Well, after slaving away for many hours, I've compiled all our background stuff into one thread. However, there's so much of it, I'm having to post it as two posts! However, this isn't a bad thing, as it means we have loads of it! The background is organised into unit background, short bits, and stories to hopefully make it easy to access. Some bits I've marked with a (U), meaning I'm unsure if they are relevant now due to changes in background ideas. Anyway, here we go:
Unit Background
Sephiroth
There is only one named angel throughout all of the ancient texts. It is believed he was one of the ancient Seraphim, one of the most powerful angels in the world. It is believed he may even have been one of the generals of the armies in the Great War. He is always depicted wielding a huge blade, far longer than any of the others; another unique feature to him is that he only has one wing. This has led many modern scholars to refer to him as the “One Winged Angel”.
Throughout pictures he is depicted doing different things. In one he is fighting what appear to be four different daemons, he merely forces his blade to the ground and the earth itself swallows up the daemons. In another depiction he changes full throttle head first into a unit of Daemonic entities, he then transforms into a massive wave of blue energy, ploughing thorough the army of daemons causing destruction un told, he emerges the other side Unscathed, and laughing at the destruction of his enemies.
One cannot say what the “One Winged Angel” truly was, or what powers he had, but it is clear that he is not one to be taken lightly.
Cherubim
The Cherubim are said to be the second highest rank of angel that appeared in the battle of the southern wastes, they are one of the few creatures that there are actually given a description. But these writings shall not be uttered here, they are said to be the strongest of creatures and could destroy hundreds of Daemons at a time with one swing of its holy blade.
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From his Heart came the Cherubim, mighty warriors, without whom the Angels would surely fall.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L3
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The Cherubim are the second highest rank of Angel known, second only to the legendary Seraphim themselves. They are huge, imposing figures, standing head and shoulders over even their fellow Angels. Their eyes glow with righteous light, and their skin shimmers with energy. In war they are terrible to behold, wielding weapons blessed by the mightiest of Angels, cleaving their foes with every stroke. As befitting their status, the Cherubim lodge in the highest possible level of the city of Nirvana, the eighth level, below the ninth, which holds the Great Library of Cherubael, repository of all the knowledge of the Angelic race, and the Celestial throne, meeting place of the Seraphim. Angels do not have a social structure as such. They were born to be warriors, to defend the world from Chaos attack, and as such, Hierarchy has little meaning except in times of battle. Even so, the Cherubim are treated with great respect by the Angels wherever they go. It is said that the Cherubim were created from the heart of Seraphaal when he shattered, and it is a fitting myth indeed, for the Cherubim are the heart of the Angelic host, one of the greatest and most vital parts of the Angelic civilisation.
Virtues
From his brain came the Virtues, channelers of the holy power of the Angels.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L5
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While the Angels do not practice magic like the other races, they do generate holy energy. Certain Angels are created with the gift of being able to manipulate this energy, channelling it into blasts of sacred fire, or protecting their comrades from harm. The Virtues inhabit the seventh level of Nirvana, where they spend their days studying the tomes of Ancient lore, handed down since the birth of the Angels.
For them, the most sacred building in the whole of Nirvana is the Great Library of Cherubael, which holds all information ever gathered by the Angels. It is here that many Virtues spend their days, and all dream of being one day appointed the position of Ark Virtue, for only they are allowed to the higher levels of the Library. The highest levels of the building hold the most precious and revered treasures of the library, the Tomes of the Old Ones. Where, written on pages of finest Silk in ink of molten Gold, every detail of the lives of the Old Ones is reverentially recorded. The highest room of the Library is home to the Tome of Seraphaal, father of the Angels. The Custodian of the Library is the Seraphim Raziel, mightiest and most learned of all the Virtues.
Each of the warding monoliths that once formed a barrier to the Daemonic hordes was once tended by a Virtue. Though they remain still, the energy of the Shards is dimmed, and their power is no longer sufficient to hold back a major daemonic incursion.
When Seraphaal died, it is said that the Virtues were formed from the shards of his brain. It is a fitting match, for they are the most intelligent of all the Angelic beings.
Princedoms
While the Cherubim are recorded as being great warriors that none could stop, the Princedoms are said to have been warriors in there own right but they were more in tone with the troops, commanding and leading them to battle instead of leaping into the fray themselves.
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From his arms came the Princedoms, for they are the hands of the Seraphim and Cherubim, and carry out their wishes.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L4
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The Princedoms are the captains of the Angels, leaders of the troops on a lower level. Where the Cherubim are often pictured leaping alone into the fray, the Princedoms are depicted leading the Angelic host from the front, commanding and leading the troops, rather than fighting as individuals. The Princedoms inhabit the Sixth level of the holy city, as befits their rank as Lieutenants and commanders of the Angelic troops. The Princedoms were created from the arms of Seraphaal when he fell, for they are the means by which the Seraphim and Cherubim exact their will.
Dominions
(U) It is thought that Dominions and Princedoms are two opposites of a scale, while the Princedoms are leaders of the troops Dominions seem to be constantly depicted alongside the Cherubim aiding them in battle, so it is thought that they may have been personal bodyguards or followers of Cherubim.
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While the Angels were created as defenders of the earth, they still have emotions, families and other such ties, and they still feel grief when their loved ones die. Dominions are those Angels who have lost everything that mattered to them, their friends and family, often painfully. With nothing left in their lives but hate and war, the Dominions train ceaselessly, spending every waking hour training, preparing to exact vengeance on those who stole everything they cared for. They refuse the company of other Angels and fight alone. They care not for their own fate, and will stand unyielding against whatever foe. They do not have set homes in Nirvana, for they are restless wanderers who dislike being in close proximity to others. Those that stay in Nirvana only do so to prepare for their ceaseless journey of Vengeance, while the majority of Dominions roam every-vigilant around the world, searching for enemies to slay, and exact retribution for the pain they have caused.
Angels and Archangels
(U) This term is used to describe a majority of those that “seemed” to have played a minor part in the Great War. They are the troops, the warriors that make the legions of Angelic beings. Warriors they may be, they are above the power of some of the mightiest creatures on the planet, as it is often pictured just one Angel slaying three or more daemonic entities at once, if this is just a unknown bias is not known, but it is assumed these were great and mighty warriors in times gone…
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From his flesh and bone came the Angels, the massed legions of the blessed, the most numerous and vital of all the children of Seraphaal.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L6
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The Angels are by far the most numerous of the Angelic Beings. They form the bulk of the population, the citizenry of Nirvana. When not at war, they perform the day-to-day tasks of the city. They are its armourers, its craftsmen, its weaponsmiths, teachers and guards. In their spare time, they practice for long hours in the arts of war, awaiting the call to battle. Even the lowliest Angel is a warrior beyond compare, with a skill at arms exceeding that of the elites of most armies.
