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The Guardian
*******
-7:14-
*******
Fal'Dara.
The tall walls of the keep surround him and his prey. Torches on the wall shine
warmly, heating the cold castle. His prey can't run.
Smell of fear. That's what he smells. Fear.
Quietly he stalks the hallway, following the guard. With a quick snap, the barbarian
breaks the guard's neck and sets the body into a corner. He enters the dark, gloomy
room ahead.
"Joas, I've been waiting for you!"
Sparkling young voice sounds off from the darkness. He pulls out the axe from the
backpack, a royal seal of the first king of Astirin on it's hilt. Suddently a young,
naked woman steps out of the blackness, and puts her bare leg around his thigh.
"Joas," she murmurs into his ear, "I've been lonely."
Grrmmmm. He wants to take her right there, but... something is wicked about her.
He's about to throw that to the wind as well, she draws him and he can't hold back.
Who is this woman? She knows his primal savage nature. She knows he's an animal
inside. She's of magic, he realizes. ARRR !!
He pushes her away, and she dissolves into darkness. Magic, he nods, a magic trap.
Suddenly the warrior's skin is surrounded by a thin grayish-black mist. Sensing
what's coming next, he parries a black fist, aimed at the center of his throat. A
shadowy creature steps out of the darkness, almost a shadow itself. But it's fists
are real, he grunts, as the creature catches him in the stomach. Wielding another
axe, forged by the dwarven king, he retaliates, screaming and attacking the creature
with inhuman rage. The creature is hard to catch, slipping into shadows, appearing
elsewhere to attack him again. Weary and hurt all over the body, the berserker feels
he's losing. Bleeding from his left shoulder, he bashes the creature to the ground
with the last of his strength.
Suddenly, the dwarven axe crackles, and the misty creature dissipates, leaving an old
wrinkled woman in it's place. This is Mirimar, the witch he is hunting, the savage
snorts as he dismembers her torso. She has the key to the dungeons below, he grunts
approvingly.
Deep under Fal'Dara, he looks for a special man. A man so evil, The Dark One himself
takes notice. Ordeith.
Rrrrrr, Ordeith!! He spits at the thought of that name.
As he walks into the Fal'Dara dungeons, he finds a steamy bodypile at his feet. The
name "Changu" is written on the breastplate in a heap below, but the helmet, and the
head inside, are seen a few feet away. Ordeith steps into the dark lights of the
dungeon hall.
"Hello, there, my savage friend. Time has come for me to behead the Servants. Enough
fooling around with you mortals, hahahahaha!"
Ordeith opens a portal, grins, and vanishes into thin air.
*******
-8:14-
*******
The Aiel Waste.
"Is that what he said?" a woman asks, with her head lying on his hairy chest.
With the nod of his chin he tries to think. Years of war have prepared him for the
worst fight, the innumerable scars made his skin impervious to slash or gash. But he's
never given thinking a second thought. Servants. What servants?
Scratching his chest, the woman quickly raised her head.
"They're looking for me. I doubt my sisters will approve a Maiden bedding a Stone
Dog. I better go." Sneaking into Aiel war clothes, she grabs her short spears, five
knives and three small daggers, and runs out of the tent.
Servants. Whose servants does the damned man want to behead, and why. Thinking hurts,
he realizes, and begins practicing one of his battle stances.
*******
-10:14-
*******
Tar Valon.
The Hall of the White Tower is empty, except for two burly Warders patrolling the
entrance, and a woman with a dignified presence, sitting at a table, lost in memories.
The bright candles of the room shine into her heart, lighting the events of days long
gone. He was big. Those arms, that wide chest. Three Myrddraal, ambushing her near
Ebou Dar lost their heads to that one man. How could a savage possess her heart so?
