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Tirania
Begginings

Begginings

WHERE IT ALL BEGINS

The old kingdom of Lusol, hailing for a long history of peace and prosperity faced the terrible onslaught of the Netherworld armies guided by the loathed Scarlet King, warriors unbridled in their cruelty, backed by the darkest of magic, a deluge of steel and death, roaming and rampaging, their strength in arms second to no one… until the Heroes came, drafted from across the corners of the world…

Their power and wisdom unmatched in the battlefield, their voices called forth to the powers of the land and even beyond, to aid in their journey, to unite toward an enemy so great and so foul that no one alive could bear it to be, shall their lands and people fall prey to his ravishing and madness, for wherever the Nether set foot, no life was spared.

Kal Jorlsson, from the great plains, whose arm his said to be more powerful than a hundred oxen, brave beyond measure, Riel Maguco, the hunter of secrets and truth, cunning and ruthless, wreathed in arcane devices and mysterious ways, Dione Marvila, heir of the Ancients, a typhoon of destruction in any battle, for hers is the might of the gods whose arms and armours she carries, the Storm King, half god and half man, vowed to walk the land, bringing evil down with gale and sleet, lightning and drought, last but no least the Jade Eyes, last of his kin, the invincible sorcerer seeking revenge in the Nether army for his peoples demise

Many battles were fought.

Some were victories.

Some were not.

Many, many lives were lost.

Those were the last days of an era, those were the battles that shaped the history; The Last War Of the Titans was called and for many years, no single soul know better.

SOME TWENTY YEARS AGO

Lusoll have never been the kinder of the neighbours, and that was a fact that the country of Diaz have crystal clear, whit near constant treats of bandits and smugglers, and a constant influx of whoever the current Lusolite government deemed “undesirables” Diaz struggled, not helping matters the border (the long and strong river Púre) have been a matter of dispute and conflict for years, yet both nations have never came to blows by dint of being surrounded  by far worse and greedier enemies, Sturmstein in the east pushing for conquest in name of their faith, Kaleside in the south, scheming and plotting, the Domain, a little far to the west ready to fight at the drop of a hat in revenge for one or another past defeat (the raid of Danopolis was a century ago and they still are out for blood) and the Jade confederation ready to pick up winners and losers in the crossfire… amidst that, the two largest of the nations sit, and with no other option but to keep check into each other and everyone else, they bicker back and fort.

But… For how long?

Halv 8, 836 a. T.

five years ago

A holiday, one of the more beautiful days on the year, the only thing that every nation agreed in, the 200 anniversary of the final victory against the Nether.

That was the day when Lusoll marched into Diaz.

The end of peace.

The end of the world.

Grys, 839 a. T.

The Torching

three years of war.

Lusol lies on ruins.

Every nation jumped on the fray. A free for all, no quarter given war, the allies of old tearing at each other with the fury of a madman.

Until they came.

The Blighted.

Were they came, nobody cares.

Why are they fighting, nobody asks.

How do you kill them.

Nobody knows

Gren 4, 841 a. T.

today

The old and proud city of Anchoa straddled the Púre river in the northern parts of Diaz, boasting not only more bridges than any other city in the continent, but also some of the oldest bridges still standing (somewhat) , some as old as the reign of King Saba III, the last of the titanical rulers; with great mansions and historical buildings as a reminder of an era of trade and splendour, that same city laid bare and silent as a corpse in the dead of the winter, the ravages of war visible, with streets blown to the abyss and back, only charred ruins remain of some of his more visible landmarks: the town hall the more recent of them, the grand opera house, a crater for the past three years or so, the ancient college of wizardry, a year before, one of the most respected and well established hat makers, vaporized first year of the conflict.

The city is silent, and cold, almost dead.

Almost

The Lusolite army came and went, unable to break the city, unwilling to destroy what can be a great prize, all too sure of an easy victory, then the multiple mercenary bands in service of the Confederates threatened to plunder and raid, but they too were turned back, lest they be putted down, even some of those thrice damned Kaledites managed to came here, only to be buffeted away like flies, to fall in the fire that Lusoll has been turned into. All that and more the old and proud Anchoa has survived, paying in fire and blood, paying in steel and havoc.

