Often would Nethus The Unchained, Lord of Fish and Whales and Keeper of Storms, roam his domain, surveying all around him as he crashed through mighty waves and bathed in the huge swells of the ocean. Perchance would he take pause, and stand on the tall cliffs of a rugged shore to survey the fine works of his sister Ceres, the Provider, Goddess of the Harvest or even stand among the Saints of Mavros as they guided their warriors in great and mighty wars. Sometimes a small island would pique his interest and he would straddle its shores, looking down upon its inhabitants with bemused expression as the mortals played out their continual games and factions.
On one such time, Nethus stopped in at the Black Bay of ANAMARETH on the desolate Isle of Karn’lothra, where one of the powerful Tomes of the young Ankeleshians remained entombed in deep occult. He gazed briefly at undead soldiers, whipping slaves carrying bows and burning arrows as they made their way to the harbour of black sails, but he stopped not here, instead preferring to look once more on the hallowed Tomb of his favoured Minotaur Prince, Quoraz Velesson of the Seven Cities.
The tomb lay open, plundered by thieves and Nethus wept a salty tear upon the blood stained ground, marking that one of the robbers held the powerful magic book. Guarded by shadows, and aided by an ancient ward, the book had been lifted from its resting place by what seemed like an ill fitting gang of armed minstrels.
Nethus watched as one of Mavros’s paladins slipped deftly past a SPHERE OF ANNIHILATION to casually jump 60 feet into a dark well and yet survive. He saw that the group had split in two, some entering the tomb, some staying at the entrance where one brave young sorcerer chanted the ancient ritual of a mighty abjuration to save himself and his comrades (two thieves of human and kobold type) from the ravages of shadows.
He roared with laughter at the greed of a Northerner, who while trying to escape with his comrades (a fiery Theologian and a Minotaur barbarian) to join with the injured Paladin below, desperately tried to pull a heavy magical chest on top of himself as he passed close to the EVENT HORIZON of the terrific sphere, frozen in time, and were it not for his brave minotaur companion, totally vanquished. Such frivolity ensued as the whole bunch tumbled down the deep well, the Northerner surviving death by annihilation only to suffer death by force of gravity and hard rock.
The paladin fought bravely but alas, with his strength already sapped to the limit, fell to one of the shadows that attacked them, falling prey to that death most abhorrent to paladins, UNDEATH as a shadow controlled by his killer. One of the shadows fell, and the other, near destruction, retreated. The minotaur and the theologian made their way through the dark tunnel to relative safety.
Meanwhile Nethus’s gaze turned to the sorcerer and his companions as they struggled against another undead foe. A wight with a magic wand cut down the sorcerer as they ran, and, unable to chase the nimble human, followed the kobold up a tree. Looking away, Nethus now saw that the human turned to help his sorcerer friend. Providing him with a potion, the two made their way down the hill, eventually joining up with the minotaur and the theologian.
Nethus watched the group as they stood on a high outcrop looking down to a burning ship now bright with flame upon the sea. So, that was their ship, he mused. Escape would seem impossible, and if Nethus was not a God, he may have considered this event the end of the tale, but deep within his gut he now felt a wrenching feeling that something important was about to happen….