~The Transition Chronicles~

This is a repost of a previous post I made earlier this year. But due to very low bandwidth of yahoo, I had a few complaints that nobody could access the stories. This is an attempt to fix that.
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Hello everyone, I'd like to take a moment to introduce myself. My name is Craig, and I have been part of the Everquest community since April 2001. During my time with you all I have met some of the greatest people on this planet Among these people I established great relationships with several who grouped with me on a daily basis. Though we have many backgrounds, and different roleplaying styles, our adventures together have created real memories from a virtual world. And just as adventure becomes memory, so too do memories become stories.

My characters, Irras, and Harte had become something of great pride to me. They were my avatars, people had grown to know me by these two characters (especially Irras). To simply leave their story behind when I switched to EQII didn't seem exciting at all. Instead I decided that I would carry the characters with me to EQII. I soon discovered that I wasn't the only person to feel this way. Our little circle all agreed that too much history had been written for us, and there was still so much to explore. Our only problem came from the roleplaying aspect. How could our characters survive 500 years from EQ to EQII? We needed a story! And not just something silly, we needed to go all out. Together we created "The Transition Chronicles", a series of stories which explain what happened to our characters during the 500 year period when most of them should have died.
Each character's story was written by their creator, although at times we all pulled together to help each other out with ideas and such. In the end we compiled 8 stories, all of which tie in with one another. Some are extremely short, being only a couple paragraphs long. The final 4 however begin to set the stage for an epic story, and are somewhat lengthy. Today I would like to share with you, the great literary works of 6 different people, each with their own unique writing styles, and spelling errors! Haha! (Just kidding guys).
Before we get to the stories I should explain a few things. First, the stories are not told in chronological order. Each part is it's own self sustaining tale which ties into a central plot. Some of them give more in depth information on a previous story. Others may tell a little history just to set the stage for the next part. It seems confusing I know, but the goal here was to start readers off with a basic adventure, and then fill in the gaps. Basically the more you read, the more everything will make sense. Also, these stories don't always match up with EQ lore.
Lastly I just want to remind everyone that we aren't professional writers heh. This was all something we did for fun. And I hope that everyone who reads these stories will be impressed with, not the sentence structure or punctuation, but the plot.
~~ I thank you all for the memories and stories. In return, I give you ours.
Irras Locksheon - Kithicor server
Harte Noxalere - Kithicor server / Proud guild leader of Chaotic Decree

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Message Edited by Irras on 12-07-2005 05:09 PM

The Transition Chronicles
Chronicle I
A Terror Reborn
Written by Craig (aka Harte)

I have stood and watched as the land around me was torn asunder. I have witnessed the rise and fall of clans around the world. And every day for the past five hundred years, I lay awake and think about the days when it was I who struck fear into the hearts of men. Now I spend my nights, no longer fulfilling my lust for blood, but sitting and waiting for death... a death that will never come.
There was a time when I fought side by side with a Shadow Knight, whos cruelty impressed even me. I wonder if he still lives. Perhaps...but this world has long forgotten me.
It angers me that they have forgotten...
They have no more fear of the pain...
They walk upon the earth I forged with blood...
This is my world...
I will make them remember! Perhaps the time has come to seek him out once more. And then, I shall reclaim my reputation! Harte Nox'Alere, The Night Feeder!



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Chronicle II
The Champions Return
Written by Craig (aka Harte)

Legends tell of a time when the gods were locked in a war amongst themselves in the Plane of War. Many of the gods recruited mortals to fight for their side. Some of these mortals had gained so much power that they had become the ideal infantry. Nearly over five hundred years ago, the Magician, Irras Locksheon, was beleived to have been recruited for this war. Although the mage had no dedication to any diety, something persueded him to fight. The story does not tell who Irras fought for, however it is known that his wife Rebecka accompanied him on this journey.
During the time they were gone many claimed to have seen Irras. But as time went on, the sightings became more rare, and eventually stopped. That is until one day, twenty four years before "The Great Cataclysm". In a flash of light, Rebecka Locksheon suddenly appeared in the middle of a large crowd in Qeynos. Eyes closed, she fell to her knees and collapsed. Clerics were immediately called to attend to her. They cared for her for several days.
For the first time in five centuries, stories of the two began spreading like a wildfire. In the midst of all the commotion one cleric discovered that the Wood Elf warrior was pregnant. Not with one child, but with twins.
In the past twenty-four years there has still been no sign of her husband, Irras. However, more tales are surfacing of these old world warriors appearing around the globe. Have the old heros of Norrath actually returned from the Plane of War?

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Chronicle III
The Unsung Hero
Written by Aaron (aka Navarro)

"Stuck...Can't get out...NO! It's gone!"
Waking up, Navarro realized he was just dreaming.
"My sword! Where is it?!" Navarro panics as he frantically looks for a blade that he no longer has.
After looking to no avail, he falls to his knees pulling harshly at his straggly, long hair.
Navarro began weeping tears of insanity that had worn at him from all the years of nothingness.
"Stolen away...from all I knew...all I loved."
A moment later Navarro stands to his feet, wiping the tears from his eyes.
"But that is no more.", he said with a sniff.
There was a time when the gods watched as mortal power grew. They became fearful, and decided that there should be a barrier between their world, and that of mortals. With that, they created the Plane of Time to hold mortal beings at bay. To create a plane of such design, they drew upon the essence of the world of Norrath. Streams of life energy were pulled from the world and projected into the heavens.
In a strange twist of fate Navarro had began his ascent through the spires to Luclin to meet with his friend, Irras Locksheon. When the spires activated, Navarro was whisked away in a beam of light toward the moon. At that exact moment, one of the life streams collided with Navarro's path, carrying him completely off course to a type of limbo.
Trapped in a place where time had little effect on him, Navarro could see both Norrath and the Plane of Time, but could reach neither. And there he stayed, alone to dwell in his own madness for over five centuries, until the gods abandoned the Planes.
Navarro slowly stumbles out of the door of the inn, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. He looks straight on into the landscape in front of him.
"Oh how it's changed."
From there he begins to walk into the horizon with no particular destination in mind.
Will the world of Norrath ever reclaim one of its old shining heros? The path from insanity is long and lonely. None walk this path... save one. His name is Navarro Altion.
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Chronicle IV
A Dark Reunion
Written by Greg (aka Dracas)
"The path I walk is a path of stone. The path I leave behind is a path of blood. I am the incarnation of cruelty and horrors. With every face of terror I see, my smile grows wider. Everytime I pull my blade from a new victim's chest, my bloodlust grows stronger. Could this be why I was chosen? Could it be that everything I've seen was real?
I remember...I remember the mage... Yes! That is where it all began. I have encountered him before. His arrogance, his simple human mind... It took all I had in me to not remove his head.
He had something in his hand...a list? Yesss...a list of names.
I remember his voice calling to me.
"Dracas Bloodweaver." He dared to call out my name. Normally, anyone who knows my name has known me too long.
I turned to strike, but...something stayed my hand. It was the astonished look upon his face when he said, "Has it truely come to this? Perhaps a war of this scale can only be won with brutality."
I glared at him curiously as a portal tore open behind him. I followed him...but only to hopefully tear him apart and steal his wonderful drogmar. But after stepping through that light...Yessss...Oh how I killed so many there. Ha ha ha! I have been so lost behind the swinging of my blade that I have not had a moment to think of any of this....until now....now that I've returned. I thought I had died?"
"I have returned..."
"What's this?
Someone approaching?
His stupidity shall be rewarded well. But hold another moment, my bloodstained hands. I believe I know this creature. Could this be the vampire I once knew? Harte...
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Message Edited by Irras on 05-31-2006 06:27 PM

Chronicle V
What Have We Become?
Written by Craig (aka Harte)
"Hurry up!" Trenton commanded, "And quiet down or you'll get us caught for sure." He swiftly turned his head over his shoulder to see his brother, Nicholi, still trying to get through the small window. He then began looking around the room for any metallic object that may land him a coin or two.
"Trenton...My leg is stuck" Nicholi whispered.
Trenton seemed to ignore him at first, but Nicholi knew how to get his attention.
"Trenton!" He almost yelled, but still maintained a whispering voice.
His brother darted across the room and pulled him through the window.
"What is wrong with you? Come on already.", he said as he began scowering the room again.
The pair began creeping around the darkened lodging, which just happened to be well lit by the infravision of their half elven eyes.
Careful to make no sound, they kept an ever watchful eye on the glow beneath the door. Occasionally a shadow would disperse the light causing Nicholi and Trenton to hold their breath. Luckily for them however, the shadows were mearly other patrons of the inn who were turning in for the night.
Breaking into the adventurer's room had been Trentons idea as usual. He had over heard the party come into the tavern that evening and discuss amongst themselves the "treasure" they had found. Nicholi once again found himself side by side with his brother, and partner in crime.
The two had become very good at what they did. Trenton, a master of stealth and cunning could litterally pickpocket a tourist while talking to them face to face. Nicholi had the charm of an Enchanter, and the strength of a Warrior. If he could not obtain something through charisma, he was well suited to force the issue to his advantage.
"I think I found it!" Trenton exclaimed.
Nicholi's eyes grew wide as he saw two shadows form at the base of the door. He glanced quick to Trenton who tucked something into the edge of his pants.
"Did you hear that?" barked a deep voice on the other side of the door.
Suddenly the door was broken down, and the room became flooded with the light of a Druid's septre. The room however was empty.
Already back on the ground, and a good distance from the inn, Trenton and Nicholi were running and stumbling with laughter. Catching their breath they leaned against a tree.
"So what is it?" Nicholi asked.
"Patience brother." Trenton said as he pulled the item from his belt.
Their examination of the item was cut short, however, as they noticed the ground moving. Suddenly the roots of the tree had began moving around their legs and held them where they stood.
"Looks like you boys forgot to cover your tracks."
A Ranger stepped forward from a group of three men and a woman. Another man, this one a wizard, darted past the Ranger and angerly took the item from Trenton's hand.
"Should we leave them here to rot, or shall I kill them both where they stand?" a deep voice groaned.
"An Ogre!" Nicholi exclaimed.
The Ogre began moving closer and pulled his axe from the strap on his back. Trenton began to panic and started struggling violently against the roots. The wizard turned away from them and muttered, "Do what you will with them, I care not." The Ogre grinned widely flashing his horrid teeth. The female Druid among them chuckled and said, "Alright, they've learned their lesson."
It was at that moment the unthinkable happened.

The Ogre looked stunned for a second, then smiled again. Nicholi watched as his face changed from that smile to a look of curiosity, then dispair. With that, the Ogre's body fell lifeless to the ground. Nicholi looked astonished, but soon realized what had happened. Turning to Trenton, Nicholi saw that his brother had already freed an arm, and killed the Warrior within seconds.
Dark blood began to form a puddle beneath the body.
"What have you done?!" The Druid screamed. "Turog? What...why? He was only jesting!"
"Fools!", the Wizard scowled, "In your arrogance you have killed one of the few Ogres that serve Qeynos!"
Nicholi's heart beat faster. He had never seen his brother pull his blade on anyone, let alone kill them. Trenton just sneered as the roots finally broke their hold and fell to the ground.
The party of adventurer's gathered around the ogres body in mourning. Nicholi stood astonished, his eyes fixed on the blood soaked ground. He then turned to face his brother who was no longer there. As he spun around, Trenton had already began walking away.
"Where are you going Trenton?!" Nicholi called, his voice cracking.
"Home!" Trenton snapped. "You coming?"
Nicholi turned back around only to find that a crowd had began to gather around the body. Thoughts raced through his mind for what seemed like hours.
"GUARDS!" someone cried, bringing Nicholi to his senses.
Turning to leave, he noticed that his brother was now no longer in view.
"Who are you?" Nicholi whispered to himself.


