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- Nov 4, 2008
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Yet another Work In Progress from Team Wolfanson (hehe). I understand there are some errors, but if you do uncover some, please don't hesitate to point them out. ^.^
We actually are nearly finished, but what you are reading is refinement of what we already have. Granted, it is still not completely refined! ^.^
The Bone Wastes embraced the golden rays of the sun openly. It had been years since light had touched the surface, and the land had been starved of all life. It was purely barren, much like the hearts and minds of its now-destroyed owners. Upon a pile of bones, resting in the middle of this arid place sat a woman of elven descent. A beautiful emerald shroud caressed her delicate figure, hung together by a brooch of an obsidian raven on her chest. Her innocent turquoise eyes gazed out onto the desolation as a brief wind swayed her hair, splitting it into ivory strands that flickered like white flames. Beside her was Lichenbane, a long, shimmering violet bow and in her hands, was a crude yet deathly looking hammer. Her face did not show any signs of aging, a trademark of her race, as she frowned with impatience. This woman was Sestina Lamente, a once decorated scout, spy and assassin amongst the high elven rank in the early parts of her life. However, she was unable to recall such events, as a violent battle had left her mind scathed and without any recollection of her early life. She wandered the world as an outsider, but then formed a bond with a group of adventurers. Now, she is once more a hero, not just to her people, but also to the thousands who inhabit the lands around these lands.
She smiled, and looked up at the dawning sun. For the first time in many years, the Blackwind Mountains nested under the light of the sun. Once, this land was imbrued by the taint of undeath, but with partial thanks to Sestina, the necromantic tyranny that dominated the black peaks no longer haunted these lands. As she saw the heat slowly melt the rime from the dead trees, and tiny, transparent droplets of ooze disappeared as it touched the ground, joy filled her heart. She contemplated the events of the past few years, and slowly broke the illusion of reality and came to stroll down memory lane.
It was a magnificent autumn morning as the band of adventurers that slaughtered the impurities of the mountains and razed the necromancer’s fortress, Necropia, strode into the city square of <insert name here>. The group had marched proudly up the steps of the town hall, greeted by the inhabitants of the entire Blackwind Mountains. They had noted that these masses exceeded the amount of homes this village could contain. The group was delighted by the cries of joy emanating from the crowd for their efforts in slaying the Archlich of Necropia.
Amongst the peasants was Xall Planebreaker, a man that held power greater than most of the pantheon of gods. As he angrily weaved through the masses like a snake in the summer bush, silence fell upon the crowd. Like a storm, he paraded to the steps, and his gaze met with a powerful magus named Mourg. Xall outstretched his arm and unclenched his fist, and in his eyes fire danced with fury. “Hand it over,” he demanded, pausing for a moment of tension. “Now.”
A smile came to Mourg’s dark green lips as the two gazed into each other. “No,” he said firmly.
The crowd murmured to each other, entertained by the suspense between the group and the massive man. Behind Mourg, the group’s hands slithered to the hilts of their weapons. Xall’s expression stiffened.
“Orc, you will give it to me, or I will be sure that you never get a closer look at it.” His tone was cold and dark, and did not invite disobedience.
“I am quite aware of what it is, Xall. You will not have the Planebreaker.”
The crowds quivered with shock as the name of the mysterious weapon resonated throughout the blackened peaks. The Planebreaker was a treasured legend amongst weaponry, a masterpiece of magical blacksmithing and enchantment. It held power that could sever any travel between planes and prevent the use of chronomancy. The Headmaster of Necropia forged the weapon to defeat Xall and ironically named it after him. However, Xall discovered the project and its rationale and was quick to destroy it and its masters. The Planebreaker, however, survived the tempest of magic and rage Xall let loose upon Necropia. Rather, years later, the orc sorcerer discovered it hidden deep within the shadowy depths of the necromancer’s keep.
As Mourg denied Xall the weapon, the hellion transmogrified.
His facial expression changed so suddenly that the closest serfs stepped away from the city hall. From his back sprouted two pitch-black wings. Xall roared as the rest of his body changed to the colour of his wings. In a matter of seconds, he was a living epitome of shadow – a winged demon as dark as the night. From his mouth, he unleashed another loud roar and the masses dispersed like sands falling from a curious child’s hands. The Blackwind Lords, as the group came to be known, withdrew their weapons rapidly. Mourg raised his hand and motioned for them to stop.
The shadow, now towering above them, raised its right arm to smite his challengers. As its arm came crashing to the earth like a falling star, Mourg closed his eyes and began to mumble silently. Then, faster than even Sestina’s hawk eyes could follow, he withdrew the Planebreaker. A flash dominated her view, and an indescribable sound thundered through the crisp, autumn winds. The shadow wailed and reverted to what little humanity he had left and lay there, unconscious.
Stupid as they were, the group had left Xall there. When he regained consciousness, he was furious. A mortal, a simple mage, had bested him. The mere thought caused him to, quite casually, raise a small army of undead creatures and violently destroy the nearest village. However, his stirring rage remained unquenched. It remained there, unsatisfied, for a mortal wielded the weapon that could very well result in his demise. Additionally, that same mortal hated him.
