Ascention as scribed by Ringdancer Spring was just within its late movements, dragging itself into the hot summer days. Flowers were beginning to bloom, gardens were being started, and a fresh new season was about to begin. When the ground began to rumble deep within the bowels of Terris, the echoes of the rumble and the slight shifting of plates seemed to make everyone pause as they went about their usual business of the day. Soon, the rumblings that were settling deep within the plates of the earth shifted and moved into another change. Only in a slight second did the rumbling stop, and was interrupted with minor earthquakes. But, what started out as a simple shake, soon turned into something deadly. The Spire of Light was the first to feel the wrath of the tremors as the rumblings came continuously through the lands. A huge fracture erupted from the base and flowed half way up before pausing, barely visible, into a string of tributaries and sister cracks. They too spread into smaller and smaller veins, until it was as if ink had been splattered against the Spire in a decoration. Hellegost felt the brim of a huge quake, and as the gates were closed and the city bogged down for safety, several of the architectural delights began to crumble to dust. Frostfall, normally not showing much ill fate from nature, was suddenly bombarded with a quick flash flood from the upper mountains. The heat from the quakes, which cracked and opened up fissures throughout the lands, sent steam upon the snow and ice. Soon, dirty, crumbly, melting ice and snow made its way down through the city and around its walls. In the Southeast, on the coast, the town of Devardec was beginning to get pummeled with ash and smoke from Black Shore’s volcanoes. Although they were a safe distance away from the initial blasts, they were not able to avoid the ash, smoke, and falling debris as the explosions rocked the coast. Lyresong, Spire Hold, Pippin Fort, and the abandoned shores of Black Shore itself were rocked again and again with rough, heavy earthquakes that knocked Guards off their feet, tree’s toppled over, and massive damage reigned upon the cliffside. Spire Hold barely had time to secure several staple buildings before the fall out began, and as people ran into their houses and homes, they were sworn to again and again in seeing a strange ghostly shape within the ashes and dust of the explosion. The release of the lava from the volcano in Black Shore was anything but normal. With the eruption came the pounding of the earth as it was bombarded with hot boulders the size of houses, glowing like embers in the darkness of the ash. The flow of the lava was a wall of hell, sending panic and fear through every nearby town. Despite the size of the cliffs, and the depth of the beaches coast, there was worry that the lava flow and its trail of death would rise above the level of the cliffs and head into the towns nearby. Devardec was already seeing signs of death and destruction as the boiling waters began to produce its own version of chowder. Dead whitefish, octopus, and various sea creatures boiled to death as the lava hit the waters and break the crusts below. A silence, so sudden and unexpected rose over the gloom and as people paused in prayer and thought and hopes, another huge explosion rocked the shores of the beach, sending more debris throughout the East Coast area. A huge ball of lava flew into the air at an astonishing speed, and as soon as it had cleared the plates of the volcanoes crest, the rumbling and the earthquakes subsided slightly. The ball of lava roared towards the skies, tumbling through the ash and stones and debris as it went. Flashing plumes of fire and allowing its friction tested front rain more down upon the realm below. Ascending at frightening speeds, the skies seemed to part, as if accepting the huge lava pebble as its own. Soon, the ball’s destination became evident. The clouds parted, the sun shone through the dust clouds, and the ball zeroed in on the one location that others would only dare to dream about. Theras… A single pool of molten fire oozed and shimmered with unknown energy, as if the pool was being manipulated by some force. Within the pool, a figure began to form, made entirely of lava. Its outer shell shimmered, a molten vermillion and orange. The hues shifted and sparkled with no seams or breaks. Various citizens from all of the lands started to form curious lines before the pooled figure. They were whispering and wondering and pointing fingers. Descriptions were gotten, names were told, and whispers of promises and hate were given. Just as the figure reached out to those who had gathered, it suddenly glowed. An adoring bright light, directed right at the figure, traveled through the Gates