The Archangels are taller and stronger than ordinary Angels. They were created as elite warriors, the upper class of the Angels. In times of peace, they are the supervisors of the Angelic craftsmen. The master smiths and overseers of the Angel apprentices and workers. They spend the majority of their time training, for even more so than the Angels, they are a warrior caste, created to fight.
It is said that the Angels and Archangels were formed from the flesh and bone of Seraphaal, for they are the body of the Angelic population, the troops and workers of the civilisation.
Vengeances
When the Angels were formed, there were some whose hatred for chaos was especially strong, who fought with fanatical fury against the Daemonic legions. These were the Vengeances, named so because they are forever seeking Vengeance against the Daemons who destroyed Seraphaal and drove out the Old Ones. They do not undertake menial activities. Instead, they spend every waking hour practising with their weapon of choice, the swordstick. This is a powerful weapon that can only be wielded by one of great skill, and only those who train constantly can master its use. The Vengeances go into battle bare-chested in defiance of the Daemon, refusing to wear armour as it would impede their movements. They trust in the power of Seraphaal to sustain them, as well as their skill. Their skin glows with brilliant light due to the power of their faith and fury, blinding their foes when they march to war.
Cherubim Guard
From his Ribs and skull came the Cherubim Guard, to forever protect the Cherubim and Seraphim in peace and war.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L7
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The Cherubim Guard are a sect of the Archangels created and dedicated to protecting the Cherubim at all times. They stand ever watchful over the palaces of the Cherubim in the 8th level, making sure that there is never a minute when the Cherubim are unprotected. When the Cherubim leave their dwellings, the Cherubim Guard are always there, ever vigilant, ever watchful. When the Angelic Host was created the Cherubim Guard were born with one aim only, the defence of their Cherubim. They are of similar stature to Archangels, but they train ceaselessly, night and day. Every minute not spent guarding the Cherubim is spent improving their skills so they may better protect the Cherubim.
To aid in their task, the Cherubim Guard are blessed with huge wings greater than those of other Angels, so they can follow their Cherubim and come quickly to his aid when he requires it. They will never leave their Cherubim once appointed, and as such only ever appear on the battlefield when a Cherubim is also present. Even then, they are reluctant to leave his side.
Powers
(U) The writings recorded of Powers and Virtues are highly unusual, they are two very different beings yet, when mentioned they are always of spoken of as “together”. There is some strange Symbolic link between the two that is yet to be discovered.
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From his mighty muscle and sinew came the Powers, to provide strength and creatures of burden to the Angelic Host.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L8
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Powers are huge creatures with the shape of an Angel, but standing taller than Ogres. They are incredibly strong, but they are not as intelligent as the other Angels. They rarely speak, and when they do it is in short, quick phrases. The Powers are used to carry heavy loads, the city of Nirvana, although architected by the Seraphim, was the work of the Powers. Although the Angels and Archangels smoothed and shaped the blocks, it was the Powers who quarried are transported the marble for its gleaming walls, and they who placed the finished blocks into position. All heavy work in Nirvana is done by the Powers. Indeed, when Seraphaal fell, the Powers were created from the shards of his muscles, for they are his strength.
In times of war, the Powers are terrifying enemies. They wield massive blades as tall as a man, scything into the enemy in a furious wave of destruction. Blows bounce off their thick skin and massive armour plates as they unleash their awesome blows. Few foes indeed can stand before an onslaught of Powers.
Anelai
At the time of the birth of the Angels, some among the host were created with massive feathered wings, dwarfing even the larger wings of the Cherubim and their guards. In the great battle against the Daemonic host, these blessed warriors took to the air, soaring high up and engaging the winged Daemons of Chaos in the sky. They drove back their foes, and dove down into the Daemonic ranks, crashing down upon the foe in a storm of destruction, sowing confusion and panic amongst the Daemons.
After the battle was won, these Angels banded together, and became known as the Anelai.
When not flying to war, these Angels can be seen practising their unique way of battle, soaring and wheeling high above the city of Nirvana like seagulls around a port, diving down towards the ground before pulling out at the last minute.
In battle, they do not form up and fight in ranks close to the ground. Instead, before the conflict begins, they soar upwards into the air and hover hundreds of metres above the ground. Once battle has been joined, they dive downwards and land in the heart of the enemy battle line, sowing discord and confusion, attacking the war machines of the enemy, or striking them from behind. Even on the ground, their wings are still capable of propelling them great distances, allowing them to swiftly fly around the battlefield, bringing swift death to their enemies.
Sons of Fire
When the gate of the Old Ones opened and the raw power of Chaos flowed through for the first time, it rent apart the world. The thunderous crack of the gates opening was heard in every corner of the globe. The sheer force of Chaos bursting into the world sent out shockwaves that tore up the earth, levelled cities and raised mountains. In some places, and especially around the gate where the waves were strongest, the ground itself split open and boiling lava blasted into the sky, creating great rivers of molten fire that turned the land into a barren waste. When the great Old One Seraphaal died, his body shattered into thousands of fragments, which formed the Angels. However, when all but the last Angels were formed, the newborn warriors of light saw a shower of shards falling straight towards one of the great rents in the earth from which the fire spewed. The Angelic host let out a cry of dismay for their lost brothers, for they believed that not even the power of an Angel could withstand the burning heat of the earth.
Yet even as they grieved something emerged from the fire. An Angel, his wings and body seeming aglow with fire, flames licking across his form. The Angels cried out, for they believed him to be in terrible pain. Yet he uttered no cry, and one by one, more flaming angels emerged from the fire, blazing beacons hovering above the battlefield.
Then, they let out a roar, and with a thrust of their arms, they hurled burning fire at the Daemonic hordes. The minions of chaos shrieked as the Angelic fire burned their bodies, and a rousing cry went up throughout the Angelic ranks, as the horde swept forward to engage the Daemons. The fiery Angels also threw themselves into the fray, burning up hundreds enemies with a mere touch of their flaming hands.
After the Daemonic horde had been routed, the fiery Angels stayed with the others for a time, and among them they become known as the Sons of Fire, and were afforded great respect by all the Angels. They always remained enigmatic about the origin of their gift, saying only that they were Sons of the Great Fire who had granted them his blessing. What they meant by this is still debated amongst the Angels. Yet although they were held in high regard, the Sons knew that the flames that covered their bodies were a curse as well as a blessing, and if they stayed it would surely only lead to misery and death, for their powers made them especially self-conscious, and they dreaded the fact that they might one day cause harm to their fellow Angels. So the Sons of Fire left the shining city to wander the earth, seeking out Chaos in all it's guises, a task they continue to this day.
