They will not join our force. Their Avatar of Fear has forbidden us from the temple. We are Rallosians, not dogs. We will leave for now. They will pay.

Day 240, 289 AS: My soldiers have reported a cavern leading to a world of nightmares. I have personally ended twenty of their lives. A Rallosian does not fear anything.

Day 241, 289 AS: The General has commanded we are not to go near what he calls the Gate. I do not understand. We are Rallosians. We do as we please. We are Rallosians.

Day 270, 289 AS: The General has explained to me the deal made between the two Avatars back at the temple. I tell him that we do not need the Trolls, even as dogs. He has told me that Second Lieutenant Mugreeza will have more information in her tent. I leave for there now.

Ashen Order, Avatar of Below, Avatar of Fear, Avatar of Flame, Avatar of Tranquility, Avatar of War, Barbarian, Blade of Storms, Desert of Ro, EverQuest 2 Lore, Faydwer, Freeport, Freeport Militia, Giant, Gnoll, Knights of Truth, mobile, Official Website, Ogre, Orc, Priests of Marr, Qeynos, Rallosian Army, Solusek Ro, Soulfire, The Greenmist, Urduuk

Tome of Destiny – Chapter IX – The Battle of Defiance

Leave a comment

The pendant glowed like blue fire around his neck as the ranger called lightning down from the sky, striking the throngs of orcs and ogres. He fired arrow after arrow into their ranks, felling one after another of the cruel beasts.

But he knew it wasn’t enough.

The army of Qeynos was vastly outnumbered. Though storms raged above them, the Rallosian legions were drawing closer. Giants from the east uprooted boulders and used them as weapons, hurling them against the city walls. It seemed certain the gates would soon be breached, and then all would be lost.

The ranger signaled for his archers to fire at the giants, but the massive brutes were difficult to take down. And the orcs… the orcs were everywhere.

“For Qeynos!” shouted the ranger, and his troops cheered. They fight bravely, he thought to himself.

“For nothing!” replied a loud, hissing voice from the center of the Rallosian ranks. The ranger looked up. The wall of giants parted, and there, above the orcs and ogres, towered a being that seemed to be made of fire itself.

Niffet drew close to his leader. “What is that creature?”

“The Avatar of Flame,” the ranger replied. “The chosen of Solusek Ro.”

“Oh. Well, I have no doubt you can defeat it,” that halfling announced, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

The ranger drew his swords. “Keep taking down the giants. The city gates must hold.” He began slashing through the mass of orcs, making his way toward the being of fire.

“The Militia is falling back, General. Freeport will soon be ours.”

Urduuk smiled. “As I told you it would, Ignara. I will have Lucan’s head on a pike by nightfall.”

The ogre surveyed the battlefield. His troops swarmed everywhere, overpowering the city’s defenses in both number and ferocity.

“Beautiful,” he muttered.

“Indeed it is,” a familiar voice replied. Urduuk turned to face the massive being.

“Avatar!” he exclaimed. Have you come to witness my victory?”

“You have done well, Urduuk. This chaos is extraordinary. I look forward to your army decimating the other continents as well.”

“This is only the beginning, I assure you. When Antonica is cleansed, we move to Faydwer and–”

“General!” Ignara shouted. “We are being attacked on our southern flank!”

Urduuk looked toward the desert. A small but powerful force was cutting into his ranks, striking at the Rallosians with considerable power.

“The cursed monks have joined the fray,” he muttered angrily.

“Why weren’t they eliminated already?” The avatar asked. “The servant of the Tranquil will be imparting them a strength your oafish legions do not possess.”

“I ordered them to be destroyed, but my incompetent lieutenant betrayed me! I will show her the price of failure!” Urduuk drew his sword and advanced toward Ignara.

“Wait, General!” Ignara cried. “Something else approaches from the south!”

Urduuk turned. A thick cloud rolled rapidly across the sands, darkening the sky with a dense green haze.

“What have you done, Urduuk?” the avatar asked him. “What did you do to unleash this madness?”

The cloud was moving quickly toward the Rallosians. As it reached the edge of the army’s ranks, the ogres it touched fell lifelessly to the ground. The general watched them gasping for air one moment and twitching on the ground the next.