Message Edited by Irras on 05-23-2006 11:03 PM

Chronicle VI
Beginning of an End
Written by Joseph (aka Rhuduar / Artamir)
Near the end of his days, being 293 years old and already seeing most of those he knew pass away, Artamir sat talking to himself one morning. "Corruption, it has always existed, but nothing like what has come these days." he said. "This truly could be the end of Norrath if things follow the path in which they are going. Used to be that friends could come together to stand for all that was good in the world, have these days ceased to exist, or am I just in wishful thinking that this course can be stopped? As he pondered further into thought something caught his attention some thirty paces off to his left. Not wanting to give his position away before he knew what had moved so close to him, slowly he reach for his bow. Creeping closer and not stealthy in the littlest bit, Artamir finally was able to see his approacher. It was a girl, she was human, but also looked Elvish in certain ways, but why so much noise here in the forest with any number of creatures that could easily snatch her away to certain death?
"My lady, do you know where you are?" Artamir asked. She replied, "Why of course good sir, I am in the forest of Kithicor on my way to the commonlands for some supplies." Taken back by the pure confidence in her voice, Artamir asked another question, "Are you not worried that evil creatures too wander thru here from time to time?" In a smirkish kind of way her answer was, "No sir, this isn’t my first time thru here, let alone to have seen any evil creatures," tapping on her hilt, "And I’m not too shabby with my blade. What about yourself, such an older fellow worrying about others, and thinking nothing of himself. How can you defend yourself if attacked?" Now it was Artamir’s turn to smirk, "See this bow here?" The girl nodded, "Yeah, I took it bows were pretty much for hunting and for show, in battle they are useless." "Well," replied Artamir, "Your observations have been misguided." Kind of scoffing at Artamir and at the same time, very curious, she asked, "If you wanted to walk with me, maybe you could show me different?" Thinking he had nothing better to do, Artamir agreed.
Getting up off the ground and dusting himself off, Artamir spoke up and said, "But if we are to keep company together, it would be impolite for me not to introduce myself. I am Artamir, I grew up in these woods." Oddly looking at him and a half dropped jaw, the girl interrupted him before he could say anything more, "Artamir…..such a strange name! Up till this moment, I believed none had a name as weird as mine." Not knowing what to think about someone telling him his name was weird and strange, Artamir quickly asked, "Well then, lets have it, what is your name?" Standing tall and smiling as if proud to death to tell, she answered, "Artelia." Artamir thought a second before speaking again then replied, "Tis not a strange or weird name you have there, abit unique, but as is mine!"
They walked down the path a ways further before either spoke again. Finally Artamir asked her, "So who is that you make a run to the commonlands to gather supplies for?" Looking at the ground as if embarrassed to answer, "To be truthful, I’m not really going for supplies. I am traveling. You see I don’t like to stay in one spot for very long. I want to see as much of Norrath as is possible." Wide eyed from such a response, Artamir said, "That is fine goal to be sure, but there was no need to lie. Could you not tell that you had no reason to make up stories, that I would have taken you on your word whatever you answered?" Artelia thought a minute, "You know, I did. I picked up on an aura from you that I‘ve never felt before, as if….."
Suddenly Artelia stopped speaking, Artamir, so used to not having any company to chat with perked up also. "Wait a second, I think…..yes. There is some Orc moving this way," Artamir said. "Is that what that is? I knew I heard something, just couldn’t be sure what," said Artelia. "Welp you ready to see just how much a bow is for show?" asked Artamir. "Ok, but don’t wine to me when they get to close for that thing." Artelia laughed.
Sure enough three Orc came walking up the path from the commonlands not paying a lick of attention and talking loudly about the Halflings they were going to surprise at Rivervale. Both Artamir and Artelia heard this and waited for the time to attack. Artamir took the lead giving Artelia a perfect view of what skills he was going to try to show off with bow. Having not truly realized the time it had been since Artamir joined in battle, about twenty five years would be a good guess, he felt stiffness in his bones. His hand pulled the bow back releasing the arrow hitting the first Orc right square in the face. The second arrow came out of the quiver and hurling thru the air as if tailing right behind the first, to meet another Orc in the neck. The last Orc realized that his two comrades had fallen right in front of him, but had almost no time to react before he himself was pegged in the chest with two more arrows.
"Did you see how I did that?" asked Artamir. "Course I did." replied Artelia. "Very smooth Art, if you don’t mind me saying. You have proved they are more useful than I first gave them credit for. Good thing they make a weapon that is deadly and can still be used by…..how should I put it? Those who have been around for many years." Artamir spoke up quickly, "Hey now, be kind! You don’t want to make me use this bow on you, now do ya?" Artelia knew he was joking, and just blew it off.
The two made their way into the commonlands around noon. "I’m starving, seems like it’s been days since I had some meat, only foraged roots and the like," said Artamir. "Here, you may have some of
Halas meat pie if you’d like? They nearly go bad before I get a whole one eaten," replied Artelia. "Halas meat pie, mmmmm, haven’t tasted one of those since probably before your time." Artamir gladly took the portion of pie that Artelia handed to him. "WOAH!" Artamir gasped. "Might I ask where you got this from?" "Of course," said Artelia, "its my mother’s recipe." "Your mother? Why does she not travel with you, or your father for that matter?" asked Artamir. "Well you see Art, my mother, bless her soul, has passed away, and as for my father. She never talked of him much. I haven’t one memory of him nor have I ever seen him." Artamir feeling somewhat sadden by her story asked, "What was the names of your parents if you don’t mind me asking?" Artelia answered him as if it bothered her not, "Julliana Azurewind was my mother, and as for my father’s name, she never mentioned it. It was like she was trying to keep it a secret from me. Not like she was embarrassed, but something happened and I think it didn’t work out for them. Once I found a blanket kept in a secret spot in my mother’s room with the names Azurewind and Forceguard sewn in it, but she walked in on me and quickly took it from me. I believe that it’s possible that was the surname of my father. Until I can find this Forceguard fellow to ask him what his relationship was with my mother, I won’t truly know." Listening intentively and taken back by what he had just heard, Artamir for once had nothing to say.
As the new friends moved out into the clearer lands past Kithicor they moved up on a dervish encampment. Artelia broke the silence by saying, "Should we pass by them and take the extra couple hours or surprise attack them and be done within the hour?" Pondering how well this girl’s skills were and not being in total straight-headedness for his normal self, Artamir replied, "Sure, let’s see what you got!" Not even taking two seconds to think out a strategy after hearing Artamir’s answer, Artelia unsheathed her sword and began to unleash an attack on the dervs that impressed Artamir greatly. Having only time to shoot one arrow before Artelia had slain the entire camp, he said to her, "Wow, were those spells I seen you casting along with the skills of your blade?" "Yes, my mother happened to be a druid and she taught me a few tricks to go along with my melee," she answered. Knowing that the mention of her mother being a druid, along with the head jerking motion at her mother’s name, Artelia asked, "Artamir, did you know my mother, your actions at what I’ve told you of her, gives me reason to think so." Slowly gathering his thoughts before attempting to answer this question, Artamir looked at Artelia, "Yes, I knew of your mother. Many years ago I ran with a magician named Irras. Irras was my best friend, and he introduced me to your mother….Julliana. As time went by we all began to trust each other with our lives. Julliana was a wonderful person." Artamir ended it at that.
Coming up on the Commonlands Inn, and being another day’s journey from Freeport, they decided it would be best if rested up at that spot. Paying the inn keeper and saying their good nights both entered their rooms for the night. Sometime during the night, Artelia awoke, she couldn’t believe that she had met someone who knew her mother before she was born, back in her battle days for the druid’s circle. She had many more questions for Artamir, but they would have to wait till morning. Lying there tossing and turning she decided, "There’s no way for me to get anymore sleep tonight." Rolling out of bed and walking outside sounded like something to get her mind of things, and so she did. Upon walking out front door to the Inn, she was startled to see Artamir had done the same, he was just outside the door smoking a pipe, no doubt some of that Halfling leaf, it was well known to be the best.
Avoiding talking about Artelia’s mother as much as possible, Artamir told Artelia, "I believe your skill with a blade is to be rivaled by any warrior, and with your spell casting, it adds another skill to your benefits in battle. I could see with some training of a bow, that you could be a force of great good against the evils of these lands. If you are willing to learn, I could teach you. It would take time. Using a bow is something that although it looks simple, such things as firing on the run, wind or being hit can throw you off your target. Marksmanship, once learned, along side of your other skills, would make your nearly impossible to defeat you by any creature of your same stature." Artelia listened intentively, and after Artamir was finished, said, "I would be willing to learn. It is awful kind of you to offer to teach me, but I’m afraid sleep has caught back up with me, I must lay back down at least for a few more hours to finish out the night." Artamir nodded, "I shall see you in the morning then."
Puffing his last drag off his pipe Artamir realized again he had sat thinking all thru the night and morning had already come. Artelia walked out and seen him in the same spot she had left him. "Have you not slept any at all this past night? What is wrong with you?" Laughing, Artamir replied, "Well as you put it, a fellow in my age, well we don’t sleep so well. Restless I guess." Grabbing some quick breakfast and then paying for the meal they headed back out on the road again. They soon came to a fletcher supplies shop and Artamir stopped to see if they have what he was needing to finish up this bow he had been working on for a few days now. He looked around and sure enough the item he was looking for was there. Purchasing it and then walking back outside to meet up with Artelia again, he opened his fletching kit and placed the last needed item inside to attempt the combining of the materials. "Bingo!" he stated, "I’ve finally finished up this darn thing." Looking at Artelia he said, "Now that I’ve got this new one fashioned, if you’d like, take my old bow, its got some wear, but fires straight as it did when I first made it." Artelia accepted the gift, but didn’t know why Artamir was being so kind to her all this time.
The training went on for some time, Artamir was tough on Artelia, but she knew it was to better her fighting skills. After nearly five full days of practicing, Artelia was thinking her training should be close to finishing up. Artamir explained to her that training on a bow is as it is with swords, it never really ends, you just keep getting more skilled and more in tune with your weapons. Sometime in afternoon on that fifth day Artelia just flopped down. "I can’t practice anymore, my arms feel like they’re going to fall off." Artamir just grinned, "It’s good for ya, builds muscles!" Artelia did not take well with that, she stood up and charged him dead on. Side stepping what should have been an easy take down, if not blinded by anger, Artamir parried her blow. "Not bad for an old man, aye?" he said. "Yeah yeah, lets just forget I lost my head there for a second, and go on about this training stuff," she replied.
Mid-day came and went. They both worked very hard at this, Artamir trying his best to be a good teacher, and Artelia, trying to pick up on everything her head was being filled with. Near evening they were finally finishing up for the day, and both were needing rest. As everything was getting packed up, Artamir jumped to his feet. "Artelia, get your blade ready, and brace yourself for anything," Artamir shouted. "Oh, it’s probably nothing more than a few orc again," she sarcastically answered. Just then two dragoons came running up on them. Dragoons are of the dark elves mainly and have no mercy for any good doers. "Death for all," said one of the dragoons. "Yes! We’ll rid the world of you who try to stop the darkness," replied the other.
Now both Artamir and Artelia had worked out most the day, and really had no strength left in them, but could not let the dragoons know this. Artamir lead with the first shot from his bow, knowing that his bow wasn’t going to be much use to him in this battle, had to get some shots off. Artelia, sword already out of hilt began casting a spell of earth for some weeds began to collect about one of the dragoons feet. Artamir dropped the bow and pulled out his sword, which he had named Swiftwind which he duel wielded along with an axe. He started attacking the first dragoon with a flurry of blows that wounded his enemy in the arm and shoulder. Doing a full spinning motion, not something you’d see an old ranger do everyday, chopped off the leg of the dragoon in one clean swipe. Artelia keeping the other preoccupied with the spell she had been casting, now summoned down some lightning from a clear blue sky and struck the second dragoon severely wounding and blinding him. Artamir yelled to Artelia, "NOW! Use your bow, take him down!" Artelia, pulling a single arrow from her newly purchased quiver and lining up the shot with the bow Artamir had given her, in under a second, watched as her released arrow flew straight for her target’s chest. It struck him right smack in the heart and he clasped to the ground with a thud as the tangling weeds slowly disappeared.
Artelia turned smiling at Artamir, "Did you see that? I did just as you……" Her face went stern, and she couldn’t speak, only pointed behind Artamir. Artamir knowing something wasn’t right and that he most likely was in danger, ducked his head to one side and fell down in a turning motion that dodged most of what would have certainly been a dead blow. Artelia fired two arrows at the enemy, which happened to be a griffon, not normally in these parts, but must have seen the fight and thought the leftovers would be easy pickings. Although both arrows hit her target, it did not bring the beast down. Artamir getting back up off the ground, but leaving a blood stain from what looked to be the back of his neck or head, threw his axe at the head of the beast trying for a kill shot, but the nimble griffon easily dodged it. Trusting in the ability of his backup, Artamir, while Artelia was still releasing arrows, decided it was all or nothing. He still had his sword and so jumped lashing his sword thru the air striking the griffon four times but also taking two blows himself, watched as the griffon finally laid dead.
Rushing up to stand beside him, Artelia was so pleased with the job they had done. Artamir looked to be doing fine except for a few minor wounds and Artelia was unharmed, when suddenly Artamir fell flat on his back. "I feel dizzy and lightheaded," Artamir said. "Why, what happened? Did you lose too much blood?" she inquired. "I really can’t tell, I feel cold, as if its late fall, not early summer," he said. Scratching the back of his head, he slowly pulled his hand to the front of his face, it was covered in blood. He had taken a blow to the back of the head and in the heat of battle, not even noticed. Artelia feeling really bad that she hadn’t done more, was nearly crying. Artamir looked at her and said, "Tis no worries my lady Artelia. Can you hand me my bow?" he asked. "Sure thing Artamir." as she gave the bow to him. "No, I want you to have it, it’s called a Raincaller, it’s the best bow you could wish to have at your aid. And here is my Swiftwind also, it’s light weight and sharp as any blacksmith’s shops best. "Artelia, promise me one thing, will you?" he asked. "Certainly, anything," she softly replied. "These days the evils of the lands are growing, maybe so far out of control they might wipe out all that is good in this world. You must fend these evils off, keep what little good there is around, you might meet up with others, or you might have to stay solo, but you must do this. It’s in you, it’s in me. Promise me this!" Artamir said. "I shall," she said. "Good. And always remember, respect is given to those who give it in return. I have lived by that, and if you trust it, it won’t lead you astray. I am Artamir Forecguard, and you have Forceguard in you, thus it is passed on to you to do the same. I am sorry you have found me, only to lose me so soon. Don’t forget to look for others, those who would also aid you in fighting these evils, some of the strangest people often make the best allies," Artamir barely got out before he took his last breath.
Artelia already broken out in tears, whispered, "I will do all that I can to put forth a good fight against all evil. I shall gather allies where I can. As a Forceguard, it is my duty to do so, as was my father’s."



