Probe
The Legend of Felgor
Centuries ago it began, before even the rise of the Master, when a man known to legend as Felgor began to make his presence known in the early Avalon, primitive it was in those days.
The warlord, known to many as The Reaver, rose up from the masses in the port-town, and began to attract warriors and necromancers from all corners of the land. Slowly, over the course of years, a black cloud began to spread across the land, as The Reaver began to march forth, stealing wealth and livestock, lives and women for his own twisted pleasures.
Towns quailed as The Reaver approached, it is said, upon a steed known as Pestilence, backed by a thousand-strong entourage of the wailing masses he had slain in cold blood. In these days, towns were isolated and insular, few ever voyaged beyond eyesight of their homes, and the arrival of Felgor was always unanticipated and feared. Few dared to confront him, out of ignorance alone. As the blood on his hands grew thicker and colder, The Reaver began to lose his sanity, forgetting the cause of his anger and seeing only death before him.
Was Felgor truly the almighty beast he had become rumoured to be? The man was flesh and blood like any other, yet his reputation shone forth, rumours and whispers making him appear more and more invincible to peaceful and weak village folk. The truth of his might will probably never be known, but mention of his name was enough to strike fear into the hearts of many.
The masses poured into young birthing towns hidden away from the Reaver's eyes, building huge walls and stockades around their refuges, praying that their flight would save them from the madman that stalked the land, uncontested and undefeated. For decades, it is said that Felgor alone held the people of Avalon in his thrall, for none dared to step outside of the confines of their sanctuary.
And so Felgor grew bored. He had no more enemies to confront, no more greatness to attain. His armies of the damned, once his company and his backbone, began to irritate him with their mindless following and eternal crying for release from his thrall. Felgor degenerated, so that his mind no longer saw the light of day, and he began to hunger for new enemies to face.
Inevitably, his gaze turned to Olympus on high, and the deities who reclined within, watching the shadowed Avalon with disinterested eyes. Felgor, believing he was invincible (and indeed, by mortal standards he was) cried aloud a challenge to the Gods, the immortal pantheon of Avalon.
Within moments, his challenge was answered. The ground for miles shook as a bolt of lightning, thrice as bright and loud as any seen before, arched down from the heavens to smite Felgor, slaying him in a moments instant for his impudence. Felgor was destroyed, and the battle-armour he wore, fashioned from the crushed gemstones of all the loot he had accumulated over the years, was broken to ten pieces and scattered with the wind. It is said that the Gods put a curse on The Reaver that day, though any who may have known the details have not spoken of it. The gaze of the deities returned to their divine feast of nectar and ambrosia, and Felgor was gone forever.
Life began to return to Avalon as before. People came out of hiding, and reclaimed their homes and their towns. The story of Felgor's demise fell to the annals of legend, and that slowly became an ancient myth. Even that dwindled to a bedtime story mothers gave to their young, and eventually, the tragic story of Felgor the Reaver was lost forever.
Myth and legend surround the armour as to where the various pieces ended up. The armour itself was reputed to give Felgor some of the mystic powers of the necromancer, therefore when pieces were discovered, they were left where they lay or even hidden lest the powers of darkness assemble the pieces again.