The pages of despair...

[Mutant_Lorenor]

(Recruitment Call (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=17531))


-I-

The time? Nobody cared. But it was roughly around 1:00 A.M. normal Corone time. The day? It was a Wednesday night. The year. Ah. Now -that- was interesting information. The year was C.P. 1812. It was July. Almost half a decade after the Empire was formed in Corone. The last bastion of freedom across Althanas fell to the hands of oppression. Normally, I would never have cared about such matters. But the greedy Viceroys now in charged of the Empire saw to it that my family, my clan, my brothers in arms were hunted down like mere swine. I was a member of the Red Hand in those days.

Secretly, I was also an Assassin for the Church of Ethereal Sway. It's teachings and jobs were lucrative to a mercenary like myself. As I struggled to make ends meet and carve out a name for myself in the history books. I hadn't realized that being a member of the Red Hand's council had such benefits. I was popular in all the wrong places. I was also a wanted criminal. You see, I was also part of another faction. I was a member of a cult calling itself the Cult of N'Jal. As a direct result of the oppressive rule of the Empire, an entire generation of estranged youth turned to N'Jal's teachings and abandoned the old ways.

Fertility gods and goddesses that were once worshiped all over Corone were soon forgotten. Temples were left to become ruins. Only the elderly had honor in their heart for the old gods. A new generation of ideology meant a new generation of gods had to be born on Althanas. And that was the void that the Thaynehood filled. Most importantly, the Thayne known as N'Jal, filled a specific void. It filled the broken heart of an entire generation disenfranchised with the old ways of Corone's Republic. They openly protested the endless Civil War. They openly protested the transformation from Republic to Empire.

And for their reckless abandonment of the new laws, the Knights of Dawn, my hated enemy, persecuted these children without hesitation. Cruel. Efficient and precise, the Knights of Dawn abandoned the old Goddess in favor of Lord Draconus. A Thayne dedicated to the hostility of warfare and combat. Something that currently suited the needs of the Knights of Dawn quite well. And so, the Knights of Dawn became the warriors elite of Lord Draconus. A new code was written on the blood of the old paladin's code.

And through it all, I observed. As a harbinger of history, I kept my eyes on center stage for all that was about to unfold. I was two things now. The Carrier of N'Jal (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=10551)and Keeper of the Necronomicon (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=16744). This propelled me to become of the greatest villains of Althanas history, rivaling even Xem'Zund himself. But my goals were not so grandiose. My goals were as simple as appeasing my goddess. I carried my goddess with me. And your gods remained hidden. I couldn't but laugh at all the ignorant sheep...

"Mi'liege. You are laughing. Is something the matter?" A voice. For a moment, the mutant had lost himself to his twisted thoughts. Blinking several times, orbs of glowing purple energy blinked in and out of reality. He quickly regained his composure and turned to look at the girl who shared his companionship. She was a Necromancer in training and a fellow member of the Red Hand. She had taken quite a bit of interest in Lorenor after finding out what he had in his possession. The two had become virtually inseparable. "Worry not Landra. All is as well as ought. I have deciphered a large portion of the documents I recovered from Argus."

"How long did it take?"

"Just shy five full moons." Lorenor shook his head, he was tired and weary. The recent transformation at the hands of N'Jal had taken a toll on his spirit. He wasn't as verile as he used to be, but his mind was as sharp as ever. Sharper still. He was deciphering things and matters of his existence at an alarming rate. He'd grown significantly in power. His eyes glowed in the darkness of the room, there was no light except for the single glow orb that provided some for Landra. She was not gifted with the sight. "I only recently (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=16632)
returned to these shores. Corone. It was in past days that I found out about my promotion to member of the Council along with Ranger Nailo."