The Shadow screamed, and thus began his rampage. Village after village was crushed by the shadowy grasp of Xall Planebreaker His rampage was so fierce that it took three gods to prevent him from destroying creation itself. The gods charged the Blackwind Lords with dispatching him. After much deliberation, the Planebreaker came to the hands of Sestina, and she was to face the Shadow in a duel that would hopefully end his existence.
Thus, Sestina sat in the wasteland, waiting impatiently. She first attempted to lure the demon out into the open to do battle. However, he denied her, and thus she resulted to threats. In her hands, the Planebreaker thundered slightly, and she provoked him by saying that she would use the power of the ancient hammer, a threat she had no intention of following through. Yet, Xall could not take the risk, and so he appeared in the horizon.
Sestina gazed at the figure that slowly came into view. The figure was tall and masculine with long, athletic legs, and broad, sloping shoulders with two arms that dangled to his waist. The assassin’s lips arched to form a devilish smirk. As shadows parted, she could clearly see her opponent. His face was locked in a grim snarl. From his hand dropped a wicked kris dressed by a robe of charcoal barbs reminiscent of a whale angler’s harpoon.
The high elf stood tall, her hand clenched around the base of the legendary Planebreaker as an uncertain breeze crept through the wasteland. She grew impatient, indicated by her fierce expression. However, now was the time to prepare. Xall Planebreaker was notorious for the horrors that he unleashed with the flick of a hand. Sestina was the guest of a series of tales told by refugee villagers from the Blackwind Mountains. They told of skeletal armies, flaming balls of warped arcane energy, rivers of blood and shadows as black as night turning daytime into a living nightmare. Of course, such stories were embellished. However they were enough to make her shudder at the thought of facing this creature. She needed all the time she had to observe and get ready.
Sestina’s eyes then became empty – two pupilless voids devoid of all but white. The world, to her, vanished to nothing but a hazy black fog. White lines soon formed, outlining every mountain in the backdrop, every rock or barren tree in the Bone Wastes, and finally tracing Xall. His body was decorated with various red and green dots. Aim for the red, but green if desperate, she thought to herself. Xall stopped dead in his tracks, noting the sudden change undergone by the high elf from afar.
He threw his dagger to the heavens, muttering and clapping his hands together. As his palms met, a rune appeared on his forehead, radiating with silver light. As the dagger fell, Xall caught it and in almost no time at all, charged at Sestina with such immense speed and velocity that the action in itself emanated with arcane magic. As he hastily stampeded across the wastes, the winds cried in protest.
Sestina jumped at the suddenness of his charge, the red and green dots in her vision swayed violently and changed constantly as Xall quickly came towards her, creating an array of puzzling red and green that spilt all over the black haze. She was quick to withdraw her soulblade, a dark metallic arrow, from her quiver and placed it gently against Lichenbane. Her arms were outstretched, both parallel with the arrow, as she raised her weapon to shoulder height. She adjusted her sight, fully aware that this shot would be a lucky one if it hit true, and unleashed the arrow as it divided itself into five. The darts sliced through the air, producing a sickly sound. Despite not yet having found a target, her arrow materialized once more in her hand in a black and purple cloud.
She smiled, and looked up at the dawning sun. For the first time in many years, the Blackwind Mountains nested under the light of the sun. Once, this land was imbrued by the taint of undeath, but with partial thanks to Sestina, the necromantic tyranny that dominated the black peaks no longer haunted these lands. As she saw the heat slowly melt the rime from the dead trees, and tiny, transparent droplets of ooze disappeared as it touched the ground, joy filled her heart. She contemplated the events of the past few years, and slowly broke the illusion of reality and came to stroll down memory lane.
It was a magnificent autumn morning as the band of adventurers that slaughtered the impurities of the mountains and razed the necromancer’s fortress, Necropia, strode into the city square of <insert name here>. The group had marched proudly up the steps of the town hall, greeted by the inhabitants of the entire Blackwind Mountains. They had noted that these masses exceeded the amount of homes this village could contain. The group was delighted by the cries of joy emanating from the crowd for their efforts in slaying the Archlich of Necropia.
Amongst the peasants was Xall Planebreaker, a man that held power greater than most of the pantheon of gods. As he angrily weaved through the masses like a snake in the summer bush, silence fell upon the crowd. Like a storm, he paraded to the steps, and his gaze met with a powerful magus named Mourg. Xall outstretched his arm and unclenched his fist, and in his eyes fire danced with fury. “Hand it over,” he demanded, pausing for a moment of tension. “Now.”
A smile came to Mourg’s dark green lips as the two gazed into each other. “No,” he said firmly.
The crowd murmured to each other, entertained by the suspense between the group and the massive man. Behind Mourg, the group’s hands slithered to the hilts of their weapons. Xall’s expression stiffened.
“Orc, you will give it to me, or I will be sure that you never get a closer look at it.” His tone was cold and dark, and did not invite disobedience.
“I am quite aware of what it is, Xall. You will not have the Planebreaker.”