Sighing, she pushes the memories out of her mind, and chides herself for not thinking
about current problems. The Aes Sedai in Cairhien found the male sa'angreal, and have
begun their tests, but the power of the sa'angreal has already burned one Sister to
cinder, and stilled another. Then there were rumors of Ordeith escaping from his
dungeon prison in Fal'Dara, and the body of a very old sister of the Black Ajah,
Mirimar was found there, as well.
Sighing, the woman puts all her information back into the chest, and wards it from
intrusion. A door creeks open, and the Warders, surprised, exit into the hallway to
investigate. The thick wooden doorframe barely hides the agonizing screams of pain.
Thunk thunk - the woman hears. The sound of two bodies, dropping to the floor.
The door screeches open, and Ordeith steps through. The Amyrlin gasps, but the Weave
of Air stays incomplete in her hands as the shadow man materializes next to her and
puts a pitch-black dagger into her heart. Ordeith pulls the knife out, and licks the
blood off the blade, snickering to some joke in his head. With a gesture of his hand
he raises the Amyrlin's chest into air, and forces it open. A bolt of lightning
discharge into the area surrounding the chest. He's learned a lot, Ordeith snickers
to himself. Being alive for a thousand years, the darkness of Mashadar inside of him,
he loves it. The papers float from the chest into his hand.
*******
Aiel Waste.
With a sudden gasp, the savage Aiel awakes, frowning at his dream. He dreamt of a
westland woman being slain by the man he saw in Fal'Dara, near the Blight. Ordeith
killed an innocent woman. With a loud growl, he jumps from the bed, leaving the Maiden
of the Spear behind, giving her the look she's learned to recognize. From this quiet
giant, every gesture tells a story. She's the only one of the Dreamwalking Aiel he
ever trusted, and now, he needs her help. She shoots a smile at his stone face, as
he turns to go.
Taking his pack, he exits the tent only to face the snouts and crooked helms, filling
the hill to the north, an approaching black wave of impossible hate. Screaming, the
berserker runs to the hill, his axe in hand. One Trolloc realizes he's about to die,
and tries to run. Barely noticing other Aiel, the barbarian feels the fury burn inside
his chest. The thick, rippled legs flex as his torso and arms become a whirl, a blazing
fury of destruction.
...
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The heart pounds heavily. Yet another battle is done. Nodding to
himself, he surveys the hill, covered with dark corpses, with two headless Myrddraal
torses, thrashing about.
The sun rises into a shiny bright morning, and the warrior walks west, crushing the
axe into an Trolloc body on his way. Growl.
*******
-12:14-
*******
The light shines in the Hall of the Tower, and Aes Sedai gather, deciding the choice
for the new Amyrlin Seat.
"What is to do, Sisters? We cannot be divided like this. The Darkness approaches, and
the Light is getting weak. Who could imagine the Amyrlin being assassinated a hundred
years ago? And now we argue?"
"I will not support your choice of a new Amyrlin Seat. Here is whom I want installed
into the position."
"No, this woman is unacceptable! She's self reliant, and there is no way we can control
her. Here is who I think will make the best choice."
"No no, this woman is too young. She will leave us the first time she puts her eyes on
my Warder, and the knotted muscles in his arms."
"I disagree, if we situate..."
*******
The Spine of the World.
The westland women argue. The man you seek heads towards Cairhien. I pray for you each
night.
The dream ends, and he awakes. Picking up his belongings, he starts a brisk, even
run. "300 miles today," the warrior thinks to himself. "320 miles to cover tomorrow."
He knows what the shadow man wants.
*******
-14:14-
*******
Cairhien.
The dusk begins to settle on a the sandy plains. The sun shines it's last rays at a
large excavation, where an enormous glass statue sticks out in the middle. This is
said to be one of the two most powerful sa'angreal ever made, and only usable by a
man. A group of Aes Sedai is bunched up around the glass statue, all joined in hands,
glowing slightly.
