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"This is great, best story someone has made so far."


Downfall was a book written by Alarrick during Dragonhollow's Second Era.

The tome chronicled the fall of Lakeview Village due to the First Bloodmoon, framing the story against the backdrop of a party held by Ebonblade at his tower in town.

Alarrick wrote Downfall to fulfill a prerequisite in his bid to join the Priesthood of Eris as its very first Loremaster. Acey chose the topic, requiring only that he base it on actual historical events. Due in no small part to the story, on 2E:56 he was named Loremaster.

Scholars noted the striking similarities between the mysterious presence described in the book and the dark entity responsible for the Black Claim in the Fourth Era, suggesting they were perhaps the same malevolent force.

The Order of Benly intrepreted the events differently, insisting that the presence was that of their patron saint Benly, who they argued was responsible for the Bloodmoon phenomenon as part of his clandestine efforts to reclaim Dragonhollow from Eris.


Locations


First Era

  • Forum

Third Era

  • Deep Thought

Fourth Era—Present

  • Memoriam on Mnemosyne

Eighth Era


Content



Now, there was a peaceful—Wait wait, let's back this up a bit. There was a village, protected by a guardian whose domain was chaos, fending off horrors which cannot be named from people so fragile they cannot heal from their wounds.

Now, there was a "peaceful" village, whose name was Lakeside, and all was going on as it naturally would, people trading and building and falling into Grim's hands all in due time.

Then, there was a stop. The sun stayed still in its lonely sky, along with the cloud's and the wind's halt. It was as if time itself had stopped. And then, there was a scream, tearing through the air like a knife, screaming incomprehensible words, words not understood by the village. It even startled the guardian of this village, but concerned her more than frightening her.

Then, it stopped. The sun again gave it's warmth, the wind made its ways, and the clouds tumbled at their leisure. Though this was not so in the village, as they were terrified. What was it? the question was on everyone's mind. However, there was work to be done, and other worries to be tended to. Although what had just happened stuck to them, filed back in the recesses of their minds.

One man in particular, who called himself Ebon (due to his dark attire), was throwing a "going-away" party, as he would part across the far seas to travel abroad. Ebon was a rather shady man, and a man not to be crossed, yet he seemed genuinely joyous in his planning for the party. There would be food, campfires, stories, and laughter all around! he had said.

However, this man owned a tower, a magnificent tower! And the main part in this party was to whom this tower would go to. Many speculated and gossiped as to who he would pick, but no one knew for sure, save Ebon. There was about a week before this party, and the village was eager to set up the festivities. Men repaired the night's defenses, women and the young men tended to buildings and farms, all in wait for that fateful day. Though there was an encroaching darkness, slowly stretching, slowly breathing its presence across the village, ready to strike.

Finally, the day had come! That morning he and his friends talked over the festivities, hoping they wouldn't miss anything. "Did you actually build the tower yourself Ebon?" they asked him. "Most of it I surely did." he replied. "What do you mean, 'most of it?" his friends inquired. "There seemed to be ruins there, which conveniently made up the base of my soon-to-be tower. Quite a sturdy base as well, I might add." he said finally. They asked who might have made these ruins, but he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. Then, they continued to talk of activities during the party.

Oh, the party that ensued! It was more than they could hope for! The whole village gathered to partake in the festivities. The guardian of the village, to her delight, was starting to enjoy herself while watching the festivities from above. Then she stopped. For the first time, in quite a long time, she had felt fear's long fingers grasp at her. She had let her guard down, at a crucial time. The presence had been thickening, waiting for the one moment to use her, to have her inadvertently destroy what she protected the most.

Then, the parties below started to change. They announced the winner of the tower below, and the village roared in response! Although once they approached the tower, and eerie glow surrounded it. Then, as soon as it was noticed by a single person, howls rang through the air, a mournful, sad tune. They continued till all had heard their lament. Then, the night came. In full force it came, and with it every man and woman fought for themselves and themselves alone. Those who lived through the onslaught warred against each other, all stealing and killing each other.

The guardian was disappointed, and slightly depressed. She had spent so much time manipulating, creating, destroying, all for this mysterious force to come and take it all away. Now it was her being played the fool. Was she angry? No, merely frustrated. She would just have to rebuild it, once again. She merely sighed, as the people below raged and howled, and embers flying upwards, trying to escape the calamity below.

Now there was a village, no longer peaceful, no longer safe. The guardian moved along, finding the next spot to allure travelers for her entertainment, and the mysterious force brewing, waiting again to wake.

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