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Here's a story I'm working on so far.  Any feedback would be appreciated.
The first three parts are all prologue before the actual plot starts (the
coming of Astaroth upon the daemon realm and recruiting Sin'Vraal for his
purposes just before British heads off into the underworld.  Let me know
what you think so far.  Remember, it's just a rough draft... Be gentle ;)

The Tale of Sin'Vraal
by Attentive Dragon

We all know about the daemon in Ultima V who was redeemed by Lord British at
some point during his imprisonment in the Underworld.  The daemon,
Sin'Vraal, became a follower of Virtue, and later helps the Avatar by giving
him information on the ShadowLord of Hatred, Astaroth.  What was never
explained was what his life was like BEFORE he met British.  This story will
try to explain some of that, and also reveal how Pyros could have been in
Britannia in Ultima IX, when he was supposedly from the world of Pagan.
Note: Sin'Vraal also makes another appearance in Ultima VI, where he is
depicted as a gargoyle... for the purposes of this story I am ignoring that,
and showing him as the daemon he was depicted as in Ultima V.  I hope you
enjoy it.


The Tale of Sin'Vraal
Part I - The UnderWorld

The Fires raged.

The very air in the chamber seemed to boil, waving and shimmering in the
infernal fires of the underworld.  The chamber was eternally lit by the glow
of the very rocks themselves and cast a reddish glow over the sweating
bodies of the laborers.  The toiling souls constantly fell to the ground,
overcome by the heat which beat upon them like a weapon.  The biting lash of
the whip quickly reminded them of more mundane dangers close at hand.  The
heat rose and swirled throughout the chamber as rivers of molten lava flowed
their way from the heart of the world to wherever it was they chose to go.
The heat would instantly incinerate anyone foolhardy enough to venture too
close.  The heat was so great, it took on a life of its own, groaning and
crying out as it sought to envelop and destroy all within its grasp.

The Thinker found it all quite comfortable.

"Thinker!"

The vocal intrusion startled the Thinker from his solumn reverie, and he
glanced upwards with a distracted annoyance bordering almost on anger.  He
turned once again to the glowing letters he had been etching with his claws
into the very face of the rocks, as he pondered and calculated.  He
scratched a few more marks, and the perternatural heat from his claws
flashed the rock face into lava, leaving a firey inscription which froze
permenantly on the stone wall of the cavern.  He knew he almost had the
answer he was looking for...

"Thinker!!! Sin'Vraal!"

Sin'Vraal, known as the Thinker, daemon of the realm of Fire, minor Lord in
the tribe of Bealiel, recently returned from the OverWorld, snarled as he
spun around in fury.  He stood from the sizzling rocks upon which he had
been perched, and stretched his leathery wings to their full 6 feet,
absent-mindedly flexing his taloned feet and baring his fangs.  With a
super-human speed, he launched himself from the rocks and sped upwards to
the overhanging perch from which the offending voice had originated.

The laborers cringed as his shadow fell over them, averting their eyes with
their hands, or their picks, until the Foreman reminded them of their
eternal task with the bite of the whips...

Sin'Vraal paid no heed to the puny mortal souls which toiled below in the
oppressive heat.  They were old news, fallen souls which had already been
won in the never-ending war with the forces of Light.  They were of no
interest to him, his thoughts instead consumed by the aquisition, through
guile or force, of new souls, new victories...

Or more specifically... of a recent defeat.

Sin'Vraal landed upon the rocky ledge with an audible thud, digging his
talons into the dust and growling into the dark of the cave mouth.  A growl
rumbled from the back of his throat as he snarled, "Su-Ton...."

A dark figure, smaller in stature than Sin'Vraal, and smoother of skin,
crept foward into the light of the Eternal Fires.  The body was lithe, and
he seemed to dance with an almost fluid movement as he approached.

"SU-TON!!!!!!!" roared Sin'Vraal in fury, and the smaller daemon fell
cowering to the ground.

"Greetings Thinker!" it whined pitifully.  "I welcome you back to our mighty
Underworld, from your most perilous voyage above!"

Sin'Vraal narrowed his eyes and considered for a moment devouring the weaker
daemon right then and there, but held himself in check.  He was not stupid.
There was no gain to be had from fighting here, and rising too fast only
brought the unwanted attention of the OverLords.  The younger daemon was
taunting him, trusting in Sin'Vraal's legendary wisdom and patience.  Any
other daemon would have ripped the throat from Su-Ton, devoured his innards
and scattered his bones among the rocks below.  Su-Ton was either
exceptionally brave, or incredibly stupid.  Perhaps a little of both,
thought Sin'Vraal.  This one is dangerous, I must keep an eye on it...

Shaking off these thoughts, Sin'Vraal turned his attention back to the
cowering, yet jeering form before him.  Through clenched teeth, he snarled.
"What.  Do.  You.  WANT."

