Plot
Three brothers, known as the Serpent Riders, have used their powerful magic to possess seven kings of Parthoris into mindless puppets and corrupt their armies. The Sidhe elves resist the Serpent Riders' magic. Thus the Serpent Riders thus declared the Sidhe as heretics and waged war against them. The Sidhe are forced to take a drastic measure to severe the natural power of the kings destroying them and their armies, but at the cost of weakening the elves' power, giving the Serpent riders an advantage to slay the elders. While the Sidhe retreats, one elf (revealed in the sequel to be named Corvus), sets off on a quest of vengeance against the weakest of the three Serpent Riders, D'Sparil. He travels through the "City of the Damned", the ruined capital of the Sidhe (its real name is revealed to be Silverspring in Heretic II), then past Hell's Maw and finally
The player must first fight through the undead hordes infesting, and the site where the elders performed their ritual. At its end is the gateway to Hell's Maw, guarded by the Iron Liches. After defeating them, the player must seal the portal and so prevent further infestation, but D'Sparil's dome. After the slaughter of D'sparil, Corvus ends up on a perilous journey with little hope to return home.
Read more about this topic: Heretic (video game)
Famous quotes containing the word plot:
“The westward march has stopped, upon the final plains of the Pacific; and now the plot thickens ... with the change, the pause, the settlement, our people draw into closer groups, stand face to face, to know each other and be known.”
—Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924)
“There comes a time in every man’s education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better for worse as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given him to till.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)
“James’s great gift, of course, was his ability to tell a plot in shimmering detail with such delicacy of treatment and such fine aloofness—that is, reluctance to engage in any direct grappling with what, in the play or story, had actually “taken place”Mthat his listeners often did not, in the end, know what had, to put it in another way, “gone on.””
—James Thurber (1894–1961)