(Note: Lorenor went to Antioch ICly for a time to decipher the pages of the Necronomicon and the texts that he recovered from Necromancer's Lab (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=6504). The Necronomicon is three volumes written by the followers of N'Jal in times of antiguity that contain strange rituals and bizzare encantations)

"It was a decision that greatly pleased the majority of us." He could see her smiling even in the dim lighting. "O? Why not all?" Landra shook her head in the dark. Tendrils of curled locks moved to and fro as she shook her head and laughed ever so gently. She played innocent, but Lorenor knew the devil that lurked behind those eyes quite well. It was the same act that Krista pulled sometimes. At times, Lorenor saw bits of himself in the female Necromancer and he knew how easily she could use her power to control him without preojudice. "Mi'liege, we are servants of the Goddess. There art many who frown upon our faith." Lorenor nodded more to himself than anything else. At that point, he'd been working for several nights straight, without break. The will of N'Jal was strong.

"Art they assembled?"

"Aye."

"Go and retreiveth them." Lorenor said calmly issueing the order knowing that she would follow it. He went back to work. He had just discovered something quite interesting within the pages of the works before him...a discovery that would inspire a generation.

[Ranger]

Ranger paced his small domicile, his mind lost in a miasma of disgruntlement and political-religious intrigue. The shadows around him moved and swirled at his feet, as if alive and parting for his back and forth movement, his new found power was disconcerting as it was interesting. The blessing of the cursed goddess had touched the prophet’s soul, the seeds of darkness planted within a being formerly a zealous dedicate of the light. Was it not the will of fate to place him as a prophet of all the gods though? The Thayne were powerful, the six accepted gods were strong in the paths they championed, but what was to be done about the seventh Thayne? Outside the window the silver eyes of the drow searched the sky for an answer to the conundrums that riddles his curious mind. What he was given was not a sign that he wanted to see at that time. The eyes of N’jal were staring back at him, craters on the moon as deep and dark as the eyes of the goddess that was imprisoned on the satellite.

Long frail fingers splayed and rested against the glass. Shivers slipped down his arms and back, an unwelcome guest that made the normally stoic drow shook his head in dismay. There was nothing left to do but to follow the will of a Thayne, to continue the fallen goddess’ infinite desire for expansion across the face of Althanas. Her followers, the Spidermagi, had been cast into disarray, their hold diminishing throughout the world. It was her need that fueled the sudden spur of movement in the darkest of places, in the darkest of minds. Though the prophet was of pure heart and following only the wills of the Thayne, the champions of N’jal were rising once again to bring about the rebirth of her power.

“Lorenor,” he sighed as he pulled at the thongs of leather on the sides of his black leather jerkin. Two blades of darkness and light intertwined took their place in sheathes across his back, the smooth unknown dark material swirled with the pristine mythril that comprised the other half. The blades of Hromagh cried for victory, for use in battle, the prophet doubted that he would not be appeasing the blades while with the ghoul. “What is it that you have planned for me now? What delicate tendrils of fate will you pull this night?”

“Prophet Nailo, your presence is welcome as always,” Landra said as she bowed at the waist. The young woman was an interesting addition to the clan of the Red Hand, something of a servant to Lorenor. As a council member it was an option to take on an apprentice or even a servant, Ranger was not sure which she was but it mattered very little. He had not taken his own apprentice, not knowing what the Thayne ever had in store for his path presented a difficult challenge to accept anyone as an assistant. Second in Command of the Red Hand meant he would need all the help he could receive in the future though.

“Is Lorenor prepared?”

“He is, and waiting. He has sent me to retrieve you,” she said with her eyes diverted. Such a simple child, yet so wonderful an assistant.