In battle they are a fearsome sight, borne across the skies on wings of fire, hurling flaming blasts at their enemies before smashing into their ranks in a blazing inferno of death. Wherever they tread, the minions of Chaos tremble, for their hatred of the
great enemy burns as bright as the fire that covers their bodies, and they will not rest until they consume the taint of chaos and burn it to ash.
Choir
There is one picture that baffles scholars around the world, it has been the topic of discussion of many conversations and yet no conclusion has been reached yet. The painting of the Great War shows a single image of a group of Angelic beings, they are grouped at the far back at the painting. Rather with swords drawn ready for battle they are standing upon a hill, and, appear to be signing. Around them it shows daemonic entities. Running towards them trying to attack but they are collapsing on the floor and screaming in pain the closer they approach. It truly is strange this painting, and I am sure its true meaning will never be fully understood…
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From his mouth came the Choristers, to forever serenade the Blessed host with their beautiful song.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L9
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When the Angels were formed, there were some among them that did not possess great skill with weapons or armour, nor did they possess magical talent. However, when they opened their mouths, the sound that came out was the most beautiful that had ever been heard upon the earth. When they gathered together and sang their songs, the Daemons fell, screeching to their knees, for they could not bear to listen to such music, the embodiment of order. Following the great victory over Chaos, these Choristers formed into many smaller Choirs, so that there would always be music for the Angels to listen to.
The Choristers dwell in their choir houses, which exist all over the city. The greatest of these choir houses is built into the base of the Celestial throne itself, so that the Seraphim can hear the music of the heavens as they debate. When the Angels go to war, one of these Choirs may accompany them into battle. When they raise their voices together in song, mortals fall to the ground, their minds unable to comprehend the beauty of the song. Similarly, the strains of their music are filled with the magic of the Old Ones, and they unravel the web of power that binds Daemons, Undead and other such aberrations to this world. Thus, the Choirs are always welcome in an Angelic host, for they provide music for the Angels as they march, and for their enemies when battle is joined.
Nova Dragons
When the Old Ones first arrived on the world, one of the few beasts that were there before their coming were the Dragons. The Dragons respected the Old Ones, and they became allies of a sort. As such, many Dragons lined the pathway to the Polar Gates when the Old Ones left. When Chaos poured into the world, they stood by Seraphaal, and many a Daemon fell to their claws. When Seraphaal fell, there were but a few left. However, as the shards fell all around them, many of these remaining Dragons were struck by the shards. Rather than injuring them, the shards merged with the Dragons, filling them with Angelic power. After the great conflict, these Angelic Dragons became known as Nova Dragons. Each Nova Dragon will only ever allow one particular Angel to ride it too battle, for they are extremely long-lived, and are slow to befriend others. They have a mental bond with their rider that can only be broken by death, and they will fly into a frenzy if their master is killed.
Short Bits
Far to the east of the Southland’s an ancient island stands in the sea, isolated, alone. Even Accomplished scholars of the world know very little of this island. The only thing certain is that a great monument stands there, homage to times gone. Known to the world over as the Tower of Stars.
It seems in the writings that every Angel had their own form of personal difference, while some could merely raise a hand to destroy an enemy; others are shown sustaining the energies of nearby allies. Modern scholars believe that they must all have been blessed with powers beyond mortal’s comprehension.
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Angelic gifts are holy blessings from gods of ancient times. They are mostly unique powers given to the angels, as such only one angel per an army may have a gift, and they may not take more than one of the same gift.
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Angels were born to fight in a war to end all wars against chaos. To destroy them utterly, it is there purpose.
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We are the Angels, children of the Old Ones. Eternal guardians of this mortal world. We stand forever watchful as it’s guardians, as holy Seraphaal did before us, and so long as the Angels stand this place shall be denied to the infernal energies of the great enemy. We are a great and noble people, tall yet strong, and blessed with wings by our most virtuous father, Seraphaal. Though we are few in number, our strength is innumerable, our determination unyielding. Under the guiding hands of Sephiroth, Raziel and Apollyon we have fought the daemon for time immemorial, and we shall continue to do so until the Old Ones return, for that is our duty, our service, our only meaning.
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Most Angels are blessed with mighty feathered wings, which carry them through the air with ease, though they are not as swift as some of the other winged creatures of this earth.
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When the Angels charge they are terrible to behold, borne aloft on their mighty wings, they smash into the enemy ranks in a swirling maelstrom of destruction, bowling the enemy over and continuing on past them, barely halting in their advance.
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And from the body of Seraphaal came all the warriors of the Angels. The blessed host to protect the mortal world for time everlasting.
From his Eyes came the Seraphim, greatest of all the Angels, for they watched over the safety of the world.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51. L1-2
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And from the body of Seraphaal came all the warriors of the Angels. The blessed host to protect the mortal world for time everlasting.
From his Eyes came the Seraphim, greatest of all the Angels, for they watched over the safety of the world.
From his Heart came the Cherubim, mighty warriors, without whom the Angels would surely fall.
From his arms came the Princedoms, for they are the hands of the Seraphim and Cherubim, and carry out their wishes.
From his brain came the Virtues, channelers of the holy power of the Angels.
From his flesh and bone came the Angels, the massed legions of the blessed, the most numerous and vital of all the children of Seraphaal.
From his Ribs and skull came the Cherubim Guard, to forever protect the Cherubim and Seraphim in peace and war.
From his mighty muscle and sinew came the Powers, to provide strength and creatures of burden to the Angelic Host.
From his mouth came the Choristers, to forever serenade the Blessed host with their beautiful song.
Such was the Angelic host created, and so shall it be until the end of time.
The Celestial Tome of Sephiroth. P 51.
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The Swordstick is a short staff with lethal blades at both ends of the stave. This allows it to be wielded in a variety of styles in the hands of a sufficiently skilled user, striking either in a flurry of blows, or with slower, stronger strikes.
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The most powerful of the angels are often blessed by Seraphaal and the Old Ones.
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As the bane of all chaos, the Angelic race does not attempt to harness the power of the foul winds of magic, raw energy of the great enemy. Our magic is provided by ourselves, for we are flesh of the great Seraphaal. His energy is ours, and we wield it to smite our foes.
