Chapter One - A Band of Vagabonds
Akdor, the most isolated continent in all of Caelereth, not because of its location as much as its inhabitants. Akdor is a continent patrolled by the Legion of Light, because the continent is a prison continent. All those in the world who have been deemed unfit to live within society have been deposited onto this miserable soil. The inhabitants, over the years, developed a kill or be killed way of life here. No real villages fill the region, but many encampments dot the horizon.
Bands of vagabonds wage a constant war against each other, all fighting for dominance. Ogres, Minotaurs, Elves, Dwarves, and every other imaginable race live in this place, all struggling for survival, and all fighting each other to the death. Most of the races have banned together out of habit, but a few misfits have deemed themselves loners. They do not normally last long here.
The Legion of Light guard the borders loosely, but have outposts on all the major surrounding islands, and on the coasts of Sarvonia, the main continent, to prevent escape. Water dragons also patrol the sea to prevent aquatic escape. The only means of escape is to the west, where no guard will travel, for fear of a mythical beast that is said to inhabit that area of sea. None who have journeyed out from that direction have lived to tell the tale.
The Mage's Guild gathered centuries before and covered the continent in a magic dampening blanket, which prevents all, even the most powerful mages, to use any magic at all while there. This is why the Guild sends its captured renegades to Akdor for easy disposal. Most mages die soon without magical defenses. Those who do survive, do so by forming alliances quickly or going into hiding, rarely emerging.
Over the years Akdor has developed a reputation for its general foulness as well as its depressingly unsuccessful escape attempts. Many try to escape and are either killed on site by the Legion of Light, eaten by the Sea Dragons, or simply returned Akdor in an unfriendly region. Akdor is the epitome of despair and hope does not spring eternal when one is dealing with it. It's very name strikes fear into children, and is often used by parents to get young ones to do chores. But grown men too fear this place, the Legion of Light refuse to even build an outpost on its shores. Preferring to let the inmates attempt escape and fail miserably, instead.
The new arrivals are sent in via Dragons and never in the same place twice. Each newcomer is given a knife and flint. That is all. Everything else is provided by the land. Since this has been the way of things for centuries, the few children born in this place are rarely around long to wish they hadn't been born. But those who survive in this place are something to be reckoned with. The love from their parents and peers replaced with fear. The need for acceptance replaced with loathing for others. Isolation has become common place, and hope is not in their vocabulary, for they know nothing else, nothing better. They do not know what the world holds for them. They are being punished for the sins of the father. The burden has become heavy, and almost impossible to bear. Murder is done before breakfast, theft before lunch, and rape before dinner. Nothing is sacred, and the future is often thought upon with scorn. Many such have gone insane from just being alive. But most have become the most ruthless on Akdor, more than the whole of the father and nearly the community. They have committed more sins than most sent here. They rule bands with iron fists, and wage blood wars with each other that have lasted decades. Akdor is their home; it is all they have known. In their world they are kings of no kingdoms and rulers of nothing and all.
Amongst them will rise a true ruler, a true king. A man who unites Akdor into a force that will bring the world to its knees, and make even the Gods shudder. A man birthed from agony and despair and raised in pain and torture. No mercy does this man know. No pain can this man feel. Only hatred and anger, unleashed in vengeance. May the Gods protect and shelter their children this night, because no one else will.
* * * * * * * *
The sun glared off the silver goblet as the mage rolled the contents around with a bored expression on his pale face. His grey robes lay wrapped around him, as if conforming to his body. Once he had been powerful. Once he had lead armies and won battles for his God. In his pride he found his downfall. He had dared to plot against his God and in doing so was stripped of his protection. His armies turned against him and would have killed him had he not used the last of his power to send him where they could not harm him. Unfortunately that place had been Akdor. His powers completely useless here he was forced to rely on the few magical artifacts that he still possessed to get him by. One of those artifacts, a bracelet of longevity, granted him an impossibly long life for a human.
He had tried to get out of Akdor for years, to no avail. Finally he had decided to wait it out. To build himself a tower and wait till someone came to him, someone who had the potential to help him out of this foul place. That time had come a few years earlier when a young half-ogre had come to his tower looking to take it for his own. The half-ogre had nearly been killed then and there but the mage had recognized something in him, that ability to lead others that is so rare. So he had saved the thing and began teaching him, training him, until he was ready to take his plans into action.