The Warder on the far end of the excavation suddenly sighs loudly and drops to the
ground. The rest of the Warders approach the corpse, the elite warriors, charged with
protecting the Aes Sedai. A shadow materializes into a vague shape of a man, and the
Warders raise the swords and attack. Unfortunately their deadly grace proves useless,
as the last of them crumbles to the floor.
Ordeith approaches the Aes Sedai.
"Servants. That's right, 'Aes Sedai' meant 'Servants' in the Age of Legends. You were
the servants of the people, not the manipulative women, pulling the strings of the
world."
Before they can react, he raises his hand and paralyzes them from the neck down.
Ordeith cackles with insane laughter.
"Now the Amyrlin is dead, and you are indeed, beheaded. The Darkness has come."
"NO!!"
Turning his head around, Ordeith sees a huge hulking mass standing on top of a hill,
with the silver moon outlining it's every muscle. The thick hands grip an enormous
golden axe, and the feet, like columns, dig into the ground. A savage stone face is
distorted with rage.
Without a word, Ordeith fades into shadow and re-appears next to the savage, on the
top of the hill. Screaming in fury, the towering giant attacks the shadow man, but
Ordeith avoids the attack and slashes the barbarian on the stomach with his dagger.
Coughing, the berserker falls to his knees, the stomach wound giving off a black hue
of deadly venom.
Focus. Concentration. The giant closes his eyes for a moment, all muscles completely
relaxed, except at the stomach. The living poison suddenly appears from the wound,
and drips to the floor, turning from green to ash-gray.
"You better run, foul man," the savage snarls.
A man of very few words, he grips the sword, and regenerated, runs at Ordeith.
Parrying the stab of the dagger, the barbarian kicks Ordeith in the face, and slashes
the axe across the leg. The shadow, dissipated for a second, rejoins together without
any damage. Screaming in berserker rage, the barbarian pounds at the head, and Ordeith
falls to the ground. Muttering spells under his breath, Ordeith gets to his feet and
tries to immobilize the savage. His shadow body is slashed once more, quickly
solidifying back.
Suddenly, the barbarian drops the golden axe and uses his bare hands to grab the
black dagger. Blood, mixed with poison, drips on the sandy hill, as the Aiel savage
rips the dagger from Ordeith's hand, and makes the shadow man solidify into a definite
form. Not dropping the burning poison dagger from his hands, the warrior places the
blade into Ordeith's eye socket, and falls to his knees from exhaustion, coughing
blood. Screams shatter the night, as the Ordeith begins to disintegrate into thin air,
and his dagger falls to the sand, turning the sand around it into vapor.
It is finished, the savage thinks to himself, as he purges the last remnants of poison
from the body.
He will go to Tar Valon. He will walk into the White Tower and into the main chamber
of the westland women. He will ignore their anger and surprise. He will take control
of the crumbling Tower, and he WILL stop the impending Darkness.
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It is a time when chaos and order fight for supremacy. A time when
frightened men huddle around their fires telling stories, that though
terrible and fantastic, are true. This is the time when legends wander
across the land and death may sweep from the sky on terrible wings. There
are few who are supreme. They are the beings of great renown. They are the
purveyors of unspeakable horrors. But between tales and lies, realities and
dreams; chaos is spreading his disease over the world and just the mighty
ones can overcome this.
Hundred of years later.
Born in a farm of a family of Storm Giants, knowing no father by the time
Keely Riverwind was one of a new breed with the gift of life, but not only
that with a special link to the Lords. Tales were told about a plague over
cities near by, war in the edge of a conclusion. Breed in order and peace,
Keely learned all of her mother secrets of living in a small town; but she
never imagined what it would be to live in a mayor city. Katherine Riverwind,
Keely's mother was an exiled of the nobility and of the church because of
her past sins, she taught and instructed Keely to follow her heart; but to
keep in mind men rules and of their gods. She taught Keely to be wise in her
actions to think before anything; and so she did.
At the age of fifteenth seasons she asked what she was wondering long ago.