of Theras. It enveloped the figure fully, and with a surprising intensity that only the Creator could establish, the light became one with the figure itself. The figure shifted and turned. It fought the pleasure and pain of the Creator. It fought the very being it was about to become. Though no sounds could be heard, a screaming agony and a sigh of peace floated through its body language continuously. Finally, when all seemed to calm, the light subsided and a figure was produced. Humanoid in form, but still unnatural in it’s state of vermillion swirls, it made it’s way out of the pool and onto the ground carefully. Slowly, as the light drew away from the form, the body began to take on the shape of a Human. The light faded away as the lava is reworked into the human’s body. The blinding light was intense, and as veins of lava and organs of fire were created for the Human, a distinct and familiar look started to show. Those around blinked and cleared their vision slowly, for the light of the Creator is brighter than any star or magic. As they gazed upon the human with interest, shock and awe seemed to register among them. In a single gesture, the human subdues the fire's ravages across the realm, bringing it fully under his control. The rush of humid wind boiled many skins, and burned and charred many foliage groupings. But it was necessary to calm the fires of the volcano. The human stood strong and read, arms reaching out towards the elements around him. Wind, air, earth, and the dreaded water all swirled and bowed to the immense heat of the human. Whispers and gasps came and went once more as recognition shot through the entire realm. Torretan’s eyes blazed trails across each face, as if searching. The forests of Dirimloth, Nirimloth, Lyresong, Brightburn, and others calm and diminish back into their darkened state of peace and serenity. The lava that once flowed heavily out of Black Shore and its volcano lay once again dormant. Lady Snazzle appeared for one brief moment, her sparkling skin seeming iridescent upon the water, healing the creatures of the sea from the deadly impact of the lava and its craters and steam. Soon, the entire floor of the ocean was sealed once more, and the waters were once again calm. In his second act, Torretan directed waves of flame across the forests atop Twilight, sending masses of Moon Elves fleeing for their lives. The flames licked and cooked their bodies, leaving them deformed and charred for a brief amount of time. Torretan’s eyes flickered with what appeared to be satisfaction, and with a satisfied smirk, he flicked his hands to cast the Moon Elves into a new race. Shadow Elves. Soon, as his dark eyes stare around him, a simmering flame enters them. His smile catches the embers of hell, and he begins to speak in a deep, baritone voice. “For their treachery, they are forever bound to my will as will those whom hold a Shadow Elf for a parent.” He flicks his arms wide, separating the Shadow Elves from the rest of the lands. He turns them, twists them, and shows them off before casting them aside to do his bidding. “Be off with you, and do the work that is given to you!” As the Shadow Elves scatter and screech in many directions, Torretan turns his eyes to a small area of Woodtop, where a simple glow seems to appear to those who seek it. He moves slowly and easily down to the high tree city to hold his first Divine Audience. There, among the tall trees and beautiful bounties of the forests of Nirimloth, sat the city of Woodtop. Home of many, creatures and adventurers alike, it was also the resting place of the Oracle. She was in the form of an ethereal woman of such beauty that grown men were known to cry. But at times, many assumed she was the shape of a beautiful bird. Others would see a ape, or perhaps a butterfly. To each, it was always different. Torretan appeared before her slowly, as if mocking her with his advance. Her defiant appearance was noteworthy, but the anger, defeat, and shock of seeing him in his current form was enough to make her eyes lower sadly to the ground. Torretan smiled a satisfying smirk, and turned to leave, only granting her one nod before waving his arms and disappearing within a cloud of purple smoke. The respect was there between the two, but the hate was as red and flowing as the lava under the sealed earth crust. As Torretan settles within the center of Twilight, a wildfire of plumes created from fire rockets marks his location for any who seek him out. His announced arrival had different effects upon different people. He settled into his spot slowly, his new physique reflecting brimstone and fire. As those who were curious or just plain stupid, filtered in, his eyes took on a bemused expression. He studied the room carefully, and