Sitting by a fire, in a small village just outside the trading post of Ashjunta, a wizened bard told the village children, and any who would listen for that matter, a prophetic cautionary tale...
“A young boy,” he began to tell, “begins his training and learning into the ways of his people, the Kindel. He quickly took on a natural ability with fire and fully embraced its power.” Flames and a puff of smoke burst from his hands in a flash as the bard tells the onlookers in a newly sombered hushed tone. “Unlike most of his people, who normally have great reverence and hesitation to use their power.”
“This young boy feeling trapped in his floating home took to sneaking off when they were near other settlements. He could always be found learning new skills and powers. His elders would find him in the libraries, fighting pits, bars, even in the trade and farm districts
Always learning, always seeking more…” The bard continued waving his arms for effect and drawing a hush over the small crowd of villagers.
Gesturing at the, currently full, moon he went on in a hushed voice. “At night his keepers would find him high on the roof practicing magics that were frowned upon by the tribe such as celestial, water, and demonic magics!”
“As a teen, the boy began venturing out into the wild always returning with a look in his eye, bloody, and bruised, though clearly victorious. He never took on the bow or scimitar like his tribe but instead acquired himself an evil appearing black blade that he carried on his back with runes that were unfamiliar to his people.” At this remark a glowing image of a black smokey blade with fire etched into it the bard showed his eagerly listening crowd. “At age 20 this boy, already larger than most of his kind, with strange markings on his body was cast out by his tribe after an argument with his elder which concluded with the boy, called Ark, slaying him with nothing but malice and hatred in his eyes.” Putting his hands up above his head like a bear the bard made a set of menacing eyes appear glaring down at them.
“Harnessing wind magic this boy cast down his headband and abandoned the beast that bore their village across the high planes.” Making a glowing illusion of a 4 legged beast with what looked like boulders above its head and shoulders the bard illustrated the magics of miniature boy jumping down the beast he’d shown them. “For this young boy was a member of the 15th tribe of the Kindel. A nomadic and mysterious race. It’s said that if you watch across the great plains you can see them atop their mighty Grandaitu.” He sputtered a little. “But that's not the tale I bring you today.”
“Let me continue… this young but already strong looking boy, hefted his blade summoning fire as strength…” He then took his hand and slashed it through the image of the long legged Grandaitu with fire dissolving it from sight. “...and with eyes full of hatred he cut the massive ropes tethering the floating rocks of his village and they floated into the night never to be seen again!! Or so the legend is told.” He said, shrugging a little as he leaned back.
Starting from a whisper he said; “As this happened the great beast collapsed under its own weight and Ark Lafoaita the foresworn strode into the night.” The bard then threw something into the fire and caused a burst of sparks and smoke to which the onlooking crowd all gasped and covered their eyes. During this time he took the chance to summon a bit of actual magic and as he stood on his round of wood, he’d been using as a stool. He lit all the torches and candles around the fire. He then spoke in his most congenial voice and flourished his tattered and multicolored cloak saying. “Thank you all! I am Kismet the bard of many colors!” He bowed and stepped down laying a small basket in front of him for the customary coin that towns would pay him for his services.
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In a book in a lofty mage tower on a shelf that clearly hadn’t been dusted in some time there sat an accounting of that very tale Kismet had just told to a small village. In the second half of that book read the tales of the five heroes of legend that one day came to stand against Ark the foresworn, as he would be called in later years, and this is a more accurate and candid summary of that account:
Many years later from the south east, armies of monsters began roaming the great plains. The Kindel tribes atop their giant beasts, the Grandaitu, had been forced further and further north-west. Though the Kindel fought fiercely they couldn’t hold the great plains as they had ever been charged. Oddly their Grandaitu began roaming wider and off the plateau which is their customary dwelling as well as what would later be discovered as the only access point the Kindel had to their sacred floating lands in the sky.
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Dark times were afoot as the seas were plagued with raiders and vicious monsters. The high plains were overrun by demonic beasts and korrigan. To the north the Alkin, a tall muscular people with dark grey skin and glowing magical rifts in their skin, like a bastion of strength pushed small bands of raiders out of their borders again and again. The dwarven cities Auguin and Tarthsiem, though well defended, were reaching their limits. To the west an alliance of humans and Dwarves defended much of the Zjhangiit mountains. And to the south in the Scythian sea it was all the Piscalia could do to keep their aquatic city of Limuna free from the beasts and raiders. Defenses held for a time, and while they did, great heroes emerged amongst the five races.
First there was Dryus…
...known to his people as an extraordinary Runemaster and smithy Dryus returned after many years of study with an opalescent Rune blade forged by himself and one other. While the magical defenses of Tamalin were significant the Alkin armies were failing and the river had been overrun. Striding forth from the gates of Tamalin, Dryus, Queen Lyrosier, a host of Alkin mages, and 10,000 of their men and women met these monsters head on. The sky dimmed and the wind blew from the Alkin gates. The Korrigan armies saw the full terror of the Alkin. Their skin, though dark, glowed blue with power and the black clouds above shimmered pink and blue from the light of their city and an ever growing threat of lightning. Fear struck in the eyes of the Korrigan, but they charged forward at the behest of a tall figure atop a stone outcropping only visible for a moment as the first bolt of lightning struck.
From the ranks of this enemy,florid balls of fire and darkness leapt into the air to pound the Alkin defenders. Crashing against a barrier Queen Lyrosier, with the help of one hundred Alkin sorcerers, held her ground. Dryus placed his hand along his blade that shone with a blue glowing glyph. He nodded to his queen who waved forward their warriors. He closed his eyes as they stepped forward to him and then broke into a sprint steaming past the faintly gleaming white and blue shield their mages had erected. Almost to flight, 10,000 Alkin warriors striding behind him, Dryus approached the lines of his enemy. Leaping into the air and swinging his sword, Dakumaj, he smashed it to the ground. A ripple of lightning erupted through the lines of the Korrigan decimating hundreds. The Alkin armies flooded through their fallen and broken lines. Dryus stood from this blow and charged their lines slaying Korrigan after Korrigan. Small bolts of lightning could be seen shooting into the air as he smote his enemies.
Reaching the end of their ranks Queen Lyrosier and the rest of the mages began to catch up to him in his fight. He spotted the enemy general glowing with fire and standing strong in battle. As they approached, the enemy general felled an unlucky Alkin soldier, lifting him by his head into the air, and scorching the poor soldier as he crushed his skull with one hand. He tossed the limp and burnt body to the side and began to glow black and red, channeling the mana into his blade.
Though this man may have been mortal once, his magics and soul had been taken by darkness. Looking to his queen, Dryus charged forward. As he did the Alkin Queen Lyrosier surrounded by a host of her finest guards, brought down, upon the general, a beam of light. Then magic circles appeared in the sky with a pillar of pure blue and white. The general's power was stricken from him. Wasting no time, Dryus, with one sweep of his blade, cut through the dirt slashing up into the general's body, cleaving him wholly in two, even as he tried to block with the now plain metal blade.
Upon seeing this, the few remaining forces gave into their fear running to the hills and mountains in an attempt to flee. Many were slain, even as they ran, by the Alkin archers and sorcerers. From the point where Queen Lyrosier had brought down the beam of heavenly magic the clouds and darkness began to dissipate into a warm sunset over the mountains far to the West. Though the general was slain, that man atop the rocks was never found and the Alkin returned to their city to tend to their losses.