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Angelic language- also known as the "Gilded Tongue" by the few who have heard it (namely elves and lizardmen)
- the language itself is much like the chaos language- there is a system of root words, such as "Narath", meaning key. words can be stringed together to make the object more descriptive, such as "Narath'nama", or "Key of the Old Ones". Prefixes and suffixes can be added on to change the word as well. For instance, "Naar" means "repent". However, if you add the prefix "Sha", which is used to change a verb to a noun, you get "Shanaar", meaning "repentance" (the action of repenting).
- there is a major differences the gilded tongue has from the dark tongue. First- the language's meaning cannot change. Each word has a set, exact meaning, and cannot be altered to mean something else. In the english language- run can mean either to go really fast using your legs, or to operate a machine, plus other meanings. In the Gilded tongue, there'd be a verb for each that could not be interchanged. The angels have done this to ensure order in their language, and seeing as they've had eons to learn it, so the amount of words in the language is no problem (though there are alot).
- most interesting of all is that the gilded tongue is also spoken in a set verse. The angels, upon creating their language, wanted even their speech to be a praise and testament to the old one's order and great plans, and as such speak beautifully (or think, if they're telepathic). Every line has 12 syllables, as 12 is the holy number to the angelic armies (we can change the number, I don't want it to be 7- too religious), and a total thought of an angel must be conveyed in 12 lines, resulting in 144 syllables total. the rhyming order is arranged as follows:
A
A
B
B
C
C
C
C
B
B
A
A
While such a feat would be complicated for any mortal to do in casual situations, or more importantly in the heat of battle, Angels have had eons to perfect their language, and as such can create poetry without even thinking about it. Their language is created to have plenty of words that rhyme, whether they be the base words or the suffixes that match them up.
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For those who don't know, Nirvana is the capital city of the Angels on their southern isle, and I was wondering how all of you envisioned this great bastion of light?
I see it as a great circular city arranged in nine levels, corresponding to the nine levels of heaven. The layers get higher as you go inwards, Minas Tirith style, and each level is separated from the others with a great wall of gleaming marble. Each level plays home to a particular section of the city. Barracks', craftmen's workshops, magical labs, etc. At the ninth, highest level stand two great towers. The Divine Library of the Old Ones, where every record and history the angels hold is reverentially kept, and the Celestial throne, home of the council of Cherubim and the celestial throne of Sephiroth.
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(U)
-7500 The Old Ones appear from some other world.
-6500 The Old Ones make many changes to the world.
-4500 The coming of Chaos. The fall of the Warrior Old-One and the creation of the angelic race from his shards.
-4419 Battle of the Isle of Dread results in a magical vortex which drains the world of the magic, thereby weakening the Chaos forces. <<<Did the angels help with this?
C. -4300 The angels, already depleted and weakened, retreat to their Isles and the southern wastes. The construction of the outposts.
C. -4200 The split and civil war.
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The Descent of the Firehost
The Call of Dawn
Fire descended on the Earth in a never-ending wave,
Thousands, nigh thousands
Of lives to purge and save.
The Angels descended
Flame wreathed in Flame
An Archaic host
The Flame that beckoned them.
Faster and faster
A whirling storm
Of wings and blazing burning truth,
The spiritual vengeance.
The collision of the roaring Furnace
Threw the very Fates aside,
Follwing a faith
Ingrained by millennia
The Flame that beckoned them.
First Roots
Scorched earth
Flayed earth
Flame ne’er dieing
Wither never heed
A bygone age a bygone force,
The nature recovers
The land recovers,
All the lost and reborn over time, nothing lost
But the Flame ne’er dieing
The green roots soon return
To crush the red,
A light, a hope
An end with beginning
But ne’er a beginning to soon
Or a height of overcoming
The overcoming falters,
The Furnace to return
Flame ne’er dieing.
Stories
First Contact
Far to the east of the Southland’s an ancient island stands in the sea, isolated, alone. Even Accomplished scholars of the world know very little of this island. The only thing certain is that a great monument stands there, homage to times gone. Known to the world over as the Tower of Stars.
Only one mortal has ever set foot upon this land, a great voyage that set sail from Tilea, 150 ships strong set off in search of a new world to conquer. The fleet was plagued with bad omens, sea monsters, lack of winds and stranger things. Eventually they reached the edge of the known world and the fleet was swallowed up by a whirlpool of great proportions.
Only a handful of men, including their leader, rouge Tilean Prince known as Karan Khan survived. They found safety upon a deserted island; from here they built a raft and set off again.
This is when the strange discovery was made. Months adrift the group of travellers fished for food, some fell to beasts of the deep but even after all the men had been through they were determined to get home. They finally reached a remote island; here the only thing that stood was a huge glistening tower. The moment the men stepped upon the sand of this island fire swallowed them up. Karan Khan had stayed on the raft rather than to run onto land and witnessed a unique sight.
The only thing known about what he saw is from the hoarse cries he screams in the night “Holy, Holy are the white beings. Beyond mere mortals! Dark the sin of man! Fear them they are beyond us!” Karan Khan returned home a changed man. No longer hungry for greed and terrified of everything that so much as moves. He relates most of his tale wilfully but when asked of his experience on this mysterious island he collapses, on the floor sobbing and screaming the above-mentioned sentences over and over. Whatever he saw must be a sight none of us can imagine.
Origins of the Angels
(U) Eons ago, during the arrival of the old ones, they discovered the daemonic entities that haunt the world. In order to stop these entities from entering the world the Old ones set up huge blocks or “barriers” that prevented them from emerging from the Southern or Northern wastes.
However a great tragedy happened and the Old Ones vanished without a trace. With there leaving the blocks ceased to work. It is thought that the race of Lizardmen took part in a war and alone stopped the march of Daemonic Entities from taking over the world.
However newly discovered paintings, writings and stone tablets have emerged from recent incursions of Tilean Princes into Lustria. The texts reveal another races part in the war.
It describes them as “Winged Messengers of the word of the Old Ones” It is thought that the Old Ones may have created this race for a very strange reason. To guard the block that keep daemons from entering the known world.
The pictures always show that these blocks as being a sort of “home” for the winged messengers. They seem tied to them in an unknown way. It is as if they are not meant to leave the blocks, they are drawn to them.
The high elves and Lizardmen actually guard some of these ancient barriers themselves but it appears that the Key ones were guarded what the text refers to as “Angels”. These “Angels” and “Winged messengers” appear identical and so it is assumed they are one and the same.
The new texts also tell of a war that started around the time that the war between Lizardmen and Daemons ended. A war between Angels & Daemons. Neither Angel nor Daemon could be killed and so the war was of banishment, the two sides clashed
over and over. Both sides were always trying to push other back.
