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bring this knowledge to the people of Norrath not out of
a desire to provide enlightenment to the savages, but because
it is my duty to do so. Be aware that all knowledge bears
a price. Ignorance and innocence go hand in hand.
t
is rumored amongst most of the intelligent races of Norrath
that first came the Dragons. Whether this is fact or Dragonkind
propaganda is not important, for which is more vital, the
truth or what the truth is believed to be? It is said that
thousands of years ago the world known as Norrath was "noticed"
by Veeshan, the great Crystalline Dragon who rules the Plane
of Sky. Pleased with the conditions on Norrath , Veeshan
deposited her brood onto the frozen continent of Velious.
Then, with one swipe of her mighty claws, Veeshan opened
several great wounds on the surface of Norrath, thus staking
her claim to this promising new world.
 eeshan
was not the only being to see the potential Norrath offered.
From his Plane of Underfoot, a dark realm of vast caves
and endless tunnels, Brell Serilis quietly created a magical
portal to a cavern deep in the belly of Norrath. From there
the Duke of Underfoot secretly seeded the underworld of
Norrath with all manner of creatures. Brell then returned
home, sealing his portal within a labyrinthine chamber of
mystical Living Stone. It is rumored that the Heretics of
Paineel know the location of Brell’s portal and seek
to tap its power, but Heretics are tight lipped and rumors
are rumors.
t
is said that it was The Duke of Below who called the meeting.
The Great Mother Tunare, and Prexus, The Oceanlord were
in attendance. Brell, carefully avoiding all queries as
to the origins of his information, told of Veeshan's discovery
of a new and potentially powerful world in which she had
deposited her brood. Words befit of the King of Thieves
poured forth from Brell's lips. He proposed and they accepted
an alliance of sorts, ignorant of the fact that Brell too
had already released some of his creations into the Underfoot
of this new world. The planet that would come to be known
as Norrath was divvied up between these beings of power
for the purpose of keeping the Wurmqueen in check. Each
would create a race of beings to watch over Norrath and
keep a vigilant eye on the schemes of Dragonkind. Brell
claimed the bowels of the planet and created the Dwarves,
stout and strong, deep beneath the mountains of Norrath.
In the abysmal depths of Norrath's oceans Prexus left his
children, the Kedge, hearty aquatic beings of great mental
power. But is was on the surface of Norrath that Tunare's
creation of the Elves, creatures whose limitless grace and
beauty was only exceeded by their mastery of magic, drew
the unwanted attention of Innoruuk, Prince of Hate. In a
decrepit tower overlooking the dark decaying alleys of the
Plane over which he rules, Innoruuk waited, stoking the
fire of his Hate until it was a raging inferno. He cursed
his fellow gods for not including him in their pact and
vowed to make them regret this disrespect. From the halls
of the Elves' fair city, Takish-Hiz, The Prince of Hate
snatched away the Elven King and Queen. In his realm of
pain and anger he slowly tore them apart, physically and
mentally, over the course of three thousand years. He then
gathered the quivering pieces of these beings of light and
rebuilt them in his own dark sadistic image, a twisted mockery
of Tunare's noble children. In depositing The Teir'Dal,
as Innoruuk's Dark Elven creations would come to be called,
back into the Underfoot of Norrath, the seeds for The Prince
of Hate's final revenge were sown.
 ver
three thousand years in the past humanity was in its infancy.
Mankind dwelled in the center of Antonica, spreading out
slowly to inhabit the vast and fertile plains of Karana.
Villages appeared and prospered, several reaching the size
of towns, and two even became cities -- Qeynos to the west,
and Freeport to the east. Humanity, much to the disdain
of the elder races who watched from afar, was strong --
it rapidly gained a solid foothold in the world of Norrath
and was there to stay.
This is not to imply, however, that humanity was at peace.
Early on small groups formed, some linked by similar appearances,
others by common goals. Competition was fierce, and when
resources grew scarce for one reason or another many groups
abandoned the promises and alliances of their past and fought.
A few leaders spoke out against the violence, urging the
masses to remember why they had fled the cold north. They
had broken away from the lands of Halas and their barbarian
brothers in the name of peace, and these leaders insisted
that humanity adhere once again to those principals to which
all had agreed.
Their cry was not totally ignored, and the fighting subsided.