as it filled up to capacity, and heads could be seen lined up and down every road leading into the square, he nodded, as if satisfied. “It appears we have enough.” His eyes scanned the location nearest to him. Drogun, his Baron of Twilight, stood closest to him. Korven, the Elector of House Dominium, was nearby, studying the crowd as if bored. Mococoa, Songward, Nyxia, Ringdancer, and the Hero, Froggor stood tall and near as Torretan took in his company with a look of varied interest. “The first matters which I quickly will address are Twilight itself.” He turned slightly, and his flaming arm motioned carefully towards Drogun. Drogun appeared to be calm and cool despite the flames falling out of Torretan’s hand.. “I hereby resign my position as its Overlord.” Several eyes shifted around to Drogun, who appeared to be no worse for the wear. If anything, he too looked just as bored as the rest of those around him. “New matters require much more urgent attention.” Torretans eyes flashed with something peculiar, and several of the people about him backed up a small step. Tc, worried of his close proximity to the newly made Immortal, moved carefully towards Ringdancer and Baloo. Ringdancer gently stroked Tc’s soft fur. “However,” Torretan moved his arm yet again. “The Barony will continue to exist in close harmony with my will.” He turned his head slightly as well, “To ensure of proper communication of such, I am naming Mococoa as my personal advisor to Drogun.” Another hand turned towards Mococoa. A single flame came from within Torretans hand, and it moved slowly, circling the Druid with care. Several heads turned to stare at Mococoa and Drogun at the same time. Neither man seemed to be perturbed by the looks or attention they received. As the eyes turned back to Torretan, and focused on him once more, he smirked slightly. “I believe that will be all on that particular note.” Drogun and Mococoa shared a strange glance amongst the varied group and then looked away, as if a silent conversation had taken place. Torretan shifted his stance, checking out his new form with an ease that seemed a bit surprising. Satyana, Mooky, and Chelle all appeared to be studying him as well, and as he paused in mid-motion, he rubbed his chin, as if thinking deeply. “Those are my pronouncements for now.” His eyes scanned the crowd and then peered over the area at the lava flowing nearby. As he glanced back, he could still see the same faces. Something in him stirred, and his eyes grew darker than usual. A deep blue flame started to flash within them. “I realize several of you are in awe.” He looked at some of the smaller folk about him. “But be quick with your business and be gone before my rage overwhelms me!” Ringdancer turned her head slightly and noticed many leaving quickly. They were made up mostly of those who just wanted a look at the new Immortal, and nothing more. Or perhaps, a request, but their lips were stilled. When she looked back, Torretan was relaxed within a throne of sorts that he had conjured up. She sighed and relaxed some, her eyes wandering the area. Drogun and Mococoa moved easily up to stand closer to Torretan. Although there were not lips moving, several could tell there was a discussion going on. Weather with the mind or the soul, none would tell. Several more left and decided to call it a day from visiting, and once Torretan was alone with those closest to him, he was able to relax and be himself a bit more. His eyes boiled into each face around him, and some turned away as if seared by the fires of hell themselves. As he finished the rounds on the group, he flashed many unwanted members away. “I do not wish to seek audience with imbeciles.” General Straik and others stood at the side, as if smirking. Mococoa and Drogun stood on another, admiring Torretan inwardly. Nekros and others stood back, almost at attention, honoring Torretan in their own way. Those left viewing Torretan from various other groups were nodding, as if stating what should have been said from the start. “It’s about time.” Pre-Ascention to Immortal Ithuil, the leader of the Tribe Elineer, from the Moon Elf clan, walked graciously through the small partition of rooms put together with reed walls weaved with large plants. Obsidian torches hold flickering dark flames that dance repeatedly over the jeweled encrusted walls. His dark eyes glitter slightly as he peers out into the outer reaches of the area they are resting within. “We must seek Torretan, and swiftly. His work is promptly coming to a climax, and we must not allow this. The Oracle asks of it. We obey.” Several around Ithuil nod, their own expressions filled with purpose and understanding of his words. They would deceive, trick, lie, and gather together as one to make