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[Pestilence]

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Since the collapse of Caina many of the artifacts and ancient relics have been lost to elements… And many more to thieves hoping to score a quick coin. One of the treasures that Lord Beleth held closest was but a piece of armor, a plate chest crafted by the Hand of Evil itself. Its history and power are un-measurable to a mortal life. What was its fate with the fall of the city of Oblivion? What journey did this relic of the past take?



“My Lord, I continue to search with little success. I have searched the frozen land, there is no sign of it,” spoke a shapeless form.

Looking at the gathered number of wraiths before him the Daemon shook his head. “You stand before me with no answers, without the relic in your hand. This is displeasing.” He motioned his hand toward one of the wraiths as it was enveloped in flames. “Find me the chest plate! Do not return without answers again!” The wraiths sensed the anger in the Daemon’s voice and vanished into the air, to once again pursue their quest.

The wraiths scattered themselves across the world of Britannia watching, reading, studying anything and everyone they came across with hopes of locating the desired object. They had little success until one happened across a book located deep within the Lyceum. The story told of how a women of flowing red hair, came across a strange and unique chest in some distant lands, frozen in time by relentless ice and wind. She held the treasure within her own prison, her destiny forever tied to its fate. Her protector and former husband was a man named Ragnar Teach. It was with this information that the wraith tied this red haired woman to Stormhaven, and from there, to Sanctus. This is where they would focus their efforts. This is where the story would begin anew.

An apparition, known only as Selketh, began to study the city, its people many, and its warriors quick to defend. He would have to tread carefully if he was to get answers. Days upon days passed, never revealing himself long enough to endanger his presence. The night grew late, and many of the patrols have eased down. All that remained were two. Taking this time, the apparition stalked and studying the two men, only one would be needed to reach the widow of Teach. The squire of Sanctus, later to be known as Wild Dawg, was chosen. Selketh began his game of riddles and sounds, intent on playing tricks on this young and promising warrior of Sanctus. He spent days haunting and manipulating his prey. Finally, with great reluctance, Wild Dawg began his journey to the chests resting place.

What seemed like hours the squire cut through the overgrowth that spots the islands of Malas. Crossing a bridge he eventually came to the steps of the great home of the House o f the Gauntlet. He had arrived and his part in this tale had about come to an end. No one appeared home so he decided to enter to leave the message. The apparition took this time to enter and wait… to locate his treasure. Etching in a book, Wild Dawg wrote the message that Selketh had told him to deliver, as he placed it upon a table a lady in a flowing gown approached him from behind. “Can I help you?” she spoke. The squire told of the story, and with each passing minute more and more seem to arise from their rest in the house. They spoke of the armors past and future. One bit of information that struck the wraith most profoundly was that there was a man who attempted to complete the set. Who was this man? What use could he be to the apparition’s masters? When Selketh thought all answers had been found, more have been laid before him. He would return, deliver the information he had acquired and let his Lord’s make the decisions in what direction they next wished to move.



The Hand of Evil yearns…
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<Admoreth> Ain't nuthin' but an e-theng.