This was a rainy and beautiful day in the northern kingdom of men. It was one of those spring showers that revitalized the land and the fragrances of flowers and trees filled the air. Here and there some open field shopper, or a traveller caught unaware in the rain, mumbled a few curses to their luck, but overall this spring rain was enjoyed by most.
Such was the case, even for King of Old Stanthas who was sitting on his throne as usual, uncaring for the diplomatic discussions and all the political fuss that took place in front of him. After all his place was only honorary, by his desire, and he long ago left his descendants to deal with such matters. The sudden rain that fell from the sky and sparkled on the perfect crystal ceiling of the Hall of Order, caught his imagination and took his thoughts many many years before, to a certain spring day, not unlike this one, when the tide of the Dragon War finally slashed against his kingdom. A sharp pain prick in his heart reminded him that this was long ago and he had made sure with his efforts and sacrifices that such a thing would not happen again… or had he?
Unlike other times of reminiscing, this small pain in his heart and thought remained, and a feeling of impeding doom begun to stir up inside him. He looked at the sky, and though no bad sign was apparent, his worries could not calm. On and on this feeling of doom grew in size and magnitude, and as a lightning sliced the sky and stroke hard on one of the palace towers, he stood up.
“Silence”, he cried out loud and clear, and everyone in the hall stood still and silent, waiting …petrified.
And then they all felt it; first a tremor and then a rumble that turned their hearts to stone and terrified them. Those that could control themselves somewhat turned their gaze to the Marble King, for hope, for guidance. He stood there, towering all, regal and strong as ever, but if anyone would have been close enough they would have seen the tears forming in his eyes.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Chapter Two - The Marble King - Part II
King of Old, Stanthas, was regarded by far as the most noble of men that ever walked the mortal lands. The people of his kingdom had a saying, “The marble king has a diamond heart”. All nations and races, at least those that do not serve the Darkness, hold him in the outmost respect. For the dwarves he is a hero equal to their own, and for the elves, he is the only human worth mentioning in their annals – of course they contribute his greatness to his teacher, who was of elven blood, but that’s expected of elves. Even the people of the far south have legends of him, and in their lore he is regarded with the same respect they pay to their lesser gods.
Stanthas never really enjoyed such attention. He always considered himself as a teacher and a caretaker of the needs of his people and the world, and if he was a great hero, he was only so because the events that transpired in the world put him in that place. True he was educated by one of the greatest elven scholars but for what he is, his mother played the most important role. She was a simple nurse in the town of Nenti, two weeks ride east of the capital and she met with his father when we has badly injured , in one of the campaigns to drive off the attacking orcs in the east. Ninmaria was loved by all people in that time, and her kindness of heart and manners enchanted everyone that was lucky enough to ever set eyes on her. She was the one that showed Stanthas that above all, what really matters is to love and care and though she died while he was still young, stricken by a strange sickness in the years that preceded the Dragon Wars, the large portion of her kind heart survived for ever in his.
Thus he grew to become what legends say of him, and through the teachings he received and the wisdom he acquired on the hard road that was laid before him he was forged stronger still. Even though he took his fathers place at a young age, after he died of grief for his wife’s loss, Stanthas, managed to withstand the catastrophe that befell the world. He lost his son in the late years of the Dragon War, he lost more than almost any other man could afford to lose, but still he held strong, for he knew, if not him, no one would find the way. With the wizard Anaton, his close friend and comrade, at his side, he fought over land and water and even in the air, the hordes of the enemies that were set to enslave the world under the commands of Kernos the dragon.
Stanthas never really enjoyed such attention. He always considered himself as a teacher and a caretaker of the needs of his people and the world, and if he was a great hero, he was only so because the events that transpired in the world put him in that place. True he was educated by one of the greatest elven scholars but for what he is, his mother played the most important role. She was a simple nurse in the town of Nenti, two weeks ride east of the capital and she met with his father when we has badly injured , in one of the campaigns to drive off the attacking orcs in the east. Ninmaria was loved by all people in that time, and her kindness of heart and manners enchanted everyone that was lucky enough to ever set eyes on her. She was the one that showed Stanthas that above all, what really matters is to love and care and though she died while he was still young, stricken by a strange sickness in the years that preceded the Dragon Wars, the large portion of her kind heart survived for ever in his.
