There was a time in which there was nothing but darkness and an abyss of waters, wherein resided most luminous beings which were produced of a two-fold principle. Seraphs appeared with six wings, Drakes of girth with two, and creatures of stone two faces. They had one body but two essences, one of light and life, the other of darkness and death. They were likewise, in their several organs, of the two genders male and female. Lo! other figures were to be seen with the legs and horns of goats. Some had horses' feet; others had the limbs of a horse behind but, in front, were fashioned like men resembling hippocentaurs. Bulls, likewise, bred there with the heads of Man; and dogs, with fourfold bodies, and the tails of fishes. Also, horses, with the heads of dogs: men, too, and other animals, with the heads and bodies of horses and the tails of fishes. In short, there were creatures with the limbs of every species of animals. Add to these fishes, reptiles, serpents, with other wonderful animals, which assumed each other's shape and countenance. When the world was young and alas the coming of Man cometh ere the world remade!
The world is changing, the old ways of the Dawn and Mythic glimmer faintly in the long memories of fair Elvenkings, renewed and fading in the minds of fleeting Man, heralded onto stone by Dwarven smiths and sunk into the Earths via your father's tomb. The Hyborian Age is here, the Age of a world formed of the Gods and blessed by all the Goddesses, alas we have yet to return the bargain. The Hyborian Age, for what shall come after the Dawn and the mist shrouded Mythic? The Fog of Time grows ever nearer and even as these words reach beyond mine mind's eye Ard'Tella churns with what is to come to pass -- and what may come again.
"Agiaus! Hurry up!"
The boy snapped his head up to see the face of his compatriots leering down at him. Hector the strongest and most wise of the youth scampered ahead towards their destination, while Pallex and Kastor the butcher's twin sons meandered a longer yet less inclined root. The vast mountain range of The Spine stretched before and above them. North to South. Dividing the lands long established by Man with those of the far Western realms. Of near legendary realms that the children had heard when they were young. Of fair lands of immortal kings and the loveliest maidens tending unwilting flowers amid evergreen boughs.
"Do you think we'll see Elves!" said Agiaus as he wrapped his dull brown wool cloak about his slender form. Moving with bare foot like the rest up to their destination. A small, rectangular, cut away in the mountains. Unable to be seen from the lowlands below or the outer farmsteads. Looking back he saw far beyond and in his mind he believed with faint glimmers he thought the shores of the vast inland sea of the Aegiad could be seen.
"Elves! Ha! Foolish telling from your old man again?" Pallex shot back with a faux cruel grin of idle teasing, his twin Kastor leering sheepishly before coming to a stop as a gust swept them. Tossing their cloaks about their shoulders. Causing each of the boys to grip them tightly and shiver. Kastor spoke up at last, "Agiaus, how did you find this place again? It is dark and I cannot see into the gloom."
"Saw it when I was helping herd some of Old Callamandus' goats last morn', said it was a haunted place and not to go near."
"A haunted place," responded Kastor with a glare at Agiaus, "Should 'ave said that before we spent the afternoon clambering up these slopes. Ma' will be giving me a whipping when I get home if she were to find out."
"Then she won't find out," responded Pallex with a reassuring smile before stepping forward.
Hector however did not speak and just stared into the darkness. "Stare into the heart of darkness and it may just stare back into your own..." A mantra from some poem of old about great wars between the Sea-Kings and Man against darkness itself in an age past. "You really believe such fables?" responded Agiaus with a bit more inquisitiveness than surruptous condescension. Hector merely held out an arm to stop Kastor, "What?"
Hector did not alter his gaze, "We should not be here. This place is dead, and the wraiths of the deceased watch the way."
"Come off it, Hector, the legends are legends for a reason." Pushing past Hector's arm Kastor moved into the gloom. Hector's eyes finally leaving the entrance of the cleft in the mountain that led into the cave of clearly carved hands. Hewing into the bosom of the mountains above. Pallex was the second and Agiaus the third, leaving for but a moment Hector there by himself, and doubt was fervently upon him. He turned to look away and towards the light bathed woods and fields of his homeland.
"Hector! Come don't be a coward! It is only a little dark, son of a warrior you are, ha!" Kastor's voice echoed from the abyss. Hector looked at his dirty bare feet and gulped before pulling his cloak closer to his youthful form. Plunging into the darkness with quick steps as if out of fear of being left behind.
