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Angellis Ater

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Author Topic: The necessity of events. (Ask before joining)  (Read 842 times)


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The necessity of events. (Ask before joining)
« on: March 17, 2016, 10:14:24 PM »

  A world in chains, crying out and screaming in agony.  For centuries uncounted the world of Ayenee had given to those whom lived upon her soil and only found the abusive hand of unknowing children. They tore from her flesh, they used her power as if they had all along possessed the right and destiny to command it. Finally when too much had been done when her spirit could take no more she broke.

  One final battle of those whom had imagined themselves gods, one manipulation too many. The dead had walked upon the soil of the world. The armies had clashed with their great mages and foolish beings of power had flaunted their strength. Yet for all of their imagined might they had not foreseen what was to come.  The very fabric of the world of Ayenee had begun to crumble. Everything around them drawing in upon itself. Falling to dust as if a long standing block which had held everything in place just fallen away beneath them.

  Two hundred years the guardian had waited to come fact to face with her again. Even in his hurt he would not abide the one thing he had loved or the ground upon which she stood falling to nothing. Gathering all of his power, the very force of existence itself. The hate, the passion, the fire of his life. In the end devouring the armies of the fallen souls which had followed him into battle he had stood against the tide of certain destruction.  All of his power given over to the land to stabilize it to restore what had been taken and in the end when all was quiet.  When all that was power had been burned from the world once again the sun would shine upon the realm.

  Ayenee would have become a world of change.  A land broken and healing, only so much magic or power remained in her to be harness and gone was the era of those whom had once pretended to be gods.  Societies had splintered across the land as nature reclaimed what once had belonged only in its hands.  Strange creatures would rise from the depths of the darkness.  Tormented spirits of past conflicts, released after the resurrection of Ayenee. They became bizarre twisted creatures of shadow the Shain  and plagued all that remained of life in the world. For a time the world of Ayenee was thrown into an era of savagery and rebirth.

  In the east the guardian survived stripped of his former glory but not his zeal for battle or ageless wisdom. Here he founded the kingdom of New Elrum and sat about carving out a sanctuary intent upon restoring his kingdom to its former glory. Some said he was preparing others that he was searching for something but regardless of his motivations all would become welcome there under the hand of the warrior king.  

[align=center][align=center]A king in the wind

Where in the name of the goddess is he?  Trodain would sigh pursing his lips together in an annoying pop as he fluttered around the throne room preparing various memo’s and documents for the kings viewing.  The third day of the cycle was the day of the kings judgement, when those loyal to his rule came with their requests and problems hoping to receive his wisdom and aid. However it seemed the king had once again decided not to show up.  Pushing his glasses up on his nose the black haired scholar would frown at the empty throne.  He could only imagine what it was this time. Oh maybe he was drunk in some gods forsaken tavern somewhere? Perhaps he had decided today was a good day for a nap? Oh or maybe he was dead who knew…?  Most of the color had drained from the man’s face as he waited. He had dispatched the castle guard to find him but if the king was not here in attendance it would look bad to the people.

  Belgorion gritted his teeth as he slid sideways leaping over a rock out cropping. A dark shadowy tendril barely missed the outer edge of his  tunic.  He would strike the ground at his shoulder rolling back to his feet and severing the offending appendage with a single stroke of his blade. He back peddled kicking dust up around him to help lessen his target profile.   He and a detachment of his royal guard had ridden forth some two moons ago in search of a demon who had ransacked one of the outlying villages.  

  Across mile after mile of the eastern Ayenee desert they had dogged this thing. Finally they had managed to get ahead of it.  The demon in question, a grand Shaien had proven more of a challenge than they had ever imagined and now only he stood. For days they had battled in these god forsaken sands hunting one another with out relent.  

  At the moment Belgorion longed for the days when he might have scattered this thing to dust with a flick of his. The adrenaline of battle brought a smirk to his face as he let his back lean against a bolder watching the creature as it screamed in agony, its tendril rolling and thrashing on the ground.  Not yet Belgorion patience. He thought to himself as he watched it follow his trail and leaped to his feet dashing away.

  The beast gave chase, its sickening maw gnashing at him.. Those accursed tendrils .. he imagined not seeking to cuddle that was for sure.  Unfortunately for the hapless beast their bit of fun was about to come to an end.  He had an unfortunate and very boring appointment to keep.  The edge of a great dune would lay before him as he ran and then suddenly without any warning the form of the former guardian would vanish. The Shain would stop cautious and perplexed as it advanced slowly searching for  its prey , only to  begin to slip to be drawn in by the sand.  Deep under the sand Belgorion waited in an ancient limestone cavern. When the beast began to fall his blade would be waiting gravity doing its work as he leaped upward in an arcing strike and cleaved the beast in two. A final slice to the left as he did severing the beasts head.

  Grabbing his trophy Bel would drag his sorry carcass out of the cavern covered in sand and blood. A whistle escaping his lips as a great onyx battle steed thundered in the distance and ran past him. With a hook of the hand upon the saddle horn the Guardian would gallop toward home.  Trodain was likely having a heart attack at his absence.  

