An illustrated 12 page tome bound in human skin with shifting words in multiple languages, making it nearly impossible to read. Those who attempt to do so, have a tendency to go mad.
Born of strength and war, the deep wrath possesses the power to destroy all. And that power shall be unleashed. It will wash over the land like a wave of blood, and leave only carnage in its wake. The hunger below will bide its time growing stronger, and seeping into the upper world to pave the way for its rise. It will start with a city, continue to a land, and end with a world.
Blood, fear, pain, war, death. A creature of avarice, paranoia, greed, sadism, and vast intelligence will be the spark.
The great seed of Cin'Pelan'Taat grows underneath. Snaking its way into the foundations, establishing roots, gaining foothold. Cin'Pelan'Taat, the god of war, sought conflict. He began to create an agent of chaos and destruction. Hrool the god of trickery, discovered his plot and confided in Ma'kew the god of knowledge, and Agia the god of life. Seeking to stop him, they funneled their power into Nikal the goddess of strength, the only one that could rival the god of war's ferocity. The battle raged across the skies for days, weeks, years. It soon transformed into a battle for the sake of battle.
A love of the fight burgeoning on both combatants. Gritted teeth and grunting morphed to smiles and laughter, their movements becoming less savage and more balletic. Ragged, bloody, exhausted and elated, they both fell. Neither being claimed the victor of that particular battle. However the seed that Cin'Pelan'Taat had created and nurtured was strengthened by the prolonged fight. And upon its master falling, so too the seed fell from the heavens to the ground, burrowing deep underneath. Awaiting its moment.
Fire will herald its coming. The day of the war will be the day of its war. It will take strides to ensure its arrival is not opposed.
Behold the Deep Wrath. It which hungers below, that which shall ride to ruin. Elderxoln, it sees all. It reveres strength and strength alone. No challenge will be accepted if it cannot be upheld. Its will is for you to continually throw yourself against it like waves lapping uselessly on the shore.
Agia did not want to see her progeny fight, and hoped only for a way to one day stop this. She shed a single tear of pure light that fell to the mountains, hoping it will aid any brave enough to find it and smart enough to use it.
It sees all, this is the key.
Agia's Tear is known by many names. To the elves, Sho'lal Sha'dei. To the orcs, Ekiig Shazog. To the dwarves, Lynderoz'ithrun. To the dragons, Not'Kineer Kiasyn. To the fiends, Bdlvlk B'dvyi. And to the angels, Shagsosei. It is a source of life and light all its own. It lies in a thicket that should not be, lodged in a tree that should not be, surrounded by creatures that should not be.
Used wisely, the tear can break the seed. The tear is the only thing that can truly break the seed.
The war will start. Many will die. Children will be made parentless. Loved ones will be separated by the rift of death. Cities will burn. None know if it will ever end. That is up to the gods.