The daemons pushing the angels back to the barriers of the old ones while the angels pushing daemons back to the Southern wastes.
It is recorded that just as the angels were about to lose the war, all there forces withdrawn back to the ancient monuments that were supposed to stop the daemons a single gleaming figure lifted from the crowd. A shining light amid the Darkness, an Angel with one wing. An angel that the text refers to as Sephrioth.
With Sephrioth leading the charge the Angels made a final breakthrough push against the daemons, hundreds of Daemons fell as the Angels fought with renewed strength. Hundreds were slain and banished back to the wastes.
It was hear, at the monument of the Old Ones that the war was one. In a final selfless act a huge amount of the angels destroyed themselves in a hope to re power the monuments and bind the daemons once and for all.
It seems to have worked as immediately after the angels destroyed themselves the daemons were throne into agony and banished back to the Chaos wastes. The war was over. The Angels had one, but the cost had been high.
It was thought by this that the entire race was extinct, however with the recent “discovery” by Karan Khan, who knows what the future holds for this race of Angelic Beings…
The Tale of the Celestial Host
In the elder days, many thousands of years before men and Orcs, the Old Ones first came to this land through their mighty portal. Though small in number, their power was beyond imagining, and in the great library at Nirvana, the names of the greatest are written in ink of molten gold on pages of finest silk, their exploits reverentially detailed in every way. Harashamé, who first created the Slann to serve the old ones, Gelial, who spent his every waking hour crafting the great magical maps of how the worlds should be altered to fit the Old Ones vision. Halaalogin, who opened the gate of the Old Ones. Yet the most revered of these creators, his name and tale kept in the tallest tower of the ninth level of the great library, as high as the top of the Celestial throne itself, is Seraphaal, great warrior of the Old Ones.
Seraphaal was the Old Ones greatest champion. Whenever great resistance was encountered, it was Seraphaal who fought and defeated them. He was the great protector of the Old Ones and their work.
When the Old Ones made ready to leave this world, Seraphaal was the last. All the other Old Ones and many of their servants passed through. Yet as Seraphaal was about to pass through the portal, something went wrong. None know truly what happened then, whether chaos corrupted the portal, whether another of the Old Ones broke it, whether a third party reached into the fabric of the gate and twisted it out of reality. Whatever happened, chaos took control and the pure energy of chaos spilled forth. The winds of magic, ten thousand times stronger than they are now, burst from the corrupted portal, carrying with them countless tonnes of pure Warpstone powder. A thousand greater daemons and an uncharted horde of lesser daemons burst forth, determined to ravage this world in the name of their dark gods. Yet Seraphaal was the greatest warrior of the Old Ones, with the power to warp worlds at his fingertips. With his warriors he met the oncoming storm. The winds exhausted their power battering against a magical shield forged from the heart of a dying star. Warpstone combusted when it came near him. His sword, carved from a single pure white diamond and enchanted with magic beyond belief, cleaved three greater daemons in half with each stroke. Through his actions was the true, first Storm of Chaos blunted. Because of Seraphaal the winds of magic cannot warp the world, as was their power in that old time. Daemons cannot appear anywhere on the earth, and choking clouds of Warpstone do not cover the globe.
Yet Seraphaal could not stand forever against the tide, and eventually he fell. The chaos army was a mere fraction of its former size due to his efforts, but his power was
not quite limitless, and finally he succumbed. Yet he was an Old One, and they were far more than any mortal. He was the first to die in the history of the universe, and when he fell, his body exploded into thousands of gleaming fragments. Where they touched the ground, the Angels formed from these fragments. When the Angels were formed, the daemonic advance crumbled. Depleted by the power of Seraphaal, then faced with an army of new warriors, the Daemonic legions fell back to the gate of the Old Ones, and for many years, peace reigned. The Angels build their great city of Nirvana, with its towering spires and shining walls, as a home for their people. Yet they knew this one city would not be enough of a buffer to the hordes of Chaos. So they spent great effort building a line of great stone monoliths along the border to the northern wastes. Each of these monoliths housed a group of angels who could defend it if need be. Yet its true power was not physical. As the heart of each monolith with a shard of Seraphaal's great sword, enchanted with powerful daemon-repelling magics maintained by the angels. In this way, they created a barrier through which Daemons could not pass. Victory seemed to have been won.
Yet the powers of Chaos are the most insidious and manipulative of foes. When Seraphaal shattered, some of the shards landed within the daemonic ranks and picked up a small taint of corruption. Some Angels who died picked up a taint as they returned. From this small taint grew a secret sect of angels, the Dark Angels. These insidious traitors were servants of the Chaos gods, holding dark rituals within carefully warded chambers. Every day, their numbers grew.
Finally, they revealed themselves. Almost a third of the Angelic population had been corrupted, and they had the element of surprise. Some bound themselves to a Daemon, forming a hideous symbiosis of dark and light that caused even the hearts of the Angels to quail. War erupted in the streets of Nirvana. With the Angels and their magical defences thus weakened, the Daemons attacked. They smashed through the barrier of monoliths into the world beyond, the start of the Great War with the Lizardmen. Daemons swarmed into the city of Nirvana. Many ancient and beautifully crafted buildings and countless records were destroyed. Hope seemed lost. Yet the Celestial throne still stood defiant. Sephiroth, greatest of angels, led the defence. In him the power of Seraphaal flowed, and none could stand before him. Wielding a blade make from a shard of the god's sword, he advanced on the Daemons. Inch by inch the servants of Chaos were pushed back, yet Sephiroth knew that the Angels could not hold out forever. As the Daemons pushed back once again, he knew what he had to do. Taking his sword, he strode to the top of the Celestial throne and stood upon its seat. Calling all his power into his blade, he reactivated the monoliths. The daemons vanished, the energy of the monoliths banishing them back to the realm of Chaos. Yet it was a hollow victory. Great legions of daemons had got past and waged a great war against the Lizardmen in which the weakened Angels could do nothing. Yet that was not their greatest loss. Sephiroth had sacrificed himself to save the Angels, and banished himself as deeply as one could go. Without his energies the monoliths dimmed once more, their powers still active but weakened, and although it would take millennia for Chaos to recover, it would take longer for the Angels. The Dark Angels and their allies fled Nirvana after the Daemons were destroyed, and their fate remains unknown. Meanwhile, the Angels maintain their vigil over the south. The Spirit of Sephiroth is stirring in the Angelic Void, and the Angels prepare for war. Over the millennia they have rebuilt their forces, and despite being small in number, they fight with the power of the Old Ones, and they fury of the greatest warrior ever known, and no foe can stand before their holy onslaught.