Message Edited by Irras on 12-07-2005 05:33 PM

Chronicle VII
Request of a Goddess
Written by Craig / Cynthia (aka Harte / Julliana)





Part I - Julliana's Choice
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I do not understand.", Julliana muttered as she arose back to her feet from her kneeling position. "Why have you selected me?
I am neither the strongest, or wisest of The Circle."
With a gaze of pure compassion, Tunare looked down at Julliana. A smile crossed her lips as she extended a hand down to touch her cheek.
"It is not your prowess in battle, nor your wisdom that I need now my child. It is because of the kindness you possess within your heart."
"My heart," Julliana interjected, "is very wounded right now. It does myself little good, so I must ask, what good can it do others?"
She looked up to Tunare, and what she saw brought a knot into her throat. Tunare had began to shed tears. Julliana collapsed to her knees again.
"Please m'lady, do not waste your empathy on me. My troubles are not your own."
"Nonsense.", Tunare said. "I can see him. Just as you had saw him. The love of another is a remarkable thing. This is why I need you Julliana."
Hearing the voice of her diety calling her name made Julliana shudder.
"I can take away the pain my child. I could easily remove his very memory."
"No!" Julliana's voice trembled as she spoke, "I...I would rather have the knowledge pain me than to forget the time we did share."
"And that is exactly what I mean." Tunare said. "The love that pains you is also your pride. Who else could turn pain into strength such as you do?"
Tunare elegantly sat down on the stump of a tree that had been cut down. As her hand touched it, the tree began to slowly grow again around her.
It formed a sort of throne as branches jut out from each side of her to form arm rests.
"I spoke with him you know... He spoke little, but when he did, he spoke softly. It was as if he was hurting as well. I do not believe Artamir left you
for the purpose of hurting you. I believe he felt it was the only way to protect you... You, and the gift inside of you." Tunare's smile grew wider.
Julliana, quite taken by what she had just heard, jumped to her feet.
"Yes Julliana...How could I not know? I am life... I can sense it even in it's most dim form."
"How is this possible?!", Julliana questioned, "He...he is a half elf. I thought they could not create offspring?"
Tunare chuckled, "As I just said, I am life."
"But why?" Julliana asked. "Does he even know of this?"
Tunare stared skyward as birds flew overhead. Flowers had began to flourish all around them now from the goddess' extended presence.
"When Artamir refused my gift, I feared the worst for our world. I did not know if you would be anymore willing than he. So another generation of
your kindness and strength had to be preserved in advance. I waited, as love began to blossom in the shadow of a previous infactuation. And when the time was right..."
Julliana listened as Tunare spoke. She wondered if there was no limit to her understanding. It was as if she was a book to be read aloud. There was no denying that Tunare knew everything Julliana had ever felt, knew, or would come to know. Her thoughts began to drift off, thinking once again of her romance with the Half Elf Ranger. For years the secret love between the two had grown. But this was no ordinary love...
At first, it began as an admiration of each other. Artamir depended heavily upon the healing powers that Julliana possessed. Likewise, Julliana required the skills of a great swordsman. But amongst them was the Mage, Irras Locksheon, and Julliana had grown very fond of him in a short time. Slowly, her noticible kindness began to crack the cold exterior of the Mage's heart. Artamir, being the eternal gentleman, stepped aside and watched as Irras and Julliana grew closer, and eventually began to flirt with the idea of marriage.
This tale of love, however, quickly becomes a tale of woe when a Paladin of Freeport began to steal away the foundation of the relationship Julliana and Irras had. Torn between loyalty and love, Irras quickly grew jealous, and slowly receded back into his cold hearted ways shunning everyone he once cared about. Artamir once again watched from the distance as Julliana loved another. The three began to seek their own paths. Each with their own grudge toward one another as their only company. As fate would have it however, the three eventually crossed paths once again. Anger faded, and forgiveness slowly took it's place.
Julliana, now long forgotten by the Paladin, was once again vulnerable. Hurt though she was, she made the best of each day, never leaving those around her without a smile. Irras began to fade from her mind. Despite their forgiveness of one another, things could never be the same. Instead she found herself thinking more of Artamir, and although she was still too hurt to admit it, she began to love him. Fearing any ill will from Irras, she denied herself any advances from Artamir. This continued on for some time, until one day Irras met Rebecka, a Wood Elf Warrior. Eventually the two married, and Julliana no longer felt the need to hide her feelings, but it was too late now. Artamir had been rejected far too many times, and no longer showed the same interest. With every passing day, Julliana grew more lonely. Her heart, as she had told Tunare, had been wounded so many times.
Julliana began to think back to a night when she awoke to a familiar voice.
"Julliana... Julliana wake up." the voice called.
"Wha? What is it?" she stammered.
She looked up to see Artamir sitting at the foot of her bed.
He looked around the room of the Qeynos inn for a second, "Have you heard?"
"Heard what?", she replied.
"Irras... He and Rebecka left from the shores of the Faydwer this morning." Artamir stated.
"If you came here to tell me they traveled to Kunark..." Julliana groaned.
Artamir interrupted, "No Julliana... They sailed North."
Julliana sat up out of bed slowly rubbing her eyes. "North?"
"Aye." Artamir replied.
"But there is nothing North of Faydwer" Julliana said.
"Irras told me something before he left." Artamir continued, "It did not seem coherant, nor did he himself seem to be well. He told me that
I am to stay here, and to tell the others that he may not return. He said something about "the time draws near" whatever that means.
I swear Julliana, that orb the Master of Elements gave him has drove him mad."
"Not coming back?" Julliana said as her heart seemed to fall to her stomach.
Artamir grunted as he stood to his feet. "I don't understand it either."
"Where are you going?" Julliana pleaded.
"I have done what he asked... I have told the others. I assume he meant the Alliance." Artamir said with a shrug.
It was then that she began to feel even more alone than she ever had. This would be the night that would set Tunare's plan in motion. It was the night Julliana asked Artamir to stay...


Julliana snapped back from her day dream, realizing that Tunare had long finished speaking. She looked up to see Tunare sitting silent, smiling down at her.
Julliana looked back to the ground realizing the old forest was now flourishing with life. Trees had grown taller, grass became more green, and flowers had bloomed all around her. With her eyes still fixed on the ground in front of her, Julliana spoke.
"I will do as you ask m'lady."
"Excellent!" Tunare exclaimed. "Then you shall be my avatar in my absence. This world will certainly crumble if the influence of life is null. I can think of nobody better suited to serve life, than a mother-to-be. You and your child shall be cared for, I will see to that personally. Julliana nodded silently. Tunare, stopped and looked down again to Julliana.
"You're pain shall be your greatest strength." she said.
Tunare layed a hand atop Julliana's head, and there they both sat for quite some time. Julliana's eyes grew heavy, and she felt an encompassing warmth come over her. She felt herself begin to fall asleep, and as if it were in a dream, she heard Tunare's voice one last time.
~"Julliana Azurewind... Protector of Nature... Avatar of Life. From this day foward, you shall be imbued with the blessing of immortality."~
Julliana awoke some time later. She felt renewed, as if she had slept for days. The flowers around her, still rich with life, had served as her bed. She wondered if it had all been a dream, but it felt too real to dismiss so quickly. The wooden throne on which the goddess had sat was still there, and the old forest was still teeming with life. Julliana stood to her feet. Taking in all her surroundings one last time, she whistled for her horse, Sugar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part II - Artamir's Rage
Artamir fell to one knee, gasping for air. He could not remember the last time he had fought so hard. The dragoons were not easy prey for the hunter by any means, but this one put up a particularly difficult fight.
"Thirty two arrows..." panted Artamir. "Unbelievable." He was sure their magic had become stronger.
He stood back to his feet, regaining his composure, and started walking over to the fallen dragoon. The tall thick grass made a crunching sound with each depression of his boots. Carefully he began to cut loose the coin purse from the guard's belt.
The sky was dark. Clouds covered the entire plain of The Overthere, and strong gusts of cold air confirmed the presence of an imminent storm. Suddenly Artamir felt a presence behind him. While his is first intinct was to reach for his bow, he stayed his hand when he realized that this presence posed no threat.
"I thought we had nothing more to speak of." Artamir snapped without turning around.
"There is no need for hostility Artamir." A calm voice said. "I do not still understand why my offer has angered you so."
"You wished me to become your avatar, and all I asked in return was that you aid my friend." Artamir yelled. "You watched him die, Tunare!"
"I explained this to you before Artamir. It was simply Lochano's time to rest. What he had accomplished that day was...noble. And in his death he became a symbol of hope for his entire race." she explained.
"Your reasoning..." Artamir started, but he simply could not bring himself to speak of it anymore.
"I did not come here to anger you further Artamir. Instead I have come to inform you that I have found my Avatar." Tunare stood silent for a moment waiting for some response, but received none. Instead she watched as Artamir began to pull the arrows from the Dragoon's body.
"Was this for sport, or defense?" she questioned him, but Artamir still seemed to ignore her.
The cold wind now carried small drops of rain which blew across Tunare's face. She stared at Artamir with a look of intense sadness.
"You've changed." she said, shaking her head. "So cold... "
Artamir cracked a sarcastic grin and shook his head as if to mock her sympathy.
Tunare kept her eyes toward the ground and spoke. "Artamir I have asked Julliana to continue my teachings while I cannot be here."
"You've done what!?" Artamir demanded.
A deafening blast of thunder rolled over the plains from beyond the mountains. The air seemed to grow colder, and blew more violently. Tunare stood with a curious look on her rain moistened face.
"This displeases you?", she asked.
"Displeases me?!" Artamir growled, "I am hunted by nearly every evil bounty hunter, guard, and militia on Norrath. I stay away from Julliana so that I may not place her in harms way. And now, you have made her an immortal disciple of good?! No Tunare, I am overjoyed that I may walk wherever I wish now. Most certainly now that the bounty on my head is nothing compared to the reward the dark ones will offer for killing Tunare's Avatar!"
"I assure you, she is well taken care of Artamir." Tunare objected. She looked up just in time to see him walking away from her. There she stood and watched as Artamir disappeared into the wave of rain that was now fast approaching her.




"Perhaps it is indeed best if we leave the mortals to their own lives." she said under her breath. Just as the pouring rain and blazing winds were upon her, Tunare vanished, allowing the weather to wash over the spot where she had stood. This would be the last time Tunare, Goddess of Nature, would set foot on Norrath.
Artamir's thoughts raced through his mind. There was a time when he feared his youth would long surpass that of the one he loved. He could not bear the thought of her dying, but now that fear grew smaller. A natural death was no longer a concern, however many swords would now seek her throat. Artamir continued to press his way against the wind. His sword was drawn, and his eyes peered up from his downward glare. He marched against the wind and rain for what seemed like hours, each step filling his mind with rage. When the storm finally dissipated, Artamir stopped and looked at his surroundings. Suddenly he collapsed to his knees and shook his head. For the first time in his life, Artamir was lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part III - Artelia's Vow
Nearly two hundread and sixty years later, Julliana had long since given birth to her beautiful half elven daughter, Artelia. Artelia, as fortune had it, shared in her mother's immortal bloodline. Her mother had taught her the basics of Druid magics, and she was also quite versed in the ways of swordsmanship. She was often hard headed, and quick to judge. While there was compassion in her heart, it was always coupled with a cold demeanor. It certainly was obvious that she was indeed the child of Julliana and Artamir, although this knowledge was never passed down to her. Her father was mearly a shadow of some stranger she'd never known. Artelia had questioned her mother so many times about the issue, but her answer was always the same. "You're father was a great man. Artelia my dear, you and I share the immortality and protection granted to us by an ancient goddess. It is our duty to this world that keeps us protected. Your father and I decided long ago that keeping our distance from each other was best, as our own love may have interfered with the request of the goddess." From there her mother would begin telling stories of the ancient gods, how long ago they decided that the mortals would be without their influence, and that the avatars of the gods were now the only evidence they left behind.
Few immortals exsisted outside of the elven races. Those who were not elvish were all thought to be the chosen disciples, and were often hunted their entire lives by rival factions. Julliana, however, remained safe...
Years ago the Avatar of Cazic-Thule had mercilessly hunted down the Avatar of Life, Julliana. The evil Iksar Shadow Knight named Surik had gathered legions to do his bidding, to spread fear across Norrath by removing the hope that life represented. Time and time again Julliana evaded Surik, until one day when the forces of Life, and Fear collided. A war, unlike any ever recorded, had begun in the Dreadlands. The battle had lasted nearly three days, and while the legions of Fear outnumbered the the forces of Light nearly fifteen to one, they lacked an important power. The power to heal. Necromancers, and Shadowknights alike lost many of their own numbers when they found themselves with no more strength to fight, while the renewed Humans and Elves marched right over them. As the hordes began to fall the soldiers of Life cheered in victory, and none too soon, as the clerics and druids among them had grew weary from the battle. The war, however, was not quite over.
On the far horizon, Rangers spotted Surik. He was still alive.
"What is he doing?" Julliana ordered.
"M'lady! Look!" one of the Rangers cried.
Julliana's heart had been stricken with fear as she saw dark clouds emerge from all of the fallen enemy soldiers.
"He is raising them." she whispered, her voice quivering.
"He is reanimating them!" she shouted to all those around her. "Fire!"
Every Ranger, in unison, pulled an arrow from his or her quiver, and launched a volley into the sky aimed at their target.
Julliana watched as they flew through the air in an arc. It seemed as though time itself had slowed down. Her pulse quickened, and her hands began to shake.
To her horror, every arrow fired slowly fell toward the ground, falling short of Surik by nearly two hundred yards. The spell would be completed within seconds, and this time there would be no defence against the massive onslaught.
"Your orders?" a warrior questioned her, but Julliana had succumb to the very fear she had been fighting. She could not speak.
Out of nowhere, the sound of a bow releasing it's projectile was heard. The arrow sailed past Julliana's ear, leaving behind a screeching sound as it cleaved the air. Julliana was startled and snapped back from her daze. She watched as the arrow shot straight out toward Surik. She was sure, that without a high arc the arrow would fall short , and every person there would soon die. But to her amazement the arrow stayed on it's direct path and struck Surik straight through the neck, halting his incantation. Surik gasped for air, unsure of what happened. He stumbled backward, and fell to his knees. With one final wail of his reptilian voice, he doubled over... dead.




