February 7, 795
Reji'nik stood inside his tent, staring at his stump of an arm. Inwardly, he reflected on its loss. He had underestimated the flying man. That gross underestimation had cost him a limb.
He would have his revenge. He would find his way to Dantimos and destroy the entire nation. The blood of the flying man would be poured into his goblet as he rejoiced in victory.
A slight smile played with his bearded face. The image that crossed his vision inside his mind amused him. The death of Ravyson would be a time of merriment for him. Having lost an arm would be avenged by slowly torturing him, removing exactly what had been taken from him, and more.
His macabre imagination was interrupted as Lenishin entered the tent. Irritated, he asked, "What do you want?"
"Sir. We have a slight problem." A worried tone snuck into his voice. "There is an army nearby. It isn't from Dantimos."
Reji'nik waved his one hand. "Then destroy it. You need my help to kill a few men?"
Lenishin cleared his throat. "Sir, it isn't a few men. It's the Dagaan Legions."
Reji'nik stood up. "The Dagaan Legions are here?" He picked up his battle axe, which he had retrieved from the battle field after he had lost it with his arm. "How many?"
"At least twenty thousand soldiers."
"Twenty? All we have here is four thousand! The rest are out on raids." Reji'nik exited the tent and broke into a run. Lenishin ran alongside him. "The Dagaan are supposed to not arrive for another two hundred years! Is that not what the prophecy said? We had two hundred years to make ourselves into a force powerful enough to withstand the might of the Dagaan Legions! Are you sure it's them?"
Lenishin and Reji'nik stopped. "See for yourself if you care not to believe me." Thousands of men stood on the fields before them. The banners stood, the still air not moving them. The black clad soldiers raised their swords in unison. A single man stepped out from the unmoving crowd.
The tall thin man walked towards the barbarians. His voice called out. "Are you the leader of the Refvin clan?" His short-cropped hair and thin features gave him a regal air as he walked. "Answer me! Are you not Reji'nik, the one who leads the Refvin?"
Reji'nik stood to his full height as to impress the man. It did not seem to work. "Yes, that's me. What do you want?"
The black-clad leader of the Dagaan walked up to the leader of the Refvin. "My name is Ivlivs. You have come across the Prophecy of Aberjin, have you not? If you hadn't, you wouldn't be trying to stop my arrival." A smile crossed his face. "But that doesn't make you my enemy. It makes you dead."
Reji'nik swung his axe at the Ivlivs. The Dagaan easily caught its handle with his hand. With blinding speed, he was behind Reji'nik. One hand flashed up and struck him in the back. Reji'nik went flying as his back cracked at the hit.
Ivlivs calmly walked over to Reji'nik. "You shouldn't try to stop fate. It just isn't possible." He kicked him in his good arm, breaking it at the pressure point near the elbow. He kicked him again, turning him over onto his back.
The ground began to shake as power emanated from Ivlivs. His feet were suddenly several inches off the ground. Then he was feet above. Then he went shooting into the air. Energy welled in his hands as Reji'nik began to pray to the godess of thunder to strike him down.
He somewhat got his wish. A bright burst of light flew from the hands of Ivlivs, and slammed into the barbarian. The last thought that went through Reji'nik's mind was damning all people who could fly.
Seeing their leader dispatch Reji'nik, the Dagaan Legions stepped forward in unison to defeat the Refvin tribe.
A homing pigeon zeroed in on the barbarian camp from above, heading for the tent that was its home. It was a bit of an unusual pigeon, as it homed in on something that wasn't always in the same place. The pigeon wasn't concerned with that though, just on delivering its message. Pain. The pigeon's feeble mind was capable of understanding a few sensations and it felt a great searing pain as it died, impaled by a stray arrow from the battle below.
Lenishen sidestepped a falling pigeon that had been struck by an arrow as he scrambled into the tent. He was panting heavily with something that he might of classified as fear had he noticed it at all. His mind was focused on one item. Fatestop. He could see the stone's case sitting on the table. He reached for it.
Ahhh, Lenishen. A cold grasp on his body prevented any movement. He thought that a wraith must have caught onto his soul, or perhaps it was his own fear taunting and disabling him.