Villages were encouraged to trade with one another and to
respond to competition nonviolently. An economy based largely
on agriculture appeared and the villages and small towns
were surrounded by large farms. Most of humanity’s
leaders were pleased with this, wanting nothing more than
peace and food on every man’s table after a hard day
of work. A few, however, wanted more. Even though their
people had risen well beyond the standard of living endured
by their barbarian brothers to the north, they were not
content. Explorers and adventurers returned from afar with
tales of elves, dwarves, and other strange creatures, as
well as descriptions of ancient abandoned cities. A few
even came back with limited knowledge of sorcery and the
mystic arts. And when that discontent minority of leaders
heard all of this, they became both jealous and determined.
A small, fragile man of great intellect called Erud led
this group, and he formed them into a council. They quickly
became irritated, even disgusted, by their fellow man. Leaving
a small network of spies behind, the remainder of Erud’s
followers fled the city of Qeynos and boarded a small fleet
of ships. They sailed to the west and landed upon the barren
coast of the island of Odus. The land was sparse and uninhabited
and quite appealing to the council and their people. They
quickly built a city of their own, dissimilar in almost
every way to both Qeynos and Freeport, for it was almost
entirely a towering castle. Erudin it was called, and within
it the scribes and scholars, who called themselves High
Men, gathered and analyzed reports, captured books and scrolls,
and other artifacts brought to them by their spies. The
first human mages were then born – wizards, sorcerers,
and enchanters occupied the great halls of Erudin and grew
immensely in both power and knowledge.
One of the more adept practitioners of the arts was named
Miragul. Unlike and more extreme than the others, he not
only abhorred his human brothers on the mainland to the
east, but he also grew to hate his fellow Erudites. To him
they were both short sighted and narrow. They created schools
of thought, categorizing magic into three groups and assigning
themselves to three classes: Wizards, Sorcerers, and Enchanters.
Miragul found this limiting and thoroughly resented the
thought of being restricted to one school of thought or
another.
He soon found others who felt similarly. They were a small
but growing group of outcasts who often studied forbidden
texts and other knowledge generally kept secret from the
majority of students. The council was morally and ethically
opposed to much of the information gathered afar by their
spies. Miragul found that these outcasts not only studied
the three schools of magic, but also a fourth. It was called
Necromancy and a few lucky spies had returned from a distant
underground city (Neriak, it was called, home of the dark
elves) with both their lives and also ancient texts describing
this art. Miragul was intrigued, and, by using powerful
magic, created for himself four identities, four separate
countenances and names, and joined all four schools without
the knowledge of the council, nor anyone else for that matter.
It came to pass some years later that the council, in its
ever growing desire to know all there was to know, both
in distant lands and also in its own city, discovered the
group of Necromancers. They were branded heretics and great
conflict arose. For the first time in several hundred years,
the Erudites fought. They engaged in a civil war not entirely
dissimilar to that which they had loathed and fled from
back on the mainland. But there was one very significant
difference – they did not use swords and bows, but
rather magic, and the result was terrible. Lives by the
hundreds were lost, great buildings and structures destroyed,
and eventually the heretics were forced to flee Erudin,
to hide and regroup in the southern regions of Odus.
Miragul, being a member of all four schools, was not blind
to the implications when the conflict began. He left the
heretics before they fled the city, abandoning his fourth
identify and siding apparently with the council. But this
was only a ruse in order to buy time. He soon gathered every
artifact and tome he could discreetly steal and then left
Odus entirely, taking a ship back to Antonica and to the
city of Qeynos. The lands of men, however, were not only
to his dislike, but also filled with Erudite spies. Miragul
grew afraid, even paranoid, and soon fled again. He headed
far to the north and then to the east, wishing to avoid
the barbarians of Halas. After many weeks he found himself
near the great lake called Winter’s Deep and he hid
there for some time.
While Miragul waited in secret his mind was not idle. He
schemed and planned, and looked over every letter of every
scroll and tome he had taken from Erudin. Time passed and
his understanding and power grew. But he was unsatisfied
and a deep hunger for even more arcane knowledge ate away
at him. He soon left his hiding place and began to travel
long distances in search of more ancient texts and artifacts.
His power had grown and confidence overcame his fear of
Erudite spies. Once again he cloaked himself in false identity
and countenance and traveled the lands of men.
Not far to the south of where his cache of artifacts lay,
Miragul soon found another of the new races, the Halflings,
and their town Rivervale. The mage feared these small people
and their propensity to sneak and to steal, and as his treasures
grew in both size and value, he eventually made the decision
to move even farther north, and away from all intelligent
life. He traveled leagues and leagues, far beyond the range
of both Erudite spy and curious Halfling, and eventually
came to a vast tundra. This land had no name, and was not
until centuries later referred to as merely the Frigid Plain.
