Salutations forum lurkers!
If it wasn't obvious I like to be quite the mischievous harlequin. But I'm not meeting my storytelling-bard quota. As such! I come to you with a tale of new! Filled with wonder, epic, tragedy, and best of all it's littered with fabrications and falsehoods!
Allow me to begin my tale of old.
Long ago, 3 lords were responsible for all the magic in the land. The Lord of the Gods, the Lord of the Magicians, and the Lord of the People. They never lived in harmony, but they forced balance among the realm. All the magicians worked under the lords. There was prosperity, but there was never peace. Yet that wasn't to last.
Soon after, the new heirs were upon us—the Ghoulish King, the Cheshire Cat, and the Archbishop of 100. Their dominion hailed from the ruinous lands of Manovia, a bleak place swathed with powerful and ruthless magicians and warlocks. In their rise to power, the Ghoulish King passed judgment upon the lands. These are what we now know to be called "Quality Control". Those who had fallen victim were captured and banished to a frozen hellscape locked behind the Age Gate and guarded by the Orange Devil.
Nobody was safe save those who kneel to the edicts of the new Dark Lords. It wasn't long for rebellion. A wayward group, the Terror Knights had mobilized. Blurbo, the Godtouched. Prussen, the Turbulant. Okpuc, the Aggressive. Jonas, the Saint. Customs, the Enlightened. All under the banner of the previous Lord of the People, Kieth.
The Knights stormed the chapel. They roared and bellowed against the new lordship. Their anger was no more preventable than the Greytide at noon.
Their roars were unapologetic. They were outraged. Their bleeding hearts were enough to stain even the purest of cleric healers, the deepest shade of shitsec crimson. Yet in their wake, they were soon met with tragedy. The Ghoulish King descended to the realm of the mortals. Our heroes were prepared to lay down their lives for the fallen, to vanquish the Dark Lords and reclaim their throne. But, without Kieth's magic. They were powerless. The Knights threw themselves at the forsaken king. Alas, one after another, they met a chilling fate.
Unprepared, the Knights faced judgment as one after another they were raised from the dead to seek clemency and mercy from the Dark Lord of the Gods. However, one after another, they had lampooned the magic that empowered both the Lord's servants, and the Lord himself, and in one fell swoop. They were all banished to the land beyond the Age Gate. Their bodies lay splattered across the temple, wretched, in a puddle of viscera.
In their crimson song, a new hope emerged. The Disgraced Prince, Pepper Mynt. Pepper calls the people to arms his strife grander and mightier than the booming voice of a Colossus. He tells of his crown forgone, stripped by the Dark Lords. He cries in rally to save the banished and those who were yet to be stuck! But it was no use. An assassin sent by the Dark Lords had kidnapped the Prince. He was thrown to the wolves before being left in the darkest dungeon in all of Manovia. Blinded to his people's suffering, silenced from spitting his acid at his oppressors, only to be released in 27 moons.
Though Hark, my children! That wasn't enough for the Tarnished Lordship. Deep in his crypt, the silenced king slumbers. The very hand of the ascended toolbox himself, Archbishop Axle Brady lies in wait. Bound by the chains of "86'd from the club" he is blind to the suffering of his people. Unable to rise against the Dark Lords, unable to protect the Knights of Sigil and Terror, he is dormant. Rumor has begun to bubble. The Orange Devil has foreseen in his crystal ball that another assassin will be sent. One to banish the Archbishop himself.
All we may do now is hope there is time for him to be freed, a brave adventurer to break the shackles that hold our savior. To replace his blindfold with a gasmask, to paint his toolbox red with the blood of the servant warlocks.
Much is unknown of how this war may be waged yet, I for one await our savior's return.
Amen and--
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𝒯𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝓈𝒶𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁. 
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