With a flash, the young daemon leapt foward, stopping mere inches from
Sin'Vraal.  It was only his superb instincts and years of self-discipline
that kept him from stepping back in surprise, and showing weakness.  The
youth smiled, with his ugly, misshapen teeth, and whispered, "Heard you
brought us a mage to play with..."

A sudden backhand from Sin'Vraal sent the small daemon careening into the
cavern wall, jarring loose bits of stone that fell like burning rain to the
floor far below.  Sin'Vraal ignored the cries of the laborers as the burning
chips fell among them.  "Don't forget your place, IMP."

Sin'Vraal stepped foward and grabbed the lesser daemon by the nape of the
neck; muttering to himself, he strode foward into the dark coolness of
Su-Ton's chambers, dragging the whimpering daemon behind him.  "You know
very well what happened."

What had happened was the first defeat for Sin'Vraal in over a century.  He
had tempted a young mage into his presence, and agreed to play the Challenge
game with her.  In an uncharacteristic act of impatience, he had lost his
self-control out of frustration, and tried to take her soul by force.  Bound
by the rules of the very game he had agreed to, he was forced to return to
the Underworld empty handed; but worse still, he knew that he was now a
target for any daemon lesser than himself who was looking for a weakness, a
chance for quick advancement.  Advancing in the ranks of the Underworld only
happened in one way... by devouring one's superiors.

Rumaging through Su-Tons chambers, Sin'Vraal found a pipe, carved from the
leg bone of some monstrous beast.  Lighting it with a touch of his taloned
hand, he sat down, accepting the food that Su-Ton offered him.  Moldy bread
with freshly killed rat was not his idea of gormet cuisine, but the very
rules which had given him power, compelled him to accept the hospitality of
an inferior.  "It's a wonder I haven't killed you by now for your
impertinance." he muttered as he tore into the rotting flesh.

Su-Ton grinned.  "But then your life would be so boring!"

A sudden flapping of wings and a scrambling of taloned feet startled the two
daemons as a small shape burst into the cave.  Sin'Vraal sneered in disgust.
A lesser Imp... a messenger.

"Come, come! See! Yes! Hehehehehehehe..."

Sin'Vraal flexed his claws, but stopped when Su-Ton rose up.  With a snarl,
the young daemon slashed the imp from face to feet with a taloned hand.
"SPEAK PLAINLY, SLAVE!" he roared, in a surprisingly fearsome voice.
Sin'Vraal narrowed his eyes again.  Yes, this young one was more dangerous
than he had thought... he had grown since the last time they had met...
soon, Sin'Vraal thought, soon I will be forced to kill him.

The Imp had stopped screaming and blubbering and looked up, firey blood
rushing from the slash marks in its face.  "You must come... come and see."

"What IS it, you worm?"

"Someone is trying to summon Pyros!!!"



Part II - Pyros

The daemons cheered.

It wasn't often that so many denisens of the dark gathered together in one
place without open warfare.  A Pyros summoning, however, was a rare and
singular event.

Humans, for ages, had tried to understand the world around them, and had
come up with some fairly rediculous ways to explain their surroundings.
Some held the mistaken belief that, with enough preperation, one could
summon a creature from the underworld, and bind it to one's bidding.

True, the lesser imps and spirits were quite tractable and relatively
harmless, though they often chose to appear in larger forms, to impress
their human masters.  The Greater Daemons, on the other hand, were not so
easy to tame...

Long ago, before the times of the Triad, but after the great Sundering,
there had been a great Lord of Daemons, one of the Princes of the Host.  He
stood above all the daemons of the Fire realm, exceeding even the daemons of
water, air and earth.  For a brief time, he had unified the four elements
under his dark rule, and the forces of darkness rode united into battle
against mankind...

His name was Pyros.

Those elementals and spirits who served the Light fled before him, and those
who served the Darkness worshiped at his feet.  But just when he was at his
most powerful... something... happened.

No one could say exactly how Pyros was defeated, but a single youth, in some
game, or contest, or perhaps even in single combat, was able to best the
greatest Prince to ever rule the Underworld.  Some say the youth had powers
from another world, some claimed he had help from an even more ancient,
mystic spirit.  However he did it, the youth known as British of the White
Light was able to bind Pyros and cast him screaming back into the Firey
Pit...

...where he was promptly ripped asunder and devoured by his hungry
followers.  Many daemons gained great power that night, and still ruled even
to this day.

Pyros was gone, but his legacy remained.  Now, a truly powerful daemon, if
he wished to claim leadership, would take upon him the name of Pyros, as a
title to befit his station.  Only the mightiest of the mightiest could dare
to assume such a name and survive the inevitable challenges from the other
Princes and Lords.  If he lived, he would emerge from the blood of his
brothers as a Titan.  Every daemon dreamed of it, but very few had the
courage to try.