This frosty and remote environment appealed to Miragul’s
heart, for it had grown cold, obsessed with only knowledge
and the abstract, and filled with only hatred for others.
Creatures with intelligence forced him to be discreet and
slowed his acquisition of knowledge and items. He had as
little to do with them as he could, only hiding amongst
them when absolutely necessary.
Under the icy ground of the Frigid Plains, Miragul created
a large network of tunnels and rooms in which to hide and
study his collection. He used no labor, but rather deep
magic to remove the earth from his way. Room after room,
passage after passage, he did create to house his store
of artifacts. He split his years, spending one score out
in the world, exploring and amassing knowledge and items,
returning them to his cache, and then the next dabbling
with them, experimenting in one of several laboratories
he had created.
Many years passed, even centuries. Miragul grew old, even
though he did his best to extend his life using magical
means. There was a limit to his enlightenment when it came
to aging, and he soon acknowledged that one day even he
would die. Only one aspect of death did he fear, and being
no longer able to learn and collect wrought him with terror.
As his skin grew wrinkled, and his breath short, Miragul’s
time was spent less exploring the world of Norrath and more
studying the existential. He soon discovered the various
hidden dimensions that neighbored his own, the Planes of
Power and Discord. He discovered means by which he could
traverse these planes, making portals that led between them.
But his strength was leaving him, and his journeys into
these realities were short and often unprofitable. More
and more, his own mortality limited his reason for living,
and the specter of death haunted him daily.
The mage’s research into life and death was built upon
a foundation he had learned from his fellow outcasts centuries
before in Erudin. Necromancy, more than any other art, became
Miragul’s obsession. Eventually he discovered a means
by which to create portals within his own plane and made
them to travel great distances in mere seconds. He traveled
back to Odus, to its southern regions, in search of the
other Necromancers. Perhaps, he mused, they had unearthed
by now a way to cheat death.
The mage soon found that the heretics of Erudin had built
a city into a great hole that led to unknown depths beneath
the earth. This chasm was apparently the result of that
huge civil war from which Miragul had fled centuries earlier.
The city, called Paineel, though somewhat suspicious, allowed
Miragul to enter and after a time he earned its inhabitant’s
trust. Many humored the old man and his claims, while a
select few respected him and were willing to trade knowledge
for knowledge, power for power. They revealed to him the
true power of necromancy, the ability to raise the dead,
creating zombies and wraiths obedient in every way to their
master. Many of the heretics planned to assault Erudin with
vast armies of undead, to wreak revenge upon the council
that had exiled and made war upon them in centuries past.
One important aspect of their necromancy interested Miragul,
the fact that the undead ceased to age. Their lives appeared
endless and the elderly mage knew that he must discover
a way to be like them. He feigned interest in the heretic’s
goals, learning spells to raise the dead, helping them raise
their undead army. All the while, however, he was experimenting
himself, hiding much of his research in the small home he
was given in Paineel. After some time he discovered that
which he had sought, a way to transform a living being,
as opposed to a corpse, into the undead. Unfortunately,
time was scarce, for he was tired and almost dead himself,
his body deteriorating with age, and the heretics were almost
ready to make war once again.
Miragul then left Paineel, using a small portion of his
dwindling life energies to make a portal back to his cache
hundreds of leagues to the north. Upon arrival, he withdrew
silently to his most secret laboratory and prepared his
final spell. Dreaming all the while of endless exploration
and discovery, he slowly made ready his ultimate experiment.
The enchantment laced with necromancy was finally made,
and Miragul hid his remaining and fragile life within the
phylactery, a small device he had pilfered from the other
necromancers. Clouds of mystical energy gathered and then
dispersed, revealing a shell of the man Miragul once was,
an undead mage, what ancient scripts and legends called
a lich.
In his haste, however, Miragul had made a miscalculation.
The lich, while retaining all the mystical power of his
formal self, lacked a spirit. Only the mage’s soul,
now locked within the phylactery hidden deep in the cache,
retained the ambition and desire to amass knowledge and
power. The spiritless lich possessed none of these human
traits, and Miragul’s soul screamed in silence as the
undead creature began to aimlessly wander his menagerie
of wisdom and enlightenment, his rooms filled with artifacts
of power.
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