The crowds quivered with shock as the name of the mysterious weapon resonated throughout the blackened peaks. The Planebreaker was a treasured legend amongst weaponry, a masterpiece of magical blacksmithing and enchantment. It held power that could sever any travel between planes and prevent the use of chronomancy. The Headmaster of Necropia forged the weapon to defeat Xall and ironically named it after him. However, Xall discovered the project and its rationale and was quick to destroy it and its masters. The Planebreaker, however, survived the tempest of magic and rage Xall let loose upon Necropia. Rather, years later, the orc sorcerer discovered it hidden deep within the shadowy depths of the necromancer’s keep.
As Mourg denied Xall the weapon, the hellion transmogrified.
His facial expression changed so suddenly that the closest serfs stepped away from the city hall. From his back sprouted two pitch-black wings. Xall roared as the rest of his body changed to the colour of his wings. In a matter of seconds, he was a living epitome of shadow – a winged demon as dark as the night. From his mouth, he unleashed another loud roar and the masses dispersed like sands falling from a curious child’s hands. The Blackwind Lords, as the group came to be known, withdrew their weapons rapidly. Mourg raised his hand and motioned for them to stop.
The shadow, now towering above them, raised its right arm to smite his challengers. As its arm came crashing to the earth like a falling star, Mourg closed his eyes and began to mumble silently. Then, faster than even Sestina’s hawk eyes could follow, he withdrew the Planebreaker. A flash dominated her view, and an indescribable sound thundered through the crisp, autumn winds. The shadow wailed and reverted to what little humanity he had left and lay there, unconscious.
Stupid as they were, the group had left Xall there. When he regained consciousness, he was furious. A mortal, a simple mage, had bested him. The mere thought caused him to, quite casually, raise a small army of undead creatures and violently destroy the nearest village. However, his stirring rage remained unquenched. It remained there, unsatisfied, for a mortal wielded the weapon that could very well result in his demise. Additionally, that same mortal hated him.
The Shadow screamed, and thus began his rampage. Village after village was crushed by the shadowy grasp of Xall Planebreaker His rampage was so fierce that it took three gods to prevent him from destroying creation itself. The gods charged the Blackwind Lords with dispatching him. After much deliberation, the Planebreaker came to the hands of Sestina, and she was to face the Shadow in a duel that would hopefully end his existence.
Thus, Sestina sat in the wasteland, waiting impatiently. She first attempted to lure the demon out into the open to do battle. However, he denied her, and thus she resulted to threats. In her hands, the Planebreaker thundered slightly, and she provoked him by saying that she would use the power of the ancient hammer, a threat she had no intention of following through. Yet, Xall could not take the risk, and so he appeared in the horizon.
Sestina gazed at the figure that slowly came into view. The figure was tall and masculine with long, athletic legs, and broad, sloping shoulders with two arms that dangled to his waist. The assassin’s lips arched to form a devilish smirk. As shadows parted, she could clearly see her opponent. His face was locked in a grim snarl. From his hand dropped a wicked kris dressed by a robe of charcoal barbs reminiscent of a whale angler’s harpoon.
The high elf stood tall, her hand clenched around the base of the legendary Planebreaker as an uncertain breeze crept through the wasteland. She grew impatient, indicated by her fierce expression. However, now was the time to prepare. Xall Planebreaker was notorious for the horrors that he unleashed with the flick of a hand. Sestina was the guest of a series of tales told by refugee villagers from the Blackwind Mountains. They told of skeletal armies, flaming balls of warped arcane energy, rivers of blood and shadows as black as night turning daytime into a living nightmare. Of course, such stories were embellished. However they were enough to make her shudder at the thought of facing this creature. She needed all the time she had to observe and get ready.
Sestina’s eyes then became empty – two pupilless voids devoid of all but white. The world, to her, vanished to nothing but a hazy black fog. White lines soon formed, outlining every mountain in the backdrop, every rock or barren tree in the Bone Wastes, and finally tracing Xall. His body was decorated with various red and green dots. Aim for the red, but green if desperate, she thought to herself. Xall stopped dead in his tracks, noting the sudden change undergone by the high elf from afar.
He threw his dagger to the heavens, muttering and clapping his hands together. As his palms met, a rune appeared on his forehead, radiating with silver light. As the dagger fell, Xall caught it and in almost no time at all, charged at Sestina with such immense speed and velocity that the action in itself emanated with arcane magic. As he hastily stampeded across the wastes, the winds cried in protest.
Sestina jumped at the suddenness of his charge, the red and green dots in her vision swayed violently and changed constantly as Xall quickly came towards her, creating an array of puzzling red and green that spilt all over the black haze. She was quick to withdraw her soulblade, a dark metallic arrow, from her quiver and placed it gently against Lichenbane. Her arms were outstretched, both parallel with the arrow, as she raised her weapon to shoulder height. She adjusted her sight, fully aware that this shot would be a lucky one if it hit true, and unleashed the arrow as it divided itself into five. The darts sliced through the air, producing a sickly sound. Despite not yet having found a target, her arrow materialized once more in her hand in a black and purple cloud.
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