Month: July 2018

New allies, new Verge

As my eyes slowly open and sight is re-established, I find myself in a gigantic room, covered by blankets made of the finest wool. The decoration is meticulous and every small component in the environment is beautifully adorned. Despite the cloth and all the torches, it still feels a little bit cold. Not far from the bed where I lay there is a window, and the sunset right in front of it reveals a majestic shade. A very large figure indeed, probably the biggest lion I’ve ever laid eyes upon. He is facing the sun and his red cloak along with shoulder pads and armor would make any enemy think twice before striking at him, even considering that the years have not been kind to him. His fur and the little mane he has left are completely white. Albano! The king!

“- Rest at ease. You are safe here.” – He says with a firm voice. “Were it not for your friend you could have been seriously wounded. It is not wise to come to Mithaurian unannounced, especially if bearing a magical weapon. Magic hasn’t been welcome here for centuries.”

Friend? Magical Weapon? Have I hit my head too hard? As I turn to the other side I see another figure. Physically similar to myself. Perhaps a little bulkier and taller, but his semblance is that of a descendant of the Verge. Almond eyes, a prominent chin, thin hands with long fingers. But I’ve never seen him before. Not around the library or the main temple at least.

“- Let me introduce myself, dear Nettor. I am Hertanyth. Awakened by magic just as you were. My first revelations must have taken place sometime before yours. When it first happened I was fleeing Craftsmir right before the great eruption. The hawks were all flying north in a rush, and I figured something bad was about to happen. So I decided to run. The quake had just begun and I got trapped in a sinkhole after I lost mount. Fortunately, the underground path that was revealed led me a few miles ahead and I was able to get back to my raft and reach the shores between Agadeera and Spellenrune. But back at the sinkhole there was a strange glow coming through the crevices. In a moment of pure instinct I felt attracted to it. I took hold of some debris that surrounded this glowing stone and hit it many times. I was able to retrieve a small shard of it, which is now in possession of Albano’s high council. But as I kept it hidden in my tunic on the journey overseas, it started merging its energy with mine, and the dreams started. Very unclear at first, but after a while I could see the army of legendary heroes from our fairy tales in combat! Many were nothing but shades, but one in particular seemed to call to me. A gigantic Rhino! Can you believe it? Since then, I thought the only living person able to help me summon these heroes would be Nettor, the last descendant of Malthus! So I started wandering about the main temple and it was just a matter of time until you sneaked out of it at night and into Spellenrune’s borders! You handed a copy of your notes to a beggar, and it was not long before he dumped it. I imagined you would not be able to find your way out of the forest easily, so I decided to give you a hand with that. As a self-employed merchant, I’d been around those woods dozens of times!”

“- Done with formalities, there is much we must discuss. If you can already stand, Nettor, please join us for a walk. There is something quite intriguing you should see!” – Says Albano.

No librarian’s journey

I leave Spellenrune for the first time. When my absence is finally felt I will be far away. All I carry is a map, a pouch of emeralds and supplies for a 4-day walk along with a dagger that is said to have belonged to Malthus himself. There is an encryption on it, still undeciphered. Ancient rune language. The knowledge of the meaning of these symbols was washed away centuries ago. That is the only inheritage I have. As I come closer to the border I start small talk with a group of farmers and hear King Albano is concerned beyond belief about the recent events. He fears Mithaurian will be the last standing country in Myridian, but stilll destined to fall. He is looking for answers from his high council but they are as desperate as he is.

Mithaurian is set between Spellenrune and Technokrest. A land of warriors that sets the old apart from the new. I plan to spend a night there in order to gather information and hire mount so the journey can continue the day after.

Little change is noticed when the border is crossed. At least at first. The green fields of Mithaurian resemble the place I grew up, miles back in Spellenrune. Nature is abundant and few buildings are at sight. As I move farther from the border though, instead of coming across tall churches and libraries, all there is to be seen are dense bushes and trees. The light of our three suns seems to vanish into the gloom. If only I could cast a spell of luminescence… That is why Mithaurian is known for being nearly impenetrable! Whenever anyone from another civilization had to enter Mithaurian a guide was to meet them at the border to lead the way. Maybe it was not such a great idea to come unannounced. The forest is murky and humid and it seems like eyes are spread all over the place watching my every move.

They do not bother me, except for a pair that seems to be everywhere I go. Sometimes it changes direction, as if to make me change my path. It is definitely not a creature of the forest. It moves fast and never lets me near it. I would stand no chance in combat against an aggressor. The Verge were never warriors. Luckily whatever that thing is, it has kept its distance all along the way. Somehow pushing me to the exit or into a trap… Watching close but never too close.

As I make my way out of the forest, safe and sound to my surprise, a patrol guard shouts from a distance asking me who I am and what business I have in Mithaurian, since the borders are closed as a safety measure in times of war. He comes closer as I start to speak. But after a glimpse at the dagger hanging from my belt he quickly draws a blowpipe and a dart punctures my neck. My sight gets blurred and confusion is all there is to remember. And a voice. Coming from the forest. Those eyes that had watched me back there! “You fool! Cease your attack! That is Nettor! Descen….”

I must part – Deciding to move on

My incursion into  suburbs was quite rewarding. Not only did I learn it is not nearly half as dangerous a place as it was supposed to be, but I also discovered that many facts regarding the war have been kept from us.

Apparently the devastation has not been caused by Myrids alone. Myrids have only recurred to war because they felt threatened by waves of attacks coming from unknown sources. Declaring war on other territories was an act of self preservation, since no civilization would claim to have commanded such strikes.

