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The Rightful One (Soneca798 & Parkway)

Started by Soneca798, January 05, 2016, 10:34:28 AM

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Soneca798

Arandur Nostarion was born into a family of wealth and power, renowned magus knights, famous for having invented the technique of spirit weaving so many centuries ago. Arandur is the youngest of the family, and as the next in line he never expected to rule his family's fief. This caused him to focus on other matters as he aged, nearly downright ignoring politics much to his elder's dismay.

Instead he chose to study their grandfather's magic, the spirit weave as he named it. You see, in our world, only the elves are able to channel mana out of thin air, only they can use it like the true mages in the storybooks, manipulating it as they see fit. This fact is something that helped them greatly in their wars against the humans, which greatly outnumbered them, and continued to use their ingenuity to trump the elven magic.

The humans tried and tried for millennia to conquer the elven realm, but the elves pushed them back at each turn, always discovering new and inventive ways to push them back. But one day things changed, a human alchemist, known for inventing the amber oil, a powerful flame retardant that made fiery magic nigh useless discovered that one could infuse magic into gems, and with charged objects one without magical prowess would be able to wield the power that the elves had.

This discovery earned them new grounds, new conquests, and in turn it worried the elves, as they feared that the hatred of the humans would drive them to extinction. Then, as if born from a miracle, came Nostarion, a magus knight bearing no surname. He came before the elven king and manipulated his mana to form a blade, of pure, raw magical energy. The king was awed, especially when Nostarion asked for the king to let him face his best swordsman to demonstrate what his magic could do.

The king obliged, and Nostarion smiled, he swung his sword with abadon, reckless, he struck his opponent's parry, and his opponent's blade was cut, just like it was butter. The king got up from his seat in awe, the blades of his knigsguard were enchanted with the highest of magic, they were indestructible, and they were sharp like razors, but Nostarion's spirit blade simply cut right through it, like it was nothing.

The next few years the elves prepared, they trained and trained, day and night, to master Nostarion's technique. The day came when the humans sieged the capital, and Nostarion stood at the front of the vanguard... Him and his companions stared down the human sige, and charged at them without weapons in hand... The humans laughed, and readied their spears, their shields and armor tempered in amber oil, ready to meet the elven flames...

But Nostarion summoned his spirit blade, and his companions followed suit. As expected, the blades cut through their armor like butter, and the humans panicked. Their steel could not block the magic of the magus knights, and they were utterly defeated, pushed back entirely out of the elven realms while the elves took little to no losses.

And so the elven kingdom stood, and now lives in prosperity, all thanks to Nostarion. Arandur grew up on his stories, and marvelled. He wanted to be like his grandfather, and he would pester his brother day after day to tell him more, to help him train with his spirit blade. Vanus indulged him when he was younger, but after their father passed away while trying to defend a small village against a cockatrice he became grim, he had hardly any time for Arandur anymore. That didn't deter the youngest though, as he took to spirit weaving as a form of aiding his brother. Vanus became the scholar, the politician, he all but forgot his heritage as a magus knight, and so Arandur decided he would be his brother's shield, and defend him with his blade while his brother fought his battles weaving words.

Arandur graduated with the highest decour, he was the best in his class, and one of the finest spirit weavers the kingdom had ever seen, and following his knighthood his brother invited him to his private quarters for a celebratory drink. After a wondrous evening of laughs and happiness, Arandur felt like the old days, back when his brother and him were closer, back when he felt like they truly were family. He hoped for a return to those days, and for a while he let himself believe that, up until his elder recovered his usual demeanor.

Something was different though, a deep sadness within his eyes, something he had never let Arandur see... Vanus excused himself for a moment and when he returned his eyes seemed slightly irritated, like he had just wiped his tears away. Arandur could feel his voice heavy, heavy with years of pressure, of neglect... He told him he had heard rumors, strange happenings in the northern province, disappearances and frequent bandit raids. He had consulted a seer and she told him that darkness approached, that a great evil was rising in the north...

With that he tasked his brother to ride north, his voice dripped with worry, like the stone cask he had surrounded himself had finally been broken. Arandur nodded, stood up, and gave him a hug. His brother was taken back, and for a moment he just stood there, before he finally let himself fall into the embrace, and he expressed his worry. He told his brother of the seer's visit, he told him that the kingdom could be in danger, and Arandur just held him tighter, allowing his brother to show emotion for the first time in the last seventy years.

Arandur told him that he would ride fast, and he would reach the northern province before darkness crashed down. He promised his brother that his blade would serve as a bastion against evil, and that he would not fail. Before he went out the door his brother put his hand on Arandur's shoulder, and told him that the fate of the elven kingdom rested on his mission, that he should find the princess and guard her with his very life...

With this Arandur nodded, he donned his armor, readied his supplies and mounted his horse, riding north as fast as he could, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders...