Waking up, feeling like you’ve been asleep for a very long time. Body
feels odd, disused, etc. Looking around, you see bare rooms of plain,
dark stone. A glowing orb appears, bobbing slightly, responsive but
nonverbal. Standing, you see fading runes and eldritch shapes around
you, along with fading auras of heat and light. Following the orb out
of the room, you see other shadowy shapes moving down a hallway.
Eventually, you arrive in a large domed chamber, where a tanned, bald
human of Oeridian descent studies a wall covered in flowing runic
“Welcome. I am called Mordenkainen, and I have brought you here
against a great need.”
Mordenkainen turns back to the shifting script, touches a few
carefully chosen runes, and speaks arcane syllables. An image
appears, showing a ruined city overrun by demonic figures.
“Greyhawk City, CY682. The Noble Quarter, I believe.”
The image wavers slightly as the man turns toward you once again.
“This must not come to pass. It must be prevented. You will stop
Mordenkainen explains that you have been gathered from Greyhawk’s past
by dangerous magics, and are to be sent back into history to avert the
disaster that befell the Flanaess.
“My information is regrettably incomplete, and the details muddled,
but I believe that there are certain key events that must be changed
to prevent the demonic overthrow and dominion of Oerth.”
Mordenkainen pauses, striking his beard thoughtfully before
“As you have perhaps already guessed, you will not be alone. Changing
history in this way required certain… concessions. In this case,
sending agents – yourselves – back into the history of Greyhawk as
anything more than ghosts and apparitions required that I negate
certain restrictions placed on the world long ago. This process opens
the way for other forces to attempt similar meddling. To my
knowledge, no such action has yet been taken, but I do not expect that
to remain true indefinitely. Toward this end, you must act with
subtlety and discretion. Seek out the pernicious influences that
eventually give Oerth over to the demonic hordes, and thwart them.”
Mordenkainen rises slightly from the floor, and an ornate staff
appears in his right hand. The air around you takes on a silvery hue
as the temperature drops. An acrid scent fills your nostrils and the
dull throbbing in your muscles suddenly sharpens.
“I am sure that you have many questions, but time is short, and you
have a difficult journey ahead. Gather your wits, and prepare
yourself as best you can.”