Again the army cheered. Each Ranger and Warrior asking eachother, "Was it yours? Did you shoot that?" Eventually the questions ceased when everyone began to realize that none among their ranks had fired the arrow. They all looked to Julliana. Her eyes still fixed on the body of the Avatar of Fear. A single tear streamed down her cheek. "Trueshot." she whispered. In her heart, she knew who had fired that shot.
From that day forward Julliana decided that she could lose no more to protect herself. She instead ordered all her remaining army to keep a secret. If evil were to believe that the Avatar of Life had died that day, there would be no more running, no more battles, and no more loss of life. Each soldier hanged his head, and swore to do as she asked, even Artelia took this vow. That day, word reached every corner of Norrath, that the Avatar of Life had fallen. This in turn allowed Julliana to continue her teachings without fear of persecution.
Artelia had always kept her promise. People from all over came to offer their sympathies to Artelia, and those who were devout followers sometimes questioned her. "How could the Avatar of Life be gone, and yet evil has not completely prevailed?" To this she had no answer, for even if she were to give one it would be a lie. Her vow to stay silent, however would soon cost her more than her honesty. Artelia, now free to roam as she pleased, often traveled simply to see the world. While walking through Kithicor Forest one morning she encountered a strange old Half Elf who would forever change her life.
He called himself Artamir, a name which she found to be odd, and familiar. They traveled together for a short time, and Artamir made her an apprentice of the bow.
She was a quick study, and learned to hone her skills to near perfection. It was not long until Artamir discovered Artelia's mother's name. When he heard the name Julliana, his face appeared unchanged, but his heart overflowed with a joy he had long since lost. For the first time, he had finally met his daughter. For the time being, however, he would keep this fact to himself. When Artamir asked how her mother was doing, she passed on the grave secret she had told so many other strangers before.
Artamir's worst fear had been realized, and it devestated him.
There was no rest for Artamir that night. There he sat outside the inn, smoking his pipe, while Artelia slept. He thought back to all those years ago when his arrow killed the Avatar of Fear. He dared not stay to watch the Iksar die, but was confident that his shot finished him off.
"How could she have...she was still alive when I left...the battle was over." he thought to himself. In his heart he believed she was still alive, but did not understand what reason Artelia had to lie. When morning came Artelia was amused to see the old Half Elf still awake.
"Have you not slept?" she asked.
Artamir grumbled a bit and said, "A fellow in my age, well we don’t sleep so well. Restless I guess."
The two continued their trek through the commonlands, and trained some more along the way. They eventually grew tired, but resting was not an option as they came upon two Dragoons. Artelia watched as the old Ranger quickly dispatched the two Dark Elves, along with a few shots of her own from her new bow.
Artelia was proud that she had learned to use, what she had once thought to be, a weapon made for show and not battle. She turned to Artamir and said, "Did you see that? I did just as you…". Her face went stern, and pointed behind Artamir. Artamir knowing something wasn’t right and that he most likely was in danger, ducked his head to one side and fell down in a turning motion that dodged most of what would have certainly been a death blow. Artelia fired two arrows at a huge griffon. Although both arrows hit her target, it did not bring the beast down. Artamir got back up off the ground, leaving blood upon the grass from what looked to be the back of his neck or head. He took his axe in hand and threw it at the head of the beast trying for a kill shot, but the nimble griffon easily dodged it. Trusting in the ability of his backup, Artamir, while Artelia was still releasing arrows, decided it was all or nothing. With Swiftwind in hand, he jumped, slashing his sword through the air striking the griffon four times while taking two blows himself. Artelia watched as the griffon finally laid dead.
Rushing up to stand beside him, she was so pleased with the job they had done. When suddenly Artamir fell flat on his back. Touching the back of his head, he slowly pulled his hand to the front of his face. It was covered in blood. He had taken a blow to the back of the head and hadn't noticed.
"Artelia, promise me one thing, will you?" he asked.
"Certainly, anything." she softly replied.
"These days the evils of the lands are growing, maybe so far out of control that they may wipe out all that is good in this world. You must fend of this evil... keep what little good there is around. It’s in you, it’s in me. Promise me this!" Artamir said.
"I shall," she said.
"Good... And always remember, respect is given to those who give it in return. I have lived by that, and if you trust it, it won’t lead you astray. I am your father, Artamir Forecguard, and you have Forceguard in you, thus it is passed on to you to do the same. I am sorry you have found me, only to lose me so soon...."
Artelia had began to cry, for now she knew the truth about her father. Artamir lay in the grass, his arm outstretched, caressing his daughters cheek.
"I am so proud of you..." Artamir whispered as he drew his last breath.
Artelia cried for a long while, but this time she did not cry as much for her father's death as she did for the secret she had kept from him. Had she'd only known who this man was, she would have told him immediatly. Because of her loyalty, she allowed her own father to die believing that his one love on this world had perished.
"How can the fates be so cruel?" she demanded.
That night, Artamir Forceguard was buried next to the lake in the West Commonlands. Artelia stayed there until morning, and as she was about to leave the grave sight, she sensed an ominous presence behind her.
"I found him, mother...I found my father." she whispered.
"I know my dear. I had sensed his passing..." Julliana said.
Artelia watched as her mother moved past her and knelt down at the foot of the grave. The sound of her mother crying was heart wrenching, but Artelia had no tears left in her.
"Mother..." she said softly. "When he died, he believed that you had died many years ago. I did not get a chance to tell him before he ..."
Julliana wiped a tear from her eye. "No Artelia, he knows that I live."
"What do you mean mother? How do you know?" Artelia asked.
Julliana looked up at her daughter and smiled. "He knows I am alive, because I can see him now... and he sees me."









Message Edited by Irras on 05-23-2006 11:07 PM

Written by Craig (aka Harte)
Images from: Craig, Digital Blasphemy, and Dmitry Savinoff







The Nameless
This being of ultimate power has no name, and is unknown to most of Norrath.
It has no image in which to create others, nor does it have a personality as even
dieties would. It is simply a driving force which causes the universe to exsist, or
not exist at it's own whim.
-Excerpt from EQlive.com













Where is the line that one should never cross in the pursuit of knowledge?
When does knowledge cause more harm than good?
Such questions seem to be far from the minds of even the wisest men.
It troubles me to think that knowledge, not ignorance, will one day be the downfall of man.
It is curiosity that leads us, examination that keeps us,
and knowledge we gain that manipulates us.
Some may ask how we could be manipulated by the things we know to be true?
Allow me to tell you friends, allow me to share with you...the knowledge.
My name is Irras Locksheon, and this is my story...our story.



The Final Prophecy


Part I: The Book
The path was dark, lit only by the orange glow of torches spaced throughout. The walls were comprised of enormous stones which looked to be carved by hand. Strong gusts of air rushing through the tunnels made a howling sound that made Lochano tremble. This was not at all how he pictured the Plane of the Underfoot in his mind.
"I do not like it." Brell Serilis objected.
"Nonsense." Bristlebane countered. "I trust him completely, besides, who better to keep such a thing hidden than a mortal? None of the others would think us foolish enough to trust a mortal with such a thing."
"Foolish indeed." Brell grumbled as he placed his hand to his chin. He sat for a moment stroking his beard.
Finally Bristlebane broke the silence.
"Well? What do you say?" he said.
"Very well, let it be done." Brell replied.
Bristlebane began walking down the steps toward the intimidated young Halfling. He carried himself with a proud stride, and a smile to match.
"Lochano, do you know what this is?" Bristlebane asked as he held out a large tattered book. The Halfling Cleric held out his hand and took the book. Afraid to open it, he only shook his head.
"Well go on, open it." Bristlebane instructed.
Lochano carefully unhooked the clasp which bound the leather covers together. The pages were stained a brownish yellow, a tell tale sign that it was hundreds of years old. The corners of many pages felt brittle, and some crumbled to dust in his hand. As he stared at the pages of the book, he noticed that it had been written in a different language, and was unable to read the words. With a shrug, he looked back up to Bristlebane.
"Lochano, those are the lost prophecies of Zebuxoruk." Bristlebane said.
"He means The Forsaken One." Brell scowled, "And there is a reason for that title."
"Wh-what is the reason?" Lochano asked cautiously.
Bristlebane jumped at the chance to answer him. "Because of the forsaken knowledge he has obtained."
"Obtained is one way of putting it." Brell added, sitting upright in this throne. "Stole is more the word you're looking for."
"We don't believe in stealing, just borrowing...long term. Isn't that right Lochano?" Bristlebane replied.
Lochano cracked a smile when he realized the humor in the diety's comment.
"Besides, nobody knows, how he knows, what he knows." he said with a laugh, realizing how humorus that sounded.
"But none of this is the pressing matter we have at hand. Lochano, the reason I have summoned you here, obviously, is to keep this book safe. While the contents within do not concern mortals, I cannot stop you from reading it. But I warn you to avoid doing so."
Lochano nodded, assuring them both that he would not read anymore of it.
Bristlebane then issued one last, stern warning to the young Halfling.
"The other gods know of this journal Lochano. That is why we are giving it to you. While they could sense our discovery when we found the book, they will be unable to trace it to a mortal. Eventually they will know that we gave it away for safe keeping. Their followers will be alerted, and they will come looking for it."
Again, Lochano nodded.
Brell stood and began walking toward the both of them.
"You do have the arcane knowledge of Gating don't you?" he asked.
"Oh, uh yes I do." Lochano answered.
Brell stood there for a moment and watched as Lochano looked down at the journal again.
"Well?" he demanded.
"Oh, right... sorry." Lochano said.
As he gathered his thoughts, Lochano began chanting the incantation to take him home, far from the darkened depths of the Underfoot. As the small flashes of light surrounded him, he began to disappear, leaving the two gods there to their own company.
Brell sighed, and started his way back to his throne.
"Do you think this will work?" he asked as he sat down.
"He's a Halfling." Bristlebane said with a smile. "His curiosity will have the best of him before he returns home."
"Good." Brell said, "When he reads it, he should seek the counsil of his human friend. And when he does..."
"Again, I do not understand why we didn't summon the mage ourselves." Bristlebane inturrupted.
"Do you think he would have came?" Brell started to explain. "He does not commit to any of us, thus he forges his own destiny. At least this way, things will look more...innocent."
Bristlebane chuckled with glee when he thought to himself how much turmoil this would cause. The idea of what they had done amused him. Soon the halls of the caverns echoed with both their laughter.



"I do not like it." Brell Serilis objected. "Nonsense." Bristlebane countered. "I trust him completely..."


Lochano materialized in the Plane of Knowledge with the journal in hand. The sight of all the people there around him made gave him enough cause to strengthen his grip on it. Thinking about what to do next, he hid the book in the sleeve of his tunic. As the crowds passed him, he kept a close eye on each person who stayed too near him.
"I have to get rid of this thing." he thought to himself. He began to notice people glancing at him. The paranoia had set in very quickly. Looking to his left, Lochano saw the familiar Rivervale Stone. A feeling of relief washed over him.
Turning to run, he was held back when someone had grabbed him by the collar.
"Where ya heading shorty?" a familiar voice teased.
"Artamir! Oh thank the gods." Lochano sighed. "Have you seen Irras today?"
"Yeah uh...happy to see you too. What do you need him for?" Artamir asked.
"It's just... It's important, if you know where he is..." the Halfling pleaded.
"Easy Lochano. Whatever you need him for, we'll find him. You are in the presence of a tracker you know." Artamir assured him.
Lochano nodded as Artamir turned and began making his way into the crowd. Lochano did not let Artamir get too far away from him. He followed very close, and kept talking as much as he could. While this made him look even more panicked, it also let Artamir know he was still there.
"Come on, I think he's in the Nexus." Artamir called to him.



Part II: The Deception
The pair stood in the middle of the Nexus. There were still too many people here for Lochano to feel any safer. Artamir looked down at him, now tired of the Halfling's obvious cowardice.
"What is going on?" Artamir questioned him.
Lochano pulled Artamir to one side of the platform, out of earshot of the other Nexus goers.
"I found something." he whispered to Artamir as he pulled the tattered book just into view from under his tunic. "It's really important that Irras sees this." he continued.
"Very well. Stay here, near the guards. I'll find Irras." Artamir told him.
Lochano nodded in agreement. With a sigh, Artamir turned and walked away. As he disappeared over the steps leading down to the base of the platform, Lochano's curiosity started to overwhelm him. A cold chill crept down his spine. He thought for a moment on how Bristlebane had told him that he should not read it, but then said to himself with a grin, "That was only a suggestion.". Lochano quickly pulled the book into view and began to read it's worn pages. He could only discern a few words in the book, as most of it was written in some kind of archaic language. After some time, he grew tired of reading the broken sentences. He thought to himself that if it was indeed this important, he should not be poking through it when Irras arrives.
With that, he decided that the knowledge was not meant for him to have. As he began to tuck the book safely back into his tunic, he saw Irras walking toward him. Lochano sighed in relief to see him.
"Artamir found you?" He asked?
"Y-yes." Irras quickly responded.
"I need you to look at this. I was given this book, and I was told it was very important." Lochano said as he handed the book to Irras.
As he held it in his hands, his eyes grew wide, as if he had found something valuable. Irras looked down at the Halfling and began to question him.
"Where did you get this? Who gave it to you?" he demanded.
"Do not think me to be insane, but..." Lochano paused as he saw Irras eagerly awaiting the answer, "I got it from Bristlebane, and Brell Serilis. They told me this book contained the lost prophecies of Zebuxoruk!" Irras began to laugh. Lochano however thought the whole situation seemed rather odd. He thought that Irras would have simply took the book and began studying its pages, but instead, he seemed to be more concerned about the condition of the book, as he ran his fingers along the edges of the leather cover.
Lochano watched as the mage's face regained it's normal, bitter composure. He smiled up at Irras, but then his gaze was then drawn to something off in the distance of the Nexus. At first he was sure he was mistaken, what he saw could not be possible. In the distance, he could see Artamir had returned to the platform, and as he promised, he had returned with Irras. Artamir, alarmed that someone had approached the young Halfling, called out to him.
"Lochano? Are you alright?" he shouted.
"Something is not right..." Irras warned.
Lochano stepped backward into the wall of the landing, his eyes fixed on this Irras that stood near him.
Artamir was equally suprised when the person standing next to Lochano, turned around to see who had yelled.
"What the..." he said will a curious look.
Knowing full well that he had tracked down the actual Irras, and sensing something was indeed wrong, Artamir reached for his bow. Lochano could hear his own hearbeat, throbbing in his ears. The slow and steady pace of the sound added to his terror. Time itself seemed to slow down in the following seconds.
His eyes were still fixed on the robed figure standing next too him, but at the same time, he could see Artamir reaching for an arrow. As the figure turned back to face him again, the brown hair upon it's head began to grow, and fade to red. It's face began to contort from the familiar image of his friend, to that of a female human.
As Artamir had loaded the arrow onto the string of his bow, the robed female threw a vial at Lochano's feet. Artamir released the arrow, and it tore through the air toward it's target. Just before it struck, the female vanished leaving the projectile to shatter on the marble wall beyond where she had stood. A thick mist started pouring from the broken vial. Lochano could not escape the cloud in time. He fell to his hands and knees, and began coughing uncontrollably. Just as quickly as the mist came, it disapated into the air. Artamir and Irras rushed to his side.
"Are you alright Lochano?" Irras asked. But Lochano could not speak, he was still coughing, and could barely gasp for air.
"Breathe Lochano. Take slow breaths." Artamir said, trying to calm him.
Lochano seemed to understand, as he could eventually mutter a few words.
"I...I thought... she was Ir-Irras." he explained.
"It was an Enchantress." Artamir proclaimed. "Do you know who it was?" he asked looking to Irras.
"I do." the Mage replied. " Her name is Josifena. I have encountered her before."
Lochano finally stood to his feet. Still coughing, he spoke again. "The book... She h-has the book."
"What book?" Irras asked.
Artamir put his hand on Lochano's shoulder as if to tell him that he would answer.
"Aparently it was some important book that he needed to show you. It is the reason we came looking for you."
"It's more than just a book Irras." Lochano interrupted, his eyes slowly closing. "It...it's..."
The room suddenly began to spin around in Lochano's eyes, he felt dizzy, and everything started to go dark.



Story continues on next post.



