Prologue: Collision or Collusion

A cold wind swept over an abandoned village in Tibet. A lone wanderer limps between dilapidated buildings, his hurried pace, a cause for alarm had anyone been around to see him. Bedraggled in appearance, his torn, blood-stained clothes hanging on one side the scraps of cloth still wet with fresh blood. The weather-beaten old man kept up his shuffling pace in a hurry, almost as if something was following him. Some would laugh at the man had there been anyone there to see him, but he knew better than any of them what was coming. Fifteen minutes of painstaking shuffling had finally led this man to his final destination.

A small shack on the edge of the village. The door was riddled with rotting holes matching the walls of the tiny building. Pushing aside the moldy blanket acting as a barrier to the cold the man shuts and locks the door behind him. Heaving a deep sigh of relief, the man pulls the closest chair up to his body so that he may sit down.

A Consistent flow of blood dribbling down his right leg, A constant Reminder of what had just occurred. Hollow, deep-set grey eyes, bereft of sleep, set atop a crooked nose and a poorly cropped beard. A smile slowly crept onto the man's face as he stared contemplatively at the mountain out the window. This man was the once World-Renowned Scholar and explorer,

Ferdynand Ossendowski. Two years prior he had wrote a book titled ”Beasts, Man, and Gods.” He had returned to Tibet to finally prove his theory right.

A weathered leather satchel hanging on the man's shoulder slid almost effortlessly down his shoulder as he picked up the bag to look inside. The bag was filled with worn papers, containing notes of the man's most recent expedition. Underneath, however, lay the item that made this entire debacle worth every lost life.

A short raspy laugh escaped the man’s parched lips as he coughed out a single sentence.

“I have finally found it!”

He stared at the book in reverence like a child would finding their favorite candy just laying on their pillow. The Ancient book bound in preserved Yak Hide only had one word written on the front in Tibetic. It said ”Agharti.”

“This will finally prove that I am not crazy! and with it we can revolutionize the world for what is to come.” he thought to himself.

A noise off in the distance drew the man from his silent revelry.

“They’re coming.” was all he said.

Trying and failing miserably to hop up from the chair, his torn leg momentarily forgotten, he promptly fell face first into the hard earth. The sound grew louder, and louder as if an avalanche was upon the man. Scrambling to his feet the best he could he used the chair nearest him to prop his body up like a cane. Quickly he opened the book looking for something he had heard muttered in passing by Tibetan Monks.

The sounds of buildings being torn apart could be heard nearing ever closer to Ferdynand, he more fervently flipped through the pages until he came across what was labeled as a knowledge transference spell. Almost scoffing to himself he had once thought the idea of magic as a farce only believed by the ignorant through tricks played on them by charlatans.

Well let’s just say that recently his horizons had expanded far past what he was comfortable with due to some shady dealings that funded his most recent excursion into the Tibetan Wildlands.

“I once thought the very idea of such a thing ludicrous, and yet here we are in this miserable wasteland once so filled with promise and hope.”

Blood was slowly leaking out of the wound on his leg, and he was beginning to feel the exhaustion from the blood loss. Reading the text that had been translated into Sanskrit he began to smear the blood from his leg into a geometric pattern on the ground in an attempt at the magic circle shown in the journal.

“Heralds of the mighty, guardians of knowledge, hear thy plea. Carry forth with your mission and secure this knowledge for future generations.” exsequi scientiam.” Knowledge Transfer!” He gasped out the final words as he felt the ever bearing weight of death slowly creeping forward. A luminous white glow began to form softly around the bloody Magic Circle, and he could feel as if something was sifting through his memories picking those which it deemed worthy.

He had never experienced such a violating yet magical experience in his whole life. The blood began to trickle faster as the magic began to syphon his life essence from his body. He knew not what life essence was, but he couldn’t think of another way to describe the feeling of knowing he would die soon after this spell had finished its mission. The ancient journal in his hands began to crumble to dust as the ritual finished its purpose.

A deep croaking laugh accompanied by a blood filled cough escaped from Ferdynands lips.

“I have done it!” He exclaimed.

“Those bastards will never get their hands on this knowledge, and hopefully with my sacrifice humanity stands a chance with the trials about to befall them.”

A loud crashing sound near the edge of the village echoed through the abandoned village like a thunderclap, and Ferdynand managed one last weak smile knowing he had fucked over those who wished his kind harm. With one last weak sigh he welcomed death’s warm embrace like an old friend. Cracks had began to form along the ground of the newly christened tomb. A loud thrumming boom of something hitting stone echoed through the now lifeless chamber as a fist penetrated the crumbling stone wall.

A large obsidian face crept into view through the hole looking down into the room the being noticed the now lifeless body of Ferdynand anger creeping forth on scalelike skin, deep verdant green eyes searched the room erratically searching for something. A deep hissing snakelike voice filled the small room.

“You make think you have won tiny one, butsss the war has yet to be finished. We shall become those who rule over your kind mark my wordsss.” The words slipping out of the being’s lipless face.

“The Shepard's Journal shall be mine foolish one.” The scaled humanoid thought to itself as it meandered off into the cold night.

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