The Altar
All that we know is darkness; darkness is very much a part of us. We dwell in the very shadow of your realm- this realm of light and balance. Gluttonous are we; formless and all-encompassing.
Light shines bright but eventually fades. Darkness is all, darkness is eternal. Darkness is us... we are darkness. We are the inevitable conclusion to the universe.
That is what runs through your mind when your archeology adventure leads you through the Plane of Shadow. We entered as a company of five humans and an elf; we left as a party of three. The elf was the first to fall, longsword in hand. Foolish elf, we couldn't help but think, how dare ye stand against the cold, desolate void that resides at the end of eternity? The Paladin fell next, his god just out of prayer's reach.
Two swordsmen who had accepted this irrefutable truth turned on one another, convinced that the other harbored mixed feelings and envied the light. They rushed each other with blade in hand and reduced their flesh to crimson ribbon.
And still we pressed on, led by some unknown force or desire.
All reason had escaped us.
Only nihilism remained.
And as our minds decayed, the endless journey through the heart of darkness itself had ended. At last, the dim torchlight of the altar filled our eyes. Our mission-- oh how long ago it was when we received it. Centuries, Millennia, time itself had folded in on itself. The tesseract of onyx folded from our minds, retracting to the reaches of our very souls. Buried deep within us was a deep understanding of shadows, of darkness, and of death. And so we were born.
And so the world weaped.
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