“Then lead the way, my dear.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

And so it was that the fates deemed worthy to send a familiar partner to Lorenor's person. Having attuned his senses greatly, voices within his head spoke of the arrival of Ranger Nailo. One of the followers of N'Jal moved within the crypt-like basement that served as Lorenor's personal headquarters. Many books aligned on a whim and organized in no particular system of organization were arranged haphazardly in the dark room. Shadows flickered about the room with various colors burning through them. The room was dank and filled with a certain humidity, the currently lone occupant liked warmth. A strange matter considering his ties to the lands of Salvar. Lord Lorenor V'halkulus shifted in the dark chamber as he got up from his studies. He worked at candlelight deciphering the sacred texts at his disposal. Several hard-won volumes were at his feet. Many were texts devoted strictly to the study of Antioch. Others were texts devoted to the ancient arts of Necromancy. And still others were of various concerns that were important only to Lorenor.

Lorenor's obsession with N'Jal lead him to explore the various ancient places of the world in an effort to discover the place of prophecy. It was stated that one day, the Spider Goddess would make her return to the world of Althanas and signal a second age of darkness. Grabbing a stretch, the mutant felt his clothing move around like a wave around his person. Wrinkles dropped, stretched, and moved causing a tingling sensation to spread across his epidermis. The mutant felt a cramp in his leg, he'd been seated for many hours, if not days on end. He stretched, blood rushed from his body to his head causing the mutant to pause. Lorenor sighed with discomfort as the blood rushed upwards suddenly causing a nearly dizzying feeling. Steadying himself, Lorenor relaxed the best that he could. The uneasy feeling soon passed and the mutant gathered his strength, the hour was upon them. He looked around the room, perfectly capable of seeing sharply even in pitch-blackness. The dark clung to the mutant forming a mysterious aura about the servant of darkness.

Boots crunched against the floor upstairs and Lorenor's sharp eyes moved up to the ceiling. In hell, there is no need for eyes. Lorenor suddenly thought to himself as he remembered the fact that he lacked eyes. Sometimes, he forgot simple matters like that as he focused on more complicated designs that would alter the history of Althanas forever. There were Lethos and there were Godhands. Where did Lorenor fit in the picture, in the grand scheme of things? The mutant wondered. For now, he was the herald of N'Jal and as her servant, he was going to ensure that the Second Age of Darkness came to pass. No stubborn, bastard heroes would prevent that fate from occurring. Lorenor was staring destiny in the face with unwavering fear. A new age was preparing to descend upon Althanas. Lorenor wore a grin on his face even as the door was opened to his crypt like room. A familiar scent filled the still air of the chamber. "What is it Landra? Have they arrived?" Lorenor asked out loud, his deep and raspy voice somehow able to cling to the dark.

"Ranger Nailo has answered your call mi'lord." She responded.

Ranger!? Splendid. The mutant thought to himself as he stared at Landra's rising bosom. "Prepare our escort. We leave on the morrow then. I am going to seek the console of the Prophet on this matter. It is of imperative that we leave immediately." Lorenor said quietly. He began to move in Landra's general direction and saw that the girl winced physically as if she were struck by a hand. The mutant did not like that. "What is the matter with thee?" Lorenor asked, not one to foresake matters with his companions. Lorenor was frustrated that she had shown a moment of such weakness. "N-nothing mi'lord. 'Tis not of your concern. You have other matters to worry about. Worry not about me." She said in a simple response, the mutant shook his head. He walked towards her and her face cringed again. There it was again! The mutant ignored it this time, and went to accompany Ranger. Ranger was already waiting upstairs for him by the time he made the journey to his position. "Lord Nailo. So good to see thee again." Lorenor said casually as he approached his long-time comrade. The two had fought together before an avatar of the Spider Queen. "Doth thou have thy equipment with thee? We have our company ready for the journey ahead. I was hoping for a larger force to work with, but your company is blessing enough. I was able to assemble for us a group from our readily available workforce. Most were eager to sign up."