“My steed!” Urduuk ordered. “The son of Zek must live to fight another day. Bring me my steed!”

But no one was left to obey. The mist encircled the general, killing all those around him. Ignara struggled to breathe, reaching out to her leader. Finally even she collapsed.

“Fool!” the avatar shouted at Urduuk. “It is you who brought this fate onto your own people! The orcs are my only hope now. I will deal with the monks myself.” The massive figure marched toward the center of the orc army.

The mist coalesced around Urduuk, leaving him no escape. He swung his sword at the green cloud, but there was nothing solid for him to hit.

Defiler! it whispered to him. The time has come to pay for your crimes.

“What… what are you?” Urduuk stammered.

I am the voice of the one you betrayed. Your pride has brought your people to their downfall, just as it was in ancient days. But this time, retribution shall be mine.

“I betrayed no one!” he shouted back, swinging his sword wildly.

Liar! Fear could have been your ally. Instead you entered its temple and enslaved its children. Your insolence shall be the death of your people. But your soul, defiler, will know Fear for all eternity!

“No!” he screamed, but there was no reply. The green mist enveloped him, seeping into Urduuk’s lungs and stealing his breath. All around him the general could see his fallen soldiers, the lost remnants of his once unstoppable army.

The mist pulled at him, lifting him into the air. Below, Urduuk saw his own body crumpled on the sand. He tried to cry out, but had no voice. The mist carried him southward toward the darkness that lingered hungrily.

The defenders of Qeynos cheered as the mist receded, leaving the bodies of the ogres strewn across the grassland.

Aimara felled another orc and called out to her husband. “That cloud did half our work for us, Murbeck. Now all we’ve left to do is wipe out the orcs, giants, and goblins!”

“Child’s play for a Halasian!” shouted Murbeck. “We’ll finish these beasts up in no time.”

She laughed and swung her sword again. She relished the battle, but knew the odds were still slim. The orcs were off-balance and confused, but they still held the advantage in numbers. Soon they would realize this fact and resume their advance.

Aimara looked across the field of battle. The Avatar of Flame towered above the orcs, rallying the Rallosian forces and directing the giants to hold their ground. The avatar waved its hand, and suddenly a line of gnolls covered in flame charged toward the Qeynosians.

“By the Tribunal!” Murbeck shouted. “That beast set those pitiful gnolls on fire to use them as living weapons!”

The gnolls yelped in pain as they charged madly into the defenders’ ranks. The tactic had its desired effect as the army of Qeynos began to fall back.

“Enough!” cried a booming voice, louder even than the thunder. “You will pay for what you have done to the children of Brell!”

The battle grew still for a moment. The voice seemed to come from the ground itself, as if every rock had suddenly been given a voice.

“Who dares speak to me this way?” hissed the Avatar of Flame.

“The one who will make you pay for looting the dens of Brell’s creations!” answered the voice. “In your hunger for power you sought to consume the entire world, but now it is you who will be devoured!”

The earth shook violently and tore open huge chasms beneath the feet of the Rallosian army. The orcs screamed as they fell, their cries muffled as the fissures sealed up and buried them alive. Orc after orc was swallowed by the angry earth.

“No!” hissed the Avatar of Flame as its remaining forces began to scatter and flee. “Hold your ground, I command you!”

The ranger signaled to the knights waiting upon a nearby ridge. They charged down and circled the flaming creature. “Now,” said the ranger, “we finish this.”

“So you think the Avatar of Below has turned the tide, monk? I will show you that the power of Zek cannot be denied!”

The monk circled the massive being, fists clenched. “It was the pride and ignorance of your own armies that led to their downfall. Urduuk defiled the Temple of Cazic-Thule and made an enemy of the Avatar of Fear, while the enslavement of the gnolls caused Brell’s avatar to strike back at the orcs. Now all that remains is to put an end to you.”

“Fool! You cannot best me in battle!” The avatar drew his flaming sword. “If all else fails, I will at least have the pleasure of grinding you to dust.”

The monk leapt into the air and struck first, kicking the Avatar of War and knocking him back. The avatar swung his sword but missed, leaving him open for a series of punches.

