EROLLE: Tale of the Forger
11 September 2004
By Thraxenel
Years ago before the fall of the Ancients there lived a young Ancient named Erolle, whose role in destiny had been long denied- until chance came when only in death can his role fulfilled. To those who believe Vorador to be the forger of the Reaver, think again....
.....................................................................................................................
INTRO
First of all, I'd like to say that this is one of my firsts LOK fics; I've recently played SR2 and Defiance, and did some painful research on the Net and in the dialogue of SR2 and SR1. Once I made a few theories of my own, I decided to make a history fic about the Ancients- and the Forging of the Reaver.
Ok, ok so I might miss out a few things here. If anyone can help me, pls do! Willy Hayes had given me an offer, and tried as I might, I couldn't contact him! I tried, Willy, I really did! Information is welcome, but flaming is discouraged cos I'm a bit new to this....
Anyhoo, just wanna point out that Erolle is © me. Ok, enjoy the fic!
........................................................................................................................
CHAPTER ONE:
It was a cold, winter evening when Janos Audron realized something strange was happening to him.
His eyes strayed outside his aerie balcony, squinting at the scarlet sunset outside. The relentless sound of flapping wings had awoken him from his evening nap, and he wasn;t very pleased at being disturbed. The afternoon hunt had tired him greatly, and he had looked forward all day to a long rest.
Janos got off his bed and walked towards his balcony and drew the long velvet grey curtains aside. He couldn't sleep now- more flapping sounded his room as the sun sank lower into the horizon. The sky was tainted a deep crimson and gold, as if someone had spilt blood all over the heavens. Though Janos was always one to admire scenery, he wasn't too happy about all that furious flapping. Above him soared dozens of the Ancient City's winged denizens, all swarming into a mad frenzy of blue skin and grey feathers. Wings pounded against the quiet evening wind, furious and relentless- and awfully noisy too.
They hungry, Janos pondered.
Of course, Janos couldn't blame them. He himself suffered from the wretched hunger, but he usually hunted during the early dawn when humans are least aware of them. Humans knew they feared sunlight, and least expect them to come out during the early rays of the sun. But Janos feared not the meek rays of a dawn sun; they do sting a bit but he was more than used to it. Plus, catching humans at dawn are one of the best times- their blood is sweeter and more fresh.
It had been two years since the Pillars were raised and the Hylden banished from the land. And two years since the wretched blood lust curse tore Janos's people apart. Their newly found vampiric immortality drove them mad, and several fell victim to suicide. They were holy creatures- forever faithful to their God, and the idea of being saperated from Him is just too impossible. Janos had often suffered lapses of suicide, but his common sense always stopped him. Several had called him a tainted dog- as he prefered to live than to die and be with his God. But Janos ignored their insults, and continued to live- for a reason he just can't find.
Oh, but wait- he did have a reason to continue living- and it was a very good one too.
Janos suddenly found himself chuckling, then turned his attention to the swarm of Ancients soaring over his head. He could see them quite clearly- and they were unfamiliar faces. Good.
So he isn't going, Janos thought. Might as well make sure....
Sure enough, his thoughts were confirmed. Even from the distance, he could hear heavy clanking of metal- sounds of hammerfalls echoed from one particular large tower not too far away. It was one of the few standing towers on the now old and half-ruined Coven of Stone. The Coven was seldom used nowadays, filled only temporarily by a few Ancients. The old building was so ruined, nobody bothered to fix it anymore.
Janos neared it, flapping his broad wings hard, closing onto the tower in front of him. The opened arches of this tower were spewing forth a flaming red light, and occasionally Janos's sharp eyes caught sight of a few sparks flying out. Someone was doing some heavy balcksmith work inside.
Janos drew his wings back and landed quietly into one of the flaming arches. Folding his elegant wings behind him, he looked around for the source of the red light. He caught the sight of a narrow staircase leading downwards, deeper into the Coven. Down the staircase, the clanging boomed ever louder, and more sparks flew with every thundering hammerbeat. Janos fearlessly decended downwards, taking care in avoiding the red-hot sparks.
As he decended, the clanging thundered in his ears and Janos put his cloven hands over them. Once he came to the bottom of the staircase, he saw that he is inside a large, long room made of old stone. At one end stood a massive fireplace, and the room would've been empty save for the countless anvils and large tables lined the walls. Broken swords and spears were stacked hastily in one corner, and more pieces of broken weapons and armoury littered the long room. The who area was illuminated with red light- which came from the massive fireplace itself.
Janos squinted against the light. He was slightly nervous- fire was dangerous to a vampire Ancient. But yet here it was used at a frightful height, so enourmous and powerful Janos feared that it would engulf him in its wrathful embrace. But then again that fire was held back, tamed by a lone figure that stood in front of the roaring fireplace. Red lines framed his large grey wings, and through the inferno Janos could see his hand, clutching a large metal hammer, rise up and down, banging the huge hammer against a metal anvil and a long piece of metal on it. With each hammerbeat, a clanging echoed the whole room and sparks flew. Nevertheless, the figure went on relentlessly.