[Ranger]

The ghoul’s manor was nothing particularly amazing, nothing awe-inspiring but it was a firmly founded dwelling that Ranger was happy to have in the village. He knew that the other council member of the Red Hand, Lorenor, was viewed as somewhat of an outsider by fellow members of the clan. The dark elf felt strange around the man, as if being in the proximity of the creature was as if being touched by the darkness that seemed to embrace him. There was only one thing that continued to spur on the continued relationship of the Alerar native and the Haidia beast, and that was a similar following of the Thayne. Ranger was a prophet of them all; including the forsaken N’jal, Lorenor was a being of darkness that embraced the dark goddess.

Ranger let his rough fingers and calloused palms stroke the wooden mantle of the common room that Lorenor had, oddly enough, built on the second floor. The soft oak was a beautiful hue of natural coloration and carefully created sealant, a masterfully crafted piece that the prophet knew held very few rivals throughout Corone. It was a pity though that such expertise was not embraced by the region due to only the petty dissent that was spread by the Civil War. As he moved along the mantle’s border he came to the edge, his hand falling from the low shelf to the smooth wooden walls. “It is always a pleasure,” the dark elf said with a passive tone. “It is good to see you in fair condition and with a plan and a task at hand.”

He turned towards the ghoul, dipping his head with his eyes closed. He knew there was nothing to fear from Lorenor, and expressed his trust with his closed eyes. A further show of respect, dipping his head, was the prophets way of showing his respect without showing that either one commanded more respect than the other. There was always a meager volume of unease for Ranger in the presence of Lord Lorenor, his undead scent clashing with the forcefully forgotten grudge against his kind. So too was there the ever present influence of the forlorn goddess of darkness, one of the Thayne that a follower of the other omnipresent deities would be opposed to.

“I have prepared for whatever it is that you have planned,” he said as he leaned against the oak mantle and let his hands grip the hilts of his twin blades. His lackluster visage was only a façade that he kept constantly in place in order to retain his working friendship. “However, old friend, I was simply summoned and told to meet here. What it is that we are to undertake was not revealed to me before I arrived. A matter that is not a concern, but is one that I wish you could clarify for me.”

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Lorenor waited in a study of sorts. Fashioned in the traditional works of the vampire nation in Haidia, the room was of particular import to the mutant. He gathered items unique to Haidia and placed him in his collection putting together a fine reference library. Works, tomes, scrolls, in various languages were visible upon bookshelves that followed the Haidian furniture design closely. Some of the furniture was particularly old obtained from various raids that pre-dated the Demon War. Of particular interest was an old grandfather clock with Haidian Demon markings, and a desk. The wood was imported from Scara Brae and colored a burgundy sort of color. In all, the room was carefully situated to show the bizarre tastes of the owner of the structure. A member of the Red Hand's council, Lorenor had built his house revolving around the structure of the smithery. Workers worked the forge day and night to construct the various Items that were requested by the Red Hand's superior officers, as well as the customers of the Red Hand's stores. The mutant had a rug on the floor that was made out of the hide pelt of some Haidian beast.

Paintings of various artists native to Haidia, Salvar, and Corone depicted scenes of chaos and carnage. Blue glow stones were lit in the room to give a more homey sort of feel. The single fire place had blue fire in it, because the owner did not like natural fires. On his desk were various tools, instruments, charts, maps, and other travel documentation. Legal passports to Fallein, Dheathain, Salvar, as a result from his need to constantly travel to and from his fiefdom, and his Red Hand documentation. He was documenting many of his adventures on a series of works entitled Lorenor's Journals. He was already on the second volume of tomes in that great work. From his past adventures, the mutant started the project because he wanted to protect his precious memories from ever being lost again. Learning the ways of literature and fine education, the mutant had picked up artisan skills along the way. He quickly learned how to draw various symbols, places, and people that he'd come across in his travels. An entire section was devoted to the Red Hand. Ranger Nailo, and Sorahn un' Rohnahmeh were covered quite extensively in the materials.