I'm afraid not, my friend. Cylthyn emerged from the shadows. Reports of my death missed the more important event of my resurrection. I've changed quite a bit since life, Lenishen -- or shall I say "Stone Guardian." Oh yes, I recognized you a long time ago, and I probably would have removed myself from the situation entirely at that point, had it not been for Reji'nik, the cursed fool. But that is no longer a concern. You see, I really have changed. For instance, I'm more...Powerful. Lenishen crumpled to the floor and began to wretch, his body trying to rid himself of the spectre's influence. He made himself stop. It was not working. Better to conserve energy.
"Fool...the Dagaan Legions...here...now...the stone...too dangerous...must..leave..NOW!" Lenishen called on his inner power. He knew that he was protected by prophecy. Fatestop was riddled with prophecies, and its guardians were no less encumbered. This fool-mage could not kill him. He felt his power reach a boiling point and break the meager bonds placed by the undead-mage. Lenishen flew to his feet and let loose an unbridled and impossible-to-control stream of power from within his soul.
The light was to intense for Lenishen to see Cylthyn's ghastly expression of terror, and he was afterwards too dead to see Cylthyn's ghastly expression of surprise when the energy, in the space between where one second ends and the next begins, ceased to exist and the Stone Guardian splashed to the floor, liquified by some undetectible and unimaginably powerful force. That was not possible, but the wraith-mage was not one to ask too many questions. He strode past the evaporating pool that had been Lenishen and, gripping Fatestop in his hand, crushed the stone's prison of a case. He held insane power in his hand, the power to reverse the flow of mana.
Paranoia is the first thing a Mage learns when they study magical theory. They learn the frightening sorts of things that you can actually do with magic. They learn that they will be targetted by powerful mages because of an understanding that they are potentially dangerous, and a threat to those archmages' plans. They do not talk about what an archmage can do to a person, but they learn it nonetheless, and it scares them shitless. Cylthyn no longer feared magic, because he had Fatestop. He thought that it might be appropriate to use Fatestop to take out his vengeance on a world that had dealt a former-guy like him a really lousy hand.
He walked outside and walked straight through the Refvin warriors who were in the process of being slaughtered. He made a beeline for the Dagaan leader who had just finished killing several people and was now approaching him. The Dagaan's blade swung through him.
You can't kill the dead.
The Dagaan smiled and said, "Oh but you can."
Then Cylthyn held up Fatestop, the Dagaan's smile faded, he turned, and he ran.
OOC: A little bit more info about Fatestop in my next post, which should be coming in the next twenty minutes or so.
Ivlivs ran. For the first time in fourteen thousand years, he ran from an enemy. He stopped in front of his troops. "My men, we have a problem. The Fatestop resides in this plane."
A murmur went through the Dagaan Legions. If the Fatestop was on this plane, then everything the prophecies said might not come to pass. Ivlivs flew into the air. "We have to retreat. But the Fatestop will have to be destroyed. It is the strongest power in existence, based to destroy the balance."
The Dagaan Legions all lifted into the air as one. A light surrounded them, and they all disapeared.
OOC: Sorry, but this was rushed.
From a far away mountaintop, the weary traveler watched, as the slaughter commenced. He say the black plate clad warriors, with their axes and swords. He say it as they slaughtered so so many of the poorly armored barbarians. He could bear to watch no more, he stood up from his crouching position and started at a quick slide down the mountain. The battle was ending as he finally reached the bottom. Screams of death and torture evaded his ears. Suddenly a quick flash of light off to his right caught his eye. Then as soon as it had happened it was gone. The cloaked traveler moved a little closer to the battlefield, taking cover behind rock and bush. A whizzing noise set him off, the arrow sped at him at an amazing speed but his nimble feet carried his body sideways in a half sidestep, half leap. His one foot that was in the ground after this ordeal sent him launching forward towards the barbarian that had shot the arrow. The barbarians evil smile faded, he dropped the bow and turned to run but he was too late, from beneath the travelers cloak came a whirring apparition, too fast for the human eye to discern. The hardwood staff smacked into the back of the barbarians head and sent him lifeless to the ground.
From behind the cover of a bush the traveler watched as the battle faded. The unconscious barbarian at his side started to slowly stir, but another whack from the travelers stick ended his movement. Much carnage has gone on here, thought the traveler. Soon will come the shadows, looking for me, and so I must go. With a whirl of his pine green cape, he was off, darting through the woods, as inconspicuous as a mouse.
OCC: This is my first roleplay mill post. The rest of my posts will detail the lives of a few certain warriors and adventurers. This cloaked figure you have just met is cidric, an adventurer who ran into trouble with a mysterious band called the shadows, humanoid substances that are, well shadows.