Yafor 2
05-04-2005, 18:07
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In a Chamber, The Hills of Aglerdon, now part of the Chronosian Empire
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I open my eyes, pain washing over my back. Where am I? What is this place? I rise seeking to remember my past and present, seeking to remember who and what I am. Ahh, I remember a name. Zoyar, that was it, the one who defeated me. He will be able to tell me who I am - but I don't need the help of the likes of him! I know who I am! I remember now, fields of blood, sewn with guts, flames overtaking them! I did this! I did!
But who am I? In my anger, I feel pain washing away from my body. There is no place for pain in this temple, a desecrated temple to death. I grab around, feeling stone, and then rip. Bits of stone fly off in my hands. I remember now; I was strong. Very strong.
I search the tunnel with my eyes; it has been long since I used them. Light, I see, fluttering lightly on the other side of the tunnel. I stumble towards it. As I look, I see, superimposed upon it, a network of threads. I grin, remembering. It is magic, of a kind only few could sense. Ages ago, I used it. It is good that I still can.
Now, as I take the I can feel the magic and feel myself. The magic, I knew, was useless for most things, at least for me. I never got the training the druids had. Instead, I killed them, ripping them to pieces.One thing I did learn was to learn the "originality" of an object, its tale. It could work on a person. Moving my fingers, I was surprised I still knew the spell.
As I finish, I feel myself expand and contract, explode in a confined non-exploding area. I feel my ife is a paradox, my very meaning nothing. It is true. What had I done? The world seemed to writhe around me, twist and turn. Then It stopped and I knew one thing. A name, one that many thought was synonumous to the Devil, a name used to frighten grown men and women into submission, a name that was responsible for the destruction of the entire Alhamroded Galaxy, a name that killed billions. A name I knew was mine.
Skarn Kazask Al'Koraya.
I rush down the corridor, feeling at the top of the world. At last I know who and what I am and was, my past my present, my-an iron door is up ahead and I see the threads of magic around it. Grabbing the threads with my bear hands, I proceed to rip them up, something I did a long time ago. But the iron is still an issue.
Leaping forward, I rip it with all my strength...but nothing happens. What is this? Where is my fabled strength, that I remember so well? I used to rip fighters, spaceships, not iron. Iron was weak, or so I remember. What is this? Anger suges through me and I try again. The iron crumples like paper.
Moving out, I grin. Once again, death is walking the universe.
In a Chamber, The Hills of Aglerdon, now part of the Chronosian Empire
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I open my eyes, pain washing over my back. Where am I? What is this place? I rise seeking to remember my past and present, seeking to remember who and what I am. Ahh, I remember a name. Zoyar, that was it, the one who defeated me. He will be able to tell me who I am - but I don't need the help of the likes of him! I know who I am! I remember now, fields of blood, sewn with guts, flames overtaking them! I did this! I did!
But who am I? In my anger, I feel pain washing away from my body. There is no place for pain in this temple, a desecrated temple to death. I grab around, feeling stone, and then rip. Bits of stone fly off in my hands. I remember now; I was strong. Very strong.
I search the tunnel with my eyes; it has been long since I used them. Light, I see, fluttering lightly on the other side of the tunnel. I stumble towards it. As I look, I see, superimposed upon it, a network of threads. I grin, remembering. It is magic, of a kind only few could sense. Ages ago, I used it. It is good that I still can.
Now, as I take the I can feel the magic and feel myself. The magic, I knew, was useless for most things, at least for me. I never got the training the druids had. Instead, I killed them, ripping them to pieces.One thing I did learn was to learn the "originality" of an object, its tale. It could work on a person. Moving my fingers, I was surprised I still knew the spell.
As I finish, I feel myself expand and contract, explode in a confined non-exploding area. I feel my ife is a paradox, my very meaning nothing. It is true. What had I done? The world seemed to writhe around me, twist and turn. Then It stopped and I knew one thing. A name, one that many thought was synonumous to the Devil, a name used to frighten grown men and women into submission, a name that was responsible for the destruction of the entire Alhamroded Galaxy, a name that killed billions. A name I knew was mine.
Skarn Kazask Al'Koraya.
I rush down the corridor, feeling at the top of the world. At last I know who and what I am and was, my past my present, my-an iron door is up ahead and I see the threads of magic around it. Grabbing the threads with my bear hands, I proceed to rip them up, something I did a long time ago. But the iron is still an issue.
Leaping forward, I rip it with all my strength...but nothing happens. What is this? Where is my fabled strength, that I remember so well? I used to rip fighters, spaceships, not iron. Iron was weak, or so I remember. What is this? Anger suges through me and I try again. The iron crumples like paper.
Moving out, I grin. Once again, death is walking the universe.