Message Edited by Irras on 05-23-2006 11:09 PM

Part III: The Vision
Lochano awoke to the wonderful smell of a cabbage stew. It's thick scent seemed to reach his stomache as it groaned. He cracked open his eyes, only to be greeted by the face of his sister, Lochana.
"Now look what you've gotten yourself into, you twit." she scolded.
"I'm home?" Lochano asked.
"Of course you're home. You can thank Irras and Artamir for that." she growled. Lochano looked into the corner of thier small hovel, and there sat his two friends talking amongst themselves.
"He's awake now." Lochana said with a nod, looking at Irras.
Irras stood, and walked over to Lochano. He felt terrible, as if he had betrayed his friends. Although he could not have known, he still feared Irras may be angry with him. The Mage was not well known for his patience regarding ignorance, and Lochano had began to feel that what he had allowed to happen was quite ignorant. He sighed as he watched Irras pull a chair next to his bed.
"How do you feel?" Irras asked.
"Tired...I feel ill." Lochano replied. While talking was the last thing he wanted to do, he knew time was of the essence, and the story must be told.
"Lochano, tell me of this book." Irras ordered. "Why were you attacked for it?"
Lochano could feel his strength fading. His arms ached, and his chest felt cold.
"I was summoned...this morning..." Lochano started, but Irras stopped him by raising a hand.
"You mean yesterday. You have been asleep for nearly a day now." Irras said.
"An entire day?" the baffled halfling responded. "No matter, this is more important..."
Lochano began to tell the story. He told them that he had been summoned to the Plane of the Underfoot, and of how Bristlebane and Brell had found the lost prophecies of Zebuxoruk. He told Irras that he was charged with guarding the book.
"To what end?" Irras asked.
"What do you mean?" Lochano replied with a look of dispair.
"You said that you were to guard the book. To what end? Why would they tell you to keep it, and not give you a reason or time to return it?" he asked, stroking the hair on his chin. He felt there was more to this, but knew the halfling had told him everything he'd witnessed. Lochano began to cough again, clenching at his chest. Once again, the Halfling fell unconscious.
Artamir stood and walked over to Irras. His shadow grew against the wall of the dimly lit room as he neared.
"I need to attend to something." the ranger stated.
Irras looked up at him, and said "Make haste, I may have need of your skills soon Artamir."
"I should be back by morning." he replied, as he walked outside. After the door closed, not a word was spoken. The sound of nocturnal creatures could be heard outside. It was relaxing to hear after all they had been though the last two days. Moments later, Lochana broke the silence.
"I have tried to heal him, but nothing seems to work." she said as she opened the lid to the boiling pot of stew.
"I am scared to think what may..." she started to say.
"We can only wait at this point." Irras said, unsure of how to comfort her. He then sat up out of the chair, and knelt down on one knee beside Lochana.
"I would not give you false hope." he whispered. "His fate, it would seem, is no longer in our hands. There is much at work here that we do not yet understand." Irras paused for a moment before speaking again. "There is still time." he added.
That night, Irras did not sleep. Instead, he called forth the elemental guardian of air to watch over him as he went into meditation. He closed his eyes, taking in the sounds of the wildlife. The night's breeze that blew over him sent his mind into a more relaxed state. Upon reaching a full meditative trance, everything went dark, just as it always had. However, something was different this time.
Far beyond the darkness, deep within his mind's eye, a fire was raging. Slowly the flames began to grow. It's heat encompassed Irras, replacing the cool sensation brought on by the tranquil winds. A low rumble eminated from within the flames, as if it were trying to speak to him. At first he could not hear it. An image started to form within the fire, taking the shape of a human like creature, but all of a sudden, a bright flash of light accompanied with a loud shriek blasted in his mind. Irras jumped to his feet. A resounding echo ricocheted in his ears as the visions faded. "Lavastorm...mountains..." the echo whispered.
"The element of fire...it is restless." Irras whispered to himself as he caught his breath. He then started walking back toward the halfling village. There he would wait for Artamir. Their next destination was clear.


An image started to form within the fire...


The following morning Irras awoke to find that Artamir had already returned. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room with his arms crossed. Still sitting on the floor with his back to a wall, where he had slept, Irras rubbed his eyes.
"Did you take care of your business Artamir?" he said as he stood to his feet.
"It would seem so." he replied coldly, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Something wrong?" Irras asked.
"I thought..." Artamir began. "I thought I might have a cure of sorts. I was wrong."
Irras stared at him for a moment, unsure of what Artamir had done that night, but quickly remembered his vision.
Irras said, "We must go." Artamir stood, and raised his head. His face had a look of both disappointment, and anger upon it. "Where?" Artamir asked.
"Lavastorm mountains." Irras replied as he swung his backback onto his shoulder.
"And what will we find there?" the ranger countered. Irras just smiled.
"We have yet to see." he answered, hoping the adventure at hand would lift Artamir's spirits. The two quickly set out toward Lavastorm mountains. If the elements of fire were this uneasy, it must have been a good enough reason to send Irras the vision.



Part IV: The Witch
Artamir pulled back on the reigns of his horse, bringing it to a stop. Irras was just a few paces behind him, atop his drogmar. When he saw Artamir raise his hand into the air, he slowed to meet his side.
"Do you sense it?" asked Artamir.
"The storm?" Irras said, uncertain of what he meant.
"Yeah..." Artamir answered as he tightened his grip on the reigns. "It doesn't feel right. Unnatural perhaps."
Irras stared off into the distance of Nektulos Forest. Beyond the treeline, he could see the dark, nimbus clouds forming.
The white edges randomly flickered with the glow of lightning. His drogmar began to grow uneasy, groaning and taking a few steps backward.
"Let's move." Irras commanded. They both charged forward on their mounts, barreling between the trees at an unbelievable speed. Artamir's mount breezed across the landscape, often leaving Irras a number of yards behind. Irras' drogmar, however, more than made up for it's lack of alacrity in it's raw power. It's claws tore into the ground, and with every powerful lunge foward, it hurled dirt into the air behind.
When they reached the edge of the forest, and the red glow of heat could be seen just over the next hill, Artamir knew that his agile steed could not traverse the rough terrain ahead. In one fluid motion while the horse was still in full sprint, Artamir leapt from the saddle and began running alongside it just long enough to tap it's hindquarter. With that, it turned and darted back toward the forest. Irras, now fast approaching, reached out and grasped Artamir's outstretched hand and pulled him around behind him.


"The white edges randomly flickered with the glow of lightning. "