The avatars clashed, striking at each other with the power of their opposing planes. The ground on which they fought began to rise, forming a plateau beneath them. On the flatlands below, the Ashen Order and the Knights of Truth fought the remnants of the Rallosian forces. The Freeport Militia drove the orcs away from the city walls and advanced upon the site of the battle, a helmeted figure in dark armor leading them forward.

The knights slashed at the fiery creature with their swords while the ranger called down winds and storms against it. The avatar was weakening, but it still struck with deadly fury.

The ranger looked around. Most of the remaining orcs were fleeing northward, though a few pockets of resistance held out against the Qeynosians. He could see a fierce battle going on between a group of barbarians and some of the stronger orcs.

“Yield to me, knights!” hissed the avatar. “I will share all the truths that the ranger is keeping from you!”

“Enough of your lies!” cried the leader of the knights. “Back to the abyss from whence you came!” He drove his sword deep into the center of the avatar’s chest. The creature crumpled to the ground, flames sputtering as its essence began to fade.

“Fools!” it hissed weakly. “Your victory means nothing. The people of Norrath have not yet begun to suffer!” The avatar collapsed into a smoldering pile of ash.

The ranger touched the pendant at his neck and calmed the storms overhead.

“What did it mean?” asked the leader of the knights. “What suffering is yet to come?”

The ranger didn’t reply. He drew his sword, the blade inlaid with ancient runes. He offered it to the knight. “For your service, I give you Maelstrom, Blade of Storms. It will serve you well.”

The ranger turned and walked slowly toward the gates of Qeynos, stepping carefully over the bodies of the fallen that lay all around him.

The monk unleashed all his fury on the avatar, striking him down with a final blow. The Avatar of War slumped to the ground, defeated. The monk knelt on the ground to recover and heal his wounds.

An armored rider on a black horse reached the top of the summit and dismounted. He walked to the body of the fallen avatar and lifted the sword from its lifeless hand. The blade burned with unholy fire as the dark knight held it aloft.

“D’Lere!” the monk called out. “That sword doesn’t belong to you.”

The Overlord removed his helmet to reveal a scarred, smirking face. “Of course it does, fool,” he replied. “Soulfire is now where it was always meant to be. I thank you for bringing it to me, and for delivering the true enemies of Freeport to justice.”

“True enemies? What do you–”

Lucan walked to the edge of the plateau and faced the army below. “Citizens of Freeport,” he called out in a booming voice that carried across the battlefield, “your Overlord has brought you victory this day! Now is the time to bring justice to the criminals who have returned to our lands! Turn your swords against the Knights of Truth and the Priests of Marr and let none of them escape!”

“Are you insane?” the monk asked angrily. “You have a chance to wipe out the rest of the orcs, but you’d rather feed your petty desire for revenge?”

Lucan laughed as he donned his helm again. He climbed atop the black steed and pointed the edge of Soulfire toward the monk. “Be grateful I let you live, Avatar. Don’t think I have forgotten our history. I suggest you return to the desert and show your face in my kingdom no more.” He turned the horse and rode down the side of the plateau.

The monk stood wearily. “It never changes,” he told himself. He clenched his fist and hoped he wasn’t too late to aid the followers of Marr who had risked their lives by trusting him.

The ranger wandered the battlefield looking for survivors. There were so many fallen, so many who had lost everything for this cause.

He saw a barbarian kneeling on the ground, her face stained with dirt and tears. She cradled the fallen man in her arms, rocking him gently back and forth. His armor was cracked by arrows that stuck out from his lifeless chest.

“Are you injured, milady?” The ranger asked softly.

The barbarian looked up at him. “Murbeck chased after the orcs, even though I told him we’d already beaten them. He didn’t notice the archers taking aim. He never saw the arrows coming.” She dropped her head and sobbed.

The ranger looked down. He had no solace to give, no answer for her pain. He knew that soon he would leave this realm, and that it would be left to mortals like her to prepare for what was to come.

“You fought well, my husband,” she whispered to him. “You died as a Halasian, and one day your name will be sung in the great halls of our people. You will never be forgotten.”

The ranger swallowed hard and turned away, leaving the barbarian to her sorrow. The price was too high, he thought to himself. And this was only the beginning.