Mutant_Lorenor
09-09-10, 02:15 PM
( Continued from here (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=8825)!!! I am using my Genome 10 (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=21227) profile for this quest, thank you very much. )
( Note: Proof of Old Reunion took place roughly when Lorenor was level 1 or level 2. This quest takes place approximately 10 years later, it is a sequel. Lorenor is 100 years old hence the strange time stamp.)
Ten Years Ago--
Friday, September 10th
C.P. 1880
Stepping through the room, the mutant felt as though he'd explored it a billion times. No, was it more than that? The smell was always the same, oak was powerfully built as endless arrays of bookcases that were stacked in that maddening order. Lorenor pulled a book out, it was the same book he always pulled out. The cover was written in the letters of The Otano and was a warning more than a title. Yet, drawn he was to that same book over and over. Across the ages. When Lorenor opened the book, he saw the same thing. Over and over. Blank pages, perfectly devoid of any sort of written text on their person. Reviewing the warning on the cover of the book, The High Priest of N'Jal wondered why he couldn't make sense of the pages of the book. He was Spider Magi, he was also a Neophyte of The Otano.
With that orb he had consumed, Lorenor gained tremendous knowledge about the pantheon of The Otano. Who they were, what they were about, and even had considered leaving N'Jal for them.
But the book was always the same. Then, he heard the voices in the room, the conversation, the yelling. That too, was always the same. Lorenor walked over towards the disturbance in the chamber and saw himself. Rather, he saw a younger version of himself. It was he from that fateful day when the adventure took place. Wizo was there, and so was that man who had saved their asses. Nenkulor Shima. Lorenor saw the man, and for a moment he could have sworn that the man seemed to turn towards him and wink. He wasn't sure if that had happened or not, it had occurred so quickly. Then, the same argument occurred. Lorenor, Wizo, and Nenkulor had their confrontation with the strange Magi that nearly ended Lorenor and Wizo that night.
As Lorenor heard the event go on, it was always the same way to him. Constantly repeating itself across time. Then, Nenkulor Shima summoned a Gate from Phantaria buying them an exit out of there. That's what Lorenor always saw. The event never went past that point, but somehow, his mind stayed anchored to that place this time. Lorenor walked forward as if drawn by instinct. The events of that day replaying themselves over and over in his head as he walked through The Grand Library. Voices echoed through the dark and Lorenor traveled a bit deeper in the temple, in the same direction that their enemy went. As the voices became louder, the mutant focused. He concentrated on using his vast senses to decipher what the voices were saying. They were arguing, Lorenor walked forward until he was close enough to clearly hear them.
"We had him! One day, he will become The Herald if we are not careful. If not for that bastard's interference we would have erased that event from ever occurring. We have the power to change history, why don't you understand that?!" It was the same Magus that had threatened Lorenor directly.
"Despite that, we must act in subtle ways. The events that we are constructing must come to pass without fail. I have assured our Master that we will be the victors in the end. Be patient. Another battle with that wretch will occur someday. It is our destinies to confront him." A second voice said.
Lorenor's senses spotted several heat signatures in the room he was spying on. It was not necessary for him to travel all the way into the room.
"We should have killed him. But is my duty to obey our Master as well." The first voice said.
"If I recall correctly, was it not you who ordered our retreat in the first place?" The second voice said.
"Tch...I was acting on the best interests of the mission. The Prophet is too dangerous a foe, but we could have taken the wretch and his partner as they were." The first voice said.
Lorenor saw at least ten presences in the room, their heat-signature suggested they were not human.
"Understood." The second voice said. "We have new orders. Now that we have recovered The Book, we must..." A pause. "We are no longer alone." The second voice suddenly said and turned towards Lorenor. "It seems that our enemy has grown more powerful."
"How can that be!?" The first voice suddenly yelled and prepared to confront Lorenor.
"Wait!" The second voice yelled, but it was too late.
Lorenor readied his prevalida sword. Drawing it, the weapon made a distinct ringing sound. His eyes turned toward the doors of the chamber as it was flung open by The Magus. Lorenor grinned. This was not the same as the first time they had met. Already, Lorenor could detect tremendous power flowing from The Magus. He saw that the fellow's hands were glowing with power, ripples of energy flowing out of his epidermis. Lorenor moved into a fighting stance, his weapon positioned in a middle center of gravity. Stance loose and relaxed. Lorenor was prepared to meet his fate when he saw a suddenly look of shock on The Magus's face. The man stopped dead in his tracks and took several steps back.