"Mother where is my father?"
At first Katherine gavet no answer, just looked at her eyes and glanced away.
And when reaching out of the room, "He died a long time ago, before you were
born my child "she said.
"But why you never talked about him?" Keely asked demandingly.
"I never talk about him because I never though it was time to tell you" her
mother snapped.
"To tell me what? What he was or who he was?" Keely asked.
"Yes, my child. Sit down let me tell you who he was and why I did have to
wait for you to have age enough to tell you about him" as she said this
Katherine sat down in front of a table and looked into Keely's eyes.
As Keely sat down she started to tell the story of that young man just
fifteenth seasons ago when the war of the Aiel started a young Lord named
Gunthar Riverwind was in charge of an elite force that was joining forces
with the Aiel clans. Days before the King's army descended upon the Aiel,
Katherine, as a Priestess of Justice and light, got the opportunity to bless
the warriors, not knowing that one of them would charm her and change her
future forever. There was when she knew him and fell in love with Gunthar,
until one night they escaped together. The war started two days after their
love adventure, the Aiel started the war and Lord Gunthar went with his
elite force to the front of battle. Katherine realized that she was pregnant
she left the country, leaving behind her clerical place and her family. But
just days after she left she knew the tragic end of her lover, Gunthar died,
he sacrificed himself for one of his men. A mans life for another, does that
take place in life or is just a dream, it happened just days after he
discovered his beloved Katherine had left the village because she was
pregnant from him. He sent her letters, but nothing could be done, fate has
time in it hand and what was going to happen could not be stopped. A Paladin
since he was seventeenth years old, serve as a Knight of Justice and for the
dreamwalkers most of his life.
After hearing the story of her father, Keely's thoughts were far beyond
imagination. She was dreaming of what her father was in the past and what he
would have wanted her to be now.
"I'm old enough, I'm willing to make my choice to be what my father would
have wanted me to be" Keely whispered for herself, "Nothing can stop me,
Nothing."
A few days after that she asked her mother for a special prayer and prepared
to leave her household. Like an eagle preparing for it first flight she was
preparing for the journey of her life. At morning, she woke early prepared to
make the day the one of her life.
"Mother?"
"Yes, my child" her mother replied, knowing already this was the day.
"It's time. Wish me luck and pray the gods I can be in their shades and
cover all the time." Keely's word were demanding, but with touch of
kindness.
"May the Lords bless you child. Go, go and do what you have to do"
Katherine said with a small smile on her face, but in her eyes tears started
growing like a river flows after the hard rains. "Go my child, go and became
a paladine, go and spread justice through the world, and please never forget
what I have told you, never forget it".
"I will not mother, I will never forget what you have taught me" Keely
responded.
So Keely went with this little backpack with food for a few days and a
two-handed sword her mother gave her, the sword was large and beautiful with
a black pommel with small rubies. A blade for a Knight, Katherine told her
before she left. So this was the start of Keely's journey. Shall all end
like this or shall all start, mountains all over, a long view of the paths.
Far, far away, the rivers and the lakes could be seen; forest looking like
big giants in the horizon could be seen from the top of the Mountains of
Mist. Stories were told of these mountains that led almost to all the places
on the land, that they lead to the sky. But the sky was nowhere near where
Keely wanted to go, in her heart was only one dream, one destiny have been
chosen deep inside her. Keely would became what her father would want her to
be, what her Lord and God would want her to be, A Knight of Justice, a
paladin. At this moment she realized what her mother meant when she told
her that all that is said change the future of a person. Change not destiny
but the meaning of life itself.
Prayers can be made from the heart of a man; but all are inspired by the
gods. Let Justice spread, let the light and shadows melt away, serve me well
and you shall have your reward. Not life, not death, but victories beyond your
comprehension.
