In Amosnia - a world of Swords and Sorcery - one man is about to make the ultimate sacrifice. Not for the woman he loves, but for the woman he hates. A warrior without mercy, without fear and without equal. The Deathbringer is coming.The peaceful God, Quor, visited one of his loyal flock in a dream. Dreams had always proven useful in the past, whereby a mortal would awake thinking either that they had been in contact with their deity, or that the idea which rose unbidden in their minds with perfect clarity was actually their own. These dreams often resulted in a prophecy. One knew that ripples would form in a pool when a stone was cast in, but could not predict the precise pattern these ripples would incite. Prophecies were no different. All the Gods at one time or another had toyed with the concept. Usually mortals misunderstood the communication of their deity because they were not used to conversation with those possessing Supreme Intelligence. Hence prophecies tended to be awfully unreliable. They remained - however inadequate or risky - a God's best way to communicate with mortals, despite their shortfalls. A creature of destruction was going to be released by the Chaotic One, Lothr'nal, to bring about devastation on the world of Amosnia. Quor was not privy to the form the Chaotic One's beast would take, nor when this creature would appear, but the other Gods instructed Lothr'nal to provide His Supreme opponent with time to - in conjunction with Man of course - prepare a champion. Quor decided upon His course of action after careful deliberation, visiting the sleep of a Quorian monk named Kindren Myrrh. When he awoke in terror it was nevertheless with crystal clarity that Kindren put quill to parchment and began to write down the implications of his dream. Not knowing that his words - well his in that he physically wrote them - would alter the fate of many, be ignored by some, and become reality for one. The One. Kindren Myrrh's life would never be the same again, and this was proof that Quor - his deity - had faith in him, for he was chosen above all others, to receive such pertinent visions of what was to come. This in turn nurtured his faith in Quor. There was nothing like the threat of destruction, devastation, evil and bloodshed to improve one's relationship with a God.After Quor had left Kindren with the burden of knowledge imparted, the God returned to His realm. The more chaotic Gods delighted in the destruction that was to come. Temples would be overflowing with frightened, God-fearing souls. People would be converted, perverted and diverted to faith, in an attempt to appease the Gods. Attendance at the temples would boom, sacrifices would increase - perhaps even vestal virgins currently employed therein would actually be pure. The Gods were not searching for a miracle, though. Upon Amosnia, Kindren Myrrh sat for days and nights writing the text which would alter the destiny of one unborn babe, and countless others. The monk would forevermore be disturbed by the knowledge he was privy to, and yet from that moment on there was - so his deity believed - a glimmer of hope for the Amosnians. This unborn child would hold the key to destiny, the fate Quor's brethren intended. Lothr'nal watched, waited. He would see to it that the key was lost. But in the end, it didn't really matter because the bargain the Gods had made would never be honored. The Supreme Beings were not a democracy, and He wasn't the God of Chaos for nothing. Didn't Quor know that?He would learn soon enough. Chaos would reign. Lothr'nal laughed, and the Heavens shook. Quor was so busy with His pathetic prophecy He wasn't paying attention to what the other Gods were planning. He didn't know one God ruled them all. If He did, He would have realized the fate of humanity had been decided without His presence. All that remained was the game. And in every game there are players...