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Library: The King of Earthrealm


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.