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"Lukas, you will not know why for a long time, but what is to be done, must
be done." Guang Zao looked at him with a grim face as he stood beside the
Elder Monk, compassion was evident but it was certain that Guang Zao would
not give in to compassion now.
Imploringly, he turned to the Elder Monk, "Please don't let him do this, I
have done all I can to help them. I wish to remain here. There cannot be
purpose for me any longer."
"You are not returning to the Temple of Winds, Lukas, you are correct there.
You can do no more for them and if it was the case, I would not send you
back there myself for I know what that will do to you. But what we send you
to do is imperative right now. My heart, I would not send you back if it
was not necessary." Lukas looked confused, but nodded and looked at the
Elder Monk with sorrowful eyes.
He turned back to Guang Zao and frowned as he posed his next question, "You
say I am not to return to the Temple of Winds... What it to become of me,
it is all I know."
Guang Zao turned to the Elder Monk and nodded at him, then turned back to
Lukas, "I can not tell you that Lukas. You will remember only this event
from your last many years however. You are to be respun and play out your
life over as if you had not remained at the Temple of Winds and become an
Order Cleric. Your training will remain, your title will not and the Temple of
Winds will still see you as Lukas the Master of Dragons even if you do not
remember them. This is something you must work out on your own, whether
to accept who you are once again. More important, you will return to
Manetheren. This is why we return you. You must carry out Talen's will.
That is all I can say."
Shaking his head slightly, Lukas frowned. He knew not what Guang Zao spoke
of now, he only supposed he had when the conversation happened. If it
happened. This Guang Zao.. This Elder Monk, they were now blurs in his
memory, faces with a name, but no more. What he did remember was his
temple... the Temple of Winds, which, if rumor was correct, existed no more.
That was another thing that did not rest well in his mind. Where had he
been all those years when his temple was turning into nothingness. It did
not matter anymore, now his duties were more important. To find this Ancient
Temple, the ruling temple of the Ancients. At last he heard, they had been
a strong of his temple. Perhaps they could provide him with the answers he
needed. He could only hope.
If you seek me in the streets, you may search for one who fits this description:
Manifesting from seemingly unbroken desert, slowly fading into view
against the background of harsh sands, rocks and sparse plants a tall man
stands defiantly. Clad almost entirely in drab, unassuming grays dusted
with the soft browns of fine desert sands he slowly lowers the sinister
white veil hiding his face from view and holds himself proudly before your
scrutiny. Piercing green eyes, like twin emeralds, stare back unwaveringly
above a face that appears to have been at one time handsome, almost
delicate, now darkened by the sun and worn hard by the life of a monk.
Crisp white hair is cut short and uniform to his head, yet lacking the
thin tail normally worn by his people at the nape of the neck. Soft
leather boots laced high make no sound as he trots silently forward.
Upon closer inspection, no weapon is revealed to be visibly carried
on his person, other then the long knife sheathed at his belt. His hands
however are calloused and hard, skin stretched tight like dried leather
over slender bone structure, making them powerful yet highly dexterous as
well. All doubt is removed that any weapon he could carry would be more
finely suited for combat then the body he has so determinedly forged into a
force of destruction.
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The history of Lyzen Raeth has been long and complex. Born in the fiery
depths of Shayol Ghul, though Lyzen was a shade, his creation was unique.
He was gifted with the powers of human perception, and could thus come to
understand his prey further than any of his other shade brethren. He was the
chosen creature of the Great Lord, and his hands dealt out death for his creator
wherever he went.
Lyzen traveled across the land, spreading darkness and poison wherever he
went. Towns that he passed through befell tragedy. Weddings were canceled as
brides were found murdered in their beds the day before. Children were stillborn,
and crops withered. The shadow of the Great Lord hung over Lyzen, and spread it's
dark grasp over every land that he traveled in.