Then the Blighted came.

Having been deployed beyond the frontiers, in a push for the city of Acircecia and control over the plains, Diaz military fought, the esteemed third corps of the high cavalry: the Haze Knights, backed by some units of the infantry pushed all the way to the bulwark of the city, there it found an unusual sight, as the local troops were already in a desperate battle against the legions of their outward ally, the Dominion, whatever the meaning of this attack soon it became a moot point for in the twilight of the third day, the hills near the city caved in on their own, disgorging the soon to be known as the Blighted, what appeared as a ploy for entrapping one side by another soon turned out in a franctic battle for survival as the newcomers attacked all three sides regardless of strategy or numbers, a single minded onslaught were the might of the armies proved lacking: the lusolite war machines were tore apart, the Diaz knights meet their demise in the battlefield, even the legionaries whose might was acknowledged as the greater were slaughtered to a man; all to no avail for not one single of the Blighted fell, not even the more fragile looking ones, less so the mighty machine like monstrosities in their midst.

The army lucked out, for the Blighted were engrossed chewing whatever pitiful few of the lusolite soldiers and the dominion legions still stood in their way, and so without turning back flew for the border, then and there, the II phalanx of the infantry corps took their stand, 9000 soldiers and mages, the greatest fighting retreat in recorded history. A lost battle without doubt.

For the last fourteen months, that same battle as raged, that same phalanx (cut down to nearly 5000 able bodies) and whatever help could be squeezed of the militias, has been fighting a delaying action.

Gren 4,

Rinsan forest, 

north-west quarter of Anchoa

2 kliks from the battlefront

In the near dusk of the forest, two figures stumble their way to the city -Lance, lance! Please we’re almost there!- raged breaths puff clouds in their wake, the winter is setting and the chance off survival outdoors with no gear is zero or less, even ignoring the army of murdering monstrosities that the slim one divines behind every bush so she press on; the tall one grogs and mutter, his head slumped, his walk crooked, wet stains grow in his shoulder and arm, all while the slim of the duo pushes and heaves while failing to operate two bodies in fumes. - Damn it all Lance! Don’t die on me! - the duo run across a root, losing the last semblance of balance, plummeting in the forest.

-Where I am?- cold breeze, a little blissful respite then all coming down- ogodogodogod – the sortie, the ambush, the terrible noises of the battle, the deafening sound when a demolition cube misfired throwing askew or downright mincing half of the unit, a mad dash in the forest, the winter chill – Lancelance where?- - nti-ia..- a grunt, barely audible rises from the bush nearby, Lance lies here.

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Nidia moves, and grunts, her vision blurred, her limbs wooden, the fall was worse than expected, a creek about a meter deep, roots and rocks breaking their fall, short of a miracle that they’re alive, she reaches to Lance, being the taller and heavier, he gotten the bigger share of face-to-the-floor damage, and now looks like barely hanging there, Nidia herself is hurt, her lips broken, her wrist a throbbing pain every step. 

- la-Lance- god now what!?- Lance, please get up...-is he… no, still breathes...so what… face it Dia we’re doomed...he’s out cold and bleeding, you can barely stand and my hand is bust, there is barely light left… -getupgetupgetup- a whisper, a plea, Nidia lays kneel down along the young man, not even knowing what why or where, only the silent tears falling in is wrist shook her somewhat- no dammit no! We survived the blastings, the hunger, and those fucking monsters! We aren’t dying here damn!-

Clenching her fist, Nidia yells in her head, a handful of ideas come and go, but nothing gives her a fighting chance, her body is growing cold, her mind running circles, she cant remember the last time she sleep or ate, the pain the only thing tethering her to the here and now…

ANOTHER BEGINNING

SOME 250 YEARS AGO

A Yell

that is what I am.

