Terranigma Forever! I still have no idea what the game was about.
Brahe Silver’s is Sacrifice
Toaster’s is Morrowind
A lot of people have mentioned answers for this, but almost any historical RTS or TBS game will do.
An ancient man rests on a elaborate wooden chair. All arund him, weapons and armor, each piece enchanted with great magics of the mightiest spellweavers, hang on the walls.
“Welcome children. Come for another story, eh? Very well…”
“I was a young man then, full of power. Yet my place in the world was full of danger. Strange foes hunted me, everywhere I turned they threatened to spring at me. With a few staunch allies I journeyed the land, taking trasure in the hopes of ransoming my childhood friend from a dangerous and powerful wizard. Yet I senseed it was more than gold he wanted - he wanted me. I hunted undead in the hills, stalked vampires in the city nights, and made enemies of dragon lords. And that was when I wasn’t fighting trolls.”
The elderly fellow’s eyes seem to darken at the recall of a painful old memory.
“But at the last I cornered my enemy, only to be cornered myself. Yet I escaped his dark sister’s trap, winding my way through corridors full of traps and enemies. At the last, I turned the tables on my former captor, and though he escaped I hunted him through the deep places of the world. I slew black-hearted elves a-plenty before I found him, and stopped a whole army of the night-skinned bastards. At the last I killed his demon allies, and even then I was strong enough to cast down his damned dragon-mount, though the beast’s acid breath forever scarred my shoulder. I followed that wizard to the depths of Hell, and erased him from the pages of history. He was foolish, perhaps, to fight me in my full glory.”
“Yes, he was foolish… But then, so many evils have I fought, I have realized there is nothing some will not do for power.”
A small boy spoke up, “Grandpa! That wasn’t a very good story! I want you to show me your magic!”
The old man seemed to recover the twinkle in his eye a moment. “Ah, I’m sorry, lad. I’ve buried too many friends from those days. The memories are glad, perhaps, but they bring sadness, too. But perhaps a few spells would cheer us both up.” He looked for a moment out the window, gazing at some distant memory he alone knew.
“Did I ever tell you kids about the time I threw down half of Menzzoberranzan, and then followed it up by blowing up a good chunk of Ched Nased for desert?”
Outside, on a hillside glade, a stone shrine, some twenty feet high, and inscribed with holy symbols lay right in the view of a certain mansion window. On was engarved the words, “Here rests Viconia DeVir, eternally beloved of Inari the Godson, loved by her people, overcoming all hatred. May she retain the peace in death that eluded her until the end of her life.”
