Binkles the frog is a troubled fellow. Originally, he was the son of Diablo and would often enjoy long strolls of terror as father son bonding time. His real name was Durance and he was rather close to his father. One day on one of those strolls a typical hero type decided to trick Diablo and take his beloved son from him. This hero's name was Tyrael, who at the time was recently fitted into his powers. So, Tyrael disguised himself as a festive man who sold all sorts of knickknacks and knew ahead of time which one would be chosen. Diablo and Durance noticed the festival and Diablo wished to continue, however, Durance was intrigued and begged his father to go into the festival. Upon entrance Tyrael stated that it was father son day at the festival and they would be allowed admittance and anything their hearts desired for free. Diablo, heart-warmed by this offer took his son inside and did everything imaginable there. Before they took their leave, Tyrael implored them to have a look at his knickknacks. One in particular stood out above all the rest. It was a curious object in the shape of a marionette with glowing red eyes. Drawn in by the possessive powers of the marionette imbued by Tyrael's magic, Durance chose it for his own. Diablo and Durance thanked Tyrael for his hospitality and wished him a long and healthy life. Upon arriving at Diablo's humble abode, Durance went straight to his room to play with his newly acquired toy. He imagined he was away in some far off land exploring the world on his own. Everything seemed different now, there were places to go and things to see. Things, that he never dreamed of being able to comprehend holed up with his father. Then, he felt that he understood the marionette, that they had a sort of unspoken connection. It was upon the realization of that connection that the marionette spoke to the boy. He said, "Durance, you have now realized what lies ahead of you young traveler. However, it seems that you are limited under the rule of your father. Listen to what I have to say, I can allow you to see things you otherwise would never have known existed. Through me, I can allow you to see and roam the world with all its delights and delicacies for your own. If you so desire for these things, all you have to do is say so, and they are yours." Durance, after a long train of thought decided he would take the marionette up on his offer, and see the world. As soon as he said the words, "I desire these things" there was a whirl of light and voices speaking of the horrors that were to come. They told him of how his father would walk the earth and take a reign of terror upon the loss of his son. Diablo, through the pain of losing his only child, would swear revenge on Tyrael and the rest of the world's inhabitants. After the lights disappeared, Durance found himself in a far off land with limited mobility and sight. It was almost as if everything seemed much larger than it had before. Then he began to remember the words of the marionette and wondered if this was his opportunity to see the world. He hopped from place to place delighting in all that he saw, but alas, he could not fully enjoy it for the marionette had cursed him to roam the world as a frog. Durance after a few years met his father and tried to explain himself, however, all Diablo heard was *ribbit* *ribbit* *ribbit*. Fortunately, Diablo felt a sort of connection with him, almost an inspiration. Thus, he named the frog Binkle—The energy created (a zizz) when you really connect with someone, or something that inspires you (even yourself). Henceforth, he became known as Binkles the frog whom Diablo favored though he did not know why. There was so much unspoken pain that Durance could never communicate to his father, though he was with him, he could not understand him. Thus, one night in a rush of agony Durance fled into the night whereupon people wondered of his origin. Durance wished to tell them, but unfortunately the only thing that they could know about him was that Diablo named him Binkles the frog. Upon the loss of his inspiration Diablo renewed his vow for vengeance against Tyrael and unleashed Hell across the world. To this day, Binkles the frog roams the earth searching for the man who gave him the marionette. The man who damned him to a life without companionship, this man, is Tyrael.
Brinkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Brinkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Fredericks had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterwards for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. At the twilight of his transfixion he could no longer continue on, his heart now betraying his schemes corruption and put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Brinkle, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leapt out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Brinkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do returns you see, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
Brinkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Brinkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Fredericks had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterwards for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. And it was at this twilight of his transfixion that he could no longer continue on; and his heart now betraying his schemes corruption, he put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Brinkle, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leapt out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Brinkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do refunds so to speak, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
THE TRAGEDY OF BINKLES FROG
Binkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Binkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Fredericks had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterwards for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. And it was at this twilight of his transfixion that he could no longer continue on; and his heart now betraying his schemes corruption, he put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Binkles, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leapt out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Binkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do refunds so to speak, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
Binkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Binkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Frederick's had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterward for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. And it was at this twilight of his transfixion that he could no longer continue on; and his heart now betraying his schemes corruption, he put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Binkles, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leaped out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Binkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do refunds so to speak, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
{Please note that this is an edited version of the story I posted earlier. I couldn't let the typos slide , and made some minor changes to the end}
A man once said that curiosity will be the death of you, but if you truly want to know the story behind Binkles the Frog stay awhile and listen...
