The monks of Turstarkuri watched the rugged valleys below their mountain monastery as wave after wave of invaders swept through the lower kingdoms. Resolving to work together, the pair set off to collect the materials needed to attempt Razzil's Alchemic transmutation once more. In the tonic's afterglow, the ogre seemed serene, happy, and even eager. They soon found themselves lost somewhere in the forest surrounding the city with a trail of wreckage in their wake and no signs of pursuit. When the ogre drank the potion, it flew into an unstoppable berserker rage, destroying the cell bars and exploding through walls and guards alike. After convincing the ogre not to eat him, Razzil set about carefully concocting a tincture for it to drink, made from the moulds and mosses growing in the prison stone work. When his new cellmate turned out to be a fierce ogre, he found just the opportunity he needed.
Yet Razzil was never one to take a setback lightly, and sought escape to continue his research. Following two decades of research and spending and preparation, he failed spectacularly, quickly finding himself imprisoned for the widespread destruction his experiment wrought. In an act of audacity befitting his reputation, Razzil announced he would transmute an entire mountain into gold. However, when adulthood came calling he pushed aside the family trade to try his hand at manufacturing gold through Alchemy. The sacred science of Chymistry was a Darkbrew family tradition, but no Darkbrew had ever shown the kind of creativity, ambition, and recklessness of young Razzil. But all such accusations stopped when Abaddon rode into battle, and they saw how the powers of the mist had given him mastery over life and death beyond those of any lord the House had ever known.
There was bitterness within the House Avernus-elders and young alike accusing him of neglecting his responsibilities. He drank deep from the vapors that welled from the Font, learning to blend his spirit with the potency that flowed from far beneath the House he became a creature of the black mist.
Where others trained with weapons, he bent himself to meditation in the presence of the mist. He was raised with every expectation of following the path all scions of Avernus took-to train in war, that in times of need he might lead the family's army in defense of the ancestral lands. In the child's eyes there flared a light of comprehension that startled all present and set the sacerdotes to whispering. When the infant Abaddon was bathed in the Font, they say something went awry. They grow up believing themselves fierce protectors of their lineal traditions, the customs of the realm-but what they really are protecting is the Font itself. Each newborn of the cavernous House Avernus is bathed in the black mist, and by this baptism they are given an innate connection to the mystic energies of the land.
#CHAOS HEROES LORE CRACK#
The Font of Avernus is the source of a family's strength, a crack in primal stones from which vapors of prophetic power have issued for generations.
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