The Blade of the Structure, a sword forged from space-time itself.
The Flail of Chaotic Magic, a flail woven from pure wild magic
Few, if any, have ever seen this creature that still live. Descriptions of him from the ancient ages are few but fearsome. If he were able to stand, he would be eight feet tall and groutesquely thin for a creature of his size, yet with a massive barrel chest that supports eight arms, four on each side. His long limbs end in three fingered hands and sharp talons. The Prince’s head is reptilian in appearance, somewhat like the head of a dragonkin or lizardfolk. His eyes are sunken yet glow with a violet flame. A robe-like garment of blue and violet cloth adorned with a simple spiralling pattern conceals his lower body and his feet are never shown. His skin is bone white. The Blade of the Structure, sheathed always, hangs from his hip and he carries the Flail of Chaotic Magic. He speaks seldom and has the awesome presence of one so superior as to render almost all others insignificant. His voice is deep and expressive, echoing even when it would seem impossible.
A thousand upon thousands of eons ago, the Prince of the Endless Corridor, who’s name is forgotten, dwelled in the City of the Gods, as he was wont to do, and studied the books of the Gods of Magic themselves. He was the Gods’ greatest pupil, and his powers began to rival theirs. He may have been a godling, though wether or not that is true has not stood the test of time. As many powerful beings often do, the Prince began to harbor jealousy of the gods, which bloomed in to open dislike, until he began to hate his forefathers, the Gods. Finally, as the gods drew up the boundaries of Creation, the Prince burst in upon the Chamber of the Gods, crying “I bring the heavens and the earth and the underworld out from beneath your tyranny, vile betrayers and pretenders!” Drawing far from the City of the Gods, the Prince constructed from the spiritual essence a realm for himself, a palace of astral essence which stretch eternally into the void. Drawing together a vast army of followers, he assaulted the Gods themselves, unleashing his godly magical knowledge upon his own teachers. The battle was titanic, and the Prince slew many of the gods and appropriated some of their artifacts, the Blade of the Structure and the Flail of Chaotic Magic, yet nobody can eternally hold out against the Creators and Protectors themselves, not even the mightiest mage then and forever. And so, for his crime, they reduced his palace to endless ruinous nether space, forever to be known as the Endless Corridor, and sealed him inside, chaining him with godly links to his own arcane throne within his own silent throne chamber. Unable to take them back through the conduit to the City of the Gods, the Creators and Protectors were forced to leave their slain compatriot’s artifacts adrift in the Endless Corridor. And so, for eons uncounted, the Prince of the Endless Corridor, as he came to be known, has sat chained within his endless astral space, bitter, broken, and sealed away from all existence. But perhaps one day, some foolish mage may probe the planes beyond the Spirit World and find the Endless Corridor, releasing the Prince upon the world once more.
-The Prince is one pissed-off Elder Being. If you see him, and he’s unchained, the apocalypse may be coming.
-For extremely high level characters, retrieving the artifacts from the Prince may be a challenging quest.
The Prince of the Endless Corridor
Locked away for his crimes by the gods themselves, he is the greatest spellcaster of all time.