Vax
02-14-2006, 06:34 PM
In the hills of Arathen, past the desolate lands of Sosaria, lies the small village of Arathi Xerun, a quiet, peaceful village. It is here that the once immortal, Tenebrous, now lives out his days. It has been many years since we've heard tales of Tenebrous, Since the days of the battles for the temple of Mondain. He now lives quietly in Arathi Xerun, humble in his peace and quiet, and passing down his knowing of the world, and of life. Potions, Herbalism, even some of the smithy hand, Tenebrous was both wise and powerful, but to the townsfolk, he was merely a wise old man, for they knew nothing of his past, and he planned to keep it that way. Days past here faster and faster it seemed, winter became spring, spring became summer, summer became fall, and it was on a specific day, a tuesday, year 14 of the old calender, that the days once again would change...
The Day was no different than any other of the season, the ground was blanketed with the aftermath of fall, leaves still falling, the tree's were letting go, for the long winter to follow... Children of the village were at play, running through the brush, laughing, cheerful, and the townsfolk were hard at work in their daily routines, for better happy, but unknowing... An uneasy but familiar feeling came over Tenebrous, it was something he had not felt for many years. He looked up and took a deep breath.. something was out of place....
"TROGS!, TROGS ON THE SOUTH ROAD, TO ARMS!" exclaimed one of the town militia, as panic oversew the town, women grabbing their children and fleeing to their homes to barricade themselves in, men raising arms to meet the creatures that could threaten their villages existance, except one... Tenebrous. He grabbed no sword or spear, but instead to his home, for a book... it was here in his own personal library that he looked up the trogs, for some reason as to why this could be taking place... "Trogs are halfbreeds between lizardmen and khobolds, and usually keep to themselves, unless you threaten their territory.", Tenebrous Read. "what could be making them take up arms against THIS village in a far off land..." - knowing something was wrong, Tenebrous closed his eyes, muttered a chant of the old tongue, and as the swirling magic erupted from his hands into a pillar of energy, Flash, he was gone.
Tenebrous had teleported to the Temple of the Magi, located in the hills far above the town, home to the now extinct, Order of the Magi, the greatest spellcasters and conjurers, the original overseers of Magic. He sighed and moved forward, walking down the hollowed halls of the now broken tomb, hastily for fear of the villages destruction. The temple was not only the resting place of the magi, but also several artifacts used by the once great order, one of these, was Hetunn Eertahor, or "Divine vision", the scrying orb that allowed not only the foretelling of future events, but the recolection of past ones. Artifacts such as these were all but forgotten to the new world, Magic has all but faded from the minds of the commonfolk. In fact, there were only 3 individuals to the knowing of Tenebrous, still capable of using such things.
He raised his hand as he stepped up to the alter, as the scrye began to float from the conjures of the Sage, he closed his eyes yet again, as images conjured by the artifact flooded his mind. Tenebrous saw many things, images of people he knew, places he'd been, none of them really of importance, except one, a man, by the name of Melenox (mel-e-noh), Son of the late Magus. But this image wasn't of his previous knowing of Melenox, A frightened boy shaking so badly he could barely hold his spear, but he was strong, proud, and now middle aged. It was then he focused once more, searching the nethers for traces, Tenebrous looked for where Melenox was now, he knew he must see him to find what these images stood for. Suddenly, He opened his eyes, turned and as briskly as possible, left the temple. He then raised his hands, summoning yet another gateway to the nether, then dissapeared in a flash, returning to the village.
As he appeared in the village, to his knowing there were no trogs, and many villagefolk were in relief, for they had been stopped on the road, by Dominus Gru, or "The Syndicate", in the common tongue. The Syndicate were a widely diverse order, following the ancient teachings of The Prophet. Tenebrous approached Melenox, who was Bearing the crest of The mighty wizard. They stood facing each other, for just a moment, before shaking hands, and exchanging greetings, it was clear to tenebrous that they had slain the Trogs.
"It's been a long time my old friend", said Tenebrous, "You're looking well, but what brings you too Arathi Xerun?"
Melenox stuck his sword blade first into the ground, sighed, then looked Tenebrous straight in the eyes and said...
"He's alive."
To Be Continued...
The Day was no different than any other of the season, the ground was blanketed with the aftermath of fall, leaves still falling, the tree's were letting go, for the long winter to follow... Children of the village were at play, running through the brush, laughing, cheerful, and the townsfolk were hard at work in their daily routines, for better happy, but unknowing... An uneasy but familiar feeling came over Tenebrous, it was something he had not felt for many years. He looked up and took a deep breath.. something was out of place....
"TROGS!, TROGS ON THE SOUTH ROAD, TO ARMS!" exclaimed one of the town militia, as panic oversew the town, women grabbing their children and fleeing to their homes to barricade themselves in, men raising arms to meet the creatures that could threaten their villages existance, except one... Tenebrous. He grabbed no sword or spear, but instead to his home, for a book... it was here in his own personal library that he looked up the trogs, for some reason as to why this could be taking place... "Trogs are halfbreeds between lizardmen and khobolds, and usually keep to themselves, unless you threaten their territory.", Tenebrous Read. "what could be making them take up arms against THIS village in a far off land..." - knowing something was wrong, Tenebrous closed his eyes, muttered a chant of the old tongue, and as the swirling magic erupted from his hands into a pillar of energy, Flash, he was gone.
Tenebrous had teleported to the Temple of the Magi, located in the hills far above the town, home to the now extinct, Order of the Magi, the greatest spellcasters and conjurers, the original overseers of Magic. He sighed and moved forward, walking down the hollowed halls of the now broken tomb, hastily for fear of the villages destruction. The temple was not only the resting place of the magi, but also several artifacts used by the once great order, one of these, was Hetunn Eertahor, or "Divine vision", the scrying orb that allowed not only the foretelling of future events, but the recolection of past ones. Artifacts such as these were all but forgotten to the new world, Magic has all but faded from the minds of the commonfolk. In fact, there were only 3 individuals to the knowing of Tenebrous, still capable of using such things.
He raised his hand as he stepped up to the alter, as the scrye began to float from the conjures of the Sage, he closed his eyes yet again, as images conjured by the artifact flooded his mind. Tenebrous saw many things, images of people he knew, places he'd been, none of them really of importance, except one, a man, by the name of Melenox (mel-e-noh), Son of the late Magus. But this image wasn't of his previous knowing of Melenox, A frightened boy shaking so badly he could barely hold his spear, but he was strong, proud, and now middle aged. It was then he focused once more, searching the nethers for traces, Tenebrous looked for where Melenox was now, he knew he must see him to find what these images stood for. Suddenly, He opened his eyes, turned and as briskly as possible, left the temple. He then raised his hands, summoning yet another gateway to the nether, then dissapeared in a flash, returning to the village.
As he appeared in the village, to his knowing there were no trogs, and many villagefolk were in relief, for they had been stopped on the road, by Dominus Gru, or "The Syndicate", in the common tongue. The Syndicate were a widely diverse order, following the ancient teachings of The Prophet. Tenebrous approached Melenox, who was Bearing the crest of The mighty wizard. They stood facing each other, for just a moment, before shaking hands, and exchanging greetings, it was clear to tenebrous that they had slain the Trogs.
"It's been a long time my old friend", said Tenebrous, "You're looking well, but what brings you too Arathi Xerun?"
Melenox stuck his sword blade first into the ground, sighed, then looked Tenebrous straight in the eyes and said...
"He's alive."
To Be Continued...