As they breached the opening of the mountains, blasts of thunder rolled through the sky. The heat from the lava below was intense, but the storm brought gusts of wind which cooled their faces. The drogmar grappled the rocks with ease, pulling itself up to the top of a flat surface. From the plateau, they could view nearly the entire range below them. It was Artamir's eyesight that would be of much more use here however. Due to the rippling effect of the heat in the air, in combination with the gray overcast of the storm, Irras was unable to see much of anything. He wiped his brow, and spoke.
"Do you see anything?" he asked.
"The Druid rings." Artamir replied with a nod forward, pointing past Irras. "Someone is out there." Irras closed his eyes for a moment. A cool breeze rushed over them both. Irras opened his eyes again.
"It's her...the witch of illusion, Josifena." he said with a look of disgust.
Artamir recalled what Irras had said three days ago in the Nexus. "Her name is Josifena, and I have encountered her before." As the drogmar leapt from rock to rock toward the rings, Artamir wondered what had happened between the two before that had now made Irras so agitated with her presence. For a moment he was tempted to ask, but held his tongue for the time being.
With a crash, the drogmar landed behind the female Enchantress. She spun around to see Irras and Artamir crawling down off the beast's back. As they approached, she looked at them with a slight smirk across her thin lips.
"You're too late." she sneered. "The tome is mine!" Artamir grasped the handle of his sword.
"I already have a party interested in purchasing it." she continued. "They will be here shortly."
"Perhaps they will be greeted by a corpse!" Artamir yelled, lunging forward. Instantly, Josifena transformed into an enormous ogre, and backhanded Artamir. He slid back on his side, stopping at Irras' feet. Irras looked back up to the hideous ogre.
"Josifena Enamor!" he shouted. "Your treachery knows no bounds, woman! "
Artamir stood back to his feet. The hot air flowed harshly over the area, as if to amplify the anger swelling within them all. The enchantress began to shrink back to her original size.
"The halfling you deceived is dying. Give us the cure!" Artamir demanded.
"A cure? I never thought of that." she laughed as she mocked Artamir's request.
"You know, Ranger..." she began, "You were right when you said they will be greeted by a corpse."
Taking a couple steps back, she began to speak again.
"They are here to steal the tome!" she cried. Artarmir looked at Irras, confused.
"Element of Earth! I call upon you!" Irras shouted into the sky. "Artamir, take cover!" he continued.
A swirl of light formed in front of Irras. The ground at his feet began to spring up to create a huge earthen soldier.
No sooner did the servant draw it's first breath, it was illuminated by a green light. It looked up sharply, and braced itself. A swirling green bolt of poison crashed into it's chest. Irras stood behind the elemental, and watched as five Necromancers shimmered into view, each with their own skeletal slave.
"I told you!" Josifena shouted. "They would be here soon!"
Artamir croutched behind a boulder as he drew his bow.
"Eleven versus three, Irras. This isn't good!" Artamir exclaimed.
"You mean eleven versus four." Irras said with a grin as he pointed behind the Necromancers.
Artamir looked over beyond their enemies to see that the drogmar had already circled behind them.
Josifena turned around and screamed.
"Look out!" she warned. The beast hurled itself down the rockface. Three of the evil conjurers mangaged to avoid the massive creature, while the other two turned around just in time to see it's large paws clasp each of their faces and put it's full weight to the ground. Their undead servants crumbled to dust the instant they died.
Josifena sneered in disgust.
"Pathetic." she scowled. "Well, what are you waiting for? Kill them!
A black fog started to form around the drogmar's feet. It fought to free itself from the dense smoke, pulling it's legs upward, but to no avail. It had been snared. Just then three more poisonous bolts exploded across the earth element's chest. It dashed forward, and began attacking one of the necromancers. Artamir muttered an arcane language to summon The Mistwalker. The wolf's spirit materialized at Artamir's side, and was quite pleased to see the feast of bones ahead. It charged foward, tackling one of the skeletons, gnarling its arm.


~~~~~~

"I have to help them!" Lochano pleaded with his sister.
"They can take care of themselves." she said. "Besides, you're in no condition to go anywhere."
Lochano had been in bed for nearly three full days, and had become frusterated. There was a long silence as Lochana took a seat beside the bed. Lochano was almost completely unable to move. His eyes were heavy, and his limbs were stiff.
"This is my fault" he said. "It is my responsibility... Please!"
Lochana looked at her brother, grief stricken. She could not bear to see him in his condition. Rather than argue away the time they had left, she at last agreed.
"Very well...I'll...I'll take you there." she said as she sat on his bed. She leaned down and hugged him tightly. As she pulled away from his shoulder, she took his hand in hers.
"When you are ready..." she muttered. Lochano nodded.
"Now." he said, closing his eyes.
Lochana began to shimmer. The faint lights slowly moved down her arm, and enveloped Lochano. Suddenly, the room was empty. The blanket that had covered the ill halfling, fell to the bed.
The calm crackling of the fire place had changed to the roaring noise of lava that now flowed all around. The gusts of wind, and booming lighting created so much noise, that Lochano had to nearly yell to be heard.
"What's going on?!" he cried.
Lochana peered from around one of the large stones of the rings. She saw multiple figures. They appeared to be fighting. "It looks like a battle." she called back to him.
"It's them!" Lochano assured her. "Are they ok?"
She again looked around the edge of the megalith. She stared hard into the battle, trying to find Irras and Artamir. In the distance she could see Artamir firing his bow in every direction. His silhouette quickly faded behind the mutiple forms of skeletons. By now the necromancers had managed to summon numerous slaves. She turned around quickly to Lochano.
"Undead!" she cried. "They are everywhere!"
"Help me up." Lochano said.
She rushed to his side, and stood him to his feet. Slowly they moved toward the edge of the fighting.
As they did, Irras came into view. He was casting spells one after another, attempting to keep the undead from overwhelming them. Artamir managed to free himself from beneth the pile of animated slaves, pushing himself backward with his feet.
Lochano closed his eyes. With his remaining strength, he raised his left arm into the air. A red glow engulfed his hand. He looked once more into the battle. The images of his friends being attacked by these creatures were too much to bear.
"I will correct what I have set loose." he said with a heavy heart.
"Eradico Mortuus!" he shouted in a booming voice. A brilliant light blazed across the mountains. The skeletons burned and crumbled to dust. The necromancers also found themselves retreating to the shadows in the presence of the templar.
"It's beautiful." Lochano thought to himself staring into the clouds above. The light was blindingly bright, and yet while the battle had stopped and everyone was shielding their eyes, Lochano found himself lost within it's warmth. Slowly, the light faded.
"Irras!" Josifena screamed. As the mage uncovered his eyes, he saw the enchantress running toward him. As she ran, she transformed into an ogre once again. She drew back her fist, but Irras stepped to one side grabbing the book from her hand. She lost her balance, and rushed foward uncontrollably, stumbling foward and falling into one of the streams of molten rock below. Irras turned away, and knelt to a knee. He clenched the book tightly in his hand, breathing deeply. While it was true that Josifena had attacked them, the idea of a female dying in such a manner disturbed him.
After a moment, Irras stood, and was met by Artamir. They were both weary, and wounded. They walked over toward Lochana, who was knelt down, holding Lochano in her arms. Irras touched her shoulder, and knelt down beside her.
"I told him he should not have come..." she sobbed. Irras felt a knot forming in his throat. Artamir collapsed to his knees and put an arm around her.
"He saved our lives." he said. "He does not deserve something as small as our tears. A hero such as this, deserves a monument."

Story continues on next post.


Message Edited by Irras on 05-23-2006 11:13 PM

Part V: The DiscoveryFour months later a statue was completed just outside of Rivervale in honor of Lochano. It depicted a young halfling holding a book high above his head. After Artamir and Lochana had told the people there what had happened, the town deemed Lochano a hero. After all, he had saved the lives of two of the most respected honorary citizens of Rivervale.
Quite pleased with the dedication to their friend, Artamir and Irras went their seperate ways for some time.
Irras had been studying the lost prophecies of Zebuxoruk for these last few months, and had grown quite concerned with what he had discovered thus far. He poured over the tome time and time again, translating it's words.
The verses contained within it's pages were indeed prophecies. However, the troubling issue of the matter was not what the prophecies had foretold. These prophecies had already occured. Many of the verses gave insight into matters with dragons, while others told of the mortals themselves. Each prophecy could be related to actual events which had already came to pass, except for one, the final prophecy.

"In time, near... Plane of Time falls. A war of wars is fought...Legions of mortals will fall. The end of time."

On the last page of the book, there was one final writting. By the time Irras had deciphered all the previous texts, he had gained a basic knowledge of the language, and was able to quickly translate most of it's characters. Upon completing as much as he could, Irras now realized the importance of this book. There was no denying what the prophecy meant. It would seem that Zebuxoruk himself had forseen the end of exsistance.
Irras searched desperately through the book for any mention of hope. There was none. However, some verses within the book contained vague references to a place where secrets are kept. While no specific location was mentioned, there was one line that Irras was able to translate, which would be the only clue as to how to reach this place:

"I watch through it's eyes, far north of the elvish cities."It was his only recourse.
Moments after his discovery, Rebecka Locksheon, his wife entered the room. She was a beautiful, and elegant Feir' Dal. Her fair skin carried a warm orange glow as it reflected the flickering light of the fireplace. She walked over toward him without a sound. As she placed her arm around his neck and kissed his cheek, her silken blonde hair rolled over his shoulder. Irras held her arm with his hand a leaned his head back into her.
"It's late." Rebecka said with a soft voice. "Come to bed."
Irras rubbed his eyes, and took a deep breath. As he stood, Rebecka took his hand in hers and led him to their bedchamber. The fire would burn itself out that night.
The next morning, Irras awoke and began packing. He would sail north of Faydwer, in hopes that he may find something, or anything for that matter. When Rebecka had saw this, she began packing as well.
"What are you doing?" he asked her.
"Leaving with you." she replied. "Judging by your expression, there is something you are about to do, that I will not let you face alone."
Irras stopped packing for a moment, and took her by the arm.
"I do not know what I will face. There is no need for you to come." he said, hoping to talk her out of it.
Her facial expression remained hard, as she had no intention of changing her mind. Irras knew it was an disagreement he would not win.
"Very well" he said with a smile. "I will need to speak with Artamir before we leave."
"Where will I meet you?" she asked.
Irras paused for a moment, still somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of her coming along.
"On the northern shores of Faydwer, in the Hills of Shade, there is a dock which is no longer used by merchant ships. While I am looking for Artamir, I will arrange for transportation to meet us there."
"Why so secluded my love?" she asked "Why are we not traveling by normal means?"
"Two reasons." he said. "One, the man who owes me a favor, the owner of the ship we will take, is not welcome at any harbor. And two, we are not traveling to any destination in particular."
Rebecka thought for a moment about what he had said.
"A Swashbuckler?" she said with a look of disbelief. "You would have us whisked away to the unknown with a ship full of pirates?"
Irras shook his head and laughed.
"I do not have to remind you that you need not come." he said.
Rebecka cracked a grin, and threw her pack over her shoulder.
"Hills of Shade was it?" she said as she walked out the door. "I will see you there."
It had been nearly a year since Irras had last seen the captain of this ship, but finding him would be as easy as it had been before.
After traveling to Freeport, Irras found himself standing in the middle of the local tavern. The voices of the patrons were constant, occasionally accompanied by the clanging of glasses toasting to good fortune. Irras walked around a bit, looking for the face of the captian among them. Just as he was about to sit at the bar, he heard a hearty laugh from the far corner of the room. Irras grinned. He ordered a drink, and walked over to the table where he was sure he had found who he was looking for.
"Buhlvie, you dog!" Irras called to him. "Your presence is an affront to my senses!"
The tavern fell silent. All eyes turned toward Irras and the one whom he had openly challenged. The Barbarian rose to his feet, while the other members of his table moved back in their chairs. His face bore the blue markings of the Wind Watcher, a woad common among rogues, and other underhanded types who called the sea their home.
His expression was cruel. He looked as if he were only seconds away from lunging across the table, when suddenly a smile beamed across his face.
"Irras! You foolish mage! Sit, and have a drink!" the large man said with a bellowing laugh. Again, the coversations and roaring laughter filled the room once everyone realized there would be no brawling.
Irras sat at the table and was welcomed by Buhlvie and his crew.
"What brings you here mage?" he asked.
"Buhlvie, I have come to collect that which you owe me." Irras told him.
Buhlvie gritted his teeth.
"I don't remember owing you anything." he said looking down at his drink.
Irras closed his eyes for a second, and sighed, leaning back in his chair.
"No?" he said. "Would you like me to refresh your memory? It's quite the embarrasing tale, I'm sure your shipmates here would love to hear it."
Buhlvie grumbled and slammed his mug on the table.
"That won't be necessary!" he barked.
"No no, it's no trouble at all." Irras began. The others moved their heads in closer to the table to hear the tale. "You see, your captain here, quite fond of the gypsies he was. Oh, and that curse...whew... a nasty one."
"Enough!" Bulvie yelled as he stood to his feet. Irras once again leaned back into his chair, looking up at the Barbarian.
"Sit down, Buhlvie." ordered Irras. "You wouldn't want to cause a scene."
Irras took another drink of his ale, and stood up.
"On second thought, walk with me." he said.
Buhlvie huffed, and snarled his lip, following Irras outside.
"I need your ship." Irras said. Buhlvie laughed, holding his stomach.
"What do you mean, my ship?" he asked peering down at the mage.
"I mean I need you and your crew, to take us somewhere." Irras rephrased.
"Who is us?" Buhlvie asked, scratching his cheek.
"You don't need to know anymore than I tell you. Just pick us up at the docks north of the Hills of Shade tonight. Have your ship stocked and ready for a least a two weeks journey." instructed Irras in a commanding tone.
Buhlvie groaned, and glared at him.
"I'll take you where you need to go." said the Barbarian
"And back." Irras reminded him.
"Of course." Buhlvie said with a devious grin. "And after I do, we are even. So help me, if I hear anymore of these gypsie stories..."
"Agreed." Irras said. "Tonight, we sail north of Faydwer."
Again Buhlvie laughed heartily. "North he says! You amuse me, mage!" he yelled as Irras was walking away.
He then turned and walked back into the tavern.
"Finish your drinks boys!" he yelled to his men. "Tonight we sail the open seas!"
"Arrrgh!" They all cheered as they raised their drinks into the air.


Irras next searched for Artamir, but by the time he found him in the commonlands, he could not speak with him very long. There was very little time before the ship was to arrive at the docks.
"Artamir, I must speak with you, but I cannot linger. The time draws near." He began. "I need you tell the others that I am leaving, and do not know if I should return. Do not follow me. If the fates are kind, I shall see you again."
Irras placed a hand on Artamir's shoulder, and Artamir did the same. With a nod, Irras stepped back. Artamir was somewhat perplexed by what the mage had told him. He watched as Irras cast his gate spell. It would be the last time that Artamir would ever see his friend.
Rebecka sat on a barrel and watched as the crew loaded crates onto Buhlvie's vessel, The Harpy's Squall.
It was a magnificant ship, although it was obvious that it had been in quite a few battles. She felt uneasy being there alone without Irras, and it was evident as her hand was placed firmly on the hilt of her sword. She was relieved, however, when moments later Irras appeared in front of her.
"Finally, you're here." she sighed. Just then Buhlvie approached them.
"We are ready to depart, Irras." he said.
"Very good." Irras replied. "Let's make haste."
They boarded the ship, and set sail to the north. The waters were mostly uncharted, and not many ships had ever attempted to explore the area.
It would be nearly six full days aboard the vessel before land was sighted. By now they had traveled further than any ship had dared travel before. The northern waters were infamously treacherous. Many ships had met their demise just three days from shore, but Buhlvie would not let the feat suprise himself.
"I've been through much worse." he constantly reminded Rebecka whenever the tide was rough. The ship did indeed prove to be strong.
As they moved as close to the island as they could, they dropped anchor. Irras and Rebecka climbed into one of the skiffs.
"Now hold on there!" Buhlvie exclaimed. "Do you really think I'll be the first person to sail this far, and not be explorin' the new land I discovered? Shove over!" he said as he climbed in beside them. Looking at his men, he issued a final order before he departed.
"I don't care how long I'm gone, you dogs had better stay put!" he snapped. His crew nodded in agreement.
Rebecka looked at Irras harshly and rolled her eyes as Buhlvie turned his back to lower the skiff into the water.
When they made it to the island and began to explore the surrounding area, they discovered that aside from the trees and plants there was no wildlife to be found. The island was small and could easily be explored in a single day, however unaccustomed to the extended sea travel as they were, Irras and Rebecka decided they were much too exshasted to explore anymore. They set up camp, and would continue in the morning.
That night as Rebecka slept, Irras and Buhlvie sat awake watching the lights aboard The Harpy's Squall dance to the oceans throw.
"She's a fine ship." Irras said.
"Aye, she's never failed me." Buhlvie replied, raising his cup to salute his vessel. There was a moment of silence as the two listened to the waves crash against the sand of the beach. Irras had began to close his eyes as he grew more relaxed by the sounds. Just then Buhlvie spoke again.