During the crisis that befell Tristram so many years ago, many powerful heroes came to battle the evil which spewed forth from the labyrinth beneath the cathedral. Many came in search of glory and treasure, but some desired to unlock the knowledge contained deep within that ancient place. Among these was a rather eccentric mage by the name of Zhar. Brash and always on edge, many thought Zhar to be mad, but really he was just very dedicated to his work studying ancient texts. That and he would get REALLY pissed if you touched one of his books.
Nevertheless, one of the strangest things about Zhar was the familiar he decided to conjure for himself to guard his tomes while he journeyed into the labyrinth. It was a frog whom he called Binkles, and it did indeed do its job well. Whenever any of the townsfolk would even go near the small cottage he kept on the out skirts of town, that blasted frog would croak louder than if Griswold was pounding his anvil with a 500 pound hammer! It was unholy I tell you! And sure enough Zhar would emerge seemingly out of nowhere a few moments later and chase off those that had dared offend that frog. High Heavens how I hated to be awoken by the blasted thing!
Then one day, Zhar did not return to his little house full of books. Everybody in town knew he was a very powerful mage and would not fall easily to the petty skeletons and zombies that infested the catacombs below the church. Days passed and we all feared the worst. Being the scholar I am, I decided it my duty to preserve whatever volumes he may have pulled from that dungeon hell, so I paid a visit to his home. To my surprise, I found the place barren! That is except for that sad little frog Binkles, left by his master, now silent, without purpose.
So, I did the only thing I could, I took that wizard-spawned demon-frog to the small creek that ran between town and the witches shack and let him go, hoping that it would just forget its master and live out its day in peace. You see, no matter how much I despised that accursed thing; I could never bring myself to destroy something of such a magical nature. It just doesn’t seem…right…to me. It later crossed my mind that this was a poor choice as Adria was known for using frogs in a variety of her stews…
Alas, Binkles the frog has never forgotten that insane wizard who conjured him from heavens knows which unnatural realm. To this day that rather unique frog can still be seen throughout Sanctuary, still searching for the master that abandoned it long ago…
The witchdoctors that reside deep in the jungles of Sanctuary are known mostly for how little is actually known about them. The general image held of them by the more "civilized" populations is that they utilize primitive magicks to wake the dead and call curses and plagues upon their foes. One of the premiere stories that accompanies tales of witchdoctors is that of the "plague of toads", a horde of angry amphibians summoned to drown whole villages in a wave of pestilent croaking.
The fact that witchdoctors utilize such a spell is true, however the details of the spell itself are somewhat inaccurate. The first of these innacruacies is the name of the spell itself: the "plague of toads", while certainly summoning plenty of toads, is also capable of summoning the occasional frog, as well.
The second inaccuracy is that the horde of amphibians summoned by the spell is entirely "mindless", as one might think of such things. In as much the same way that the toads are sometimes frogs instead, so too should it be noted that, on occasion, some of these creatures are a little brighter than their peers.
One such creature was a frog who called himself Binkopheles, Lord of Fear. Among his amphibian colleagues this self entitling was generally viewed with an air of skepticism and humor, but, being simple amphibians, they generally didn't think about it too much--not when there were bugs to eat and croaking to be done. Binkopheles--or "Binkles", as he was referred to by his lexically-challenged brethren--considered believed himself to be more than a mere frog; indeed, more than even a mere mortal. Binkopheles came to realize, through his martial prowess and ability to sow fear on the battlefield, that he must actually be a great demon.
You see, when a witchdoctor casts a Plague of Toads, the creatures summoned are not actually materialized from thin air. Rather, each and every toad and frog is previously hand-selected by the witchdoctor to serve in his "army", and they even sign little contracts, insofar as a toad can "sign" anything. Binkles was no exception, and was in fact a veteran of dozens of summonings--a "highly decorated" veteran, in his mind. He had wreaked havoc across countless battlefields, basking in his enemies' terrified cries of "eek, a frog!" and "nooo I don't need any more warts!". Surely, he thought, his name must known far and wide, uttered with a sense of foreboding and whispered by parents to their unruly children at night.
Binkopheles was eventually "honorably" discharged from his service, but let it be known that his reign of froggy terror has not yet ceased, and that no one in Sanctuary is yet safe from the Lord of Fear.
THE TRAGEDY OF FREDERICK BRINKLES
Brinkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Brinkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Fredericks had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterwards for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. At the twilight of his transfixion he could no longer continue on, his heart now betraying his schemes corruption and put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Brinkle, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leapt out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Brinkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do returns you see, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
---
With respect, GL to all!
---
THE TRAGEDY OF BRINKLES FROG
Brinkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Brinkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Fredericks had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterwards for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. And it was at this twilight of his transfixion that he could no longer continue on; and his heart now betraying his schemes corruption, he put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Brinkle, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leapt out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Brinkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do refunds so to speak, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
---
With respect, GL to all!