An unending yell

for aeons and eras…

then I am here

then I AM

my mind is clear, for I am only mind, another era or two passes by, time is but an illusion for me from nothing to eternity, I can cross all in a single leap, every question I can answer, that I know, yet I don’t do it.

For I am waiting.

Then came the light, then came the pull, then came...BEING my body is whole, for I am only energy, I am light, pure and fast, unerring, impassible, indestructible, incorruptible, nothing exist that can stop me or harm me, I can burn the whole cosmos that I know.

Yet I don’t do it.

For I am waiting.

Then came the words, then came the breaking, then came… KNOWING

my memory is bast, unending, all that has been, all that will be, and everything that never was nor will be, all that and more all here, for me to use for good or ill, that much I know.

Yet I don’t do it.

Another era crosses my mind, yet I wait.

Then finally, it came, the Voice, the voice than for so many eras, across galaxies, trough light and dark I have been waiting.

And I know what I have to say:

-awaiting orders-

Rinsan forest

The cold encroaching, the sun falling, Nidia thugs at whatever scraps of strength she has for keeping awake, for trying something – Think dammit, think! -i can’t carry him, I can’t make a fire, even if try for the city I'll be dead meat long before the sunrise, so what else? -  I can...- yeah..i can sing… - a grimace falls over her face, all the while stealing a glance to the fallen man, he will certainly will not approve that, he probably will yell at her for simply coming up with that, and more likely will send her away in her own to the city so at least one of them could survive, just like he was trying when the attack went down earlier, he was always like that, thinking that she have to survive if nothing else for theirs parent’s sake, when the truth was that without him- the very last of her family- she will be as good as dead… 

So, what if it’s dangerous, Nidia has nothing much to loose now.

240 years ago

I am here, and now I have a purpose. My orders are clear. The Voice has left, another infinite amount of time passes, all the while, I serve my purpose.

-You will monitor this structures 

That I do.

-You will monitor this subjects.

That I do.

- You will preserve all of this, so it is capable of immediate action

That I do.

- You will harness whatever power or resources you deem necessary so as to keep fulfilling these orders.

That I do.

- You are to keep yourself able to fulfil these orders.

That I do.

- You are to make sure that no intruder, destroy or damage any of your charges, by any means necessary.

That I do.

- One more thing…

  235 years ago

 another era as passed, I fulfil my mission 

234 years ago

many changes, an earthquake almost destroyed one of my charges, I have assessed that the damage will not extend, but that section is compromised, I have requested assistance.

In order to better fulfil my mission I have entered the variable of “time” in my mind

two and a half revolutions have passed, the relief is here, my assessment has proven true, repairing works are underway.

In order to better fulfil my mission I have layered the extent of my reach, a simple alfa-numeric notation will help me keep track of what and where anything occurs.

Thirty-two revolutions have passed, security breach, assessment: non-sentient creature has burrowed trough bulwark 32sigma, creature evaluated as high risk for structure, requesting aid.

Thirty three revolutions have passed, relief is here, creature has been neutralized repairing works are underway

forty revolutions have passed, security breach, assessment: non-sentient creature has burrowed trough bulwark 34gamma, requesting aid.

Forty Two and half revolutions have passed, relief is here, creature has proven too resilient for neutralization relief has been neutralized. Creature has been evaluated high risk for structure and personnel requesting aid. 

Forty four revolutions have passed, creature abandoned structure in his own, minor damages on bulwark 34 gamma 35 gamma, section 6 gamma.

Forty five revolutions have passed, relief is here repairing work are underway.

Sixty-five revolutions have passed waterways in sector alpha took damage from unknown source. Assessment shows low risk of damage, I have requested counsel.

Sixty six revolutions have passed, waterways in sector beta took damage from unknown source, assessment shows low risk of damage, I have requested counsel

seventy-two revolutions have passed, security breach, assessment: non-sentient creatures have broken in access beta, assessment inconclusive, creatures have entered in deep slumber, requesting council.

Eighty revolutions have passed, relief is here repairing works are underway.

