The ambient light in the room dims to a candle’s brightness. The world seems to fall away beneath your feet.
“My birth name was Nurok. I hail from Genzik, birthplace of the mightiest of warriors and ancestral home of leaders.
Like my peers, I, too, was mighty. But we lacked an enemy to test our mettle. I did not have the means to prove my might. I wanted to shape the future of our world. I wanted to become a legend.
I endeavored to bring glory to our people. My power grew. In time, I became Harbinger Thol. The youngest Harbinger in generations.
[An image appears in the observatory above, it’s an awards ceremony. Thol is receiving his Harbinger’s Cloak. (A Cloak of Protection)Then the image changes to a young hobgoblin man in a fortress tower, surveying his troops, thousands of men]
But command was not enough. I wanted personal glory. It was not enough for them to remember my legions. My might would be legend. I would do what no other could. I would sate the Valley of Blood.
[ominous whispering and the sounds of fighting as the image changes to a battle between armed humans and unarmored hobgoblins, corpses of hobgoblins, rock walls bleeding, a stone monument of gargantuan proportions, an armored human fleeing on horseback]
And so I claimed the spirit of Hemedios. The Dread God of Blood obeyed my whims.
He also craved power. He knew that obscurity would not suffice. He remembers others. We will take their strength.
[Another stone monolith in the woods. This time, broken. The sounds of a beating heart. Thol holds a deep green crystal heart. The red nimbus of power surrounding him eats the heart.]
Hemedios remembers now. He remembers how they dragged him, screaming, through the Gate. How they sundered his form. His Spirit seeks his Heart.
But now we will deceive them. Their own kin will obey me. They will show us where. They will show us how.
[A campfire on the Baldosian plains. Thol places a chess piece into the palm of a human man. Alakazam’s younger face is clearly remorseful, as he nods and sadly accepts the chess piece.]
Now I know where they locked away Hemedios’ heart. The chains will be severed, the anchors must be disrupted. It will take time. We will acquire allies. The Spirit seeks the Heart.[The hooded hobgoblin makes a deal with a woman in a shadowy, withered grove. She has deep green hair and a wicked look in her eye. She hands him a small pouch, as horrible shadowy creatures emerge from the darkness surrounding her]
They had enemies already. Their hatred is old, and easily exploited. The chains will be broken soon, and the anchor revealed. The spirit seeks the heart.
[Then Hemedios’ spirit clashes with a spirit of yellow-white light. A mighty tree withers far in the distance. The bright spirit fades as Anschiel falls.
Then Thol is on the island with the shadowy portal. The tree you knew before is not there. The sound of a beating heart fills your ears as Thol’s image clutches his chest. He draws a single seed from the pouch, and plants it with an infusion of dark magic.]
Events are set in motion. The Spirit seeks the heart. We know where it is. They were smart in defending their anchors. We cannot claim it ourselves, we must become stronger yet again.
[Thol shakes the hand of a brutish orc in a snowy landscape. The Orc’s tribesmen surround them. Thol slides a dagger across the throat of a squirming, helpless Gnome. He hands the dagger to the orc leader.]
Worthless! All of them. That spirit was gone. We must find another way.
[The same orc from before, now with a horrible burn scar covering his eye. Thol shouts in rage, decimating a group of the head orc’s followers with a firestorm. The rest come to heel, as Thol looks upon them with anger.]
The keepers will be unwilling, but even the Fey can be manipulated.
[Thol is in an elegant marble building. Birds chirp outside, and you can smell lavender. You can see Theodruin Mistweaver weeping openly. Thol releases an elven woman into the Fey man’s arms. He hugs her with relief in his face]
Where is it?! We cannot see it! It is free, but we cannot find it. The Spirit seeks the Heart. Another must have it. Hemedios’ kin could be hiding it. We will find my Heart.
The stars will know. Noctrean has a long memory. We will find it. My spirit grows hungry. Hemedios cares naught for caution. My Spirit Seeks the Heart.
[Thol enters the gates of a stone monastery. A pair of bleeding corpses lie outside the large gates. A rough sea with steep cliff banks lies in the background between the cliffs.]
I cannot find it. The stars showed how close I am. The Spirit Seeks the Heart. The local creatures obeyed my whims as the heart neared. It was so very close. My spirit seeks the heart.
I will find it in the North. Noctrean cannot forget. He will reveal them all to me. I will find it.
My spirit seeks my heart.
[The ambient light is restored, you are all here in the observatory in the wake of your battle]
Whispers: “And now, I am whole”