sure Torretan would not achieve his goals. Ithuil turned, casting his gaze over the others. “It is time. Gather and we go.” Upon his words, the tribe begins to shift and work as one. Packing, planning, and preparing as a group to travel to Torretan where he resides. Ithuil gathers together various papers and parchments. Scrolls already line a heavy cart that he will take with him. He must have everything in order. It must seem right. As the moons arrive, the tribe moves on to their conquest, wishing to arrive at a time of rest and recuperation. Many have not traveled outside of their homes before. This would be their first adventure. Ithuil was proud of his people. They were doing what was asked of them, and the Oracle was never wrong. But could they hold up the farce with Torretan long? Would it work? Would Torretan see through them, and kill them one by one? Ithuil glanced to his left, noting his eldest son next to him. The men shared a smile, and Ithuil sighed inwardly. He had to take that chance. It was how it was meant to be. Upon arrival, Torretan’s men accept entrance by only Ithuil. The leader is calm by this action, but apparently visible shaken. So many men! The Oracle did not tell them of such! His eyes darted around the large groups gathered, trying to pick out Torretan among them. It became apparent, as he was lead by three large Guards that Torretan was inside somewhere. Ithuil paused outside the door that the Guards flanked. He carefully stepped forward, waiting. One of the Guards slammed his huge fist into the hard wood anchored with bolts. A booming voice within echoed out of the windows and cracks around the door. “Come.” Ithuil nodded thankfully to the arrogant Guards, and walked into the room. He glanced around the area with interest, noting weapons of various kinds here and there, animal pictures, and various items of interest in cabinets and on shelves. Books, scrolls, and parchments were scattered here and there. Order was not exactly apparent, but at least it was clean. Taking his place before Torretan, he bowed to his knees, and lowered his head to the floor, touching his nose and forehead to the cool rock. “My Lord, I thank you with my villages deepest emotions at allowing us entrance into your wonderful place. We ask that you receive fine gifts we have brought from our villages for your kindness.” Torretan narrowed his eyes at the strange man kneeling at his desk. He cast a glance towards the Guards, who appeared just as shocked by the behavior of the Elf. They had heard of such behavior before, but sometimes seeing it in person was very different than what your minds eye could see. Torretan leaned back upon a bench, staring at the Elf with interest. “We shall see.” He moved to stand, stretching after a long sit. Torretan had looked over paper after paper on rituals and spells. Nothing was found, yet. He studied the Elf as he walked to a cabinet, opening it. “I have allowed you to stay here, but only on certain conditions, Ithuil.” Ithuil smiled inwardly, but did not rise from his position. He was to play the part perfectly. It was necessary. It was what she had asked for! When he didn’t answer, Torretan moved slowly to lock the cabinet, never letting his eyes move from Ithuil’s kneeling form. “You may rise.” Ithuil moved slowly, as if being on the cool earth had been a burden. Torretan walked around the Elf. He seemed to be much larger than Ithuil imagined, and Ithuil found himself wincing within. What if the scheme would not work? Then what? He tried to keep the worry out of his eyes, but Torretan was quick and new people well. “Do not be worried, Ithuil. No harm will come to you here.” Torretan had misread the man’s face for worry and fear over him. Ithuil seemed to relax visibly, and Torretan took this as a good sign. He smiled slightly, but only just. “I hear you and your people are good with spells and arcane works?” Ithuil blinked, then nodded. “Y…yes, M’lord. We are well versed in many of those things.” He was puzzled, but he looked to Torretan in interest. She had not spoken of this part of the plan. Did she even know? He felt quizzical and rather used for the moment, and as Torretan moved to sit back upon the bench he took up, Ithuil moved to stand in front of the desk. “What are you seeking, M’lord?” Torretan glanced over Ithuil slowly and then moved to lean back, folding his hands slightly. He was well relaxed, and Ithuil now knew that he had been perfect in his acting. He had weaved his way into the confidence, or at least, some confidence, of Torretan! She would be most pleased at this! Torretans voice captured Ithuil’s attention once more. “…and the ritual escapes me.” Torretan looked at his desk, waving a hand. “As you can see, it has not been simple.” Ithuil