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 History of Ashwind.

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Chaos
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PostSubject: History of Ashwind.   Fri Aug 28, 2009 8:48 am

Before the darkness was placed upon the land, and before the locals settled in the town of Ashwind, the land itself was a place cursed, not by some ancient god of power or devilish spirit, no. It was cursed by the greed of mankind itself, the lust for power over the powers that be are solely responsible for the horror unleashed here.

800 years ago in the flatland there existed a grim and horrible band of bloodmancers. Horrible people who killed for the power that blood gave to them. They roamed the land searching for their nexus of power, their eternal wellspring of blood, mystical life force the world could consider its blood was sought. Eventually, they found what they were looking for, that was the easy part. The planet had no intentions of being infected by an evil as such as this. Resistance was simple and the insane plot was halted.

The band of people decided to take a different approach to the situation. Not willing to give up the strongest source of power they could ever hope to ever know, but not having the power to control it there was only one thing that could be done, obviously. If you do not have the power, you find away to get it. Because of the sacred place the Bloodmancers took up residence, nobody else dared go near it because it was something you just didn't do. Because of this though, their presence went largely undetected.

The first raid took place in the dead of night. The insane people dressed in black robes and holding jagged swords came out of the dead of night. The villagers never stood a chance. The power is in the blood, and no blood was spared for the taking. Women and children were slaughtered, but with their arcane powers, none of the precious blood was wasted, none ever touched the ground, not a single drop.

The first raid was free, but the power was not enough to corrupt the life blood of the planet. The next few days went by and the trading routes reported the ghostly village reports, bloodless corpses strewn about, body parts everywhere. The people warned them not to settle so close to the heartland, it was dangerous and horrible curses would exact revenge upon any who approached. Now their warnings rang true.

The others as a collective whole decided that they were far enough away from the heartland to avoid death. But as with all collective thought in any society, there are always a few who think differently and refused to lower their guard. When the blood seeking horde came again, this time it would cost them dearly. The attackers became the victims and suffered a massive defeat not more then three weeks later after their first raid. In their defeat, but not their destruction they learned much in the ways of revenge since then.

Ten years would go by, the evil scourge upon the land would grow, and villages would be haunted by numerous bloodless corpses that would randomly appear after a night that had no source of origin. The horror and violence would become a nightly thing. Gods and evil spirits replaced the true criminals, and life went on for ten years. Sorrow and anger filled the spirit of the people, and it slowly crept into the land itself as well.

Then one unusually bright and sunny day, there was a horrible noise that came from the heartlands. Nobody knew what it was, or what could make such a horrible noise, but nevertheless, there it was. Investigations according to the historians would report nothing but a massive pool of twisting red blood that had taken on a life of its own. No sign of the monstrous people in black that had killed at least three thousand people from at least fifty villages in the course of ten years.

Some say the land had never been the same, and that the horrible people had done what they set out to do, but became a victim of their own success. This is partly true, the mass of blood did indeed kill its creators, but there are no reports of it at any other time, and unless you search through ages and sift through the records of some old museum, you would never know it now.

Eventually the smaller villages also began to finally give into the fear, and go away from the place. The river that the people lived by was the main water source, and moving upstream and away from the heartland was the only option. The area around the tortured area was then abandoned in less then fifty years.

It would be along while before anybody would dare return to this area. But as all things do. Truth transform into legends, and legends turn into myth. And myth eventually fades into nothing but whispers and rumors of bad things in that general direction.

But it would not remain empty for long. Ambition and greed would again come to this place and with it, the reawakening of the ancient darkness put to an unsettled rest so long ago.
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PostSubject: Re: History of Ashwind.   Fri Aug 28, 2009 8:51 am

Bad things in that general direction is something that even the animals seem to understand. The nights are blacker and the winds just that much colder. Ancient ruins and remains scattered and so crumbling old that that the most recently built are the ones the children play on, not even knowing what they were, not even a glimmer of imagination could shine light on the tragic truth. The land was silent, brooding and patiently waiting for the next assault. The Bloodmancers eventually disbanded, or somewhere its written they were all destroyed by their own horror, depending on what you believe is how the story goes.

