Posted 16 October 2001 - 06:04 AM
Here begins a tale of the making of the Authority. The Authority was for eons beyond counting, the only power in all of Ungol (On-Gull).
Part one: The gathering
To the west in the great land of Ungol there lay a school. The school was built upon the ancient ruins of a great fortress know as "Rogoth-unt-Gutre" which translates to "Fortress of Rock" and so it was. The Fortress was carved from the rock itself, every room chiselled out with perfect precision, every wall carved into shape, but that fortress was nothing but a pile of worn out rocks when the school was built.
The school was a huge house filled with halls and study rooms, sleeping quarters and libraries, all of them devoted to studying the arts of Magick. Situated in the middle of the school was a large garden. Open to the air, birds flittered in and out. They even got the occasional wolf-lizard in there during the night. In the west wing, where only the most advanced students and teachers were allowed, lay a trap door. Below this trap door was a great maze. The students had nicknamed it "The maze without end" as a joke, but it was closer to the truth then they realized. Many mages had gone into the maze, well equipped as they were, but none ever returned.
Well... none is an exaggeration. There was one who had come out alive.
His name was Duralith which translates to "The bird of white and black" or "Magpie." We will call him his proper name for the moment. Duralith was a large man, about six and a half feet tall. He was skinny but not weak. He was twenty-three years old when he entered the maze and came out at the age of twenty-five. It had taken him two years to come out of the maze. Before entering the maze -on the forty-third day of fall-, Duralith was a talkative, well-learned student who got along with every body just fine.
After his two years in the maze he became solemn and secretive. He did not speak other than with his mind after his time in the maze. Duralith was a student specializing in telepathy and shadow type magicks. His teacher, Queth, suspected him of sneaking into the private library. Duralith's mind voice had an icy sharp tone that cut through people like a hot blade through butter. In the first four months after his return from the maze, Duralith had been caught outside of his bed, prowling around the school. After this he seemed to disappear for months at a time, only to reappear briefly to take his exams.
Where he went no one knew. But when he returned he was often half dead with cuts and bruises. The other students jeered at Duralith, he was called a mental case. Once, an older student, training in offensive magicks, said that they should lock him away.
Duralith's eyes changed from their usual dead black to a fiery white, white but tinged with evil, with darkness. He stared at the mage who had offended him. The older mage was turning to leave when he dropped to the floor screaming in terror. Duralith grinned and left the mage lying on the ground still shaking with fear. After that no spoke to Duralith, they avoided him.
On the fifth day of winter Duralith went missing. Not that anybody took any notice. He was always in and out.
Duralith stumbled through the undergrowth with only slight difficulty, bashing at branches that lunged at him. He was sure they hated him. "Everything hates me," he thought miserably. "There is not a soul in this world that has seen what I have seen, learnt what I have learnt, fought what I have fought." He continued to lunge eastward towards the mountains with out aim.
"I must reach the mountains before nighttime," his thoughts screeched around his mind tearing at the frail thought links that made him human. Suddenly, like it had crept up on him, a large gloomy shadow groped out, blocking the weak daylight. He gratefully glared up into the dark arrow slits and empty battlements. Duralith wandered around the small castle. "It may have been a school," he thought grimly. Duralith had walked around the castle and arrived back at the large, plain wooden doors. "Who lived here? Who hid from life here?"
When he opened the doors he felt a searing bolt of energy shoot up his spine and made fall heavily onto his side. A veil of darkness enveloped him. His last thoughts were, "I saw you."
Duralith had been robbed of his conciousness, the only protection against his dreams. Or were they memories? Dreams, memories he couldn’t tell the difference any more. He dreamt about his time in the maze.
It questioned him. It called him Magpie.
"What are you doing here?"
"I am searching."
"Searching for what? "
"Searching for knowledge and power. What else does a man search for?"
"But you are not a man. You are not human. You weren’t created in this world."
"Me? Not a human? Of course I am. If I am not what is my purpose in this world?"
"Your purpose is not defined. It is not clear to me. But you will be hunted down."
"If I am going to be hunted, how can I protect myself?"
"Your mind is strong, Magpie. It is a weapon. Maybe it is strong for a reason. I will teach you to use your mind to its full potential."
"Why do you call me Magpie?"
"Because that is your name. That is what they will call you."
"Who? Who calls me Magpie?"
"All who beckon."
When Magpie awoke, for Duralith he was no longer, all he could see was darkness. Darkness and a white light, white but tinged with darkness, tinged with evil. Eventually his vision cleared up enough for him to make out objects. He was underground. He had spent two years below the surface and the feeling was quite astute. He hated small spaces. A bearded gruff looking man that smelled of stale wine and sweat bent over him. Magpie tried to raise his hands to push the face away, but found, on trying to do so, that they were tied down.
"Looks like we gots a young one." The man had stale, terrible smelling breath that filled Magpie's lungs. He could almost taste the sweat on the man. Magpie felt weak and drained. Without krovla (translates to mana). A voice, cold and meaningful sang across the small underground room. "Leave him be Dulmhin. He is much smarter than you, so stop imposing your foul air upon him." Dulmhin looked up with disgust. "I'm runnin' this 'ere show mis'er Imrahil. So don' you go a pokin' ya nose around, ya hear?"
Magpie couldn’t see the other man but he guessed his appearance, or maybe it wasn't just guessing. Imrahil walked slowly across the room and stared down at Magpie. "What's your name, son?" He asked in an almost kind way. Dulmhin shuffled off and sat down at the only piece of furniture in the room, a simple wooden table. Magpie glared up at the old man, his vision was still returning and was blurry. He still knew what the man looked like somehow.
"They call me... Some people call me... Magpie". Imrahil grunted acknowledgment.
"Magpie. Strange name. Well I am Imrahil, and that sulking ruffian over there is Dulmhin. I am a mage. What is your profession?" Magpie slowly inspected his cell. It was a small underground chamber with rough walls and a simple barred door. "I too, am a Mage." Imrahil turned away. "Ohh," Magpie grinned softly, "Congratulations on that shot" Imrahil grinned an arrogant smile, but his expression changed as Magpie continued. "It’s not easy to get me and," he paused, "I saw you."
Imrahil drew his hand into a fist. His fist swept down, aimed at Magpie's nose, but before he made contact, an invisible force deflected his hand, bouncing it aside painfully. "You will wish you were never born when we are through with you." Imrahil sneered and left. Dulmhin followed glumly. He smiled in a friendly manner, and Magpie smiled back. Dulmhin may be smelly and foul mouthed, but at least he was weak minded.
Magpie stretched his mind out. He could feel the small minds of worms and plants above him. Stretching out a little further he found Dulmhin. Magpie quietly slipped his mental grasp around Dulmhin and slid into his subconsciousness. He would wait for the perfect moment, then kill Imrahil and let himself free.
Who knows? He might even give Dulmhin a little present.
Magpie grinned broadly.
He liked giving presents.
[This message has been edited by moderator (edited 10-22-2001).]
"Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth..."
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