Thus he grew to become what legends say of him, and through the teachings he received and the wisdom he acquired on the hard road that was laid before him he was forged stronger still. Even though he took his fathers place at a young age, after he died of grief for his wife’s loss, Stanthas, managed to withstand the catastrophe that befell the world. He lost his son in the late years of the Dragon War, he lost more than almost any other man could afford to lose, but still he held strong, for he knew, if not him, no one would find the way. With the wizard Anaton, his close friend and comrade, at his side, he fought over land and water and even in the air, the hordes of the enemies that were set to enslave the world under the commands of Kernos the dragon.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Chapter Two - The Marble King - Part I
The Hall of Order was an enormous round room dressed in marble and granite. The main entrance was towards the south and consisted by two heavy doors, full, on both sides, with carvings of silver and gold. In reality it was more of a stronghold gate than the entrance to a hall of men. Twelve gigantic pillars of white marble, six on each side, followed the curve of the wall, leading up to the northern end of the hall, where lay the Throne of Kings and behind it, the thirteenth pillar, even grater than the rest. The pillars held the outer ring of the ceiling in place, for the center was made of crystal so clear and transparent that in the full height of the day, one would think that the sky itself was the hall’s ceiling. Dwarven craftsmanship and long years of labor have fashioned it to such a perfection that was considered one of the nine wonders of the dwarves, even though, it was a gift to the northern kingdom of men and their king.
Seven great steps led to the king’s Seat of Judgment, and before him in the center of the room, public meetings were held, ambassadors from other lands came to pay their respects and messengers to bring news. This was the throne of the Present King, and behind it, right before the thirteenth pillar, another throne lay, seven more steps higher, with stairs leading up to it from both the left and right side. There sat the King of Old, a man of years uncounted, his attire white as the marble in the room, with his long white hair falling over his garment. His face pale and stern, usually void of expressions, completed the image and thus justified the name that was given to him by the people: the marble king. Many a time, foreigners from lands beyond, were startled to realize that this was not a statue of an old king but a living person.
In years long ago, this very same king, has fought in the Great War defending his kingdom, and in the end, the whole world, by joining forces with a wizard and a dragon. This ordeal left him with the blessing of long life, as his life force was bound with that of the world itself. Unlike the wizard that chose to live a secluded life, Stanthas, returned to his people, and after a long reign, rebuilding his kingdom, he passed his throne to his grandson, and took for himself the role of an advisor only in times of need. Ever since he became a teacher for the youngsters of his bloodline and a father figure for all his people, working alongside with the descendants of the house of Dena to lighten the burdens of the mortal life from those in need, may it be his own people, or of other races. Long life does not come without a cost however and as he grew older and more tiresome, he rarely left the city anymore, and he assumed his honored place behind the throne of the Present King, acting as a figure of stability and peace for the whole world.
Seven great steps led to the king’s Seat of Judgment, and before him in the center of the room, public meetings were held, ambassadors from other lands came to pay their respects and messengers to bring news. This was the throne of the Present King, and behind it, right before the thirteenth pillar, another throne lay, seven more steps higher, with stairs leading up to it from both the left and right side. There sat the King of Old, a man of years uncounted, his attire white as the marble in the room, with his long white hair falling over his garment. His face pale and stern, usually void of expressions, completed the image and thus justified the name that was given to him by the people: the marble king. Many a time, foreigners from lands beyond, were startled to realize that this was not a statue of an old king but a living person.
In years long ago, this very same king, has fought in the Great War defending his kingdom, and in the end, the whole world, by joining forces with a wizard and a dragon. This ordeal left him with the blessing of long life, as his life force was bound with that of the world itself. Unlike the wizard that chose to live a secluded life, Stanthas, returned to his people, and after a long reign, rebuilding his kingdom, he passed his throne to his grandson, and took for himself the role of an advisor only in times of need. Ever since he became a teacher for the youngsters of his bloodline and a father figure for all his people, working alongside with the descendants of the house of Dena to lighten the burdens of the mortal life from those in need, may it be his own people, or of other races. Long life does not come without a cost however and as he grew older and more tiresome, he rarely left the city anymore, and he assumed his honored place behind the throne of the Present King, acting as a figure of stability and peace for the whole world.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Chapter One - The wizard's companion - Part III
As the wolf, returning from his evening stroll, pushed the door and entered the cabin a small gust of wind blew and made the flames in the fireplace across the room dance higher. For a fleeting second the eyes of the wizard grew bright as if in anticipation and then they died out again. The large canine walked silently by the fireplace, picked up a piece of wood from the stack on the floor with his teeth and tossed it into the fire, then he went by his master’s side and pushing with his snout he positioned his head under the old mans hand. For a few long minutes both of them remained still and then the old man’s face came back to life. He turned his head to the wolf and his fingers scratched the peaceful beast behind his ears.
“Hello old friend”, he said softly, and the left side of his mouth curled into something of a smile.
“For you to return from your walk, I guess another day has come to an end, and night has fallen once more”, he said with a sigh.
The room was dark, almost no light entered from the heavy barred wooden windows, making it difficult to tell the time of the day from the inside. The only source of light was the fireplace. Not much else existed in the room, a rectangular table with two chairs, a cabinet with a few plates and pots, the pedestal, a large wooden chest with metal lining, and the mage’s staff, leaning on the wall close to the fireplace. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust and a persistent smell of smoke and humid wood filled the room. A door to the right of the fireplace, led to a small corridor that in turn lead to the wizard’s bedroom and to his study where he kept his books, and his few but valuable artefacts.