The cave itself was curiously hewn with a rather straight rectangular shaft, possessing only a gentle slope and rather smooth walls worn from rain, the mud of the entrance giving way to cold stone. The skin of their bare feet dulling by the minute as they moved further. Rounding the corner to a small circular chamber with a damaged plinth. There the boys froze in unison. A skeleton was sprawled on the floor, clothes long tattered and fallen away, with its mouth held ajar as if in eternal scream.
Hector tugged at Agiaus and Pallex's cloaks, "We musn't be here. I can smell the stench of death about this tomb."
Pallex pulled his shoulder away and moved over to the skeleton while Kastor wandered several feet around the circular chamber. Pausing by small part of the wall and kneeling down, "Look, come look! There is another room!"
The boys slowly moved over with Agiaus and Hector coming last and with less surety in their steps. A small hole and it was clear there were once a passage now long blocked by stone smoothed together. Hector made to speak again, "We sh--," his caution dashed by Agiaus, "You always are like this Hector. What fear should we have of a tomb? Are the dead not departed? Has Valdr that blond oaf from the North cooked your mind with his hearth tales of his homeland? A homeland none in town have been too?"
Moving forward Kastor smiled and crept into the hole and grimaced for it was tight and each of the boys struggled to worm their way through. Followed by Pallex and Agiaus. Hector only coming last and without enthusiasm. Moving into the chamber they saw a dim light from a crack in the ceiling of a dome? A dome the chamber was for it is hewn from the very mountain's heart. The boys moved forward and came upon the spot of the lights resting place. A rectangular inset inscribed with old runes in a script none of the boys recognized save one.
"What is this? A serpent devouring itself?" mused the twins to themselves. Agiaus finally smiled as the thought of treasure reached him, "What if there are riches!"
Riches! Agiaus and the twins shouted to themselves. Voices echoing throughout the dome and up to the dim light's entrance. Whispers in the air for the mountain's response was immediate. A gust flew through with ill tidings that chilled Hectors bones. Only now his eyes understood what lay before him, the runes in the serpent glyph now standing out to him. Northmen runes that Valdr had shown him. Symbols of curse and awakened sleep stood out to him. Spine tingling and cold sweat at the nape of his brow forming tense rivulets.
The boys clambered over the rectangular inset and feeling around it began to pry at a chipped corner. Slowly, but surely, they hefted the rectangular stone up and away for it to crash with a thunderous clap onto the cold stone of the mountain floor. Hector recoiled at the ghastly sight of the corpse, sunken flesh still clinging to its bones, with blackened eyelids stretched over bulging orbs. In its grip a sword as tall as Agiaus was gripped amid gnarled fingers. Its black cloak tattered and helm bearing glyphs of bears dusty. The chainmail about his form rusted and caked in gray dirt. Gold rings and coins surrounded the figure and in this the boys eagerly began to pluck. Kastor donning rings and a gold necklace studded with onyx before reaching down and gleefully prying the sword free. Letting out a grunt at its weight in his boyish hands.
The boys could scarcely notice that the eyes of the deceased warrior were now open. Fierce ice-colored eyes shining up above. Hector screamed and the boys froze to look at him. The boys moving to their friend, backs to the tomb, Kastor brandished the sword with a snarl, "What is it! You scarred a-ack." A flaxen hand gripped Kastor's head by the hair and twisted violently. The bones of the boy's neck snapping and twisting as the wright rotated the dying boy's neck like a swivel before letting the fresh corpse fall in a wet thump. Piss and feces from the late youth from relaxed, dead, innards flopping to the floor and freshly joined by said owner's face. The sword clattered towards Hector.
Pallex and Agiaus screamed with the former falling away backwards. The latter clambering to be beside Hector. The wright advanced and with surprisingly quick movements slammed a foot onto Pallex's chest. The boy screamed and flailed as the wright came down on the boy's neck. Death. Maw of the wright clattering up and down in some cackling mockery of a laugh. Hector stepped back and Agiaus looked at his friend for a moment then sneered, shoving Hector forward to fall onto the ground, racing towards the hole to escape back into the other room. Scrambling down to squeeze through with much less grace.