Apart from that, another invaluable discovery was that the constant seismic activity has brought substances to the surface that have never been accessed by anyone alive nowadays. Fissures on the rocks and debris from volcanic activity seem to have revealed unrecorded kinds of toxins, fluids and minerals. Technokrest have sent their drones to explore the razed areas but they all malfunctioned as they approached their targets. Word is that there is some kind of radiation that behaves like an EMP, and Myrids can’t approach those places, even if properly equipped, due to the extremely toxic smokes around them.

One impressive feat was that engineers from Technokrest managed to sacrifice a low altitude satellite in order to gather information. They reversed its propulsion and brought it down full speed with all sensors on, and just before communications were lost it sent an image of what seems to be a glowing mineral emanating from the cracks on the ground.

Being in Spellenrune any longer would be a waste of time since all the questions point towards Technokrest. I have distributed over a hundred copies of my journal. I pray others will find and follow my lead. On to Technokrest!

Others might have awaken – The hidden clues within the leaflets

Today I start looking for others like myself. It is only sure that some of them have awaken. Descendants of the Verge. My mind is now constantly invaded by feelings of anguish, confusion and fear. At the same time distant voices mumble words I still can’t hear with clarity, but I sense an urge for gathering. They try to approach me while I try to understand them. Though, once I start focusing on the message, it seems to vanish because focus now makes my inner energy circulate faster. My hands burn as if they were made of pure electricity. My thoughts disperse and my brain becomes a blank canvas ready to bring form to these new powers I barely begin to understand.

At my reach there is a scroll. A silly spell I could never manage to perform. Generating a spark strong enough to light a candle embedded with absinthe at the wick. I concentrate and perform words and gesture. My fingers go numb and the color of the room seems to change to a brighter tone. I aim at the wick. It starts draining my energy and I start feeling drowsy. I have to stop before I faint. Another failure. But something different has taken place. The air is surrounded by a fragrance unknown to me, but I immediately realize I sense brimstone. Only Magic can produce such smell, so Magic must be finding its way back into Myridian. There might be dangers ahead, but the rewards must outstrip them. It would not make its way into the world again were it not to bring hope to the remains of our civilization.

I shall print my story in scrolls and lurk about the borders of Spellenrune. Uninviting places to a cleric like myself for sure. Doomed by sin, but if there is any information one might need, that’s a good place to start looking. One copy will be handed to each individual whose energy speaks to mine, and within these copies there will be clues left as how to get in touch with me. If I can not make it back to this journal, may the one who finds it continue my work from here.

Lurking around – The Legends

Another night filled with revelations. The misty sights become brighter. I can now see him clearly. The Golden Blaze. But he is not alone. Others gather around him. All I see are shades. Different in size and shape but all alike in bravery. Diversely skilled, some master short range weapons while others could shoot an arrow through a token from a mile away. Shields, Suits of Armor, Magical Spells, nearly supernatural powers. Tactically accurate but still passionate in combat! An army never seen before. A small bunch of those heroes could easily defeat all of Mithaurian’s Militia.

If any of the Legends spoken about by peasants could ever be true, that is what they must look like! But where to find and how to summon them remains a mystery… Magic is gone. All my life I have tried to cast a spell. Any spell. Thousands of those are thoroughly described in our scrolls, and no matter how perfectly I perform them, nothing happens. Something is missing. And this increase of awareness I’ve felt over the past few days tells me we are getting closer to whatever that is. If only I could get stronger, maybe wiser… or… if I could find some like me, should there be any… we could cooperate and join forces to find the answers…

Nettor’s formal introduction – The vision of jewels and spells

Before we go any further I feel it is time to introduce myself. I am Nettor, descendant of Maltus, whatever that means. I belong to the Verge bloodline, and the name of Maltus seems to be rather revered amongst them. Those of my kind are nowadays rare and utterly disregarded by society as a whole. It is quite hard for a technologically developed society to absorb what the Verge have to offer.

We are seen as the mystical ones. The ones who believe in Magic, scrolls, herbs, potions, charms and the like. The Verge were the first settlers of Spellenrune, the most important of all kingdoms in a distant past. Apparently our ancestors were the “scientists” of their time and helped the world develop through magic. That was up to a certain point we don’t have many records of… We suppose some kind of cataclysm happened back then and since that, Magic somewhat disappeared.

We can only assume the strongest Verge were vanquished while trying to fight it. People call this event “The End”. A mark that has only lived through tradition in peoples’ legends.

Thankfully, our planet Myridian was able to fully recover due to the technological advances achieved by Technokrest. They are now the core of our entire world. And a potential place for answers to be found.

Mockery and another dream – Scenes from the past

“- Bufoon!”

“- You’ve been dreaming about Mithaurian’s King, Albano, the Golden Mane!”

“- Enough with these reveries!”

…they say.

AlbanoMithaurian‘s bravest. A strong king indeed for a time of peace, which is not the case anymore. Even decades ago, at his prime, would he be no match for the creature in my dreams.

Once again I dreamed about him. There was some sort of cave, a mysterious glow covered in mist, and that is where he was after his goal. It seems there is something to be gathered from that place but inimaginable dangers encircle those who chase within. It feels so real.

This must have been. Or will be. Or something in between.

Even though I’ve read through most of the tomes in this library nothing was found about this creature and these places in the pages. Living and working here for more years than I can account for, the truth lies elsewhere. It is as if all I envision never existed. Or there must have been great reason for such power to be kept hidden from the world…

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