[align=center][align=center]A timely Arrival.

  Belgorion would roar passed the city gates as they opened to release a contingent of his guards.  All of whom would turn following in his wake. No doubt his chancellor had sent them looking for him and with a wry grin Belgorion would shake his head .. Yep Trodain had his panties in a wad alright great.  He didn’t even bother going to the stables instead galloping up the many steps which lead to the royal court picking his way through the crowd.

  He would sit high in his saddle back straight the head of the Shaien hung from his saddle. The people would begin to cheer. Once this had been his element in it’s entirety. The returning war hero, the great slayer, now he had so many other things he preferred not to think about, regrets he could not address. These people depended on him for some semblance of hope and even if Trodain did not see it as necessary they needed such shows as this. The served to instill confidence in their leader and security in their minds.  Leaping from his mount he would grasp his latest trophy spiking it on the great wall around the courtyard before walking calmly through the doors.  

 Trodain met him in an absolute fit his arms loaded with scrolls and papers.  â€œGood sire you have arrived. There many here seeking your aid .. Many treaties to be signed you have a lot of work today .. That is if your done playing?”  Bel’s lips would curl in a sour frown as he looked the little pale man up and down. He was a valuable asset but a pain in his ass. “Playing around Trodain?  You call that playing around?  What in the hell did you do today get a paper cut? “He said as battle torn he threw himself into the accursed wolves throne and gestured at the door with a bored sigh.  By the time the door opened he was all smiles and regal nobility. Save for the slight fidget of his ass in the throne.. Gods he hated this shit, his own personal hell in the form of a chair.  

  Boredom would pass his whole day away. Water rights, farmers arguing over who owned a fucking pumpkin.  All of them seeking his guidance on their damn trivial issues and yet each time he would smile and tell them something that to him seemed perfectly a device of common sense.   He had gone from the king of kings to this.  His eyes would stare from time to time out the window as if searching for something and always a slight tinge of sadness as he did.

  This had never been lost on Trodain and he would frown each time he observed this behavior. He knew the king was impossibly lonely but each time he would suggest the fool man go out and find this kingdom a queen. He would simply smile this sort of sad and stupid look and babble some nonsense about one who belonged at his side and no other.  

  The whole thing drove him mad.. The people needed to see stability from their king not a loose cannon who had no values other than those of a man of the sword… Yet still Belgorion had done such good.. More than anyone truly remembered and Trodain would abide him his sadness if it was his wish.

I see the line you\'ve drawn in the sand. Now you find out who I am.  ~Belgorion Ikorit Iamarsa~ Second war of the fates.


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The necessity of events. (Ask before joining)
« Reply #1 on: March 17, 2016, 10:15:50 PM »
[align=center][align=center]The omen
  What a waste of a day dealing with this blasphemous hoard of needy and otherwise mundane citizen’s, one that never seemed to end their tireless assault upon his nerves.  One after another without cease they came with their problems and questions. One after another he turned them away with a answer they might easily have found for themselves.  Trodain for his part had remained as stuffy and proper as ever. While Belgorion’s eyes grew duller and more distracted with each onslaught.  Until it seemed the king might literally fall from his throne and begin to snore upon the stones of his throne room.

  Belgorion found himself watching with such "enthusiasm" as the next lovely citizen of his kingdom was announced and immediately resolved that this would be the last one. He was in bad need of a shower and in worse need of a pint of ale.  He was just about to state his resolve when an odd feeling came about him as if he had become lighter than the air itself.  The very air which now held the chill of the cold hand of the other world,  eyes darted forth around the room and it was as if for this moment time stood still.  

  There silhouetted in the door a great blackened blue eyed wolf.  Their eyes met in a moment of deep concentration, two old battle scared warriors measuring each other in a moment.  The king almost reached for his blade but the Cheshire grin upon the face of his vision stalled his hand. The creature turned with deadly fluid grace its eyes gazing out into the horizon and gave a long forlorn howl.

  Such sadness filled his ears, something so familiar and identifiable. The sound of something missing its other half, searching without cease for that which brought it peace and balance. In that sorrow the king found understanding.   Those eyes stared deep into the north with longing and poise they beckoned his presence there and then with such quickness the visage of primal spirit would be gone.

  His eyes opened to the world and for a moment there was confusion as his heart gave a thunder in his chest. A feeling which had long been dead to his nerves it tasted of the past of something that had never left him but had never truly been found.  

  Eyes turned to cold steel as they found Trodain a note of command in his voice which had not been there for many days.  â€œMy horse and my armor have them readied immediately.  â€œ   Trodain stared at him for a moment as if dumbfounded.  The king had not worn his armor in longer ages than most of his people could remember now he requested it?  This surely was a sign for it had been the mantel not of a great ruler but of something long forgotten a name which Belgorion had cast aside and never ridden under again.  The king left none living none able to tell the king took their heads and he sent them to hell.  Words written only in the books he had read came unbidden into his mind and he moved quickly to carry out the kings wishes.  