"So uh...Irras, what'er we here for eh? he asked.
"I'm not sure." Irras answered.
"Well... I suppose I didn't really expect a clear answer outta ya anyway." the captain said as he laid back.
The next morning Irras awoke to the sound of yet another bottle of ale being opened. He had grown quite familiar with the sound over the last six days. He rose to his feet, stretched, and scratched his head.
"Where is Rebecka?" he asked with a yawn.
"Who?" Buhlvie replied with a straight face.
Irras glared at him, and snatched the bottle from his hands.
"Woah now mate! I'm just funnin' ya. She's off over thata' way." he said, pointing to some trees. "I think she's a tad sea sick. Now come on, gimme back dat bottle eh?"
Irras dropped the bottle at his feet in front of Buhlvie, and walked over toward the trees. As he neared, he could hear Rebecka coughing.
"Rebecka?" he called to her. "Are you alright darling?"
"Y-yes I'm...I'm fine. Just give me a moment." she replied.
Irras could not see her, but was satisfied knowing she was still close by. He walked back over to the camp site, and started gathering his bedding.
"We'll head out when she returns." Irras said.
"Aye, very good." Buhlvie replied following up with another swig of ale.
Rebecka eventually came stumbling out of the tree line. Irras rushed up to her.
"Easy." he said as he guided her back to the camp. "Sit here for a moment."
"Bah!" Buhlvie exclaimed. "Give 'er a shot of this, and she'll be as straight as an arrow."
"I'll pass." she told him. "Besides, I'm feeling better now. Let's go before you become too drunk to stand."
Nearly five hours later, they had all but given up. They had no idea what they were searching for, and for that matter, had no confirmation that there were not a dozen other islands just like this. Irras had began to feel somewhat foolish after all. The three of them stood in a clearing amongst the trees.
"What now?" Buhlvie demanded. Rebecka leaned against a tree and slid down against it, sitting at it's base.
"I guess we've done what we can." Irras replied. "We should return to Faydwer."
"Wait!" Rebecka shouted. From where she was sitting, something had caught her eye. She jumped up and rushed over toward Irras, looking at his feet.
"What is it?" Irras said, looking down. Sure enough, Rebecka had noticed the side of a stone slab protruding from the ground. It was covered in moss, and dirt. Irras and Buhlvie crouched down and started brushing away the soft soil. When they had finshed, to their ashtonishment, the stone was covered in runes. Irras' eyes grew wider, and he pulled the old book from his pack.
"The symbols!" he nearly shouted, "They match the language in the book!"
"You can read this jibberish?" inquired Buhlvie.
"It's not jibberish you dense Ogre. It's some form of archaic language." Rebecka said, looking down as she paced around the stone.
"It says..." Irras thumbed through the book. "Ah! It says, My...path... No, that's not it..." Irras searched through the book a little more.
"The path." he said, after pointing to a page in the book. "The path...I walk....is..mine..alone... The..path...you seek... beyond the stone... The skyward...path ...of knowledge..seen be..attained..through... Pa-Paci." Irras closed the book.
"Blast! I can't read that word!" he shouted.
"Pa-Paci?" Rebecka inquired.
"Yes...I tried for months. I just cannot make sense of it. The only connection I made is that it always seems to be mentioned when he speaks of war, or death."
Buhlvie sat on the stone slab, and popped the cork out of another bottle of ale.
"Well... No reason is a good enough reason for a drink eh?" he said. Buhlvie closed his eyes, and took back a large gulp of the ale. He swallowed and let out a breath of approval. "Ahhh." Suddenly Buhlvie disappeared in a flash of light.
"What the!?!" Irras shouted.
"What happened to him?!" Rebecka said, jumping back.
"Hold on...what was he doing when he disappeared?" asked Irras as he tried to figure out what happened.
"What he always does!" Rebecka snapped, "Drinking!"
"Right! That must be it! He was doing something he enjoyed doing!" Irras explained. "Maybe Pa-Paci means something opposite of death and war...perhaps happiness."
Irras thought for a second and said, "Rebecka darling...come here."
Rebecka approached Irras reluctantly, her face turned to the side, gritting her teeth.
"There's nothing to fear." he assured her. "Something I enjoy...something we enjoy is each other."
Irras closed his eyes, and passionately kissed Rebecka on the lips. She, in turn, closed her eyes and put her arms around his neck. A cold feeling washed over the both of them. When they pulled away from each other, and looked around, they found themselves standing in the middle of a seemingly endless graveyard.


The sky was dark. Dead trees were scattered across the plains. Tombstones stretched as far as the eye could see.
"I gotta quit drinkin'!" a voice called from behind them.
"Buhlvie! You my friend are a genious!" Irras said as he turned around.
"Oh thank the gods!" Buhlvie exclaimed. "I'd started to wonder if I was ever gonna make it outta here alive."
"What do you mean?" Irras asked.
"Well, I've done been sitting here fer nearly a day waiting on ya!"
"Impossible." Rebecka said. "We left just minutes after you did."
Buhlvie appeared agitated at her remark.
"Well I ain't no liar missy. It's just been me and the graves here, and best you believe they can't tell time."
Irras thought for a moment.
"The passage of time obviously moves at a faster rate here." he said.
Buhlvie grumbled, mocking Irras' comment, and stood to his feet.
"Welcome, travelers." a voice called from the clouds.
The party looked upward as a bolt of lightning splintered the sky, and hit the ground a few yards away. It lacked the sound of thunder which always accompanied lightning. A bolt hitting that close would have surely been ear shattering.
"I am Karana, the God of Storms." the being said as it introduced itself. "And you my friends are standing in the Plane of War."



END OF PART 1
Story continues on the next post.


Message Edited by Irras on 05-23-2006 11:14 PM

"We all agree that the mortals have gone too far," Brell interjected, sensing
the need to interrupt before the argument dragged on further.
"But surely the answer isn't to wipe away all our handiwork. After all, it is only
a few races that have committed offenses worthy of such action.
Perhaps a selective pruning is in order rather than complete annihilation."

-Excerpt from The Tome of Destiny
Part I: Counsil of the Gods






Part VI: The War
After Karana had explained what had happened, Irras began boldly posing all sorts of questions to the diety.
"So why was the Plane of War never mentioned in the books of the Great Library? Why was it kept secret? And why would you be here now?" he demanded.
Karana showed much patience with each of his questions. Irras, however, treated the diety as if he were just another person, and Karana knew that is exactly how Irras felt about him. Despite his obvious lack of respect, Karana began to tell them of their situation.
"Rallos Zek, and the other dark gods have gathered mortals from Norrath. They have declared war on the other gods, and myself." he explained. "It is no secret that you mortals have gained powers far beyond what was originally intended. While that issue does concern me, the issue at hand take precedence. Rallos Zek and the others must not be allowed to control the fate of men. And that my friends, is where you come in."
"You want us to fight a war for you?" Buhlvie asked. "I would think you, the God of Storms, would owe me for a change. You don't exactly show much mercy on my ship during one of your storms"
Buhlvie laughed at his own comment.
"It is not that simple." Karana said. "You all had been selected, even before you obtained that book, Irras."
"You know of the book?" Irras asked.
"Of course. As I said, you were selected. The book is mearly a means to an end. Every mortal has to find their own way into the Plane of War. Your path was shown to you by that book."
"Why us?" Rebecka inquired.
"Because of the strength you possess within you." Karana continued. "Each mortal has been chosen due to the power they have gained. Rebecka, your agility, strength, and swordsmanship make you a formidable warrior. Buhlvie, believe it or not, you were also selected. You're ability to command the loyalty of men is near legendary among your own ranks. And Irras..."
Karana paused for a moment.
"You, Irras, were selected for your determination on the battlefield. You are a brilliant strategist, whos dedication to his allies make you the perfect canidate for General of our armies." Karana closed with that statement.
Irras stood in front of Karana. He did not know whether to speak, or listen. Being the audacious person he was, he decided to speak.
"And what if we refuse?" he said.
"Then all may be lost." Karana muttered, hanging his head. "The war is coming, very soon. And there are still many of the chosen who are not taking to their paths, to reach the Plane of War, as we had hoped. There are also some who, while they do service evil, still hold alliances with good. Perhaps they too can be persuaded to fight for us."
Karana pulled a scroll from his robes.
"Rebecka, Irras, Buhlvie, you have heard our situation. You have heard our plea. Will you help us to combat the dark forces, and restore balance to your world?
Irras remembered the prophecy's warning: "A war of wars fought...legions of mortals will fall..."
"Isn't all this playing right into what the prophecy had foretold?" He asked.
Karana looked directly at Irras.
"As I said before, the book is a means to an end. It was simply meant to lead you here. There is no positive truth in it's words."
Irras hanged his head looking at the book in his hands. "A fake book of prophecy?" he thought to himself. "Lochano died for this?"
Karana knelt toward Irras.
"I know you feel it was wrong to lure you such as we did. And the death of your friend was not something we had planned. But I ask you to think on this fact. If you were to never have came here, we would certainly lose this war, and many other lives would pay the forfeit."
Irras could see the logic in his statement. He looked up toward the God of Storms, and nodded.
Karana looked to both Buhlvie and Rebecka as they nodded in agreement as well.
"Then it is settled." the diety said. "Irras, this scroll contains the names of the persons who have yet to reach the Plane of War. While they should have already taken to their path, we are running out of time and must receive them soon. I need you to go and gather your army. I shall grant you the powers necessary to accomplish this task with expedience. In the mean time, Rebecka and Buhlvie, you shall accompany me to the encampment and join the others.
Remember that what you do here is for the sake of your own world. If evil is allowed to rampage, the fate of Norrath will be sealed in darkness."
Suddenly, Irras disappeared from view. Rebecka spun around with a panicked look.
"Do not worry Rebecka." Karana spoke to her in a comforting tone. "Irras has begun his task. And now we must attend to ours."

Tombstones stretched as far as the eye could see.



Irras found himself standing outside of the home of his first recruit. A Koada'Dal Paladin, a High Elf.
After introducing himself, and explaining the situation, a bright light appeared behind Irras. The Paladin agreed, feeling it was the noble thing to do, and stepped into the light. Irras crossed off the High Elf's name from the list, and was instantly transported to his next location. This process repeated for days. Most of the recruits were more than willing to lay their lives on the line, while others were opposed to the idea. Name after name had been crossed off of the scroll, until finally there was only one left. He was then transported to his next location.
Irras looked up into the sky, and took a deep breath. The task was almost complete, and the next time he would be transported, it would be back into the Plane of War. As he looked down, he noticed that he was standing in front of his own cottage. His drogmar was still in it's pen, and anxiously awaited a meal.
"What kind of General charges into battle without a mount?" a voice spoke into his mind.
Irras placed the saddle upon the drogmar's back, and was instantly transported once again.
This time he found himself inside the Plane of Justice. The sentinals that roamed the halls glared at him, but regarded him indifferently. In the distance he could hear the clanging of a sword against stone. Irras felt uneasy.
"This doesn't feel right." he thought to himself. Irras called on the Element of Air to accompany him, and continued down the hall. Upon turning the corner, he saw a male Iksar cackling gleefully as he pulled one of the prisoners from their cell. The Iksar picked the prisoner up by the throat and tossed it against the wall. He drew his sword and held it to the creatures throat. Irras watched in disgust as the Iksar inhaled deeply with a terrible grin, and thrust the tip of his blade into the victims neck. He glanced down, and was silent for a moment, as if to offer sympathy for the tortured creature.
Irras took the scroll from his robe, and opened it. The last name on the list struck him with a sense of worry.
"How could the gods themselves be so careless?" he thought to himself. Irras looked up and completed his task.
"Dracas Bloodweaver." he called out with regret. "While your bloodlust sickens me to no end, it is my duty to escort you to the Plane of War where you will be called upon to defend Norrath against...well...you."
Irras sneared in disgust.
"Perhaps a war of this scale can only be won with brutality." he added.
The now familiar light tore open behind him. Irras entered the portal, leaving Dracas to choose.
"What a wonderful drogmar." Dracas hissed, caring nothing for what Irras had said, as he darted into the light.
Irras braced himself for the worst as he was about to enter the Plane of War. He thought for sure that his extended presence on Norrath would have left the quickened passage of time there to do its damage.
"The war could have very easily started by now." he thought.
To his surprise, when his eyes opened, he realized that he was not in the Plane of War. He had never seen this place before. It was dark, the stone walls were lit dimly by a redish glow. Ahead, Irras could make out the silhouette of a man.
"Did I miss somebody?" he wondered. He called out to the figure.
"Hello?" he greeted in an unsure tone. "My name is Irras Locksheon, might I have your name?"
Irras looked through his list for anyone he may have missed, but it was accurate.
"Oh, you have arrived at last." the voice called back to him.
Irras stared hard into the shadows, curiously.
"You may indeed have my name. It is Zebuxoruk." he said as he stepped into the light.
Irras' heart pounded in his ears. He did not expect to ever meet the Ungod. After spending months on end deciphering his texts, Irras felt a connection with him that could not yet be explained.
"What do you want with me?" Irras asked as he climbed down from atop his mount.
"Ah...yes, that." Zebuxoruk nodded. "I understand you have something that belongs to me."
Irras nodded and handed him the book, but then remembered that Karana had told him it was a fake.
"Karana told me..." he started to explain.
"Yes, I know. Karana told you it was a rouse to lure you to the Plane of War.", Zebuxoruk interrupted.
"Yes." Irras confirmed.
Zebuxoruk thumbed through the pages of the book, and noticed Irras' notes.
"You translated it, I see." he said.
"Attempted to, would be a far more accurate statement." Irras jested.
"Ah..." Zebuxoruk read one of Irras' notes aloud. "Pa-Paci, this word means??? Did you figure that out?"
Irras attempted an answer using his experience at the stone slab on the island.
"Happiness?" he guessed.
Zebuxoruk smiled.
"Very close." he said. "It actually means 'tranquility'."
Irras thought back to the words inscribed on the stone.
"So it should have read: The path I walk is mine alone. The path you seek, beyond the stone. The skyward path of knowledge seen can be attained through tranquility." Irras said. "It makes perfect sense now."
"Indeed Irras, indeed." Zebuxoruk agreed. "Now if you will, allow me to tell you some things that you do not yet realize."
"Such as?" Irras questioned.
"Such as..." Zebuxoruk began. "You and I are very much alike. We both realize that the so-called 'gods of Norrath' are more mortal than they choose to admit. Do you know why this is Irras?"
"No." Irras responded, "I have just...always believed in something...more."
"Exactly!" Zebuxoruk exclaimed, "There is indeed something more, and that 'something' is a being that even the gods fear... Their God."
His statment had called into question, everything Irras had known about the dieties of Norrath.
"Do you know why the others call me 'The Forsaken One'?", he continued.
Irras could only shake his head. He still knew very little of Zebuxoruk, other than that he was occasionally refered to as "The Ungod".
"It is because they are jealous, and wrought with fear of the 'forsaken' knowledge I possess. It is because of their fear that I was held prisoner in the Plane of Time." he went on.
Irras listed to the Ungod's story for some time. Eventually he began looking around the room while he spoke.
"Where are we?" he asked.
Zebuxoruk opened his arms, welcoming Irras.
"I had almost forgot." he said, "This, my friend, is the Plane of Secrets. I created this realm. Here, you can find secrets kept, memories lost, and other types of forgotten knowledge that I have collected throughout thousands of years."
"Secrets kept...", Irras whispered to himself. "May I pose a question?"
"Of course." the Ungod encouraged.
"Karana says that the book of prophecy was simply meant to lead me to the plane of war. Why then, was the book first given to Lochano?"
"Ah, the halfling." Zebuxoruk paused. "This is difficult to explain, so I ask you to keep an open mind to what I am about to tell you."
With a deep breath, he began his explanation.
"Do you remember Karana telling you 'Rallos Zek, and the others must not be allowed to control the fates of men?" he asked.
"Yes I do." Irras replied.
"That statement was more litteral than you think. Any mortal who allows himself to commit to a diety, allows that diety to control their fate to some extent. Simply put, if your god requests your presence, you have little choice but to meet with them. The same was true for Lochano. You, on the other hand, Irras do not commit to any of these dieties. Thus you could have easily refused a meeting with any one of them.
Irras listened, and took in the information. Everything the Forsaken One told him, fit together.
He went on to say,
"It fell to someone you would trust. The gods decided that since they could not directly influence your decisions, they would attempt to do so indirectly. Bristlebane, and Brell gave the book to Lochano. They had hoped that it would be passed along to you, perking your interest and setting you up for this scheme of theirs.
Irras could not believe what he was hearing.
"The only flaw in their plan, was that my book would have never led you to the Plane of War. The stone which transported you to that place was actually the gateway to the Plane of Secrets. Before you were taken here by the stone, Karana and the others intercepted you, and changed your course. Luckily, I was able to redirect you, in the same fashion, as you were about to re-enter the Plane of War."
Again, Irras was struck with awe. Unable to fathom just how deep this conspiracy had grown.
"You, my friend, have been used as a pawn in plot to gather, and annihilate the most powerful mortals on Norrath."
Irras' mouth opened, but no words came to him.
"Karana himself told you." he went on explaining, "He said, 'It is no secret that you mortals have gained power far beyond that which was intended.' They fear you Irras! They fear what mortals have become! They fear the obvious superiority you possess when unified! By pitting the mortals against each other in a false war, they will succeed in eleminating their greatest threat... You, their creations."
His voice echoed through the chamber, just as it did in Irras' mind.