The Tale of Lucifer
The bitter cold of the Inner Sanctum chilled Lucifer to the core. “Put!” He cried out calling the most fallen of creatures to his side. There was no reply. “Put!” Lucifer screamed. The disgusting form that was the fallen angel slowly approached the podium upon the now distraught form of Lucifer stood. “Yesss, Lucifer son of the Dark” hissed Put. As if a snake from the darkest nightmares Puts eyes were mere slits while a long darting tongue constantly left and returned to his mouth. Lucifer cringed as Put talked. He truly despised the titles the fallen angel called him. Though he supposed he was right, after all he had done, he was truly the son of darkness.
“Why did you bring me here Put?” questioned Lucifer.
“You seek the power of the Old Ones, those whom abandoned are kind. I have brought you here, the most inner sanctum of there power” Put continued to hiss.
Lucifer took in his surroundings fully, attempting to find some sort of trick or trap. All it was was a bare room. Carved out of stone, in the centre stood an alter with an orb of the deepest red ruby. Quite out of character for the old ones, no carvings, no prophesy. No reference to anything. Lucifer had tortured hundreds of Slann, yet none revealed anything such as this. “How do you know this is the last true source of there power Put?” questioned Lucifer.
“I know many things god of damnation Lucifer, many of which none else know off”
At this point the fallen angel knew he was not going to get an answer. Put was like water, the harder you grasped him the easier he slipped away.
“So I absorb the Ruby?” questioned Lucifer.
“You do what you feel you must Lucifer, the chaos gods will judge you…” Lucifer laughed to himself. The chaos gods. He was spawned from the very stuff of Chaos, why should he need to be guided by the weak?
Lucifer stepped forward and reached out his hand. He stopped abruptly just before the Ruby. He could feel something. Something telling him no. Lucifer spun on the spot as he drew his sword a blood curt ling scream went up as Put cried out in pain, Lucifer had impaled him upon the sword. “Thought you could sneak up on me did you Put? You’re more pathetic then I thought. You’re weak, and are stupid enough to challenge the god of destruction himself?” The form of Put squirmed on the sword as Lucifer pulled him further down the hilt. When his face was mere inches from Puts a huge unsightly grin appeared on Puts face. Lucifer raised his eyebrow. “What are you?” said Lucifer. Puts form suddenly grew to a massive height his face suddenly sprouting a massive horn, with jagged spikes appearing all around his body and four massive black wings erupting from his back. “I am Put, the prince of chaos, the shadow in the dark that made you what you are, I guided you, I made sure that you succeeded where others would have failed, and now Lucifer weak of mind and weak of spirit, I am once and for all your executioner!”
Put pulled back his massive form that dwarfed Lucifer from the blade. The gaping wound that had appeared in him was suddenly healed as his body became engulfed in dark energy. He drew a massive form of a mace and swung it at Lucifer who raised his blade to parry the blow, but it was shattered in an instant. “Why Put? Why hide all this time and use me?” questioned Lucifer as he took flight to avoid another swing of the mace. “I needed something to cover me! Should you fall I would merely escape and find a new child, corrupt him against his creators!” Put Cackled. The hoarse laugh seemed to echo throughout eternity within this room thought Lucifer.
The beast that was now Put drew back and opened his huge Maw as fire erupted from it engulfing Lucifer who merely absorbed it. “Have you forgotten Put, I am the sun of fire, you cannot harm me with it!” Lucifer flew straight for Put ready to tear him apart with his bare hands. Put spoke “Indeed Lucifer so you are right.” Put let out another jet from his mouth, but this time instead of fire it was the coldest ice, sending Lucifer in a spiral just to avoid it. Landing hard on the ground Lucifer new there was only one chance to defeat Put.
The massive form of Put advanced closer to seize Lucifer but as his hand came down Lucifer sprung out of the way taking flight and heading to the centre of the room. “What are you doing you fool?” questioned Put as Lucifer landed behind the Podium. “You Underestimate me, oh Put, Prince of Chaos” Lucifer bowed while he kicked hard at the orb sitting atop the Podium. The Orb rocketed across the room, Put quickly realised what was happening and brought his wings forward to block the orb, but Lucifer was so strong the orb smashed through the black velvet wings on impact and landed on Put, square in the chest. Put screamed as the Orb devoured him, trapping his essence within it. Lucifer laughed as Put Screamed and squirmed in agony, as he was torn apart piece by piece. A blinding red flash ended it, Put was gone. All that was left was the orb. Lucifer gazed down at the Ruby. So, he thought to himself. The power of the Old Ones?
Lucifer let out a laugh and smiled to himself. It was the beginning of the end, he had found what he had came for…
Canti’s War
The skies grew dark as the sun fell. The two moons Morrslieb and Mannslieb seemed to crowd together as if seeking protection from the ensuing fight. Lord Canti appeared on the hills surveying the battle field. “Commander, the chaos scum will hide in that forest to ambush us. In the marches hide some of our Anelai back, where they will ambush those forest stalkers.” Canti Barked; "You get the troops to prepare, as they will be here soon”. Canti had lead the armies Deep into the chaos wastes with victory after victory With his powers and his eyes no one could beat him. With in the hour the armies approached unknowing to the angels already being there with the sound of dying demons in the forest Canti called an all out charge into the unprepared demons. It was no mach the angels had already won with the graceful swooping and smooth movements made them easily able to doge and retaliate the daemon assaults. Victory seemed inevitable but then over the hills behind them came an un expected assault demons ten times larger than the original force came over the hill Canti was griped in fear how could he have not seen it coming trying to even the playing field he commanded 2 of his best units to go with him to meet this new force he knew his claws would be worthless now so he grabbed his beloved scythe Shinigami and glided towards the nearest greater daemon with one fell swoop he sliced through a spawn of nergle turning it to dust but that was one daemon to the many more to come through the grueling night defeat became imminent for the angels Canti being one of the last few left was constantly fighting looking into the future he could see his final blow knowing that he could not lose called upon the last spell of the ancient lore ultimate upon muttering the old indications the skies grew black and bleak the grounds trembled violently and magma spewed from the ground Canti began to glow and hover above the ground then beams shot from his body searing him with pain with each shot before long the entire battle field was wrecked with the bodies of angels and demons with the end of the spell he was thrown far from the battle and laid unconscious before he was found by some of his remaining solders victory came for him at the price of his strength. He was brought back to the city of pandemonium to be encased into ice until he was once again ready to come out. And when that day came daemons beware because he will be your end the immortal Dark One of fire Lord Canti.
