Welcome to Gaia! ::

*i walk in and see angel and vlad talk as i walk over to the elements section to find some books for my students*

*takes out a book, reading it in the peaceful silence, appreciating it after his foray into the bar*

*glances up, seeing Satine* Satine... *sets his book down, walking to her, giving her a hug and a quick kiss*

Read any good books recently?

* he picked up another book, this one had gold edged pages and a face was stretched over the front cover* Conquests of Chaos

In the hazy mists of the far distant past, a great conflagration engulfed the world. The elder races of the Elves, Dwarfs, Lizardmen and Dragons cowered in fear as blossoming clouds of flame filled the heavens and fire rained down over the continents, marking the final departure of the god-like Old Ones. The earth shook with fury and the ground opened up in gaping maws, swallowing entire lands and mountains, while cities and civilizations slipped beneath the raging waters as the oceans heaved and boiled. Reality warped and contorted as a seething rift opened and the fabric of the world itself was torn apart. Agony swept through the souls so all living creatures as invisible winds of power roared across the lands. The dark moon Morrslieb appeared in the skies, joining its brother Mannslieb to mark the birth of Chaos into the world.

The arrival of Chaos heralded the introduction of raw, uncontrolled magical energy, something far more random and dangerous than the refined power wielded by the departed Old Ones. The first races began to realize the potential that could be gained through utilizing the unpredictable and dangerous powers of Chaos, this new form of energy, this magic. The graceful Elves proved particularly adept at manipulating it, and they were soon using it to aid the growth of their flourishing civilization. But with the coming of magic, something utterly new came into existence - daemons.

Formed of pure chaos energy, daemons poured into the world from their insubstantial realm, ready to gorge themselves on the mortals that fell before them in horror. The defenses devised by the Old Ones to protect against this form of attack were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of chaos energy that pulsed into the world, though if those defenses had not been in place, the world may well have been torn apart by the sudden convergence of uncontrollable power.

A tremendous invasion of daemonic entities swept all before them in a bloodthirsty and terrible war, for none could stand against them. The daemons rejoiced in physical form and sensation, bathing in the glorious slaughter of battle. Their invasions scattered armies before them, and all who faced the screaming daemonic hordes were hacked down or fled, seeking futilely for safety. The Dwarfs retreated to their mountain strongholds, the start of their increasing self-imposed isolation form the other races. As the daemons swept through Ulthuan, the Elves despaired, seeing no hope in their dire situation.

In their time of need, a savior was born, the doomed warrior Aenarion who wielded the cursed Blade of Khaine. The world was on the brink of being conquered, and even this god-like figure could not halt the advance of the daemons. The best Aenarion could achieve was to buy time for the mages of Ulthuan, and the desperate actions of these skilled wielders of magic eventually managed to repel the daemons at a terrible cost. The combined will of the Elven mages created a spinning vortex that began to siphon away the magical energy that spilled throughout the world. The magical winds gravitated towards the extreme northern and southern poles of the worlds, forming the twisted Realms of Chaos and the Wastes that surround them. Unable to exist in the world without their sustaining energy, the daemons were drawn back to these power-saturated areas, leaving behind a world crippled and forever scarred by their maniacal attacks. The Elven mages were lost to the world, and none since have been able to match their mastery of the mystic arts. With the focus of the magic that worldly sorcerers had at their disposal was greatly reduced, leaving the weaker mages stricken of any power at all.

During the countless centuries after the dissipation of chaos energy, the early descendents of Men appeared; heavily-browed, brutal creatures. Meanwhile, the civilizations of the elder mortals flourished, their empires growing mighty and proud, though subtly and almost invisibly influenced by the touch of the warping magical energy. The elder races began to realize the perils and potential that were intrinsically linked to the magic that they were wielding. The first of the mortals to gain immortality was a being that came to be known in legend and prophecy by a myriad of names - the Harbringer, the Foretoken and the Bearer, to name but a few. Be'lakor, however, is the true name of the entity of darkness and despair, a being immensely powerful and worshipped by many as a deity itself. Filled with pride and drunk with the powers that it had within its reach, at the height of its reign the Daemon Prince walked the earth unopposed, general of the terrifying armies of daemons that surged periodically from the poles. No mortal was its match in combat, feasting on the souls of its victims.