Part VII: The Defiance

Anger, fear, regret. Each emotion flooded into Irras. It consumed every thought, and every action. "How can I set this right?" he asked himself. The idea of all those people dying was intolerable. With a growl of rage, Irras thrust his fist into a series of books which were neatly set on a table, scattering them across the floor.
"I must return to the Plane of War." he said. "I must undo what I have set in motion."
Zebuxoruk nodded.
"Then I will send you back. Go now, but be quick, for if the gods realize that you have returned... I cannot tell you what they may do. When you have completed this task, I will bring you back. We have much more to discuss Irras, much more indeed.", he told him.
Instantly, Irras was transported back to the Plane of War. There he stood in the middle of the sprawling encampment. Thousands of Norrathians were in attendance. It would seem that the wars had not yet begun. Relieved, he began searching for Rebecka. A crowd began to gather around him.
"It's him.", their voices said. "Irras has returned. The war must be at hand."
It would seem that each of them knew Irras was meant to lead them into battle against the dark ones. The rumors spread throughout their ranks like a wildfire. People began strapping on their armor, and sharpening their swords. All the commotion made it harder to find her. He started shouting her name, desperately shoving his way past the other soldiers. Finally he could hear her soothing voice call out to him.
"Irras!?" she cried. "I'm here!"
Irras spun around in time to see her pushing her way past the crowd to meet him.
"I'm so glad I found you.", he said, hugging her tightly.
"What is wrong?, she asked him, pulling away and looking into his eyes.
"I cannot explain it here. We must be alone." he answered, pulling her into one of the tents nearby.
"Rebecka,", he began to explain. "What I have to say, I cannot say to everyone here. I must not be discovered. I want you to leave. Gather as many as you can, and leave this place."
"Why?" she said, confused, and almost in tears. The prospect of war had shaken her so badly, and now to hear her husband telling her to leave was a relief.
"I cannot explain very much right now my love." Irras said. "The war... it is not real. You must trust me. You must find a wizard, take as many with you as you can. Be cautious, and do it quietly. Karana and the others must not know!"
Rebecka looked up at him. Her eyes began to well up in tears when she realized what he was about to do.
"You're not coming...are you?" she asked as her chin began to quiver. "You can't leave me alone!"
She fell into his arms.
"I will be fine. Please...you must go now. My time here grows short." he told her.
Just then his skin began to illuminate. The familiar dancing lights of a teleportation spell had started to envelop him.
"No!" Rebecka cried as she squeezed him tighter.
"I will return to you. I swear it." Irras said as he slowly faded from view.
Rebecka fell to her knees. Her tears quickly subsided as she gathered her composure. Wiping the last drops from her eyes she stood to her feet, and was about to carry out Irras' wishes, when a group of Hgh Elves entered the tent.
"We are ready.", the tallest of them said. "The news has already began to spread throughout the encampment."
"You heard then?" she asked.
"Yes." another one spoke, "Forgive us for listening in, but there are just some things we are able to hear, even when it is not meant to be heard."
"Is there a wizard among you?", she asked.
"Aye m'lady." another High Elf said with a bow.
"Good." Rebecka nodded. "Please, form parties within the ranks. Each must consist of a wizard with the appropriate spells to begin sending us home. No one can be left behind."
"I will do ask you ask." the tallest agreed as he turned to head out.
"Come m'lady, we must get you ready." the wizard said, taking her by the hand. He led her outside to a small group.
Rebecka took one last look around the field as the wizard began to cast his spell. As the small glowing orbs had begun to form around them, the skies grew dark.
"The time is upon us!" a female voice exclaimed. With a flash of light, Druzzil Ro, Karana, and Brell appeared before the masses just as Rebecka and her party vanished.
Just how many would make it out of the Plane of War would never be known.
Irras' form materialized in the same room where he first met Zebuxoruk.
"Did they make it!?" he shouted to The Ungod.
"Irras..." he began as he turned slowly to face him. "I could not forsee what had occured."
"What? What is it? What happened!?" Irras screamed.
"Druzzil Ro... I did not know she was involved. She has once again altered time."
"What does that mean? Is Rebecka alright!?" Irras yelled angerly.
"She is." Zebuxoruk confirmed. "But...she is not where she is supposed to be. When Druzzil Ro appeared in the Plane of War, her presence forced the passage of time to quicken. Irras... she and the others... Norrath has aged nearly four hundred and seventy years!"
The words shattered Irras' soul. He could not bring himself to imagine what had happened. Everyone he knew and cared about had long since died. He sat down and stared at the floor, "I can't believe they're gone." he thought.
"It cannot be." Zebuxoruk informed him. "The war marks the end of exsistance. When the Plane of Time... Irras, I do not understand what has happened."
"Then your prophecy...it was wrong?" Irras asked. "If Norrath still exsists four hundred and seventy years later...you must be wrong."
"No...I...I know what is true, and what is false. The things I wrote are true. It is not capable of deceit."
"What?", Irras confronted him. "You said it...do you speak of The Nameless one again?"
"Yes. It was The Namelss who had first shown me the future." Zebuxoruk replied.
"How did you know him?" Irras questioned him.
"Long ago, Irras.", the Forsaken One began, "When the gods were young, I found a way to It. I studied It for ages. I learned everything."
It was obvious that Zebuxoruk had no problem sharing any knowledge with Irras. In fact, he seemed eager to do so.
"As my knowledge grew, the others became more and more envious. It was then they began to call me 'The Forsaken One'. They believed that what I was doing was wrong, that The Nameless' secrets were for him alone. They shunned me, and kept my name from their lips."
Irras listened to his story, but was now only waiting to pose more questions. When Zebuxoruk ceased his telling of the tale, Irras quickly imposed his enquiries.
He asked, "Can you find this place again? Can you ask the Nameless what has happened?"
"No...no I cannot go there again. But..." Zebuxoruk started to ponder something."Yes...You! You can travel there Irras."
"Me?" Irras asked. "Why? I do not even know this...creature."
"Yes you. You can travel there as your mind is free of the influence of another diety. You are agnostic in your beliefs." Zebuxoruk went on. "It does not matter if you know him. You have waited your entire life for proof of 'something more'. This is it my friend."
Irras did not feel at all prepared to meet yet another god. He felt he had little choice, however, as Zebuxoruk opened the door to the chamer and stood waiting for him.
"Irras, we must move quickly. We must travel to the Sanctum of Prophecy. The way to the Nameless is there." he said, waving for Irras to hurry along.

Part VIII: The Void


Zebuxoruk closed the door behind them. There was another door ahead which was adorned with runes. Zebuxoruk stepped in front of Irras, and began speaking in another language. He waved his arm in front of the door, and it began to glow red. The Ungod reached down and opened the door. Beyond it was a world of stone. A red sun blazed in the sky. In the distance Irras could see an large wall. Zebuxoruk walked out in the open, toward the wall. Irras followed close behind. When they finally reached their destination, Zebuxoruk spoke yet again.
"This is the Sanctum of Knowledge." he said.
"It's just a wall." Irras stated.
"Actually, it is one building." Zebuxoruk corrected him.
Irras stared upward toward the sky, but could not see the top of the building. Along the foot of the walls were large stone monuments in the shape of humanoid faces, each one with a unique appearance. The structure itself was comprised of large stones which formed a seemingly never ending pattern of uneven squares. A moat stretched the entire base of the building. He stared in amazement at the enormity of the Santum as they crossed the bridge toward the entrance.


He stared in amazement at the enormity of the Sanctum...


They entered the Sanctum of Prophecy and started down a long hall. As they walked, Zebuxoruk told Irras more of his story.
"I first discovered the Void in a dream." he said. "I awoke with a renewed purpose. I felt as though someone had placed the words directly into my mind. The language of the Nameless came to me swiftly. And as I began to speak it, the doorway of my own mind became unlocked. I was given visions of the future. The words contained within my book came from those visions."
Zebuxoruk looked at Irras.
"It was then that I saw the end of exsistance." he said.
A chill came over Irras. They soon came to the center of a large room. In the middle of the floor was a large hole which was highlighted by four pillars behind it. Zebuxoruk approached the hole, stopping at it's edge.
"This is The Void.", he told Irras. "This is the gateway to The Genesis, realm of the Nameless."
He turned to face Irras once again.
"I realize there is much you do not understand. The knowledge I possess would take years to be explained. Unfortunatly we do not have that kind of time..." He went on to say, "Since I cannot return there myself, you must go in my place. Irras, you are about to stand before the creator of all. You are the only mortal that will have done this. You must complete the prophecy. You must discover what went wrong, for the sake of your children, and for the sake of Norrath."
"My children?" Irras asked with a look of confusion.
Zebuxoruk turned again to face the hole in the floor. Almost instantly, an explosion of light erupted from within the Void. The room was filled with a bright green light as it began to quake.
"Hurry Irras! It will not stay open for long!" The Ungod shouted.
Irras had no idea what lied ahead. The events which led him here had happened so quickly. He braced himself as he ran past Zebuxoruk, hurling himself into the air over the pyre. The flames rolled over his skin as he plummeted into the darkness of the abyss.

He braced himself as he ran past Zebuxoruk, hurling himself into the air over the pyre.




Story continues on next post.



Message Edited by Irras on 05-23-2006 11:17 PM

Part IX: The Omnipresence

Irras continued falling through the darkness for only a few seconds when suddenly his descent downward started to slow. He looked below, but could only see the black fog of nothingness. He gently came to a landing, although to him, it appeared as though he was standing on the darkness itself. There, in the Void he stood alone. He had no idea of what to do, or where to go. An sense of fear settled over him. He started to wonder if there was even a way out of this place.
Seconds later, a tiny blue light cast it's glow on the floor in front of him. Irras could see a design on the ground. "This must be 'The Genesis'." he thought. It appeared to be the center of the room as the light grew brighter. Suddenly the wisp made a circular motion around the design, spiraling upward. In the middle of the pattern, a small being materialized from within the light. It grew in size slowly as the small orb of light continued it's swirling motion around it. Irras took a couple steps back, unsure of what to expect.
The light eventually faded, leaving the room with a pale blue illumination. The being stood before Irras. It was equal to his own height. It's skin was the silver color of platinum. It's facial features were blank, and it's eyes were devoid of color. Suddenly Irras began to realize that this was the God of Gods mentioned in the prophecy. Irras was standing in the presence of The Nameless.



...the wisp made a circular motion...spiraling upward.


Irras spoke, "Are you the one? The one responsible?" It was the only thing he could think to say.
It stood silent, it's lips did not move. Instead Irras could hear a voice in his mind. When it spoke, it nearly frightened him, but he was able to contain his fear.
"I am that which you seek." the voice said in a low tone.
Relieved that he received an answer at all, Irras sighed. So far, he understood it, but he had not asked it a real question yet either. For the time being, it stood there keeping it's flat expression on it's face. "Where do I begin? What question do you ask an all-knowing being?" Irras wondered. While his first thought was "Anything I want." there were more important matters at hand.
He felt as if he had stood there for hours. The two of them just stared at each other for the entire time.
"How..." Irras began. "What..." another question halted. Irras stood dumbstruck. He felt almost embarrased with himself. There he was, standing in front of a being who knew everything of past, present, and future, and he did not have one single question in mind. He stood there for what seemed to be yet another hour. The being in front of him did not seem to be bothered by his presence, in fact, did not even seem to care. "I cannot simply stand here forever." Irras thought to himself. He had started to wonder if Zebuxoruk had done exactly what he was doing. He tried to imagine the Ungod standing in his place, being as equally amazed as he was.
With a sigh, Irras attempted to ask another question, but before he was able to utter it the being raised it's metallic looking hand.
The voice spoke in Irras' mind again.
"This." it said.
In it's palm, a twinkle of light quickly took the shape of a sphere. There in it's hand sat the world of Norrath. Irras boldly approached the sphere to inspect it. He dared not touch it, but as he watched, he could see clouds moving across the continents. The more he stared at it, the more enthralled he became.
"What will happen to it?" Irras asked. He had no idea just how litteral his question would be taken.
The being raised it's other hand, each finger pointed toward Irras. It was then a force struck through him. His mind felt invaded. Images flashed before his eyes. Nothing seemed to make sense. His entire body started to go numb as he collapsed to his knees. Irras again tried to speak, but the only sound he could make was an inhuman scream which frightened even himself. The visions continued to penetrate his mind. There were voices everywhere, people talking, and screaming. Irras fell to the ground on his back, holding his head and gritting his teeth. The pain was immense.


There in it's hand sat the world of Norrath.


Eventually the images subsided, leaving Irras on the floor in a daze for what seemed like an eternity. As he lay there, the visions he witnessed began to fall into place. It was as if they had become his own memories. They were the memories of Norrath's past, present, and future. He thought back to when Zebuxoruk had scribed the prophecies. Irras watched in his own mind as the Ungod wrote down exactly what he had seen. It shocked Irras to learn that what had happened. In the end Irras would come to understand that there was nothing wrong, there was no mistake, everything was, in fact, as it should be.
The visions Zebuxoruk had witnessed were true. The world of Norrath did end that day. What he had not seen, was result of the changes he and Irras made. According to the prophecy, Norrath's greatest heros were supposed die in the Plane of War, leaving the world to it's own undoing. When these events were predicted, Zebuxoruk sought to change the outcome. In doing so, he changed the destiny of the entire universe. This, however, did not come without a cost. The forces of the impending apocolypse would soon be released as they were meant to be. Only this time, the heros of Norrath would be there to face the perils, and preserve their destiny. For now, there would be a new final prophecy.


Part X: The Final Prophecy

Irras could see the new future for Norrath, and although he had the ability, he found himself thinking more of his wife, Rebecka. He longed to see her again. Her image formed in his mind, and as he thought of her, he remembered that Zebuxoruk had mentioned his children. Rebecka had long since delivered their two boys, Trenton and Nicholi. Using his new memories, Irras was able to watch them grow up to become men. Irras smiled with overwhelming pride when he realized that time could not rob him of the memories he was meant to have.
The Nameless stood silent still as Irras rose to his feet. Just then the voice spoke to him one last time. The words would forever linger in Irras' heart.
"The one who preceeded you was given forsight into events which could be changed. These events, set in motion, cannot be undone. It is part of the destiny that you have already forged. The events that have not yet come to pass can be altered if you wish it. You are in control of your own destinies."
With that, the Nameless vanished. The room returned to it's darkened state, and Irras once again descended downward into the darkness.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as his descent slowed to a gentle landing. He opened his eyes again, and watched as the blackness of the Void was replaced by Norrath's night sky. The stars glistened calmly. The pale light of Luclin cast itself down upon the landscape. As he looked down he could see Rebecka staring out over the ocean. A smile crossed his face as he choked back a tear.
"Rebecka." he called to her.
Rebecka did not turn around. Instead she continued to look out in the distance.
"I thought I would never hear your voice again." she said as she spun around in tears. She rushed to over and threw her arms around him. She tried several times to speak, but could not. She cried uncontrollably as Irras held her close. For Rebecka, it had been twenty-four long years since she had heard his voice.
Irras could not believe what had transpired. Feeling a sense of relief in the arms of his wife, and feeling the weight of the burden removed, he could not help but to shed a tear. He pulled her head into his chest, and ran his hand through her hair. Her familiar scent eased his shaking hands as he inhaled the night air. Eventually Rebecka was able to speak through her tears.
"What happened to you?" she sobbed.
Irras was unsure of how to answer her. He could only bury his face into her shoulder.
The sound of the ocean grew louder as the tide became more violent. The winds began to blow past Irras and over Rebecka, lifting strands of her hair into the air. The next few moments would be all too familiar for Irras. The great cataclysm was upon them.
"Things will be different this time." he whispered.
Irras stared into the heavens once again. The moon pulsed with energy as shafts of light eminated from it's core. Irras raised an arm to shield his face. And as the reflection of Luclin shattered in his eyes, it's radiance cast the shadow of their embrace upon the ground...





How can knowledge manipulate us?
The answer is simple.
To understand, we must realize this one truth.
There is no future but what we create.
True knowledge comes from our history.
Truth can change.
We forge our own destiny.
There is no place where our future is written.
For we are the authors of fate.




The Transition Chronicles Timeline






DONE!
I hope it all got posted correctly. PHEW!
I'm eager to read any feedback.
Thanks again!



Message Edited by Irras on 05-23-2006 11:21 PM

Ohh I just read this!! Freaking awsome :smileyvery-happy:

You read it all? Wow, you should win a prize. haha. Well, now you know more than most about the characters involved A shame Dracas never finished his story. It was SOOO good.

I'm having a hard time reading it because of the small font. From what I have read, however, it is very good. I'm glad you did post this, at the request of your readers. =)

And anyone who uses Digitalblasphemy.com is ok, in my book.

I cant wait till the movie