Long had the plague years ravaged the land. No household was left unscathed by it, no graveyard was left unfilled. Crops rotted unharvested in the fields, while towns and villages lay devoid of inhabitants. At first, the cities swelled with migrants fleeing the specter of death, only to fall as the fleeing refugees spread the shadow of the reaper further across the land.
No kingdom escaped the devastation, and no principality emerged unspotted from the plague. The mightiest empires fell into ruin as famine followed pestilence, with the dogs of war harrying the heels of both. The high priests cursed the old gods bitterly as they died, their acolytes despairing of salvation or relief. A thousand altars ran red with rivers of blood, both of human and of animal sacrifice. But it was all to no avail.
As days turned to months and months turned to years, it seemed that all of creation had been thrown into utter chaos. War raged across entire continents as nations sought to defend their crumbling borders from the hordes of hungry invaders. Kings were humbled, emperors were brought low, and the mighty were mocked as if valor were but a bad jest. The common people watched helplessly as their homes were burned to the ground, their meager wealth plundered and their children enslaved. Driven to desperation, many of them took up arms and joined the invading hordes until scourge or sword claimed them.
The rains refused to fall in their season, and the once fertile fields that lay fallow for lack of labor now turned to dust as the deserts reclaimed their own. Lands that had been settled for longer than living memory now became as barren as the wastes. As empty towns and abandoned cities turned to crumbling ruin, the cultivated lands reverted to desolate wilderness, devoid of culture and civilization.
The old religions could not offer comfort or solace, and thus passed away with the old order. So also it was with the schools of the philosophers and the circles of the wizards and sorcerers. Even the merchants failed to ply their trade, and for a time, all commerce and intercourse ceased. The few survivors hoarded their dwindling supplies and guarded them fiercely against any who dared approach.
But the plague years did not continue forever. After the destruction and chaos had run its fated course, the pestilence finally relented, and slowly, life returned to the land. The survivors banded together, pooling their meager resources and working together to rebuild their world. Cautiously, they returned to the wreckage of their homes and villages, reclaiming the darkened ruins. New outbreaks of the plague claimed many of them, but these were mostly local, for the survivors were sufficiently hardened to dampen its spread.
As the villages were resettled and the towns were rebuilt, the demand for trade goods grew tremendously. Once again, merchants began to venture out across the shattered land, risking their lives on bandit-infested roads in search of profit. Unfortunately, the death of commerce had made coin scarce, and those who needed the trade goods the most were the ones least able to pay. Some merchants turned to barter, but this proved unwieldy since the soldiers who guarded their caravans demanded their payment in gold. Those few who foolishly traveled without guard swiftly fell prey to bandits and thieves.
It was during these challenging times that the coin of Xulthar first appeared. Centuries before, the ruined city of Xulthar had once been the center of culture for the entire civilized world. Legend held that its treasuries had overflowed with gold and silver, gems and jewels, and treasures of every kind. Before the plague years, many dismissed these stories as fanciful tales, but as the coin of Xulthar circulated freely, interest in the legendary city was renewed.
The merchants whispered of the rise of a dark and powerful sorcerer who had discovered the secrets of Xulthar and claimed its incredible treasure for his own. Some said that he was a demon in human form, while others claimed he was a man who could tame the very desert and make it blossom as the rose. For according to the legends, Xulthar had been one of the greatest cities of the world: a city of sorcerers and scholars, of merchants and artisans, of powerful princes and opulent patricians. The city’s wealth had come not only from its auspicious location amidst the most important trade routes, but also from its rich and abundant mines, full of rare gems and precious metals. But the people of Xulthar had delved too deep, or else their wizards had unlocked some great and tremendous evil, for according to the legends, the city had fallen in a single day.
In spite of these legends (or indeed, perhaps because of them), the coin of Xulthar became a symbol of stability in a time of chaos, though no one knew exactly how it had begun to circulate. Many bold adventurers set out to find the lost city, but not one of them ever returned. Still, few were willing to complain, as the steady flow of trade brought wealth and prosperity to all who accepted it. Without the coin of Xulthar, the survivors of the plague years would have found it far more difficult to rebuild.
But as the coin of Xulthar spread across the land, it began to have a strange effect upon those who held it. Farmers and tradesmen who obtained their wealth through hard work and honest enterprise found that it slowly fled them, insomuch that they could save a single coin for fear of losing it. On the other hand, greedy princes, unscrupulous merchants, and others who made their fortunes through corruption graft found that their riches grew with the counting of it, as if the sorcerous coin multiplied like rabbits within their unseen vaults.
To those who dared to see things as they really were, it soon became clear that the coin of Xulthar was cursed. And yet, few dared to point this out, for those who profited the most by the curse were chiefly those of power and high birth. The brave and honest souls who spoke out about the curse soon found themselves exiled in disgrace, their lands seized, their titles revoked, and their wealth confiscated.
And so, as the plague years came to a close, a much more subtle and insidious scourge began to spread throughout the land. For by some dark sorcery that few understand or recognized, the cursed coin of Xulthar corrupted the souls of all who sought it and magnified the dark desires that lurked within the human heart. It was as if the coin had a mind of its own, twisting the souls of those who bought and sold with it—though toward what dark and devious end, not even the wise and prudent could tell.
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