The mage had given the half-ogre a powerful amulet that caused it's wearer to possess amazing powers of persuasion. It gave the wearer to control any thing evil, and could convince even good things to at least listen to what he had to say. So with this amulet he sent the half-ogre out into Akdor, and everywhere he went he recruited. He recruited every race, and every being on the whole continent without any complaints. With his General at the lead, the mage had then trained his new found army into a well disciplined machine, an army the might of which may never be rivaled again.
But now he had to wait. He sipped from the goblet and then hurled the thing into the wall. "ANDREAS!" he yelled.
The half-ogre came into the room, showing no regard for the goblet on the ground, and smiled at the mage. He glanced at the bracelet on the mages wrist for a moment, looked to have thought of something, and then stopped having thought better of it. "You know my time is precious mage, what do you need?" he said, drawing out the word mage as if the word itself were poisonous.
"Your time is only precious, Victor, because I allow it to be precious, do not forget that. I have called you for a reason though. After nearly a century on this cursed rock, it is time for us to leave."
Victor started in disbelief. "Finally, you have decided we are ready. The troops grow impatient, it is good you decide to move now or else I fear I would have no one to lead in a month."
The mage cast Victor a glare. "Those fools would stay here till the end of the world if you told them to and you know it to be true. The Amulet of D'sildren will not fail unless its wearer does. You have them for life my dear Victor. Till death do you all part. That is the only reason I do not rip out your insolent tongue. It would be time consuming training another to lead the flock. But my patience does have limits Victor, do not grow too bold."
Victor Andreas's defiance slowly slid away. "Sorry Valitor. I am used to being in charge, not the other way around. I spend too much time with the men. I am glad you are ready to leave; I will alert Firethorn and Vallyn. They will be anxious to be on their way."
Valitor let a smile slowly creep across his face, though once handsome, the years of unnatural life had definitely distorted some of his features, making him seem very evil. "Firethorn will lead the first wave. I want him to sweep through the east into Cael'heroth. Those Legion of Light ninnies will not know what hit them. They have never dealt with more than two or three escapees at a time. I wonder if the commanders will even get a chance to sound the alarm. I want Vallyn sweeping south. Nybelmar will be taken with ease and will make sure Vallyn is up to the task."
Victor was nodding throughout the instructions and when Valitor was finished he stopped. "And what of me lord? Am I not to partake in the conquests?"
The smile on the mages face flared into a snarl. "You? I have not forgotten you Victor Andreas. No your part is the most important. Once I am out from underneath this magic dampening field which prevents all magic but magical artifacts to work, I will personally accompany you and your main force on a special mission. You see, years ago I was betrayed by my God. I wish to return the favor to him. I will have regained all my powers on the outside. There you will see me in my most glorious state. We travel to the large island of Denilou southeast of Sarvonia. There is the great Temple of Horuul, the God of Destruction. I wish to level the Temple and enslave his followers."
"I have trained this whole time just for you to wipe out some priests? This is unacceptable! I demand argh!" Victor's head snapped back suddenly and his hands went to his temples. Valitor's fist was clenched around a beaded necklace; his eyes were wild with anger.
"YOU FORGET YOURSELF AGAIN! I will not have you acting this way. You will do as I say or I will end you right here and now." He relaxed his grip on the necklace and Victor feel to his knees, fighting off tears of pain. Valitor slowly walked over to him and began smoothing back Victor's hair. "There, there my poor Victor. I do this for your own good. You must learn humility and obedience. Without it you will be of no use to me. Perhaps I was too quick to speak before. We will head to Denilou, but only through the heart of Sarvonia. Once Firethorn's force has taken Cael'heroth, we will pave a path of destruction south through the continent, leaving nothing living that does not serve us. You will see much action Victor that I promise."
With that the mage helped Victor to his feet and sent him to prepare the men for the journey ahead. It would take a few days to get to the shores, then another to get all the ships to their destinations. There was still much to do before Valitor could rest, but he did feel much better knowing the power would soon be his again.