---
THE TRAGEDY OF BINKLES FROG
Binkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Binkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Fredericks had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterwards for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. And it was at this twilight of his transfixion that he could no longer continue on; and his heart now betraying his schemes corruption, he put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Binkles, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leapt out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Binkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do refunds so to speak, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
---
With respect, GL to all!
---
THE TRAGEDY OF BINKLES FROG
Binkles the Frog – I knew him well! Or should I say Frederic Binkles; that was his name when he lived still as a young man in my town of New Tristram. His story is sad and tragic, but an all the more common one in those days close before the coming of the Fallen Star, before I was an old man...
He lived of a poor family in a cabin nearer the edge of the forest than the heart of town, who survived by cutting wood and hunting what they could. On one of his trips to town with his father, Frederick, standing beside their cart with an armful of timber waiting to be delivered was struck out in the street and cast into a shallow pool of mud, scattering his logs everywhere. When he looked up at his would be attacker he saw the disgusted young face of a somewhat regally dressed boy.
“God damn woodland creature!” said the mock prince, “Get out of my way!”
Frederick quickly removed himself, scurrying off the street which he might have been standing in the middle of. Giving him one last firm death stare, the kid moved on with the rest of his retinue, but not before making a show of trampling and backing over the pile of wood Frederick's had been holding.
Immediately Frederick scrambled to preserve the precious wood. But when he dropped the pieces seeing the futility of its saving, in this chaotic mess of splinters an image struck his mind and he saw the pattern of his hate and revenge! The impression lay in him making him envious for the power to avenge himself of this humiliation, and in his mind it threw over his perception of the town a green demonic pestilence that covered its cruel and indifferent inhabitants.
You see if God is your witness the devil is your tempter!; and in these evil times, if not one souls is forsaken by God, neither is he spared of Diablo himself, for he is always looking to make minions for his cause out of the easily corrupted hearts of men.
So it happened that the next day as Frederick was alone unleashing his anger in the act of chopping wood, he was approached out of the cold and silent autumn air by a necromantic figure.
Immediately he took up his axe in a startled defensive pose, frozen by its stare. It did not approach though, but instead in a moment it looked at him and seemed to say:
“The king returns – no land is safe where he throws his shadow. Those of his vision and loyal to his power shall have a part his dominion over this land when his rule comes to be.
Frederick nodded, though only having a vague sense that he was being requisitioned. And so the figure explained to him his task: that he was to find the townsfolk in their sleep at night and release the mist from the vial he would find replenished here every day.
Did he understand that in doing so he would induce the plague on these folks, and quicken the towns’ descent into the hands of the skeleton king? I don’t know, but he agreed given that this task was not too cruel for his nature given the promise of what he felt was the most absolute of all rewards – power.
Afterward for several nights he snuck into people’s houses undetected and worked the vial upon them, until one night as he was entering upon the last room of a house, he saw by the moonlight the beautiful face of a young girl. And it was at this twilight of his transfixion that he could no longer continue on; and his heart now betraying his schemes corruption, he put the cursed vile aside. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a shadow move, like exiting the room through the window which was closed.
Ignoring this ominous sign though in his moment of benediction exclaimed, “I’ve been such a fool, I must reveal the plan and save her!”, to himself. At this he lightly shook and sounded the girl to rise, as a first witness to his sudden conversion, but when she awoke she was in dismay, looking straight at the boy who stood but a foot in the shadows above her bed.
“Who are you – what are you doing here?!”
“I’m Frederick Binkles, umm I’m here... you see there was a plot of evil, this vial I was to release but I’m not going to do it – I’m here to save you!”
“GET OUT! GET OUT!” She cried. Oh but he couldn’t explain himself now he felt all the moment of redemption slipping away like some absurd fantasy. Now she was rising to get at him, seeing his passive state of remorse. With a hit Frederick began for the window and lifting it, with the girl howling at him and all the house probably right at the door now, he leaped out and flew down from the roof onto the ground, from which he ran right into the woods, out of sight of the lights dawning in the house.
How twisted can the expression of the hearts truth become!
He stopped a ways away and collapsed in the middle of a clearing. It was only a moment though that in resting he felt a presence, like a cold form approaching, and he saw the odd un-swaying outline of the same hideous figure that had made the compact with him. It stared at him without sounding anything, but Binkles knew, he could feel it say:
“Thou has betrayed the King...”
“Yes, but I was done with it - Oh God save me!”