Filled with overwhelming pride and arrogance, the Daemon Price began to look on all it perceived with disdain, eventually incurring the ire of the Great God Tzeentch, the Master of Fortune. The Changer of the Ways cursed Be'lakor's name, placing a destiny upon him to become the true spirit of Chaos. Existing only in a confused, hate-filled state and denied physical form, the Daemon Prince would become the Harbringer, He Who Heralds the Conquerors. For thousands of years, Be'lakor existed in madness before the time came for it to arise, waking from insanity to find a world greatly changed. The humans had evolved from their primitive beginnings, though compared to the Elves and Dwarfs they were still painfully barbaric. Exerting its considerable force of will, Be'lakor left the sustaining Realms of Chaos and traveled south over the lands, an insubstantial and dark shadow-being. Hungrily, the deamonic entity took in all that it saw, longing to have physical form to rip and tear at the mortal world to perceived, to once again glory in the thrill of conquest.

But the gods had ordained another fate for the prideful Daemon Prince. The full of Be'lakor's curse weighed upon him, and found himself compelled to journey to the northern Chaos Wastes, detesting himself for being unable to resist. The first of the great conquerors, Morkar the Uniter, was a human of particular vision and force of will who came from the nomadic northern tribe of Taalos. He had carved himself a strong following, utilizing the gifts of Chaos to elevate himself to the power that he needed to fulfill his grandiose dreams pf Kingship and glory, and the gods of Chaos favoured him with their divine attentions. With anger coursing through his being, Be'lakor was compelled by his curse to perform a coronation, placing the Crown of Damnation upon the powerful man's brow as a sign of the gods' favor.

Thus the first great mortal incursion of Chaos was launched. The destruction and mayhem caused by the rampaging followers of Morkar caused a resurgence of chaos energy that pulsated outwards from the north and south poles. As the influence of Chaos expanded, daemons joined this mighty champion, marching side by side with the mortals as they rampaged forth to slaughter in the name of the gods.

Be'lakor, having performed his destined role, quickly sank back into madness, though he screamed and fought with all his considerable will to deny his fate. While some of the tribes fell in behind the armies of the Uniter, many more resisted and were destroyed as a result. Seers and shamans prophesized that a warrior would cone to combat this unstoppable force of Chaos, and in their time of need this miracle become a reality. To balance out the mighty, conquering warrior of the North, a warrior was born, the savior, destined to be the nemesis of the iron-willed champion of Chaos. Falling into insanity, Be'lakor did not witness the glorious battles led by the inspired Morkar, nor did he see the rise of his nemesis, Sigmar. The savage human king from the Unberogen tribe, who would later come to be worshipped as a deity by the people of the Empire, faced Morkar in single combat, a titanic conflict that was said to last day and night. The destruction and mayhem caused by this first incursion was finally ended when Morkar fell beneath the crushing hammer of Sigmar, and the Chaos force splintered.

Over the next fifteen hundred years, more warriors have arisen to become mighty warlords and each time Be'lakor has woken from the darkness of his insanity to perform his allotted duty. Each of these conquering champions was a terrifying and unparalled warrior, and the creatures of Chaos flocked to march at their side. In awe-inspiring swathes, the conquerors have led their numberless armies swarming out from the north, the magical energy they thrive on rolling before them. The supremacy of each of these warriors has not lasted and the world has managed to cling to life; for each time one of them has risen, another savior appears to oppose him. Some say that this mighty hero has been sent by other gods of the worlds to oppose the Chaotic champion. Whatever is the case, the fact remains that in times of need, a mighty hero invariably appeared where and when he was needed most. With the favoured warlord slain, the armies of Chaos invariably crumble into hundreds of individual warbands that set out on their own path. Acting as individuals, they were soon isolated and pushed back into the darker realms and wilderness.

The malleability of Chaos is such that Be'lakor did once manage to corrupt his pre-ordained fate and turn his curse awry, thus avoiding fulfilling his hated role. In the dark times when a great comet plunged the doomed city of Mordheim into twisted madness and the lands around into hysterical pandemonium, Be'lakor successfully managed to take over the body of the next favoured warlord, Khaardun the Gloried. With the physical form at the last, the Harbringer tried to play out the role of the champion, warping the flesh of its host into an immense monstrosity beyond sane comprehension and become the creature known as the Shadowlord. In triumph, Be'lakor laughed at the Great Gods of Chaos, for he believed that he had foiled their curse. The Great Gods watched on, amused at the actions of the damned Be'lakor as the daemonic entity realized that despite the magical energy that permeated the City of the Damned, in his physical form he lacked the power necessary to travel the shadow-paths to the resting place of the Crown of Damnation, paths that he walked without effort in his incorporeal spirit body. Fury consumed the creature that was Be'lakor given form, who had exerted so much effort straining to reach the shadow paths, that he was totally reliant on the power emanating from the centre of Mordheim, sustaining him in the same manner that the Realms of Chaos sustains the daemonic hordes. Hatred, frustration and anger destroyed the stolen physical form of Be'lakor, and he slipped into his downward spiral of insanity once again.