The wolf left the side of the armchair and went to sit in front of the fire, his usual place for a nap, and before he curled into a large ball of fur, he turned his eyes to the old man that was now once again absorbed in staring at the flames. Sleep had hardly managed to fall upon the beast when his instincts sounded an alarm such as he hasn’t felt for ages. The hairs rose at the back of his neck and within a second he was up with ears that searched for the slightest sign of danger, and his eyes wide open. A deep growl built up in his throat and then he felt a tremor propagate through the earth followed by a loud and deep menacing sound that made his hide shiver with terror. As he felt the old wizard standing up from the chair, he knew this was no ordinary natural phenomenon.
“This is it!!”, he thought, “We are summoned once again!!”, his heart filled with a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Hello old friend”, he said softly, and the left side of his mouth curled into something of a smile.
“For you to return from your walk, I guess another day has come to an end, and night has fallen once more”, he said with a sigh.
The room was dark, almost no light entered from the heavy barred wooden windows, making it difficult to tell the time of the day from the inside. The only source of light was the fireplace. Not much else existed in the room, a rectangular table with two chairs, a cabinet with a few plates and pots, the pedestal, a large wooden chest with metal lining, and the mage’s staff, leaning on the wall close to the fireplace. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust and a persistent smell of smoke and humid wood filled the room. A door to the right of the fireplace, led to a small corridor that in turn lead to the wizard’s bedroom and to his study where he kept his books, and his few but valuable artefacts.
The wolf left the side of the armchair and went to sit in front of the fire, his usual place for a nap, and before he curled into a large ball of fur, he turned his eyes to the old man that was now once again absorbed in staring at the flames. Sleep had hardly managed to fall upon the beast when his instincts sounded an alarm such as he hasn’t felt for ages. The hairs rose at the back of his neck and within a second he was up with ears that searched for the slightest sign of danger, and his eyes wide open. A deep growl built up in his throat and then he felt a tremor propagate through the earth followed by a loud and deep menacing sound that made his hide shiver with terror. As he felt the old wizard standing up from the chair, he knew this was no ordinary natural phenomenon.
“This is it!!”, he thought, “We are summoned once again!!”, his heart filled with a mixture of fear and excitement.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Chapter One - The wizard's companion - Part II
The old wizard sat on his armchair in front of the fireplace, ever staring at the flames as they consumed the last pieces of wood. This was more than a habit for the old man as it was his way of life for more than 1500 years. Living a secluded life in the mountains away from everything in this world, an unending torment, more dead than alive, yet unable to find relief in the sweet sorrow that death brings to all living things. More of a curse than a blessing, long ago he and two others, joined their souls and essence to the world to save it from destruction. Sacrificing everything, life, soul, spirit and even love, so that all living things would survive, he was now broken, a dark shadow of existence of his old self. No longer did he go out in the open as his companion did every single day, just before sundown. He just watched the flames flicker and with what little was left of his mind and sanity, hoped beyond any hope that one day the fire would raise up to consume him.
On his left stood a pedestal where a book lay open, dust covering its pages, it’s golden letters almost unintelligible. Many have sought this very book, even long before he was born, seeking the powers it possessed, for all kind of purposes, kind, honourable and evil, and many still seek it without end. The cabin where the old wizard lived alone with his companion, the large gray-bluish wolf he has raised from a cub, was, interestingly, the most secure place both in the world, and in the stars. The Goddess herself wouldn’t have been able to have hidden it better even if she held it close to her heart, tight to her bosom. No bird could fly this high to reach the top, no man, elf, dwarf, or other living thing on foot could reach more than the base of the enormous Nigmarosh mountains. Even the dead were forbidden to wander to this place of the world. Only dragons could reach so far and so high, but even so, this place, bound with magic so powerful and unyielding, filled their hearts with such a terror that drove them to madness. Humans from time to time, as ages passed, sent numerous expeditions and even whole armies trying to claim these mountains in vain, paying a heavy if not total toll in death. Such is the nature of men, unwise and forgetful of their own history and the powers of the world, yet full of hope and childish dreams that sometimes they manage to achieve beyond any logic.
Dragons, on the other hand, wise as they are, needed only see the strongest among their kind, Kernos, as humans called him, the leader of the Swarm of Dusk, he who was once ruler of the whole world, the one who challenged and fought the gods, cower like a sparrow and die in agonising madness trying to break the spell, to understand that this would be the one thing they could never do, not even if they could muster all the magic in the universe. For this was the very heart of the world, raised from the deeps of the earth and saved from destruction two thousand years ago by the sacrifice of a mage, a king, a dragon and the Goddess herself.
