Long had the plague years ravaged the land, decimating every household and filling the ground with the dead. Crops rotted unharvested in the fields, entire towns were wiped clean of inhabitants, and the cities swelled with panicked migrants fleeing the spectre of death, only to spread the shadow of the reaper.
No kingdom or principality was left untouched. The mightiest empires fell as famine followed pestilence, with war harrying the heels of both. The highest priests of the old gods cursed them bitterly and died, while their acolytes despaired that the Creator had abandoned His creation to the forces of chaos. A thousand altars ran red with the blood of human sacrifice, all to no avail.
The despair deepened as the days passed, until it seemed that all of creation was in chaos. War raged across continents, as nations sought to defend their crumbling borders against invasion. Kings, once thought invincible, were humbled by their mortality and forced to admit defeat. The common people watched on helplessly as their homes were burned to the ground, their meager wealth plundered and their families broken up and scattered to the winds. Driven by desperation, many of them joined the hordes of invaders until the plague claimed them, too.
The old religions failed to offer any answers or solace, and out of desperation many turned to new gods—gods from far-off lands who promised protection from a wrathful deity. But still the plague remained, bringing death and ruin on its wake.
The rains refused to fall in their season, and once fertile fields turned to dust as the deserts reclaimed their own. Even after the plague had run its course, the wealthy and the poor continued to suffer alike. For a time, all trade ceased, as the few survivors hoarded their dwindling supplies and guarded them fiercely against any who dared approach.
But the plague years did not last forever. After the destruction had run its course, the pestilence relented, and slowly, life began to return to the land. The survivors banded together, pooling their resources and working together to rebuild what plague, and famine, and war had destroyed. Cautiously, they began to rebuild their homes and towns, reclaiming the dark corners of the world from death’s insidious grasp. New outbreaks of the plague claimed many of them, but those who survived continued the work of rebuilding.
Eventually, the need for commerce overwhelmed the fear of death. The merchants began to venture out once again, risking their lives on the dangerous roads in search of profit. Unfortunately, the plague 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 and difficult, especially since the soldiers needed to guard the caravans demanded payment in gold. Those few merchants who traveled without guard quickly fell prey to the many bandits and highwaymen who now infested the land.
It was during these challenging times that the coin of Xulthar first began to circulate. Thought for centuries to have fallen into ruin, the lost city of Xulthar seemed to have risen from the ashes, its treasury filled with gold and silver. The merchants whispered rumors about the rise of a sorceror, a powerful mage who had discovered the secrets of Xulthar and had unlocked its riches. Some said he was a demon in human form, others that he was a man so wise and powerful that he could tame the very desert and make it blossom as the rose. But all agreed that the coin of Xulthar was sound.
For Xulthar had been a great and legendary city before its fall, renowned for its opulence and power. It had been a city of sorcerers and scholars, merchants and artisans, ruled by a council of wise and just elders. The city’s wealth had come not only from its trade routes, but also from its mines, which were said to hold rare gems and precious metals. With the fall of Xulthar nearly a century ago, the world had lost not only a great civilization, but also such treasures as the world had never seen.
The coin of Xulthar quickly gained acceptance among merchants and traders as standard currency. It became a symbol of stability during a time of chaos, though no one knew exactly how it had begun to circulate, and not one of those few who ventured in search of the fabled lost city ever returned. Still, the steady flow of trade brought wealth and prosperity to all who traded with Xulthar’s coin, enabling the survivors of the plague years to rebuild.
But as the coin of Xulthar spread across the land, it began to have a strange effect upon those who used it. Farmers and tradesmen who obtained the coin through honest enterprise, and who saved it against a time of need, found that their wealth diminished over time, insomuch that they could not hold onto it. Whereas greedy princes, unscrupulous merchants, and others who obtained their treasure by corruption and graft, found that their hordes grew unexpectedly, as if the sorcerous coin had multiplied.
To those who had eyes to see and ears to hear, it soon became clear that the coin of Xulthar was cursed. And yet, few there were who dared to point this out. For the need of the coin was still great, and those who profited most by the curse were chiefly the kings and princes of the people, those of power and high birth.
And so, as the plague years slowly came to a close, a much more subtle and insidious scourge spread throughout the land. For by some dark sorcery that few understood or even recognized, the cursed coin of Xulthar corrupted the souls of those who coveted it and magnified the dark desires that already existed within their hearts. It was as if the coin had a mind of its own, twisting the souls of those who used it toward madness and destruction.