  A deep and purposeful breath was drawn into Belgorion’s chest as he stared blankly off into the distance.  He had slumbered for so long allowing the wounds he had dealt himself to heal, building this kingdom but the time was upon him. He must venture once again out into the deeper kingdoms for he was certain what he desired lay in the north.

  Deep in his chambers his hands would fall upon ancient runic armor as he traced its contours in a pattern of remembrance.   So many battles and wars his armor had seen in times long before the recollection of any whom lived today.  Blood had covered its every crevice so many times and beneath his fingers it stirred something that brought a wicked smirk to his ageless features the time had arrived.  

  The people turned out from every corner of the kingdom to see their lord ride forth but what they witnessed that day bore little resemblance to the king they had come to know and more to some legend written in a long forgotten book.  

  He would break from the castle stables his grand armor basking in the light of the day for the first time in more than fifty years. Platinum hair defying the wind itself with its grace as he galloped down from the heights of the city. His great darkened steed fierce and full of fire, muscles rippling in powerful stride as he carried the king forth  from his kingdom.  Those brilliant blue orbs taking them all in with a measuring hand as he stopped near the gates but for a moment before turning into to the fast falling sun and vanishing into the distance.

  “ Ishadir Maiu “ Belgorion’s words would call forth to his steed blessing it with incredible speed.  He could only have faith in his vision as he made his way across the land.  He could feel it the time was here and soon that which tormented his soul would come to rest one way or another.

  He would journey not through the many low laying villages of his kingdom but immediately west to skirt his own boarders before turning north up through the uncharted lands which forever pressed against his own battlements.  He did not desire to be tracked and moving through such inhospitable lands would mask his presence.

[align=center][align=center]Into the world again.[/align]
    Many days had passed since last Belgorion had journeyed through conventional means but he soon remembered the enjoyment of it.  He broke free pushing hard up the outer laying lands and beyond the boarder of his kingdom. Soon his armor was hidden by dark robes so as not to attract attention as he traveled. He avoided any major settlements instead meeting his eyes and ears in secret along the road. They spoke of great conflict in the north, messages of victory which had only just begun to filter into the ears of the general public.  

  With each passing day he could feel something drawing him onward, an inescapable pull that drove him forward without cease.  His mind could know no peace or solace not until he knew for sure if this was the one he sought.  The weather much to his general disdain would turn cold as he moved farther north but he simply ignored it even as the frost ticked at his flesh. His eyes forever focused on his destination.

  Soon a great black wolf would join his journey trotting ahead ever so often only to return as they conversed at great length about their journey.  Airit the wolf called itself and he communed with the spirits of the pack. He said that they had drawn them together called Belgorion wolf brother. True it was that his people had once been created with the spirit of the wolf and that their ties to nature ran deep. He could only assume this was what his companion referred to.  

  Perhaps it was the depths of his own focus but it would take him a  day to realize that an entire pack trailed them at a distance, he had it seemed amassed an entourage of sorts. They would whisper in the night, sometimes he heard them when awake sometimes when asleep. They talked of ancient things of voices that guided within the pack the spirits of the elders. They talked of him for the spirits whispered his name to them and now they followed.

  His movements would halt far into the northern territory as pain suddenly gripped him stealing his strength and nearly driving him from his saddle.  He could feel her now even in his weakened state at this distance he could feel her presence. He would stop short now staring off into the distance as if he could smell the blood upon the air.  The time had come for him to make an appearance it would seem and he was not the type to wait.  

  Leaping from his mount he would stroke its nose thoughtfully before removing its tack and hiding it. Drawing wards around it to obscure it from view.  This was no ordinary horse and he would fend for himself nicely for the moment. Belgorion for his part turned to his guide who simply gave a nod of the head before returning to its pack.  Then he would draw a dirk from his side kneeling as the blade sliced the pale flesh of his palm. The warm blood would trickle out dripping upon the ground as he drew of it a small ornate symbol.   The guardian rune of shadow, of course he knew she would detect his presence but given the circumstance he did not wish to risk having to harm her soldiers simply for the opportunity to speak.   “ Hashis” He would speak as shadows began to pool at his feet creeping upward about his form. He gave her but one warning a strong one sent through the ancient bond they once shared.  I come..

    The shadows would seem to undo themselves in the air about her as Belgorion appeared blood still dripping from his palm. He was on guard but had not drawn forth his blade as he could not be sure were she stood as he appeared and it would hardly do if someone decided to attack him and  entire thing descended into chaos.  

[FONT=&] His eyes would fix upon here with a silent stare and when he spoke it was nearly a whisper.  â€œ Atra?”  No grace no title simply a question a name so dear to him that it filled his eyes with but a moment of doubt for he had sought her year upon year and now here she was before him. [/FONT]

I see the line you\'ve drawn in the sand. Now you find out who I am.  ~Belgorion Ikorit Iamarsa~ Second war of the fates.