Lorenor detailed documentation about the city known as Dressed Fish Town, the Golems of the Arch, and his son, number 5,325. He also wrote detailed knowledge about his township in Raiaera, Mosil-Z'sarug. The town was built on the ruins of Narenhad. Lorenor grabbed a pipe filled with cannabis seeds. It was a habit that Lorenor had picked up recently and it helped the mutant relax. A fine scent of cannabis filled the room adding a sort of sweetness to the air. The mutant took a large pull from his smoking pipe and placed the lit object back on the desk. He turned towards Ranger Nailo and greeted his companion in earnest. The two had been through the pyre and back again together and it looked like the two were being called to face their destiny once again. Lorenor pulled up a chair for the prophet and a chair for himself. Lorenor had imported several chairs from his fiefdom in Salvar. He sat down quietly and deep in thought as he looked at the familiar face of the prophet. There was a certain beauty there that the mutant could recognize. A beauty that he wished he possessed.

But alas, his grotesque appearance made it difficult for others to be around him. It was the reason that he took such great pains to hide himself from the outside world. He preferred operating in secrecy and with great cunning than directly placing the dagger to the heart of a foe. He preferred an exposed back, rather than an exposed adam's apple. He'd developed a sort of a finesse that came with being a trained assassin. Now serving as a dark High Priest to the Thayne, N'Jal, Lorenor's goddess dwelt within. He looked at Ranger for a long moment before he got down to business. He switched from the classic old common-tongue to the modernized version of the common-tongue. Lorenor's voice was deep and had a subtle raspiness to it causing the whole sound to echo slightly in the air. Lorenor's hood was lowered as a show of respect. He knew from experience that his companion, and fellow member of the council of the Red Hand would never cringe at him. At least not on a physical level.

Glowing purple eyes added a strange hue to his face. His face was covered in darkness as he sat there, a sort of naturally clinging effect. Born of the vampire nation in Haidia, the former ghoul had risen above his life of servitude, uncovering his destiny as a Spider-Magi. Lorenor sat calmly in his fine nobleman's clothing. Wearing masterwork tailored clothing, the mutant's shirt was finely embroidered. There were gold inlays on the embroidered sections of the shirt, and the whole thing was black. Lorenor's amulet was visible hanging from underneath the collar of the shirt and resting on his pectoral muscles. Lorenor's chest rose up and down with each breath he took. The mutant had dinner waiting on the desk, he'd anticipated several guests in advanced. However, when Ranger was the only one who had heeded his call, the mutant was more than disappointed. Despite that, he was glad to have at least one friend in a company of strangers. The expedition he was preparing for was a dangerous one indeed.

"We have some time to talk my old friend." Lorenor said calmly. "Our expedition will be three fold." The mutant took a pull of the pipe on his table after carefully picking it up and relighting it from the fireplace. Lorenor held the pipe in his hand for a long moment as he considered his words quite carefully. "As you know there have been raids on our town from the Duergar of the Jagged Mountains. Secondly, there have been raids from local bandits that have settled in the wilderness near here. Thirdly, there is a camp of the Knights of Dawn that is located Southwest of our present position some three or four cliques. Our intelligence reveals that it is a heavily guarded fortress and would utilize considerable resources to siege properly." Lorenor rubbed his chin in deep thought with his metallic Aegis Bracer. The device was a full bracer that covered his entire hand and most of his right arm. It had been acquired during an expedition in Haidia long ago. "I've assembled a team of skilled soldiers ready to obey their duties to our city. We have three objectives. We can take them in any order. But these problems, must be dealt with in due time." A stream of hemp smoke was released from the mutant's mouth.

Lorenor took a document off his table. It was a map. "Preliminary scouting reports have showed us the exact location of the enemies' base. I could use your support and leadership capabilities Ranger Nailo." Lorenor handed the prophet the document. "I've been putting together supplies for several months now for a lengthy siege on against all of our enemies." The mutant's eyes glowed slightly brightly now. "What do you think?" Lorenor asked and waited for Ranger's response. "These problems must be dealt with sooner or later. I propose a preemptive strike against our enemies."