The wright advanced and Hector rolled away with a yell as the Wright made to stamp upon him and having missed moved onward towards the legs of Agiaus as the boy fought to fit through the hole once more for panic had overtaken his movements and his cloak was catching on the lips of the ruddy rim of his escape route. Hector looked onward as the wright continued towards Agiaus before a gleam caught his eye, the sword that had fallen from slain Kastor, the Wright's blade, called out to be held and with a cry Hector raced forward and gripped the hilt. Immediately, the Wright twisted towards Hector and the youth swung wildly. The blade sparking on the dusty gray mail which caused the Wright to stammer backwards.
Hector yelled and attacked with desperation, swinging wildly, arms burning with the weight of the weapon. The Wright side stepped and in a feral backhand struck Hector from his feet to fall into the very grave it had risen. The Wright turned once more to the squirming form of Agiaus and Hector's companion began to violently yell blood curdling wails. Hector gripped the hilt of the sword, looked upon it, looked at the foreign runes running down its length. He felt them, not the blood rushing in his veins or the bursting pumps of a boy's heart, but in his mind. The voice of his father and grandfather long dead.
HECTOR
He clasped the thunderbolt at his neck and muttered a silent prayer to the Gods as she rose, blade held before him, grip firm.
HECTOR
The boy opened his mouth and out came not a scream or a wail, but a cry of war and battle borne from the throat of a man and with this ferocity he leapt from the shallow crypt. Blade now held close he made to assail the Wright who now twisted with one then two sickly wet lurches. Reeling around the bottom half of Agaius in its grip like a mace of gore it swung. Hector ducked and the warmth of his friend's vitality striking his skin did naught for his will for the spirit of his forefathers was with him now.
HECTOR
The man came up and terror of violent in his eyes as he swung a heavy blow. Catching the Wright in the ribs as mail sparked and dissected ribs splintered. The Wright swung back, and Hector took its blow with the edge of the blade and even as it rocked him backwards a half measure of a stride it no longer flung him back for, he was Hector son of Priamos of the Aenaid! And with this a righteous fury took hold as he sensed the weakness of his enemy. Moving forth he gave a nimble strike which spun the left arm of the creature away then a low lunging sweep. Destroying the Wrights knees with a bone crunching hate. The wright crumbled to the floor and yet with the will of something not of this world it started to right itself, but Hector would not allow it and with a final bellow of victory he swung down with all his might. The blade catching the light above in a phantasm of white flame as it struck the exposed nape of the Wright's neck, parting skull from vertebrae, and with-it Hector kneeled in exhaustion to scoop forth the helm in his hands like a warrior-prince of old collecting a trophy of battle.
HECTOR
Ermeris, Beriador the 'Land of Sweet Berry'
Year of 3949 of the Hyborian Age
The Princess Valara Tinuvaeliriel of House Valadyn looked out at the expanse of the Great Lake Aytherie or Purity in the language of the Valtmari. For its waters were crystal clear even on the darkest of nights. Even the disturbances of fishermen could not muddle its waters from onlookers. While the fair towers of Ermeris and mansions of her people rose on a low hill beside the crystal mirror surface. Outer buildings and districts coming to nestle among elegant wharfs of milk-white stone. Pillars flowing like trees and adorned in silver-gold caught the light of the Heart above, the Sun which was center to all, like the fire in a smith's kiln. In her hand was a scroll detailing ancient sagas of Man which was dusty and ill-used but not tarnished by virtue of the care in all things her people were wont to conduct themselves. The high white walls of the city formed a snowy barrier between the fairness inside and the sculpted orchards and vineyards beyond. For Beriador was fair of landscape and home to the assortment of flavorful wine that would fetch a hefty price in foreign lands. Where elven ships could dock in trade and friendship of course. Which was a rare thing these days in this Age of the world.
Footsteps came up behind the fair elf-maiden. Her fiery hair was smooth like silk and the milk-white flesh it wreathed complimented the aura of her image. Taking more after her mother than her father in matters of mane and eye. For her eyes were of mixed green and blue. "My Lady, are you ready? You are due to depart for Ilyaris by high noon?"
"Yes, Finulon, I am. Though I wish to set my eyes upon Aytherie still a little longer." She turned to give a slight smile to the fair-haired Elf before her. The Elf nodded and stepped away gracefully leaving the Princess to her own mental devices a little while longer. The trip to Ilyaris would be long and while she enjoyed the knowledge and beauty of that hidden vale. Most of all the Loremasters which resided there in such a safe haven. But the travel could be arduous as it took them East beyond country beyond the keeping of the Valtmari and over The Spine to the lands of Man and Dwarf.