A Saviour
Sergeant Greer hid under the wreckage of the cannon, watching with terrified eyes as the Chaos forces worked through the debris from the battle. Greer had watched as his men had been butchered by huge red daemons, wielding axes. He'd been helpless to stop them, and now they were busily finishing any survivors. He knew it was only a matter of time before they found him, but he fervently prayed to Sigmar for deliverance. His eyes widened as he saw one of the daemons looking at the wreckage, and started forward. He panicked, and tried to scurry free, but he found himself stuck fast. A scream was building in his throat, but the daemon stopped, and a white light shone from behind Greer. A winged warrior, wrapped in plated armour, dove down, her feet slamming into the daemon's shoulders, while driving a pair of blades into it's head. The daemons bellowed, and turned to face this warrior, but dozens more poured into view, blades flashing out. Greer watched with wide eyes as the daemons fought back, but more of the warriors kept coming. The huge hounds that had run down so many men were riddled with arrows from unseen bows, and they fell abruptly. The huge demon, axe and whip raised over it's head, was knocked reeling by a winged warrior of larger stature than the others, while huge blasts of magic tore gaps in the lines of daemons. Greer screamed, and buried his head in the mud, blocking out the sights, until he passed out from the shock of it all. To his surprise he awoke, and found himself under the cannon still. He forced his way out from under it, and looked around. The field was empty, save for the bodies of his men. No sign of the daemons remained, or of the winged warriors. He began to wonder if he'd even seen them, or whether it had all been just a vision on delirium. He turned around, and then saw a single white feather on the ground. He lifted it, and looked closely at it. It was the purest white he'd ever seen, and couldn't have been from a bird. He looked around, knowing he'd seen something mortal eyes weren't meant to see. No one would ever believe him. But Greer would never forget.
A Letter to My Lord
My Lord,
I write to you in response of the recent paintings you obtained from the Tilean shores, and scenes showed on these marvelous works. Indeed, the images you have found, no doubt at least a century old, are quite spectacular, their quality only matched by the images displayed. As for your questions of the creatures depicted on each, I cannot say for certain. However, after looking through my texts, I am able to find many legends and myths about winged creatures, robed in resplendent cloth appearing in our world from time to time. While the bulk of these accounts are the scrawling of gibbering madmen, I have nonetheless followed your request, and now present you with the information you seek.
Based on the texts available to me, I am certain that a few of the legends refer to the same creature, known by many names- the daemon-slayer, the holy flame, the purging light, and so forth. All of these names are associated with a common theme found throughout each account, where soldiers find themselves outnumbered and over powered by the foul creatures of those four dark gods. Without warning, a host of the noble creatures would appear at the soldier’s sides. Men describe them as awe inspiring, yet terrifying- their entire bodies seeming to glow in a warm aura of white light, their blades set aflame by bright fires, and their demeanor stern and totally silent. These beings have always defeated the opposing daemons that vie against them, for mere touches from the blades of these warriors destroy the utterly malevolent beings. Many a daemon are said to have fallen to their wrath- in one documented account, a Nuln militiaman claimed the being in question destroyed dozens of its opponents before halting its attack They always leave as they come- ascending into the skies, then suddenly vanishing with a flash of light and a peal of thunder.
Of course, my lord, I cannot stress enough how these are merely the tales of madmen who have suffered under the debilitating effects of the northern wastes. Their minds have been corrupted by Chaos, and no longer can even distinguish their own fantasies from reality. They wish to believe that their companies were not ravaged by the forces of chaos, their kinsmen and brothers killed under the scythe of that despicable power, so as a result create whimsical fantasies to oppose the forces they fought. It is much like those mage toads that have been said to appear from nothing to help an army, then merely vanishing again, or even the account of the rat-men that are said to plot our destruction- preposterous, my lord.
It would be best, in my humble opinion, if you worried not about the images of the paintings, but valued the paintings themselves- such a rare find that is so ancient should not be taken so lightly. While I am happy to know that you are intrigued in the history depicted on your works, I will tell you that such things are not to be considered.
Your Loyal Servant,
Dieter
The Origins of Apollyon
Apollyon, the Destroyer Angel
Apollyon the Destroyer is said to be the greatest Daemon Hunter in the Angelic ranks, and rightly so. He has refined his skills with the blades Sha’naar and Narath’nama, or “Repentance” and “Key of the Ancients” through the millennia, and his fighting strength is only fueled by his hatred for chaos. He is one of the oldest beings on the face of the earth, millennia old, and will stop at nothing to see Chaos defeated.
The birth of Apollyon is a mystery. Legends say that the great Seraph sprung from a mixture of Seraphaal’s blood and bile that fell within the fens of Albion, fully clad in the most resplendent armour and wielding blades of white flame. No other angel was as zealous in their assault against the Daemons, and his deeds against them during the first war are legendary. Taking flight from his birthplace, the angel joined battle with the forces of chaos in the northern waste. In a single day, Apollyon banished an entire daemonic legion under his swords, sending them back to the void. Even more legendary, however, is his binding of Beliel, a keeper of secrets of olden times, into a chasm known Abyss, sealed by the strongest angelic magics to contain the daemon. For these deeds, he came to be known as the Destroyer among his followers.
In the years of peace that followed, Apollyon became a close friend and lieutenant to the great Sephiroth (changing his name). Not trusting in the power of the monoliths, The Destroyer kept a vigilant watch on the chaos poles, awaiting the return of the chaos. He trained his followers in arts of banishing Daemons, forming the first cult of the Daemon Hunters. As his repute grew, so did his ranks and with each day Apollyon become ever more confident that Nirvana would remain safe if besieged by Chaos. What he failed to see, however, was the direst of threats- the dark angels.
Within his own ranks the dark angels festered, plotted for the fall of Nirvana, led by the Great Cherubim Azazel. Believing that Chaos could only be defeated through the use of Chaos, Azazel started a small cult that devoted themselves to infusing their angelic bodies with the dark force, creating something new and horrifying. When the Dark Angels finally revealed themselves and assaulted Nirvana with the forces of Chaos, it was Azazel who led the traitors in Apollyon’s Legions against him and his warriors. As the battle raged in the city of Nirvana, the two factions slew each other without mercy, for their hatred was immeasurable. As the sun set on the battle-torn city of the angels, Apollyon and Azazel met in the skies, prepared to slay one another. In the end, it was Apollyon who won the day, forcing the Dark Angel to flee through the Chaos void. Yet his victory was hollow, as his lord and friend, Sephiroth, gave his life to save the city.