As Lyzen gained power, he took control of a group devoted to the Great Lord
that he served, a group of Darkfriends. Under Lyzen's fist, the Darkfriends
became the most powerful and feared group in the realm. No one could raise a
fist against them, no one would survive. The realm of chaos began to get more
and more dark, secret friends of the Dark could be found everywhere. There were
members in the White Tower, among the Whitecloaks, the Ash'aman, and even the
Taardad. Strife and destruction was everywhere, and Lyzen laughed from his
throne, cloaked in the shadows of the Great Lord's contentment.
At the peak of this rule, the wheel turned, and Lyzen was thought lost to
the world. Weak and beaten by powers he could not understand, he was taken
to Shayol Ghul, where he slept in the Great Lord's shadow for many ages. The
world fell to peace, and the people were happy. The memory of Lyzen had faded,
and none thought that he would ever return. However, Lyzen awoke from his long
slumber. His power had been drained, his magic and weapons lost in the depths of
shadowed dreams. But he was still the Great Lord's creature, and he still had
contained within him a maniacal evil that could never be extinguished. Before he
could exact his revenge upon the world, however, he had to learn what had happened,
and regain the strength that he had lost. He traveled the land under the alias,
Raiyel Endrit, and hid among the faces of the Shaido. He befriended the leader
of the Shaido, Tralin, and with his help regained some of the power that had
been lost to him.
But Lyzen had grown addicted to leading. His blade was hungry, but he realized
single conquest could only be so great. In order to cause the most pain to
the realm, he needed followers. He sought out clans to lead, but they all
rejected him, not recognizing him behind the mask that he now wore. Finally,
after years of patience, the Black Orchid came to his attention. It was a clan
that had fallen from a place of power it had once held. It's ranks were nearly
empty, and it's condition was laughed at by those who beheld it. Lyzen changed
his name back, now was the time for the world to remember him, and he took
control of the ragged clan. He began to build it back to power, and once more
the Great Lord's shadow hung over him, tainting all that he came in contact
with. Once more death issued from his blade, poison from his words.
And the world remembered him...
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Malekith was the son of the elf Aenarion, the first of the Phoenix
Kings, and the mysterious and beautiful seeress Morathi. He grew to be a
mighty warrior, a great sorcerer and a mighty general. When Aenarion
died there were many who doubted that a child reared during the cruel
days of Aenarion's court in Nagarythe would make a suitable Phoenix
King, and so Malekith was passed over and Bel-Shanaar became the second
Phoenix King.
Hiding his resentment and frustration, Malekith vowed to wait until he
could make the throne his own. None suspected his evil intentions or his
unquenchable thirst for power.
Maleking bided his time. Slowly, over many decades, he worked himself
into a position of power second only to the Phoenix King's, and then he
acted. Malekith claimed that the King was a secret worshipper of the
Chaos gods, and had him poisoned. Believing that all he now had to do
was crown himself as the new Phoenix King, Malekith marched into the
sacred flame of Asuryan, the final test that each Phoenix King has to
pass to prove their worthiness to the crone.
Malekith was confident that he could endure the ordeal as his father had
done before him, but he was proved horribly wrong. The flame of Asuryan
would not suffer his polluted body to pass through it. Horribly scarred,
Malekith was cast back into the side of the platform he had entered
from.
Believing Malekith to be on the verge of death, his discouraged
followers took their leader's body and fled north to Nagarythe. But
Malekith did not die. He slowly recovered his strength.
In the decades since then the Witch King has rebuilt his forces, with
the combined force of Chaos, and is now preparing once more to make war
against the Elves....
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Page 3
Stories
Page 5
A MUD based on Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. With roleplaying encouraged through
guilds, clans, clanwars, holywars and throne wars. Experience the Wheel of Time world in a
whole new way: in an Age ravaged by the Last Battle. The time lace has been broken, the barrier
between dream and reality shattered. Weaves. Clans. Crafting. Huge World. Free Online Role Playing Game or commonly called RPG. The most unique Free Online RPG set in the Wheel of Time world.
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