300
From the uppermost reaches of the tower there descends an icy fog which radiates an intensely powerful aura of Evil. This menacing mist darkens as it swirls around the lower levels, like some huge vaporous snake seeking out its prey. Then, slowly, it gathers in towards the centre of the chamber where it hangs above the plinth like an angry thunderhead, roiling and seething with colossal malevolence.
You gaze into this black cloud and are gripped by an abject terror the instant you fathom its nature and purpose. This cloud is not of this world and it has not fully taken on substance and being within the material plane of Aon, yet even in its malformed state you recognize it to be a materialization of ultimate Evil. This is a manifestation of Naar—the King of the Darkness!
Suddenly a deafening clap of thunder shakes the walls, and the base of the tower is lit up by crackling arcs of lightning. The freezing air seethes with tension as the presence of Naar triggers explosive chemical imbalances within it. Then, above the crackling cacophony of noise, you hear a chilling voice speaking to you in your native tongue.
‘Disciple of Kai—you know my name. Will you not deign to speak it?’
Morbid terror is ripping at your insides, yet you refuse to show the slightest trace of weakness. You steel yourself, and inwardly you pray to Kai and Ishir to protect you in this hour of deepest need.
‘No!’ you scream. ‘I will never acknowledge you!’
‘You may be one of Kai’s favourite minions,’ retorts the voice, ‘but you will always be mortal. You would do well to remember that in my presence.’ Thunder booms, and the floor shakes beneath your feet, causing you to fall involuntarily to your knees.
‘Now that you bow before me, Lone Wolf, I shall impart to you your fate, for I am the true master of Aon. This is Avaros, a small and insignificant satellite of Duron, a world that has long been devoted to my cause. And you have been lured here for one purpose—to be destroyed. During the speck of time that you have existed, you have become an impertinent obstacle to my conquest of Magnamund. For this you will forfeit your soul. Yet, before I claim your worthless soul, I shall make sport of your demise so that Kai and Ishir shall see the worthlessness of their creations and know the futility of their cause.’
Once more the thunder booms, and you are blinded momentarily by a flash of white fire. Slowly your sight returns, and now you can see your adversary—Wolf’s Bane—standing upon the plinth, directly under the menacing black cloud.
‘Here is my champion,’ speaks the voice of Naar. ‘You and he are well matched for the contest that is about to commence.’
Wolf’s Bane unsheathes his sword and levels it at your chest. His facial features twist into a grotesque parody of your own as he spits out a venomous threat:
‘Victory will be mine, Lone Wolf. Evil shall ultimately triumph!’
You shout a defiant riposte, but the voice of Naar booms once more, drowning your worthy cry:
‘So be it! Let the duel begin!’