But Diablo doesn’t do refunds so to speak, and the spirit did not respond but simply got very still as it worked it’s magic over his body... He cried until he croaked, until what was once man had shrunk into a purple and yellow tinged frog. I know this, for in the earliest days of his transformation I made communion with this peculiar frog, but now I am sad to say, that there is nothing left of his mind either, and he is lost to us forever for I can no longer witness that state of amphibian madness, lest I lose mine as well!
---
With respect, GL to all!
A man once said that curiosity will be the death of you, but if you truly want to know the story behind Binkles the Frog stay awhile and listen...
During the crisis that befell Tristram so many years ago, many powerful heroes came to battle the evil which spewed forth from the labyrinth beneath the cathedral. Many came in search of glory and treasure, but some desired to unlock the knowledge contained deep within that ancient place. Among these was a rather eccentric mage by the name of Zhar. Brash and always on edge, many thought Zhar to be mad, but really he was just very dedicated to his work studying ancient texts. That and he would get REALLY pissed if you touched one of his books.
Nevertheless, one of the strangest things about Zhar was the familiar he decided to conjure for himself to guard his tomes while he journeyed into the labyrinth. It was a frog whom he called Binkles, and it did indeed do its job well. Whenever any of the townsfolk would even go near the small cottage he kept on the out skirts of town, that blasted frog would croak louder than if Griswold was pounding his anvil with a 500 pound hammer! It was unholy I tell you! And sure enough Zhar would emerge seemingly out of nowhere a few moments later and chase off those that had dared offend that frog. High Heavens how I hated to be awoken by the blasted thing!
Then one day, Zhar did not return to his little house full of books. Everybody in town knew he was a very powerful mage and would not fall easily to the petty skeletons and zombies that infested the catacombs below the church. Days passed and we all feared the worst. Being the scholar I am, I decided it my duty to preserve whatever volumes he may have pulled from that dungeon hell, so I paid a visit to his home. To my surprise, I found the place barren! That is except for that sad little frog Binkles, left by his master, now silent, without purpose.
So, I did the only thing I could, I took that wizard-spawned demon-frog to the small creek that ran between town and the witches shack and let him go, hoping that it would just forget its master and live out its day in peace. You see, no matter how much I despised that accursed thing; I could never bring myself to destroy something of such a magical nature. It just doesn’t seem…right…to me. It later crossed my mind that this was a poor choice as Adria was known for using frogs in a variety of her stews…
Alas, Binkles the frog has never forgotten that insane wizard who conjured him from heavens knows which unnatural realm. To this day that rather unique frog can still be seen throughout Sanctuary, still searching for the master that abandoned it long ago…
The witchdoctors that reside deep in the jungles of Sanctuary are known mostly for how little is actually known about them. The general image held of them by the more "civilized" populations is that they utilize primitive magicks to wake the dead and call curses and plagues upon their foes. One of the premiere stories that accompanies tales of witchdoctors is that of the "plague of toads", a horde of angry amphibians summoned to drown whole villages in a wave of pestilent croaking.
The fact that witchdoctors utilize such a spell is true, however the details of the spell itself are somewhat inaccurate. The first of these innacruacies is the name of the spell itself: the "plague of toads", while certainly summoning plenty of toads, is also capable of summoning the occasional frog, as well.
The second inaccuracy is that the horde of amphibians summoned by the spell is entirely "mindless", as one might think of such things. In as much the same way that the toads are sometimes frogs instead, so too should it be noted that, on occasion, some of these creatures are a little brighter than their peers.
One such creature was a frog who called himself Binkopheles, Lord of Fear. Among his amphibian colleagues this self entitling was generally viewed with an air of skepticism and humor, but, being simple amphibians, they generally didn't think about it too much--not when there were bugs to eat and croaking to be done. Binkopheles--or "Binkles", as he was referred to by his lexically-challenged brethren--considered believed himself to be more than a mere frog; indeed, more than even a mere mortal. Binkopheles came to realize, through his martial prowess and ability to sow fear on the battlefield, that he must actually be a great demon.
You see, when a witchdoctor casts a Plague of Toads, the creatures summoned are not actually materialized from thin air. Rather, each and every toad and frog is previously hand-selected by the witchdoctor to serve in his "army", and they even sign little contracts, insofar as a toad can "sign" anything. Binkles was no exception, and was in fact a veteran of dozens of summonings--a "highly decorated" veteran, in his mind. He had wreaked havoc across countless battlefields, basking in his enemies' terrified cries of "eek, a frog!" and "nooo I don't need any more warts!". Surely, he thought, his name must known far and wide, uttered with a sense of foreboding and whispered by parents to their unruly children at night.
Binkopheles was eventually "honorably" discharged from his service, but let it be known that his reign of froggy terror has not yet ceased, and that no one in Sanctuary is yet safe from the Lord of Fear.
Belisar