Since that fateful day, Apollyon has devoted himself to hunting down Azazel and any of the forces of Chaos that plague the world. He has traveled far from his familiar home to the northern wastes to lead a personal offensive against the tribes of the north, in hopes of finding the traitor angel Azazel and exacting vengeance.
A Tale of Woe
“So young ones, you want to hear another story do ye?” Growled the old mariner sitting at the table. The myriad of entranced faces surrounding him nodded eagerly.
“Well then, which one would ye like to hear? Perhaps the tale of the Great Serpent of the Sea of Terror that swallows ships whole! That one would give ye all nightmares and no mistake!” Cackled the old sailor, draining his beer mug.
“Or maybe a tale of the Elven lands and those fey folk. I got a million and one tales of their bewitched isle. But I’m getting ahead of meself. I remember the good times when old ones like me were shown proper respect. Old Tomson never had to refill his mug in my day!” He said, gazing pointedly at his empty cup. One of the crowd quickly picked it up and hurried across to the bar for a refill.
“Ah that’s better!” roared the sailor as his beer was returned.
“Now where was I? Oh yes, you young whelps wanted to hear a story didn’t ye? Well I’ll tell ye pfourghh!” The mariner spluttered, spraying beer over everyone nearby.
“You call this beer!” He cried, “I call this horse piss! I wouldn’t drink this if you threatened to kill me!” He slammed the mug down moodily.
“I remember we had some great beer back when the lads were still here, and old Karan. There was always a good pint to be had back in those days.” The old man muttered, rubbing his eye mournfully.
“Ah, now there’s a good tale to tell! Old Karan and the lads. Gather round younguns, and let me tell you the story of our dreadful voyage to the isle of stars.”
“We set off, it must have been almost 40 years ago now. A great fleet, some 10-15 ships, including our beauty of a vessel, the Silverspar. Y’see, we had visited that Elven place of Ulthuan a few weeks ago, and old Karan had bought hisself a map from one of those elf types. Load of junk really, could have got a Tilean map for half the price. But this map had on it marked a place called the isle of Stars. The elven merchant had warned that we should stay away from that place, but they said that about Lustria didn’t they, and look what Columbo found there! Admittedly it was full of lizards and poisonous plants, but there was treasure there you wouldn’t believe. Or so I’m told. I wasn’t there at the time of course, I’m not that old!” The mariner cackled and took another swig of beer.
“Now, where was I? Oh yes. Anyway, Karan believed that we would find great treasure on the isle of Stars, and most of us believed him. So off we went, sailing down round the south of Araby and the Southlands. We lost three ships to Arabian pirates, and when we reached the churning gulf down at the tip of the Southlands, we lost four more. Good men all. I can still remember them, even after all this time.” The old sailor wiped a tear from his eye, then cleared his throat.
“Anyway, by the time we reached the isle, there was only our ship left. We didn’t mind then, more loot for each of us. I had broken me leg a few weeks back, and had to have it splinted. That rolling spar probably saved my life. Funny when you think about it.” The mariner chuckled drily into his mug.
“When we got there, everyone was frantic to get ashore and find the treasure. There was a tower above the beach, and everyone thought it would be full of gold or jewels. There were only a few boats, and with me broken leg none of those bastards were willing to wait for me! Good thing too as it turned out. When they landed they started heading up the beach inland towards the tower. It was then that the most fearful thing I have seen in my whole life happened.” The sailor shuddered and took a deep draught of his drink.
“A figure stepped out of the tower a few seconds after the lads landed. He was dressed in white robes that seemed to glow with light. Definitely a mage. He spoke, and somehow I heard his words as clearly as if he was beside me. He said
“Leave this place mortals. You are defiling the sacred soil with your taint.” Of course none of the lads stopped running up the beach. He just watched them for a few seconds, and then raised his hands. Suddenly, all the lads burst into flame!” He leapt from his chair with these words, causing those nearby to leap backwards.
“I could see them burning” He growled, stalking slowly forwards, looking at each of the crowd in turn.
“ I could see their skin peeling off, their muscles catching fire, their bones crumbling to dust, all the while screaming, screaming for help, for mercy. And that white robed thing just stood there and watched them BURN!” He slammed his beer mug onto the table so hard it shattered, then sank back into his chair. He began to sob softly, and seemed to shrink physically, his shoulders drooping. The crowd, who had shrank away as his words and actions got more violent, closed closer again, cautiously.
“I dream about them some days.” Said the mariner in a voice choked with tears,
“I can hear their voices screaming, crying out for help as their flesh burned. Their voices have never gone away.” He shuddered and slumped down even further.
“And I dream about that thing too, sometimes. And you know what?” He looked up and his onlookers with tear-stained eyes.
“That person in the white robes scares me more than anything on this here earth.” He said simply.
“He had a sense of ancient times. He was older than the elves, maybe even as old as those lizard-things in the Lustrian jungle. He was so old, so powerful, like some sort of all-powerful god. He killed the crew of an entire ship just like that, he watched them die and didn’t do a thing. He scares me more than any sea monster. I would rather walk into the chaos wastes than face his kind again.” He drew a deep shuddering breath.
“After that I turned the ship around and headed back the way we had come. I don’t know how long I spent at sea. I couldn’t man the ship by myself, so mostly we just drifted. Eventually I ran into a merchant from the empire that had been blown off course on the way to Tilea. I sold them the ship and everything on it in exchange for passage to Tilea and a bit of coin, and that’s how I ended up back here. I haven’t been away since. My leg got infected on the trip and I had it sawn off, replaced with this here peg.” He tapped the floor with his wooded leg.
“Yet I don’t mind. I never want to return to the sea again, cos’ the sea is the way to those white-robed demons!” His eyes widened again, and he leapt upwards and grabbed the nearest onlooker by his lapels and hoisted him into the air. Every one of the onlookers could see the fevered, burning madness in his eyes now.
“You’re afraid lad, and ye should be! For if those things ever come to the lands of men, I swear, none of you will survive! You, we, we’ll all be consumed by those burning fires! Our bones will turn to ash and we will scream, and those things will just stand there and watch, and everyone will be dead. So many dead, like those on the island. Why did they all have to die? What had they done wrong? Why did they have to be killed? Why… why…” He trailed off, and collapsed, sobbing into the table. His crowd of onlookers, so eager for a tale just a few minutes before, edged away nervously, their desire for revelling and ale cut short. Soon the tavern was empty save for the old mariner, left to contend with his dark ghosts, alone.
Well, thats everything. If you spot or remember any bits of fluff that I've missed out, please inform me and I'll add them in. All new bits of fluff are also extremely welcome. I hope you like it.