| abstract
| - Darkness hung over the Shadow Mines but the darkness was not still. Within the shadows, something moved and shifted. Within, something foul moved its attention, fixed upon its grim purpose. A purpose built on power. He collected the shadow energy to himself, replenishing his form, draining the life from the shadows themselves. To most, the idea of using shadows as life energy was laughable, but this denizen of the Darkness reveled in it. For days he had fed in the deep recesses of the earth. Very rarely, a denizen of the upper chambers moved down into the darkness; this, too, met the creature's purpose. Those who came left changed: he took the life from them and replaced it with a mockery, so carefully constructed that only the most skilled artisan of the magical arts could detect it, and even then they would have to be looking for it. The creatures created were as different from normal undead as the undead were from the living. They were a very odd form of metalife. Their flesh remained alive but their soul itself was undead, some diabolic form of possession. The darkness replaced their soul and their will, changing them into something other. His purpose was nearly complete. There was a certain irony in the situation. Above, in a frantic frenzy, one of his greatest enemies did his work for him. The people, barely recovered from the undead invasion, warred among themselves, and the new menace again pitted element against element. Someone, invariably the wrong someone, inevitably took the blame for the destruction caused. It was little wonder the masses lived under such complete misapprehension about the nature of the powers. The powers served as excellent scapegoats; if something happened that related to one of their elements, the appropriate power lost favor and was invariably blamed. Even among the communicants, who knew much more of temple politics, this illusion was on occasion wielded to great advantage. The dedicated servants of a god could be manipulated into doing the most delicious things when they believed their lord was under attack. Reality was all about manipulation and appearance and the shadow creature was a master of both. His creations appeared, acted, and felt human as their fleshed lived. They returned to their families and loved and lived, but in a moment they would turn and kill to serve their true masters. They were automata, going through all the programmed motions until such time as they were needed. The beauty of this was that they did not themselves know anything of what they had become. Lost to their soul's demise, they thought they were themselves until they were commanded. Like doppelgangers, they infiltrated the lives of those they impersonated, but unlike doppelgangers, they themselves had no idea of their true nature, so no mystical means would detect the deception. True sight would reveal no difference. The operation was so refined that the magics required to detect such a invasion were very costly and very difficult. The change was so complete that should he desire to do so, the creature could take a temple communicant and have fair confidence that even the power would not detect the change. It was, in fact, this that drove his dark purpose now. Having incited a disaster in the world above, and having slowly subverted the workers of the mine, the dark creature prepared to take his prize and succeed where the Brilhado had failed utterly. He lay and waited knowing that Myr would come... In time... He always did.
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![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)