Akdor, the most isolated continent in all of Caelereth, not because of its location as much as its inhabitants. Akdor is a continent patrolled by the Legion of Light, because the continent is a prison continent. All those in the world who have been deemed unfit to live within society have been deposited onto this miserable soil. The inhabitants, over the years, developed a kill or be killed way of life here. No real villages fill the region, but many encampments dot the horizon.
Bands of vagabonds wage a constant war against each other, all fighting for dominance. Ogres, Minotaurs, Elves, Dwarves, and every other imaginable race live in this place, all struggling for survival, and all fighting each other to the death. Most of the races have banned together out of habit, but a few misfits have deemed themselves loners. They do not normally last long here.
The Legion of Light guard the borders loosely, but have outposts on all the major surrounding islands, and on the coasts of Sarvonia, the main continent, to prevent escape. Water dragons also patrol the sea to prevent aquatic escape. The only means of escape is to the west, where no guard will travel, for fear of a mythical beast that is said to inhabit that area of sea. None who have journeyed out from that direction have lived to tell the tale.
The Mage's Guild gathered centuries before and covered the continent in a magic dampening blanket, which prevents all, even the most powerful mages, to use any magic at all while there. This is why the Guild sends its captured renegades to Akdor for easy disposal. Most mages die soon without magical defenses. Those who do survive, do so by forming alliances quickly or going into hiding, rarely emerging.
Over the years Akdor has developed a reputation for its general foulness as well as its depressingly unsuccessful escape attempts. Many try to escape and are either killed on site by the Legion of Light, eaten by the Sea Dragons, or simply returned Akdor in an unfriendly region. Akdor is the epitome of despair and hope does not spring eternal when one is dealing with it. It's very name strikes fear into children, and is often used by parents to get young ones to do chores. But grown men too fear this place, the Legion of Light refuse to even build an outpost on its shores. Preferring to let the inmates attempt escape and fail miserably, instead.
The new arrivals are sent in via Dragons and never in the same place twice. Each newcomer is given a knife and flint. That is all. Everything else is provided by the land. Since this has been the way of things for centuries, the few children born in this place are rarely around long to wish they hadn't been born. But those who survive in this place are something to be reckoned with. The love from their parents and peers replaced with fear. The need for acceptance replaced with loathing for others. Isolation has become common place, and hope is not in their vocabulary, for they know nothing else, nothing better. They do not know what the world holds for them. They are being punished for the sins of the father. The burden has become heavy, and almost impossible to bear. Murder is done before breakfast, theft before lunch, and rape before dinner. Nothing is sacred, and the future is often thought upon with scorn. Many such have gone insane from just being alive. But most have become the most ruthless on Akdor, more than the whole of the father and nearly the community. They have committed more sins than most sent here. They rule bands with iron fists, and wage blood wars with each other that have lasted decades. Akdor is their home; it is all they have known. In their world they are kings of no kingdoms and rulers of nothing and all.
Amongst them will rise a true ruler, a true king. A man who unites Akdor into a force that will bring the world to its knees, and make even the Gods shudder. A man birthed from agony and despair and raised in pain and torture. No mercy does this man know. No pain can this man feel. Only hatred and anger, unleashed in vengeance. May the Gods protect and shelter their children this night, because no one else will.
* * * * * * * *
The sun glared off the silver goblet as the mage rolled the contents around with a bored expression on his pale face. His grey robes lay wrapped around him, as if conforming to his body. Once he had been powerful. Once he had lead armies and won battles for his God. In his pride he found his downfall. He had dared to plot against his God and in doing so was stripped of his protection. His armies turned against him and would have killed him had he not used the last of his power to send him where they could not harm him. Unfortunately that place had been Akdor. His powers completely useless here he was forced to rely on the few magical artifacts that he still possessed to get him by. One of those artifacts, a bracelet of longevity, granted him an impossibly long life for a human.
He had tried to get out of Akdor for years, to no avail. Finally he had decided to wait it out. To build himself a tower and wait till someone came to him, someone who had the potential to help him out of this foul place. That time had come a few years earlier when a young half-ogre had come to his tower looking to take it for his own. The half-ogre had nearly been killed then and there but the mage had recognized something in him, that ability to lead others that is so rare. So he had saved the thing and began teaching him, training him, until he was ready to take his plans into action.