Little more than two centuries before the present time, another great incursion surged southwards intent on the destruction of the arrogant and vulnerable Empire of man. Led by Asavar Kul the Anointed, a mighty warlord who through his iron strength of will had risen to become another of the chosen conquerors, the Chaos forces rampaged through Kislev. They slew thousands upon thousands of men, women and children as Asavar Kul set about realizing his ambition of glorious conquest. The Empire was corrupt and decayed to its core, caught in the strife of centuries-long civil war and this fed the growth of the Realms of Chaos. As the warping influence of Chaos spread southwards the land itself mutated and twisted trees contorted into blackened skeletons, straining their branches towards warm-blooded creatures and entire livestock were slaughtered as they birthed leering monstrosities, with claws in place of hooves. Pigs were said to stand up and walk around on their hind legs, and the entire lands of the Empire were gripped by mass hysteria. As the frantic people of the Empire's provinces prayed for deliverance, Magnus the Pious, who would later become Emperor, rose to meet the challenge. He met the armies of Chaos at the gates of Kislev, Praag itself had been overrun and crushed,
its streets irrevocably touched by the warping powers of magic. Seemingly filled with the divine powers of the deified Sigmar, Magnus met Asavar Kul in a mighty battle that was to once again determine the fate of the world. Be'lakor invisibly watching the battle from the depths of the storm clouds in the heavens above, raged and screamed in frustration as the favoured conqueror was again slain. The pull of madness was upon him, and he finally abandoned himself to the inevitable insanity. He was filled with pain and anger, for he was certain that had he himself been leading the armies of Chaos, then none could have stood before him or stopped him from bringing about a new, golden age of Chaos where it reigned supreme over the world.

The mad and enigmatic entity regained its lucidity little over two centuries later, bursting into consciousness as the power of the dread Archaon began to build. Be'lakor, now in his guise as the Dark Master, knew that once again he would be impelled to guide the Chosen down the hidden paths to the dark realm that housed the resting place of the Crown of Domination. On the fields of Albion, the Dark Master attempted a desperate plan to surround itself with enough power to be able to form a physical body and break through the barrier to claim the Crown for itself. Then, with the forces of Chaos behind him, Be'lakor had planned to descend on the upstart Archaon and feed on his soul as the Gods of Chaos watched on. He screamed in rage as his carefully laid out plans fell apart, and his grip on Albion was loosened. With his schemed in tatters, the Dark Master was forced once again to fulfill his destiny. Appearing in the sky above Archaon, Be'lakor descended on dark wings that filled the heavens, and the hordes of Chaos fell to their knees in reverence. The darkly angelic figure of the Dark Master bowed to its knee before Archaon, hatred burning through his immortal soul.

Seething inside, the Dark Master realized that once more he would be merely a shadow behind the rampages of the latest great conquerors of Chaos. Retiring to its own dark realm, the being sits in silence, plotting and brooding upon its fate. Having gathered itself power to resist falling into madness, its scheming mind is now occupied completely with grandiose dreams of power and revenge, and it is slowly formulating a dark and twisted plan to make sure that its dreams shall become a reality yet, whether the gods of Chaos wish it or not.

In the lands of the mortals, the wise and the mad already recognize the dire signs and portents that presage the return of Chaos. The world once more teeters on the brink of ultimate destruction. Those few ancient Loremasters familiar with the forbidden volumes dedicated to the incursions of Chaos recognize that these invasions have become increasingly frequent since their beginnings some 7,000 years earlier, and they fear that the day is near approaching when they will occur every decade, then every year, until a time comes when the world will be awash in one constant, never-ending incursion. Already, the people of the Empire are praying desperately for one to come, one to stand against the dread forces of Chaos, and one to challenge the seemingly unstoppable conquest of Archaon.

*looks into a dictionary* "Vlad the Impaler: Man who many claimed was a vampire. Brutalized all others. Trapped in his castle, then killed for his deeds. Rumored to have a son, but no evidence has been found to back up those claims."
*he sets it back, sighs, and turns away* Father... How they have disrespected you, ignoring your triumphs, ignoring the reasons behind why you did what you did... *walks silently into the shadows, fading away*

Satine! What happened? *he rushes to her side, concern all over his face*