Long ago, before Drangleic; before the reign
of King Vendrick, there was a kingdom of light in a long forgotten land.
Agdayne: “The former King of Light…He feared humans. Feared that they would usher in an
age of dark.” In fear of the Age of Dark, this King of Light
sacrificed much. In his fear of humans and their Dark Soul, the King of Light sought
to put an end to the Dark. But in the King’s ignorance Nashandra was born; born through
death. After the Old One of the Abyss was destroyed
its essence burst into countless fading soul fragments.
One fragment was small, but in spite of its size this particular soul shard was something
the Father of the Abyss held dearer than life; a nostalgic memory, a soul memory of his beloved
Dusk. This memory alone created the desire to live; for the curse of life, is the curse
of want. In the timeless dark, the minuscule fragment lusted for everything it was not;
strength, power, permanence. And so, over a boundless void in time, the fragment would
take human shape; resembling that which the Old One of the Abyss cherished most.
After manifesting into a physical form, Nashandra was born. Her lust, her desire, her want for
power led Nashandra to the land of Drangleic; led her to the arms of a king; into the arms
of power. Felkin: “I was drawn to this land, where Dark
runs deeper than anywhere else. Those who discover Dark…realise this…
And…they never come back.” Chancellor Wellager: “Our King has watched
over this land since ages long, long ago.” Young Vendrick was once a mighty warrior who
vanquished the Four Great Ones and built Drangleic upon their souls, becoming a ruler of great
strength. The only creature able to lower Vendrick’s impregnable defense was Nashandra.
He revered her beauty with an affectionate exaltation and made her his Queen. But, the
authority granted by sovereignty would not satiate Nashandra’s lust for power, Nahsandra
would have more and Vendrick was the key to such powers. For King Vendrick had learned
of a curse, not just of the undead turning hollow, but of a perpetual cycle of light
and dark consuming the world eternally for eons. Vendrick became obsessed with breaking
the curse, and Nashandra saw an opportunity in this obsession. Desire for even greater
strength, and knowing the length to which Vendrick would protect his kingdom, Queen
Nashandra whispered words of despair into the king’s ear.
Chancellor Wellager: “She warned our Lord of the looming threat across the seas…of
the Giants. The King crossed the ocean… with the Queen
at his side, And defeated the Giants. The King commandeered their power… And created
the Golems. To celebrate victory… And to show his love, his gratitude to his Queen…
the king created this castle.” As Nashandra predicted, Vendrick was able
to defeat the Giants and make their power his own; a power used to construct a monument
to their great strength. What she did not predict was that with Vendrick’s
newfound power from the Giants and in his pursuit to break the curse, he would eventually
learn to create souls; even gain the ability to peer into the essence of the soul. And
when peering into Nashandra’s soul, Vendrick saw only darkness.
As Vendrick gazed into her soul he witnessed Nashandra’s true intentions; her insatiable
lust for power. Vendrick understood that Nashandra coveted the first flame; desired to seize
the ultimate power; to control the fate of all souls, all kingdoms, all light, all dark;
to control the cycle of the fate and time. She desires to sit upon the true throne of
kings. With this revelation, and all of Vendrick’s
attempts to cozen fate proving futile, he sees no alternative but to create a gauntlet
of trials; trials impossible for a creature of Death and Dark such as Nashandra to circumvent.
Nashandra knew Vendrick would go to great lengths to protect his kingdom; to break the
shackles of their cursed fate, but she never thought the fool would throw away such omnipotent
strength. After Vendrick retreats to the bowels of the
Undead Crypt, Nashandra resides over Drangleic, a land seeped in dark. She waits tirelessly,
unable to leave the decrepit kingdom. For the thought of sitting on the true throne
is unbearable. So Nashandra waits, a prisoner of her own desire.
Chancellor Wellager: “The Queen…Brought peace… to this land, and to her King. A
peace so deep…it was like… The Dark…” Much time has passed, Vendrick has since been
reduced to a mere shell of his former self. Many potential monarchs have risen, but all
have fallen. Nashandra continues to wait for a new monarch; for a pawn to overcome Vendrick’s
trials. Her efforts seem in vain. That was, until an undead appeared in Drangleic; seemingly
from nowhere, almost as though this cursed creature was pulled through time itself, or
a fissure between worlds. It matters not where the cursed creature originated from.
In time, this Cursed Undead stands at the gates of Drangleic castle… without really
knowing why. Nashandra; gazing upon the pitiful Undead, hoping to give the cursed being purpose;
her purpose. Nashandra: “You have fought admirably on your
journey, cursed Undead. I am Nashandra, Queen of Drangleic.
The last king of this land, He was less of a king than you might imagine.
He found the strength to rule his people, but in the end, he never took the true throne.”
Nashandra believes the Cursed Undead to be feeble; a husk living an existence as frail
as their ailing mind; broken and fading into nothingness. The weak Undead exist for only
one purpose; to serve her desire. And so, Nashandra sets the Cursed Undead on the path;
the path of Want. Nashandra: “Brave Undead, perhaps you are
the true monarch. Visit Vendrick. We have no need for two rulers…
Follow the symbol of the monarch, and do what must be done. For this is your true purpose.
Brave Undead, what did that dragon tell you? That thing is a prop, a false deity. Don’t
be fooled, my Undead. Only one may rule, and that one may well be
you, surely you have it in you. Seek the forest, you, where those wretched
Giants slumber.” With all of Vendrick’s trials bested only
one obstacle remains… the defenders who watch over the true throne of power.
Nashandra: “Brave Undead, seek the throne.” The irony it seems is that Nashandra was once
but a minuscule fragment clinging to existence and, in her most basic and primordial essence,
is derived from that which gave all mankind their humanity. But her fatal flaw was underestimating
the strength of that humanity; the very will itself that allowed her to achieve the strength
she has and desires. Nashandra believes the Undead to be weak, a minuscule fragment in
the flow of the universe whose only purpose is to be subservient; kneeling to her power;
to the dark. Nashandra: “Brave Undead, you have proven
yourself to me. Now, be one, with the Dark…”
Ultimately her powerlust would be her undoing. By coaxing the Brave Undead to perform her
bidding, she allowed the Cursed to gather a myriad of souls; becoming more powerful
than even Nashandra could comprehend. And so, in her hubris; in her obsession, Nashandra
returned to the dust from whence she came. Like her father before her, reduced to a memory.
Returned to the Dark.