The mage had given the half-ogre a powerful amulet that caused it's wearer to possess amazing powers of persuasion. It gave the wearer to control any thing evil, and could convince even good things to at least listen to what he had to say. So with this amulet he sent the half-ogre out into Akdor, and everywhere he went he recruited. He recruited every race, and every being on the whole continent without any complaints. With his General at the lead, the mage had then trained his new found army into a well disciplined machine, an army the might of which may never be rivaled again.
But now he had to wait. He sipped from the goblet and then hurled the thing into the wall. "ANDREAS!" he yelled.
The half-ogre came into the room, showing no regard for the goblet on the ground, and smiled at the mage. He glanced at the bracelet on the mages wrist for a moment, looked to have thought of something, and then stopped having thought better of it. "You know my time is precious mage, what do you need?" he said, drawing out the word mage as if the word itself were poisonous.
"Your time is only precious, Victor, because I allow it to be precious, do not forget that. I have called you for a reason though. After nearly a century on this cursed rock, it is time for us to leave."
Victor started in disbelief. "Finally, you have decided we are ready. The troops grow impatient, it is good you decide to move now or else I fear I would have no one to lead in a month."
The mage cast Victor a glare. "Those fools would stay here till the end of the world if you told them to and you know it to be true. The Amulet of D'sildren will not fail unless its wearer does. You have them for life my dear Victor. Till death do you all part. That is the only reason I do not rip out your insolent tongue. It would be time consuming training another to lead the flock. But my patience does have limits Victor, do not grow too bold."
Victor Andreas's defiance slowly slid away. "Sorry Valitor. I am used to being in charge, not the other way around. I spend too much time with the men. I am glad you are ready to leave; I will alert Firethorn and Vallyn. They will be anxious to be on their way."
Valitor let a smile slowly creep across his face, though once handsome, the years of unnatural life had definitely distorted some of his features, making him seem very evil. "Firethorn will lead the first wave. I want him to sweep through the east into Cael'heroth. Those Legion of Light ninnies will not know what hit them. They have never dealt with more than two or three escapees at a time. I wonder if the commanders will even get a chance to sound the alarm. I want Vallyn sweeping south. Nybelmar will be taken with ease and will make sure Vallyn is up to the task."
Victor was nodding throughout the instructions and when Valitor was finished he stopped. "And what of me lord? Am I not to partake in the conquests?"
The smile on the mages face flared into a snarl. "You? I have not forgotten you Victor Andreas. No your part is the most important. Once I am out from underneath this magic dampening field which prevents all magic but magical artifacts to work, I will personally accompany you and your main force on a special mission. You see, years ago I was betrayed by my God. I wish to return the favor to him. I will have regained all my powers on the outside. There you will see me in my most glorious state. We travel to the large island of Denilou southeast of Sarvonia. There is the great Temple of Horuul, the God of Destruction. I wish to level the Temple and enslave his followers."
"I have trained this whole time just for you to wipe out some priests? This is unacceptable! I demand argh!" Victor's head snapped back suddenly and his hands went to his temples. Valitor's fist was clenched around a beaded necklace; his eyes were wild with anger.
"YOU FORGET YOURSELF AGAIN! I will not have you acting this way. You will do as I say or I will end you right here and now." He relaxed his grip on the necklace and Victor feel to his knees, fighting off tears of pain. Valitor slowly walked over to him and began smoothing back Victor's hair. "There, there my poor Victor. I do this for your own good. You must learn humility and obedience. Without it you will be of no use to me. Perhaps I was too quick to speak before. We will head to Denilou, but only through the heart of Sarvonia. Once Firethorn's force has taken Cael'heroth, we will pave a path of destruction south through the continent, leaving nothing living that does not serve us. You will see much action Victor that I promise."
With that the mage helped Victor to his feet and sent him to prepare the men for the journey ahead. It would take a few days to get to the shores, then another to get all the ships to their destinations. There was still much to do before Valitor could rest, but he did feel much better knowing the power would soon be his again.