The high priest of Tormis

In the northern mountains lies the city of Tormis, where The Altar, once drenched in the innocent blood offered by the Necromancer Okkoon Khan to appease the Young and Hungry Gods, still stands shrouded in hoary shadows. Few dare to venture into the subterranean corridors leading to the sacred Temple of the Old One, which the priesthood maintains as an access point for pilgrims making offerings. These underground passages beneath the Highland Sanctuary meander through dismal and abandoned burrows. Rumors whisper that the raspy voice of the long-interred high priest echoes down the ages, whispering invocations.

The city of Tormis, purportedly built by Dragonkind long before men conquered these lands, is a harsh and fearsome sight. Tall, black, and windowless towers stab ungraciously at the sky, and the city walls exude an ominous and impenetrable aura. It hints at being as old and undying as the mountains that embrace it. At first glance, it appears as though the rock itself vomited forth this geometric monstrosity, and humans merely infested its honeycomb caverns.

According to the Scroll of Zack Moore, Akkun Khan stumbled upon this place in the Dark Ages, before Amoraz disbanded the sect of the Black Goat. In those ancient times, the gods still graced the divine highland, walking upon the consecrated ground of the plateau of Udath Ankh and delivering their word directly to the apostles. There was no need for divination or interpretation of omens, and the priesthood was not prone to distorting the will of the gods with their ignorance and self-absorption.

In the year of the blood moon, Zamol journeyed to Tormis with a dozen black-hooded acolytes. The great reformer had vowed to expose the wicked underpinnings of the realm's heritage and purge the priesthood of all depraved perversions of the scripture harkening back to the days of Khan. Zamol, the purifier, arrived in Tormis as a vigorous, strong-willed, and fervent revolutionary, ready to challenge the arcane mystics who swore allegiance to the legacy of the Old One.

The followers of Akkun Khan's disciplines entertained Zamol's party and listened to his exhortations against derivative dogma in their lavish shrine, deep within the mountain. They feasted together, shared ivory-yellow wine in golden goblets, and prayed at the feet of the idol of Rattu. Yet, the priesthood of Tormis refused to renounce the name of Akkun Khan, leading to Zamol's decisive actions under the authority of the Yarim Dynasty.

The city guard was ordered to confiscate religious icons related to the worship of the Old One, and the fetishes of Akkun Khan were collected and destroyed. An inquisition was convened, and Zamol's subordinates were instructed to extract detailed confessions from the errant priests through any means necessary. Torture was employed as a potent tool of persuasion, but not a single priest confessed to any wrongdoing or blasphemous idolatry.

Dismayed by the failure of his plan, Zamol realized that to eliminate this brand of worship, he must venture into the subterranean corridors and locate Akkun Khan's sacred Temple hidden deep within the heart of the mountain. There, he would oversee the destruction of all traces of the Old One's existence.

After the night had plunged the high country into darkness and the angry masses had dispersed, Zamol and his company retreated from the halls of the governor's residence to a secluded passage under strict guard. Passing sacrificial stones and cobweb-draped channels, they descended until reaching a vast chamber. Illuminated by flickering flames, the primeval gloom revealed grotesque sculptures of dragons.

At the center of the chamber stood the infamous altar, waiting for the rebirth of its application. Candles encircled the place, and as Zamol approached the altar, he hesitantly touched the text of the accursed tome. The verses spoke of the old one's beliefs in the rise of the descendants of Dragonkind to rule over the kingdoms created by the lesser race.

Determined to eradicate such defilement of the truth, Zamol ordered the book to be burned and the icons defaced. But when his hooded acolytes revealed their faces, he was shocked to see a dozen and one descendants of Dragonkind surrounding him. Their serpent eyes regarded him angrily, and he succumbed to their grisly fangs and hideous talons.

The city of Tormis fell into silence once more, and the fate of Zamol, the purifier, was sealed by the very beings he sought to eradicate.