[align=center][align=center]Prologue
[/align]
[/align]
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
[/align]
[/align]
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 memoâs 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 knewâ¦? Most of the color had drained from the manâs 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.
[/align]
[/align]
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 didnât 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 itâs 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. âGood 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?â Belâs 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. âPlaying around Trodain? You call that playing around? What in the hell did you do today get a paper cut? âHe 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.