looked over papers, looking for a key he had missed while Torretan had talked. He had been daydreaming and not paying attention! Cursing himself silently, he glanced over the notes closely. It appeared to be papers and studies on rituals of strength, both outward strength and inner strength. Wisdom, power…his eyes scanned the desk quickly and he nodded. “Yes, I see your meaning Lord.” Torretan was looking at Ithuil very, very closely. “You were not listening to me, were you?” Ithuil’s face did not reveal anything. “I am sorry Lord, I am…nervous and concerned.” Ithuil lowered his eyes and moved back from the desk as if ashamed. “My family is here with me, we are all here…they are out past the walls and gates and I worry that they are not safe.” Torretan sighed and wiped his face a moment. It was the first time he had allowed himself to feel his exhaustion. “Yes, yes, I am sorry.” He moved silently from the desk, his words apparently startling Ithuil slightly. “I shall bring them in and we will get you and your people settled in.” Torretan moved out of the room, Ithuil followed slowly, confused and feeling slightly guilty. As Ithuil contemplated what Torretan had said and was doing, he thought of the Oracle and her words. She had said he was going to do wrong and shouldn’t have power and yet, he seemed genuinely worried about his village members. Ithuil was quite confused, and as he and Torretan made their way to the villagers who had moved about to settle outside of the gate, he allowed himself a moment of emotions to rid himself of them. The Oracle was always right! He must listen to her and not be swayed by this tall devil of a man! Ithuil’s eldest son moved to the chest and pulled out the ancient scroll case along with many others, and put them on Torretans desk. “More papers Lord.” He bowed slowly as he left, showing respect. Torretan nodded his thanks and moved to pour himself a drink. As he contemplated the next papers, his eyes fell upon the new pile with lack of interest. Ithuil turned to his work, his heart was beating fiercely in his chest. He felt his blood pulsing through his veins. It was as if he were running from some great beast that would devour him at any moment! But it was really just fear; fear and excitement, and perhaps even fascination at what could happen at this moment. He held his breath. Torretan had moved to sit down. He had grown accustomed to the sounds of the office. The bench scraping back from the desk when Torretan stood to stretch, the scraping of wood when the bench was placed closer to the desk as he sat down… “Hmm,” Torretan’s voice carried across the room to everyone. There was an interest lilt there. Curiosity mixed with impatience. “Ithuil,” Torretan spoke softly. “I think I have found something of interest here, but I need your help.” Ithuil grinned then turned, his face was filled with a blank expression, as if he had been reading too many scrolls. “Yes Lord?” He walked over to the desk, carefully wiping his hands upon a glowing cloth that would remove any oils from the other papers. He leaned over. Sure enough, Torretan had plucked the ancient scroll case up first. Ithuil grinned inside. It was happening! “This?” Torretan shook the case, and then spread his hand out over a large paper on the desk. “It had this paper in it.” Ithuil acted very interested in the paper. He leaned over it, studied sections of it, opened his mouth as if trying to read the ancient text with much difficulty. Got excited at some parts, impatient with others. He was acting the part of a fascinated man. The part of a interesting find that could just be the final answer. “Yes,” Ithuil grinned slightly, sliding a finger along a line to a star that was placed above a mountain. “Oh yes, yes.” Torretan stopped sipping his drink, staring at Ithuil. “What is it?” He moved to sit up farther. “Is this something useful?” “Oh yes.” Ithuil started to feel the excitement and the fear rise into one being. “Yes Lord, it is something!” He quickly called to his assistants to bring other scrolls and began a huge demand for papers, ink, and books. “I must research Lord, but,” Ithuil looked at Torretan, excitement evident all through his body. “I think we can work with this!” Torretan looked from Ithuil’s face to the paper. He had paused, as if there was a slight consideration that this wasn’t what he was seeking. Then, Torretan nodded once. “Very well, work with it. We will try it.” His eyes lit up slightly with the thought of power he would gain.
