The Madness of King Verlakmar, Goblins, Demons and the Stone Throne.

Aja, I will deal with your post in two parts. The first is the horrendous accusation you

have made. I do not need to go into the details of just how inappropriate it is for the

public bulletin board or how insulting it is to the integrity of Avalon as a world,

Genesis as its creator and myself as a participant in that world. You know it is, which

is why you said it. I also don't need to go into the details of just how false an

accusation it is. I mention it only because I believe it is linked to the second aspect

of your post. Madness.

I'm sure your previous post was designed to provoke the same response in me as your

continuous issuing of challenges and non-stop offers of duels every couple of seconds to

Pahn was. However, I am a God and see many aspects of your soul which even you are

unable to see. I am therefore more able to show compassion, as I have seen such a

demonic possession take over a mortal before. I have also witnessed the unfolding

history of this land as a continuous ebb and flow. As I read your post the language

contained within it reminded me of legend I was once unlucky enough to be a part of. It

is the story of the Madness of King Verlakmar.

It is a legend now which very few know but it is also entirely true. Verlakmar, king

of the Dwarves sat on a Stone Throne which had been hewn from the very first rocks

excavated in the creation of Thaumacie, citadel of the dwarves. He pressed his people to

mine ever deeper, ever onwards so that they would create the greatest city ever known to

the dwarven race. Though many would argue that he was entirely successful in this there

is also a darker secret to his success.

Verlakmar would often take a hands on role in the creation of the city, even taking up a

pick axe himself from time to time. On one such occasion, deep underground in the cold

darkness his pick struck wood where one would expect stone. As he pried his pick free a

wail escaped from the hole, as if he had stuck flesh. Infact, he had struck the tomb of

The Master who had been buried underneath the mountain immediately after the Divine War

so as to ensure he could never terrorize the land again. Verlakmar, in his thirst for

ambition, had set him free.

Unbeknown to Verlakmar himself, or his people, he had allowed The Master to escape:

Verlakmar had been possessed by the most terrible demon ever known to Avalon. Many days

passed and I will not recount the entire story here as it is far too long. But suffice

to say, Verlakmar's plans changed, he began unearthing all manner of goblins, demons and

beasts which had lain unmoving within the mountain for many centuries. All because The

Master now possessed him and forced his hand.

Five years passed in this way, The Master and Verlakmar inhabiting the same mortal coil

until finally the poor dwarf could take no more. His body gave in, his mind cracked and

he began to utter such despicable words. He frothed and ranted on his Stone Throne. He

killed his servants, insulted his wife's chastity. He even struck his own head against

the very walls he had created, until it bled almost uncontrollably. I can even quote

some of what he said:

\"There is nothing I can do to fight off your repugnance and the abject hostility oozing

from the festering cesspool you rule over. \"

One can only guess that this was Verlakmar's soul speaking to The Master in such painful

inner torment. He was, afterall, responsible for freeing a plague on man kind. And here

Aja, is the point. The above quote is very similar to a line in your post to me. It is

what reminded me of this story. Had you not said it I probably would never have made the

connection. I can only assume then that you have been possessed, perhaps not by The

Master but by some other foul beast. I am sure of one thing though, that you are as mad

as Verlakmar once was and it shows in every action you take and every word you utter. I

am also sure that your insanity will only get worse with time.

In my next post I will tell you how you will be healed.

Mephisto, god of the night.

Written by my hand on the 12th of Hindyear, in the year 1173.