Author: mortak
Date:Nov 19 2003
A tale of glory attained and lost, of true rebirth In a distant realm, perhaps in a universe parallel to ours, lived a young warrior named Calan. The powers of the gods of that realm were great, and they were glad to grant the wishes of promising mortals and thus Calan was bestowed with unearthly powers, aiding both his regeneration from damage sustained, as his constitution and provess in combat. Thus Calan won renown unheard of at such a young age, and was sought after many an adventurer to be take the part of the warrior in their group. Far and wide he journeyed on his quest for fame, and fame indeed he earned, as well as great wealth. But perhaps most importantly, he gathered massive amounts of experience of distant lands and dark creatures, experience which would help him in battles to come, as he progressed to challenge even the mightiest of all beings, the demonic kings and queens of the far realms, or the titanic guardians from ages past, the massive dragon-kings. From the hordes of these beings he collected himself a suit of battle-armour, crafted of an unknown, undestructible metal that could only be melted by dragonfire and shaped by a hammer wielded by a giant, yet even those qualities paled in comparison to it's enchantment, bestowed by an ancient Lich King, that sought to bind his powers to something impregnable and thus gain immortality. He succeeded, binding his soul essence to the armour, yet within it was also enclosed his soul along with his mortal form, and thus he lies trapped in his own creation - immortal but forever doomed to live only through the magic bestowed upon the wearer of the suit. Being a master of all weapons, Calan nevertheless chose to wield a sword, for from the hoard of the red dragon king himself he had claimed as his own a fearsome blade of fire, with which there was no need to parry, for a weapon struck by it would burst into flames and incinerate, thus it could cleave through human and armour alike, leaving nothing but cinders in it's wake. For the blade he had not dared to think of a name, but the hilt he called DOOM, as he thought it resembled a volcano sprouting a massive flame, reaching all the way to the heavens, a true sign of doom to come. Equipped, experienced and blessed by the gods as he was, there were few who would contest the will of Calan, and thus boredom began to creep in. Being a king of one realm would not suffice, nor would he even seek dominance of the world, occupied by mere mortals as it was. 'Bah! Let mortals govern their petty affairs themselves', he thought, and bent his will on uncovering the secrets of the world, even reaching the minds of the gods themselves! And there he sensed fear, for he had indeed grown mighty, perhaps as mighty as some of the lesser gods! Taming one of the most powerful of the ancient leviathans as his mount, he rode to the heavens like a true harbinger of DOOM, prepared to contest for his rightful place as the ruler of all that is. But if it was a battle he expected, he found none, for there the gods were not warring beings and acted merely as guardians of the world - thus there was no-one to deny his claim for kingship of the heavens. But alas, what was a world won without a battle, what glory would there be to sing of, if not a single blow was struck. Thus not even challenging the gods would quench his thirst for power. 'If indeed that is the way of the world, then the world must come to an end, for it is a worthless place', he thought, and sought the world one final time for a challenge. Afraid of the impending doom, the gods were frantic, looking for a means to satisfy Calan's thirst for glory. Finally one of them came up with something, and as it happened to be, it was he who had originally bestowed his blessing upon Calan in his youth. He envisioned a world without godly interference, where mortals would truly be that, mortals, and not seek to challenge the ancient powers of the world. This, then, they proposed to Calan: Go to this realm as a mere mortal, and with your provess claim it as your own, for in that world shall the rewards run rich as there are no godly beings, no immortal beasts to be enslaved and every kill shall be a victory. And he went and entered the realm of Batmud, ruled by the ancient Liches and Titans, reborn from the ashes of lesser beings, but having earned their rightful thrones by their own sweat and blood. Numerous were the beings of that world and the trades available even for a craftsman, but the true legends were written of the battles of these mere mortals against unimaginable, yet mortal beings of horror. Calan was instantly intrigued by the complexity of a world where one could not rule unquestioned, and even today he seeks to attain greater glory, yet there are not many who have heard of his adventures. But he knows the adventures of many, for he is a bard now and sings of the journeys of others for a penny or two while trying to earn his keep.