Back below in the firey cavern, the laborers had been shoved aside,
forgotten for the moment, given a brief respite from their eternal
punishment while the daemonic host filled the floor.  In the center of the
cavern, a bright red point of light had appeared on the floor, and the
demonic throng cheered.  The crowd formed a circle , watching the point of
light grow into a ring of fire...

With a flash, the light erupted into a flaming pentagram on the floor.  From
a distance, the sound of chanting could be heard...

The daemons chuckled and jeered.  "Who shall be Pyros tonight?"

In a bold voice, that surprised even himself, Sin'Vraal shouted, "I shall
go!"

All the daemons grinned to themselves.  "Pyros-duty" was in reality no
different than any other attempt to steal a human soul.  The only difference
was that the entire host of Darkness would be watching if you failed.
Coming on the heels of his recent failed attempt to win the soul of the
young mage... Sin'Vraal knew that if he failed this time, he would be ripe
for the devouring.

Shocked at himself, knowing the risk, but knowing also that success tonight
would redeem much of his lost status, he strode foward into the flaming
pentagram and vanished from sight.



Part III - Titan

The mage chanted.

Weaving his hands in an intricate dance, he felt the power flow out of and
into him, swirling with energy and magic.  The pentagram before him glowed
and seemed to quiver and shake, as the very ground split.  Steam rose into
the sky as it escaped from the heat below, and a bight, red glow began to
lash out from the arcane symbol.

"Kal... Xen... Corp... In... Ort... Mani... Kal... Flam... Kal... Pyros...
Pyros... Xen... Pyros... Corp... Pyros... Pyros..."

With a scream of supernatural rage and power, a monstrous form rose from the
very earth itself.  Fire shot from the nostrils of the beast and dancing
flames leapt in the eye sockets of the red-skinned monstrosity.  Fangs
dripped with lava, searing the ground as it drooled and shouted in anger.
Lifting itself free from the ground, the Titan of Fire turned its head to
the one who had called him thus.

The mage nearly lost his concentration in shock and terror, but was able to
hold the spell... barely.  Pyros lifted his head and roared to the skies,
almost making the mage lose the spell again.

Sin'Vraal smiled inwardly as he roared like one insane.  He had always been
good at illusions: time and practice had made him a Master; This latest
illusion, however, his "Pyros body"... sometimes he impressed even himself.

The mage waved his hands and Sin'Vraal/Pyros fell silent.  A smile crept
onto the face of the human, and he spoke boldly.  "Oh great Pyros, I do
summon thee!"

It took all of Sin'Vraal's power to keep from falling to the ground in
hysterical laughter.  As it was, he nearly lost control of his illusion, but
was able to keep the Pyros form intact.

"How dare you... HUMAN!  DO YOU THINK YOU CAN CONTROL ME, THE TITAN OF FIRE,
THE LORD OF FLAME, MASTER OF THE DARK UNDER..."

The mage interupted Pyros' speech.  "I bind thee with thy truename, Pyros
Flamebringer, AN EX POR, AN VAS EX ORT!  Vasen-Fellus!!!"

The daemonic beast stood rigid, held by the bounds of his Truename.  The
mage smiled, a sneer of contempt.  His eyes burned with an evil hunger for
power, and the thoughts of his coming greatness, with Pyros as his slave.
"Now, that we understand each other..."

He waved his hand, and the candles surrounding the pentagram winked out.
Pyros growled, but the mage waved his hand again.  "I hold you, and bind
you, Pyros... never forget my power over you... I have your Truename, a name
which I paid greatly for and searched for years to find.  The blood of
thousands has been spilt in my search, but now I control you.  Never forget
that I can destroy you in an instant!  Do not disobey me!"

Pyros still growled, but held his ground as the mage collected the items of
the summoning ritual and shouldered his pack.  "Now, come Pyros!"

Pyros strode foward and bared his fangs, grinning in hunger at the mage.  A
low, dark chuckle began in the throat of the Titan, and he clenched his
talons in anticipation.

The mage whitened in fear, but stood firm.  "Stay, Titan!  Hold thy ground,
for I bind you!  Vasen-Fellus!"

Pyros smiled, his fangs dripping in the moonlight, as he stepped foward.

"Vasen! Pyros Vasen Fellus I command you!!!"

Pyros stopped and looked at the mage, now only a foot away.  "You truly do
have the TrueName, which lends you total and complete power over Pyros, the
Titan of Fire... unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten one small, but
important detail in your ritual..."

"w..w..w....whhhh...what.... what is that...?"

Sin'Vraal stepped foward, fangs bared as the image of Pyros melted away.

"I am not Pyros."

Screams.

End Part III.  That's all I wrote so far.  Part IV will introduce Astaroth
and I want to use the info i found on "The Other Codex" page about the
Shadowlords, if that's ok...  I'm going to tell all about HOW British
redeems Sin'Vrall, and the conflict between him and SuTon and maybe even
throw in some Ultima 5 stuff.  Well, hope you enjoyed it so far...