This room; this small dungeon chamber altered the very course of history, twisting mankind; removing the shroud to reveal the ugliest side of human nature which set into motion. The true events that would bring about darkness; consuming the light.
This room... is where the Father of the Abyss was born. The Age of Fire is dwindling, and the Witch of Izalith has been mutated by chaos in her misguided attempt to recreate the power of the First Flame. With the failure, hope is fading alongside the Age of Fire. All avenues to reinvigorate the flame have been exhausted; all but one. There is still a powerful soul that remains -- the Dark Soul -- believed to be buried in the ancient human city, Oolacile.
"Oolacile has brought the Abyss upon itself. Fooled by that toothy serpent, they upturned the grave of primeval man. What could they have been thinking?"
A primordial serpent would be the first to convince the people of Oolacile to open the grave of primeval man, likely initiated by Kaathe with the hopes of setting in motion the prophecy of the Dark Lord. Or was it Frampt, attempting to harvest the power of the Dark Soul in a desperate act to satiate the Fire? It matters not which serpent unleashed Manus' wrath. Ultimately, the outcome would benefit neither. Manus' lust spewed darkness, further endangering the already-fleeting Age of Fire. And his rage corrupted humans by driving their humanity wild with mutation; perverting the prophecy of the Dark Lord in the process. But, before Manus was the harbinger of the Abyss, he was simply a man; a man who rested in peace.
But, convinced of the powers to be extracted from the primeval man, the Sorcerers uprooted their ancestor; placing Manus deep within Oolacile; in the bowels of the dungeons. This would become a treacherous place Manus wishes he could wipe from his memory. The tortures he endured here are unspeakable; torments of both a mental and physical nature. Manus was assaulted, often to death, but a bonfire was created for Manus' cell; making it easy to continue torture immediately after his body had expired. And when his body could withstand no more, the attack on his mind would begin. Oolacile sorcerers' magic is manipulative and illusionary in place of combative. With most heinous trickery; the wicked chameleons created false images; twisting Manus' perception of reality; pushing his mind to the brink.
Manus was tethered to reality by the smallest of threads. He had retained a pendant, a sentiment of a time when he could remember love. The pendant and the memories it aroused brought him the faintest of joy. In the seldom moments of solitude, free of torture, Manus would think of his lost joy; and fantasize of escape. But the memories wash away as hopelessness overwhelms him, causing Manus to strike the wall of the prison. Again. Then again. And what was once a moment of defeat turns into a delusion of hope; a futile attempt to escape. He prays his will alone is powerful enough to crumble the wall. Manus swings until his arm can no longer move; he swings until the pain is all that is left. Each day Manus tries and fails to escape and each day the sorcerers return. But similar to any other day, in the mists of the blood and suffering, one sorcerer notices the pendant buried in soot and dirt in a pathetic attempt of concealment. It is a locket of sorts, of magical origin, able to manifest memories. But this is no place for nostalgia, only torment can be found in these walls.
With the pendant gone, something changes within Manus; he resents his kin; his humanity. Little by little the foul people of Oolacile were altering as well, for Manus was a primeval human and all parties were unaware of his great influence over humanity. Manus' influence; his pain was so powerful it was beginning to mark those around him. It would seem evil breeds evil. Over time, the sorcerers of Oolacile were beginning to go mad. Their magic was altering with their minds; turning dark and physical, characteristic of the torture they performed on Manus.
"Seduced by a dark serpent or no, they awoke that thing themselves and drove it mad. One's demise is always one's own making."
No complex emotions are needed now, his mind is primal; abstract -- only shapes that once resembled emotion remain. Rage and survival are all that matter, and escape is the route to both. Manus stands in front of the wall one last time and begins to slap the worn flesh of his fists against the grime-covered brick. The sound of cracking was apparent, whether the sound's origin is bones or the brick was indistinguishable. That was, until the wall crumbled in his mad furry; revealing an enormous cavern, with a darkness below; an Abyss. The black void was calling to him. Did Manus' hatred create the Abyss below, or was it there all along; feeding on his anguish; transforming him, preparing him for this moment? Manus looks back to the prison that once held him, now torn asunder; recognizing then what the chamber truly was -- a cocoon; a shell to contain his struggle, his strength, his metamorphosis.
Blind to any other alternative, he moves toward the Abyss. Manus did not choose this path; he was forced down, into the darkness.