The coming of Avoozl
by d_Galloway

haven't played QFG4 yet, please do- it's one of the best. So sit back, hold on to your bladder,

and prepare to read.

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THE COMING OF AVOOZL

"Here, have the key to the guild door. You might be able to find something of use there."

The Hero kept remembering the words of the Burgomeister as he reached the worn, cracked front door of

the Adventurer's Guild. What could he possibly find of use here? Everything must be worn out and

rotten. Still, looks could be deceiving, as he often learned from his adventures. The Hero slipped

the key into the door lock, turned it, and walked inside.

He was wrong about everything being rotten. A rope and grapple were placed neatly in a corner. A

bookshelf was tucked in the corner by the door, and it was filled with books, encyclopedias, and

various adventure magazines. An exercise machine filled about a third of the small building. And

portraits of various heroes lined the wall. Most of all, the standard log book sat on an ancient

wooden desk.

The Hero approached the log, prepared to sign his name in it like he had done before. But when he

opened the book, he saw a rather lengthy entry that filled about a quarter of the book. It read like

this:

This is the testament to the unholy battle against the Cult of Avoozl

The town of Mordavia was a peaceful, quiet place. The men and women talked and shared, the

little children laughed and played, the elephants trumpeted and crushed houses. Hunting was

wonderful, with the only monsters being the occasional wyverns. The pass was open, and travellers

went to and fro on its welcome surface. Yep, it seemed that Mordavia was the perfect place to live.

Of course, the people were wrong.

The Cult of Darkness had settled in the town, and nothing in Mordavia would be the same since. It

was unknown to the townspeople what was going on in their dark and forbidding monastery. No one even

wanted to know. The days were filled with children laughing, farmers working, and the townspeople

and tourists chatting. The nights were full of horrific screams and chilling chants that echoed from

the monastery.

Then one day, the cultists left the monastery, and headed south to the edges of Mordavia's territory.

Only the gypsies saw their destination, and no one ever talked to a gypsy. The hoard stopped at a

large cave located at the very end of the trail. The sound of stone being chipped filled the air, and

when the noise finally stopped, a stone arch had been set up by the caves entrance. On the arch were

carved strange runes (Erana would later translate these as the signs of Mouth, Blood, Senses, Heart,

Bone, Breath, and Essence). On the bottom of the arch was placed a gold plaque that bore the picture

of a six-tentacled octopus.

When some of the townspeople saw this, they had had enough. Word went out to the king about the cults'

activities. When the great king heard about this, he sent an envoy to the Boyar (Baron) of Mordavia,

ordering him to deal with the cultists.

The message went unheeded, and the envoy was never seen again.

Now even the king was worried. Not only was the cult around, terrorizing the town, but even the Boyar

appeared to be a member of it. The situation began to seem hopeless. Then help came from a most unlikely

source.

The young mage Erana, famous all over the world for her acts of generosity and kindness, came to the king

one evening and offered her support in the case. She told the king to send a legion of troops to the

countryside with orders to kill all cult members. At first the king was shocked- this didn't sound like

the Erana he had heard about. But when she explained the situation to him in greater detail, he was more

than eager to agree, for the cult had to be stopped before their grand scheme could be complete.

For the cult was preparing for what is quite possibly the most horrendously evil act to date. The six-

tentacled octopus shown in the plaque was the portrait of Avoozl, the greatest of the Dark Ones, the rulers of

the Dark Worlds. If the cultists were successful, the world would be plunged into eternal darkness, and evil

that our eyes must never see will rise from the depths of Hell itself! I dread to think of such a world.

A few days later, the king ordered that a legion of his finest soldiers go to Mordavia and destroy the cult

before their schemes could be complete. I, Piotyr, the noblest Paladin in the king's army and a native of

Mordavia, was charged with the task of leading this band to the cave the cultists were using. Erana, too, was

enlisted to aid us; her magic would indeed be useful.

About a week later, our troop reached the cave. Already we heard the chanting and moaning coming from the cave.

Undaunted, we charged forth into the cave, weapons drawn, prepared to fight to the death, if necessary.

When we reached the center of the cave, we were met by the cult itself. They, too, had their weapons drawn, and,

screaming with a force that would drive men to insanity, charged forward. I remember that day; the sound of

weapons clashing, the scent of blood pouring from the wounds of dying men, the maniacal screams of the cult. It

appeared to be a victory for us.

Suddenly, the entire cave began to shake, as if the very Earth was falling apart. The cave began to change itself:

stalactites and stalagmites rose forth, with the appearance of sharp fangs; the entrances to other caverns took the

appearance of valves in a heart, and a sickening, pulsating sound filled the room, accompanied by a horrific

stench. I looked back to the cultists.

They themselves were changes. No longer human. Only monsters. Their arms were like tentacles, their skin turned

a sickening green, their teeth fangs, their face a horrific mask of evil. My men ran in fear, and the few that

remained were soon destroyed. Soon only Erana and I were left to face this unspeakable evil. I fought on, but

my strength was fading fast, and I couldn't last much longer.

Suddenly, Erana appeared in front of me. Raising her arms, she screamed, "By all my will, I banish you to...".

I will never know what the rest of her spell was, as the cultist let out a single, horrific scream of agony.

Suddenly, a burst of light, brighter than any I have ever seen before, swept through the cavern. I shut my eyes

to protect my vision.

When the light vanished, I opened my eyes to see the Erana's staff laying on the ground. There was no sign of her.

I picked up the staff and went to the town, knowing that Erana was beyond my help.

Taking a boulder that was near the town, I carved a memorial for Erana. It was simple, little more than a large

stone in the front of the town, but when I placed the staff in the hole I had carved for it, flowers, most of

which I have never seen before, burst out from the rock. It was Erana's last blessing.

Still, I refuse to believe that Avoozl is defeated. He is out there somewhere, waiting for his revenge. For that

reason, I have decided to hunt down and destroy the only things that will allow him to return- the Dark One rituals.

I leave this log as a testament to my journey. When I return, I shall write in more detail about my journey.

Tell my wife and son... I love them...

Piotyr

Anticipating another entry, the Hero quickly turned the page. He found none. Piotyr had never returned.

After signing his name in the log, the Hero left the guild. It was dark. The streets were eerily quiet.

The Hero's first idea was to go to the inn, but when he overheard some of the local patrons saying a few

four-lettered words about him, he decided to go to the staff.

When the Hero reached the staff, an eerie wind began to pick up. A voice screamed in pain and torment.

Suddenly, a large, bearded man dressed in a heavy chainmail coat, appeared out of nowhere! The being

greeting the Hero by saying:

"I am what was the Paladin Piotyr."

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Gallo_note: Alright, explanation time. This is based on the info gained from the Adventurers' Guild log. And there

really were no other entries. Good-bye, for now!

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