The story of Ashwind begins 700 years after the abandoning of the land, and during that time things have changed too much for people to know of the horror that came here before them. A small band of intrepid explorers set out to found a new town and to escape from the chaos back home. Nobody knows now where home was. The fact has long been lost to memory and record. Their leader was James Ash Zimmer. This man was the real deal and an expert explorer, leader and survivor. Desperate to get out of town him and at least 200 settlers made their way to this what seemed to be perfect spot of land. They had no warning of the past, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

It was a hard beginning, all beginnings are hard though. Nothing worth doing ever comes easily, but something seemed to be helping them along with the construction. There had been no major injuries or set backs of any kind. There was one main tragedy though. While on a roof top doing some finishing touches that were forgotten on the local tavern a unusual wind came from nowhere and took James off guard. He was pushed off the roof and fell to his death. It was the first death in the town and how it got its name in honor of the man who lead them there. Because Jamestown was too generic and boring, not like the man they all knew.

Soon there was really nothing left to do. The place was well established, protected and self reliant for everything it needed. They were taught well to live off of their land and keep it healthy. It was too bad for them that the land was never truly well to begin with. And with the death of James on it, it would awaken again once more.

Like all things, they begin slowly. People began to report "Odd" occurrences. Lights being on when nobody was home, things moving around on their own, or odd things found where they didn't belong. This was basically ignored for the most part and sometimes people reported strange voices coming from underneath beds it never got much worse then this.

Many weeks went by then, a stranger came to town. Not an ordinary stranger but none other then a priest. He came spreading the word of his God who appeared to be some kind of savior. The people were weary of this kind of attention, this is what they claimed to be running from to begin with. One man by the name of Frank Gyos immediately confronted the priest and told him that they didn't need his kind around here. The priest explained he too was running from the persecution of the laws of his homeland and saw this place from afar. Feeling a sort of sympathy with his plight the townspeople decided it was alright for him to stay. They offered to build him a church if it would remain outside of town. The Law and the Word came to Ashwind on the same day. Frank was voted to be sheriff.

The soon to be called Blessed Mountain Church was founded outside of the town. And it caused no trouble to anybody, as a matter of fact it started to attract people who were lost in the wilderness, it offered them safety. After three years of general peace something came from the dark night, in the form of a injured man he stumbled into the church seeking asylum. But something was different about this man he was not the average wanderer. He was well dressed and kept on any other day, he had money and was the victim of an unfortunate bandit attack. The man was soon to be known as Daniel Green.

His name meant nothing in Ashwind, but he apparently was famous elsewhere, wealthy beyond measure as well. Despite the objections of the townspeople, the sheriff went behind their backs and made a secret deal with Green. The deal was that for a outpost of trade in the town Green could build a mansion over in the hills at his leisure. What little soul the town had built on self reliance was about be stolen by Green's trading outpost. Soon after the construction teams were in place and the first modernist structure was built in Ashwind. The Trading Post was there and advertised. Not only was Ashwind's soul sold for some mere goods they didn't need, they were now on the map.

Being advertised as the town that saved Green's life made it popular and popularity brings greed, stress and more unsavory people that would all want a piece of this land. Not everybody who came to the place had an agenda, but most of them would. The years past and the sheriff would become more and more corrupted by the bribes to let people out, known violent and nasty people who would do nothing but harm to anybody else.

The schoolhouse was far too small to accommodate the growing number of children and everything was pushing closer and closer to its edge. The mansion in the hills was completed in a few years time and Once done the entire Green family seemed to move there. Their presence and money did little to calm nerves down among the original people. Shelters were built. Everything came to a point one cold winter's night though.

The night of the black flame, it was called. There had been no warning or point of origin. The flames tore through the town and killed at least thirty people. The event was enough to scar the town forever and it would always be blamed for the events that would curse the town. People decided to forever change their ways. The Greens became more and more cut off from the world. Their oldest daughter was killed, burned to death, along with sixteen other people. Some of the locals turned to God for help, some turned to the bottle. Some though, they turned to things much more horrible. Daniel Green and his wife Angela were horribly disturbed by this, and angry. Daniel then proceeded to use his massive fortune to gather up things of darkness, objects and cursed items with the power to bring the dead back to life.

The Mansion seemed to grow darker as the years went on. Sometimes faint screams could be heard on the wind from that direction. Mr. Green was never really seen again and people slowly stopped coming to the town, but the Post never did close down and the money kept flowing. In his quest to bring life back to his daughter, he went insane somewhere along the lines and one night an aged and tired old man fell dead in the middle of town, dead with a final scream that anybody could have told you was nothing more then regret, and guilt.

A shroud of darkness was cast upon the town and it was seemingly decaying everything that was, but the process of decay was a slow one, and a painful one. Sometimes it needs some help in destruction. Down the road, far down the road somebody was coming, something was willing to make a choice nobody else would.
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