Torretan waved an arm. “You may rest within the walls, do not hesitate to enter.” He turned back to Ithuil. “Tomorrow, I would like to talk to you about the papers and perhaps ways of finding answers to my questions.” “Of course, Lord.” Ithuil bowed and waited while Torretan’s feet disappeared. As he raised himself back to his full height, Ithuil’s son moved forward. Waiting a moment, Ithuil turned, smiling slightly. “We are safely in.” The night was filled with preparations and paper gathering. Ithuil and his son worked through till the morning, using the moon and the stars as aids in finding simple answers to hard questions. Torretan wanted answers to arcane matters that were actually quite simple when combined with the moons and the stars. However, Ithuil did not want Torretan to know this, and they began to alter the papers accordingly. The final ritual was finished just as the moons dissipated within the mists of the suns slow rays. Ithuil slid the ancient paper into a scroll case that looked equally ancient, and then placed it deep within the recess of the trunks they had brought from the village. It would eventually be found by Torretan and Ithuil. Torretan would see it as he wanted to see it. Ithuil, out of gracious behavior and thanks, would offer to use the ritual with his villagers and their specialties with the moons and stars. Torretan would be grateful, and of course, use them as much as he could without breaking them. Ithuil looked to his son and smiled. The prophecy would not be fulfilled. It would work! They would triumph over it and move on to live long, healthy lives for centuries! Days passed into weeks, and weeks passed into months. Torretan worked with Ithuil through the day and mostly through the night, seeking answers to what he wished for the most: Power. As Ithuil noticed the new trunk being brought in, his heart accelerated. It was the trunk with the ritual! It would soon be time! He turned away from his set up desk in the far corner to stare at Torretan, who stood over his own desk, glaring at papers from various places in the lands. “It is not here.” Torretan sighed and rolled things up carefully. He was frustrated, yes, but he was not angry. It would come to him. He would find it. When he did, it would be worth the months of frustration and exhaustion he was putting himself through. His tired eyes shifted to a slight twinkle. Soon…he could feel it! The trunk was opened by assistants, who handed out various scrolls and books to Ithuil, Ithuil’s son, and finally to Lord Torretan. No one of the tribe showed any emotional attachment to the trunk, and as only Ithuil, his son, and one other Priest would know of the Scroll Case, it was supposed to be as such. Ithuil felt his heart pound within his chest, and he closed his eyes, willing the beat to simmer. He could not give anything away! Suddenly, Torretan called for him. A slight whisper from Torretan, really. As if everything in the world suddenly came to a halt for the tall man behind the desk. Ithuil turned to Torretan, a curious look upon his face. Innocent. Approachable. “Yes, Lord?” “I think I have found something.” Torretan moved and showed the scroll paper to Ithuil, Ithuil’s son, and another Priest. They all gathered around the paper, suddenly totally enthralled by what Torretan had opened! Ithuil watched the other Priests of the room, who did not know of the planted paper, call out and gesture to the markings. Several were nodding, excited that it was found! “Well?” Torretan looked to Ithuil, the Leader. Ithuil looked up slowly from the paper, making sure he looked equally hopeful. “It may be what you need, Lord. Let us look over it tonight to see. We need time to make sure, to test theories.” Ithuil turned to grab a book from a shelf he knew would match up the signs from the paper to the signs of the ritual needed. “It looks very promising.” Torretan watched the tribal Priests gather and start moving excitedly, fetching books, papers, and other items. He moved away from his own desk to give them room, suddenly feeling slight excitement, but willing himself to slow down. He had been promised many things before. He needed to get perspective! But even as he moved out of the room to get air, and to look out upon the lands before him, he still felt the slight pang of hope rush through his system! Tomorrow he would know. The Priests seemed to be sure of the paper, the ritual, and what they wanted to plan. But would it be enough? He turned to the Guards. “Give them anything they want tonight. Make sure they eat. Get them drinks. I want them refreshed and awake and willing to work all night without any problems.” The Guards nodded. One moved off to gather up some food and drinks for the men inside. Torretan turned to the group gathered around his desk once more, making sure it was real and he wasn’t dreaming. Ithuil, deeply enthralled by the papers, didn’t bother to look up. Torretan’s hope rose even more. More to come..... |
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