In order to better fulfil my mission I have studied the methods and tools used in the maintenance.

I have deemed them useful, but inefficient.

I have deemed within the boundaries of my mission to copy and improve upon them.

I have deemed within the boundaries of my mission to activate the installation sigma 1, renamed “Hatchery”.

Ninety one revolutions have passed, the final product of two hundred thirty three iterations of design and testing has been deemed viable and secure, I am now capable of mending anything but the more critical of damage.

Ninety nine revolutions have passed, security breach, sentient creatures have broken in access beta, currently trying to ingress sector beta requesting aid, top priority.

Ninety nine revolutions, relief is here, creatures neutralized, relief partially neutralized.

Rinsan forest

Nidia shifts her weight, forcing her breathing to a somewhat stable pace, the air is cold, the night closer every heartbeat, she focus, steeling her mind against the pain and fear, searching for a place in her mind, for the feeling… 

And there it is… a slight tremor in her closed eyes is the only thing that betrays her struggle, her breath swallow; all the while, her mind reaches and brushes upon her innate reserves of ether, the one and only thing that every living being shares, she prods it, a little bit harder every time, rousing it, channelling it so has to fill her whole being, she hear it, a little louder every beat, and then she feels, with a chilling touch, the ether of the life surrounding her, the world surrounding her, from the mighty trees to the last grit of sand, the ether calling back, with a voice without sound, a music that was ancient even before time, a sound that beacons her to drift with the whole, to be part of the world instead of a mere spec of flesh and mind.

A music that calls her to lie and sleep forever.

The sound is powerful, many a greenhorn has been seduced by it, wasted in the infinite chorus of the ether, yet Nidia holds her ground, grinding her teeth, she inhales and open her eyes.

Her mind rides in the tide of power, the pain and hunger a vague memory, the fright, the sorrow all but a dream, holding into what little last of her consciousness remains, she wills the ether into a form, an action, a Song.

She reaches with a hand that barely remembers as her own, humming a little under her breath willing the ether into Lance, feeling for his own ether, careful, almost crawling, for a failure here, without wards or safeguards will probably kill them both, or worse… the air is calm, and for a while Nidia fears that there is no hope, that she can do to little, too late… then she finds it, diminished but not gone, the little spark within his brother, she can feel it taking the ether, growing brighter, but not enough to rouse his vessel, then with a little yank in her mind she guides the borrowed ether trough her brother’s body, there she finds the sorry state of things: bruised tissues, bleeding gashes, a body battered thoroughly; she wills the worst of the damage to mend, she is no healer, the ether complies, but there is just so much she can do with raw intention, many of these wounds will scar her brother for life, but he hopefully will live, counting the heartbeats, she startles; the song is powerful, but no one can tap into the ether forever, her own breath as become ragged again, sweat dripping her back, her head hung low,  weighing her options, she wills what little power remains into replenishing her brother blood; in hopes that it can reinvigorate him she tries to pull a little more into his body, just a little…

And that was the last straw.

Light and noise.

That’s the last thing she remembers.

A sound… metal against stone, a rhythmic sound, the cold air, no wind, something hard against her back, sound again.

In the darks of the unconsciousness, Nidia falls and falls… 

A faint odour, stale air; sounds and a blur of white and grey receive Nidia back into the living.- th-ath – her voice cracks – that was horrible- the nightmare has ended… then it dawns on her, she is alive, barely and by the rising pain in her head with a etheric burn, she closes her eyes and try her limbs, they are stiff but alive, all the little pains getting to her, a good sign then, her vision is there, blurry again with the little charm that keeps her eyesight on check blown away, hearing is fine, so all in all looks like her little brush with the rampaging ether…rampaging...

A startled second latter all came back, first and foremost her brother, second to that- what is this place? - all around her white and grey, a roof of sorts hung well beyond her reach, something giving a dim light to all the place- a...building? How, where?… weren’t we in the middle of nowhere?- 

-You Are Finally Awake...-

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