Jonathan led his small army to the snowy hills around the Temple of the Oracle.  He led them with flaming sword, mages and priests flanking him.  

They had charged their way through monsters, through ruins, through epic quests, long weary marches.  Bards were already starting to sing songs about them in the taverns they passed through.

He had come this far seeking justice for his people, to liberate them from the cruel grip of Lord Araochnivar and make their lands peaceful and safe again.

Now they were almost at their goal.  

He expected guardians at the temple of some sort, flame elementals perhaps.  But here, on this cold winter night full of blustery wind and pitiless stars in the black night sky, what he saw was most unexpected.

A tall grim shadow stood before him, mere feet from the while light spilling out of the Oracle temple’s columned entrance.  It was a man....of sorts.  A vampire, old and proud and sad, luminous eyes of violet staring back at him

Jonathan even knew the name of this vampire.  He was, after all, one of the oldest and most dreadful in all the world.

“Zindark,” he exclaimed, drawing his flaming sword.  “So, to the death then.”

“No,” Zindark said.

Jonathan frowned, flaming blade held at guard, his army behind him wavering and uncertain.  “No?”

“I did not come here to fight you, Jonathan DeBraysee.  I  was drawn here by the power of the Oracle.  I shall say my piece and then leave.  What you make of what I have to tell you is your business.  But I must tell, and you must listen.  Such are the rules of this place.”

Jonathan glanced back at his priests and mages, seeking advice, half expecting them to urge him to battle.  Entar, the lead priest, merely scowled and said, “Be wary.”

Jonathan turned back to Zindark.  “Speak, then.”

Zindark drew a deep breath.  In the cold winter air, his undead lungs expelled no vapor to see.  “The tale is somewhat long in telling.  I ask you not to interrupt me until I’m finished.  If you wish to enter the temple of the Oracle afterward, I will not prevent you.”

Jonathan merely nodded.  This was strange beyond all measure.  But was it some sort of trick or enchantment?  He kept a firm grip on his sword hilt.

Zindark noticed, and a thin smirk came over his features.  “You know the Oracle can grant wishes and great power.  What you do not know is what happened to those who had their wishes granted before you.  Your sages and priests and wizards do not know the tale of the six who came before you and had their wishes granted.  But I shall tell you, now.

The first to seek the Oracle was an old knight named Sir Dutiocs.  Like you, a mighty warrior.  Unlike you, he was dedicated to his holy order of  Paladins, and sought to destroy all evil in the world.  That being so, he scoured the world for a way to become a great enough warrior to destroy all evil.  Eventually, he heard whispers of the existence of the Oracle, and came here.  He went into the temple, and asked the Oracle to grant him the skill of a great warrior, great enough to destroy all that was dark.

The Oracle granted his request...it transformed him into the Great Red WarBeast of the southern deserts.  He had the power to destroy evil, and the skill, but no longer the mind.  Even unto this present he wanders those blasted wastelands, destroying all that come near.  That was more than four thousand years ago.

The second to seek the Oracle was a young girl named Sindra Belthien.  She was wealthy, and powerful, but not beautiful.  For all her money and titles and land, she could not find one to love her.  So she came seeking the Oracle.

This was some three hundred years after the WarBeast had been created.  For one fleeting moment the Oracle granted him back his mind, and drew him here, to warn her of the danger she faced.  But she did not believe him, and fled in horror from his monstrous form into the temple, and begged to be loved.

The Oracle granted her request.....and she became a living avatar of love and beauty, admired and desired by all.  But none were in love with her for who she was.  She remained lonely, and bitter, and sadder than she had been before.  Eventually she would die of a broken heart.

But not before the third came to seek the Oracle, a proud and bitter sage named Asali Dendruk.  He was wise and learned in many things, but he wanted to know more; he wanted the knowledge to heal the world.

The being so, he want to the Oracle seeking knowledge and wisdom.  Sindra came to warn him of his fate, but he only saw her beauty and would not listen to the truth of her words, he entered the temple and requested knowledge and wisdom.

The Oracle granted his request....it gave him all the knowledge there was, but trapped him within the great supernatural labyrinth of libraries where that knowledge is kept.  He remains trapped there, save for one fleeting moment.

That moment came when the fourth came to seek the Oracle.  I do not know that one’s name; only that he was a terrible monster, an Orc from the swamplands of Genueth.  He sought he power of the Oracle that he might rule over the world.

The Great Sage Asali was freed from the Labyrinth just long enough to try to warn him of his foolishness.  The Orc laughed and tried to kill the sage, who was instantly teleported back to his prison of knowledge.  The Orc entered the temple and demanded the power to rule the world.

The Oracle granted his request....it crowned him Emperor of the world and gave him strength enough to kill any foe....then set him on the highest mountain, trapped in a throne of ice.  He was freed for only the briefest of moments, once.

That was when the fifth came to the Oracle.  That was Lady Tyria of Junesorth, a kind, wise ruler of her people.  But she wanted all her rulings to be just beyond doubt, perfectly fair and right.  So she came seeking the Oracle, that she might always be just in her rulings.

The Orc was freed long enough from his Emperor’s throne to warn her.  He roared a warning, but she drew her blade and attempted to fight him.  Instantly he was trapped within his icy prison once more, and she entered the temple of the Oracle seeking Justice....

The Oracle granted her request....it took her eyes and made her the legendary Blind Justice, who stands vigil in front of every courthouse, scales of justice and truth in hand; but is unable to influence what goes on within, even though she knows the truth of every case.  She was freed from her duties only once, for an instant....”

Zindark faltered for a moment, head bowed.  When he looked up again tears of black, dead blood were leaking from his violet glowing eyes.

Jonathan was at an utter loss.

“The sixth....” Zindark faltered, then tried again.  “The sixth to seek the Oracle was.....was a foolish young boy who feared death so much he sought immortality.  He came alone, through many trials and tribulations, to this place.  For one fleeting moment Lady Justice appeared before him, and begged him not to seek the power of the Oracle.  But he was frightened of blind justice, and fled into the temple...and asked the Oracle that he might live forever....

The Oracle....the Oracle granted his request.....he.....he became me.  I was transformed into a vampire, not truly alive but not truly dead, and I shall live until the end of time itself, drinking the blood of the innocent and the helpless to sustain my own existence.  I am now the greatest vampire to walk this Earth, and I cannot stop.  I cannot even slow down.  Like the others before me, I am cursed to receive what I wanted, but not in the way I wanted it.  I have been called here, like they were before me, to warn the next one to seek the Oracle’s power.  Each of us tells the one that would be next of the curse that haunts each of us.  The WarBeast still tears the southern wastelands apart.  Sindra died alone, loved by all but understood by none.  Great Sage Asali and the Emperor Orc and Blind Justice each remained trapped in their prisons...and I.....I walk the world, living an unlife not worth having.

Now.....now I have been called hear to warn you, young hero.  As I was warned.  As the others before me, save the first were warned.  You seek I know not what.  I care not what.  Whatever it is, it will be granted to you in a way that defeats the purpose of having it.”

Zindark stared at Jonathan DeBraysee.  “Will you heed the warning?  Or will you march into that temple and become the seventh to be cursed by the Oracle, and be called in your turn to warn the eighth at some point in the unknown and unknowable future?”

Jonathan could find no answer.  Not even to say it was a lie.

“Good luck, young fool,” Zindark said.

The vampire turned and walked away into the night.

Jonathan and his followers stood in the snow for a long, long time.