The rise of Glorath

Location unknown,
the castle of the two sisters.
Date unknown.

Raideint Horn was tasked with observing the cult. The orgy was of little interest to him. With his skill, he snuck and hid. He saw the acts in that dungeon. The things he saw robbed him of his mirth. before that night, he was a pony of great joy. He had a smile that would always seem to creep onto his face, a smirk, and a twinkle in his eyes.
His stomach was of a rock, his nerves of steel. He was picked as the most level-headed person to scout this out and report on his findings.

What they did to those mares, with hook and scalpel. no pony should be able to bleed like that and still live. No pony should be able to scream till their vocal cords shreded.
The unicorns were what drew the attention of the sisters. They were the most powerful ponies in the kingdom besides the mage of magic, the puple of the elder sister. Their horns were smashed, and they were boiled alive in acid.
That was the appetizer, but for the life of him, he could not remember what horrors took place, trying to dig them up, leaves him broken, near panic. Just remember but a fraction takes years from his life.
He went in with a vibrant coat, full of life, rich purple with a vibrant main of silk black. He left with a coat of silver. and a main of blackish gray.

he fled at some point, even the carnal magic could not break through the horror, and entice him into the party in the throne room.

He ran and ran. The night turned to day, the day turned to dusk, and yet he ran for everything he was worth. He ran till he dropped.

He woke to find himself in a stable. There knights of some foreign creature practicing the sword.
He called out to them, confused why he was left in filth. Their confusion plastered no their face as he spoke. More so when he yanked the gate open. He wanted to walk with confidence, but between the fatigue of the run, and the horrors, he could barely move with any confidence.
They asked what sort of horse he was, but he found the statement confusing, he was not a horse he stated, he was a pony of the unicorn tribe. What land was this they took him to?
Yet they told him, that they took him on wear, they found him collapsed in front of their gate. They asked him if that was magic they saw him perform, and they looked even more confused when he confirmed their suspicions.
From their words, he gathered that he was in a land called Vork. in the kingdom of Yarth the mighty. They had never heard of a land of talking beasts. A statement that drew much offense, perhaps even action, if he had any energy left to put forth such acts of pride.

They dragged me off to their captain, who in turn brought me to the high wizard, who I was told was looking for information on a magical malady in the ether. Apparently, I was of an oddity they were told to watch out for.

Left-wing of the castle
Mage's tower, floor 15.

On the entrance of the room, one sees piles of books, strewn all over the floor, the tables, shelves backed to bursting with even more books. Chairs were just improvised bookshelves, broken tables were propped up with even more books.

Yet as I was led further back, the shelves started to be filled with items that thrummed almost visibly with magic that made my horn ach. Some shelves had items that looked and felt mundane, others filled with herbs and flowers of all sorts.

At the back was the great mage Karthrac. I was told he was 250 years of age and served many a king and Queen. We found him in deep study, trying to pars out the malignant magic that he felt three days ago.

When I was introduced he lights up with a great passion, to study and learn, of quality, yet all of it was hampered by a dread. As he asked and propped about where I came from, and how I got here. The latter I had few answers.

I told him of the castle, and the things I saw there. Yet when he pushed for more, I passed out. When I woke, I found an apprentice warding the guards from me. Their great mage used magic to pry into things I could not recollect, and with a great scream of insanity, he flung himself from the tower in horror and fright at the things he saw. At the things I saw. If it were not for the apprentice, I fear the guards would have ended me in my fugue, for what I had done to the mage.

The only clue we had was the name Glorath. The last words the great mage ever uttered. The young Mage that saved me, nows of this evil, a myth used to scare children. A folk tale so old, that only tatters of its telling exist.

It was he, and his ilk, that cast such a great strain and shadow on the ether of their magic, I was told they found where the castle was from the prying, about all they really got before the mage lost himself to the horrors that robbed my innocents.

I am to be brought to the great Yarth to be judged. I have been told that all mind magic involving me is forbidden, by punishment of death. I took an oath, of strang magic, to never let such a thing happen again. When the words were spoken, it felt like my mind and skin burned with the anger of a thousand suns.