On his left stood a pedestal where a book lay open, dust covering its pages, it’s golden letters almost unintelligible. Many have sought this very book, even long before he was born, seeking the powers it possessed, for all kind of purposes, kind, honourable and evil, and many still seek it without end. The cabin where the old wizard lived alone with his companion, the large gray-bluish wolf he has raised from a cub, was, interestingly, the most secure place both in the world, and in the stars. The Goddess herself wouldn’t have been able to have hidden it better even if she held it close to her heart, tight to her bosom. No bird could fly this high to reach the top, no man, elf, dwarf, or other living thing on foot could reach more than the base of the enormous Nigmarosh mountains. Even the dead were forbidden to wander to this place of the world. Only dragons could reach so far and so high, but even so, this place, bound with magic so powerful and unyielding, filled their hearts with such a terror that drove them to madness. Humans from time to time, as ages passed, sent numerous expeditions and even whole armies trying to claim these mountains in vain, paying a heavy if not total toll in death. Such is the nature of men, unwise and forgetful of their own history and the powers of the world, yet full of hope and childish dreams that sometimes they manage to achieve beyond any logic.
Dragons, on the other hand, wise as they are, needed only see the strongest among their kind, Kernos, as humans called him, the leader of the Swarm of Dusk, he who was once ruler of the whole world, the one who challenged and fought the gods, cower like a sparrow and die in agonising madness trying to break the spell, to understand that this would be the one thing they could never do, not even if they could muster all the magic in the universe. For this was the very heart of the world, raised from the deeps of the earth and saved from destruction two thousand years ago by the sacrifice of a mage, a king, a dragon and the Goddess herself.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Chapter One - The wizard's companion - Part I
The chilling wind brushed across his face, as the sun was setting behind the mountain peak. With steady eyes he absorbed the last rays, as he used to do every single day, leaving the comfort of the mountain cabin where he and his master resided for years uncounted, secluded from the worries of the world. Long ago have his short daily strolls to this part of the mountain carved a small path, unhindered by the snowfalls and the rain. As this time of the day was his and his alone, away from his master’s company, he kept staring at the sun, reminiscing on his past life, the battles he has seen the terrors and the beauty of the world and while his task was ever clear he would have wanted nothing more than to walk again in the green valleys of Sarotan or the golden beaches of Kharan something that would never again come to pass, unless the world came under chaos and destruction once again.
His master has sacrificed everything to make sure this would never happen and his own sacrifices paled in comparison. The old man, now broken in body, soul and spirit hardly ever left the cabin and depended on him alone to lighten his burden, reluctant to keep on living, unable to die. The love he held for the old wizard, was unconditional and unwavering and yet in the deepest part of his existence he secretly hoped that something will once again stir up in the world, something that would call them back to life, back to the lands of Agnaron.
Lost in thought and memories, the sun set completely over Nigmarosh, the forbidden mountains, and as he sighted, his head hang from his shoulders and turning around he walked the familiar way home, his paws crushing the first small flakes of snow that started falling.
His master has sacrificed everything to make sure this would never happen and his own sacrifices paled in comparison. The old man, now broken in body, soul and spirit hardly ever left the cabin and depended on him alone to lighten his burden, reluctant to keep on living, unable to die. The love he held for the old wizard, was unconditional and unwavering and yet in the deepest part of his existence he secretly hoped that something will once again stir up in the world, something that would call them back to life, back to the lands of Agnaron.
Lost in thought and memories, the sun set completely over Nigmarosh, the forbidden mountains, and as he sighted, his head hang from his shoulders and turning around he walked the familiar way home, his paws crushing the first small flakes of snow that started falling.
Preface
I am being consumed... by flames more potent than a dragon fire that burn my scales and scorch my flesh. Agonizing waves of pain run through the essence of my soul, tormenting me constantly… yet at this very moment I feel most alive, like I have never felt, since birth. The magic within grows to levels previously unreachable and supplies me with strength unprecedented. My wings stretch over valleys and mountains propelling me higher than the highest mountains and right onto the stars.
Will I reach the enchanting light that she brought with her when she walked into my life not so many days ago, beckoning me to her, or will I fall to the deepest pit of the abyss? Will I receive that which I yearn, or will her lance pierce my heart to pieces, nullifying my whole existence??
The dragon will now fly…to the extreme end of its being… to the end of all things… to the beginning of the new cosmos... for, the ballance has been undone and chaos now reigns.
This is the Anaton, taking true form
Will I reach the enchanting light that she brought with her when she walked into my life not so many days ago, beckoning me to her, or will I fall to the deepest pit of the abyss? Will I receive that which I yearn, or will her lance pierce my heart to pieces, nullifying my whole existence??
The dragon will now fly…to the extreme end of its being… to the end of all things… to the beginning of the new cosmos... for, the ballance has been undone and chaos now reigns.
This is the Anaton, taking true form
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)