"The Herald!" The Magus called. "We are too late!" And then, Lorenor saw the energy bolt come cascading through the air and at his person...
In a flash of energy, it was all over...
Present Day--
Tuesday, April 23rd
C.P. 1900
...Lorenor suddenly awoke as his mind entered panic mode. He took a dagger that was on his table suddenly, with profound reflexes, and stabbed at the shadows. Pain coursed through his body when he felt the psychological pain of the energy bolt from his dream. It was the third time in ten days that the mutant had that same dream. Over and over the past taunted him with new visions. He kept seeing that first job between himself and Wizo Laka Anahandra. For some reason, there was significance in that mission. There was some aspect of the past that Lorenor could not face at the time, and it worried him deeply.
Ten years ago, Lorenor had ventured with Wizo and they had discovered a temple of The Otano. The pantheon was an ancient pantheon that was completely different from The Thayne that Lorenor knew. The Otano had embraced the mutant completely, but something else had happened. In that journey they had stumbled upon a group of bizarre Mages that were up to no good. The new dream revealed that they had stolen something out of The Otano temple, but Lorenor had not found out anything else other than that.
The dream always ended the same way, but that particular time his death had felt more vivid and real than ever before. What disturbed the mutant the most was the fact that The Magi knew how to identify him as The Herald, almost as if his present self was physically there ten years ago.
Realizing that he was still holding his Mythril Dagger, part of a pair of Masterwork weapons, in hand the mutant sighed. Something about the dream had made him exceedingly paranoid. Despite that, he knew that his security detail would never allow a threat to get to his personal quarters. He relaxed his position in his chair knowing that he was completely safe. In the society of The Forsaken, Lorenor had achieved the critical rank of a High Priest. Able to commune directly with The Thayne, N'Jal, Lorenor knew almost everything that N'Jal knew. Lorenor was one of the first of The Forsaken to receive the gift of The N'Jal Protocol so many lifetimes ago.
"Enough!" Lorenor suddenly yelled and slammed both hands on the liviol table in front of him. He stood up in one fluid motion at the same time he did that. Lorenor turned to his single companion in the room, a burly Forsaken Warrior that was part of his personal Honour Guard. "Richard." Lorenor called out to his trusted companion. "Fetch me my robes. I am going to the cathedral of our lady. I wish to speak to the masses who shall attend." Lorenor said casually. As a member of the clergy, Lorenor had the capability of constantly giving sermons based on the decree of the dark lady. Lorenor slept skyclad whenever he actually did get to sleep. Being what he was, Lorenor knew that there was no rest for the wicked. So a restful sleep probably would not come.
Lorenor saw that Richard acted without hesitation. Lorenor was standing now and slid away from the chair. There was a drinking goblet set up on a small coffee table in the center of the room. It was filled with simple juice. Before Lorenor took the liquid to his lips, the mutant looked at it quite carefully and attempted to detect any poisons or other foul substances. He could detect none. A certain event that had occurred several years prior in which he encountered a former ally named Ashiakin, had left the mutant extremely paranoid and jumping at shadows. The event had lead to a most terrifying death...
Lorenor was relaxed when Richard returned with his priest's robes. It was a black uniform with the symbols of The Spider Magi etched in blood and permanently emblazoned on its fabric. The uniform was also embroidered with solid gold. It was Masterwork tailormanship, quite baggy and comfortable to wear. Lorenor adjusted the belt around his waist as his companion wrapped the thing around his shoulders. It felt like the wind was kissing his flesh. Shifting his body weight, Lorenor thanked Richard and together, they walked out to greet the masses...
***
~I~
After about six hours of speaking The Word of N'Jal, other members of The Clergy took over that job for the mutant. Once he was done with his tasks for the day, Lorenor followed people out of the cathedral. He greeted and met with several individuals and gave them various pieces of advice about their situations and problems they were having. Most were fresh meat for the grinder, so they had many questions about Forsaken life. In some ways it was an admirable piece of clockwork machinery. The church spoke The Word of N'Jal and it's masses carried The Word out. Finished with that task now, Lorenor's mind went back to the visions he was having. Always, it went back to the visions. The symbol on his shoulder he had combined with burned with the promise of power, yet awarded none. Lorenor sighed at that, he had the knowledge of The Otano thanks to the orb he'd consumed long ago.
However, his loyalty was with N'Jal. He could only act when N'Jal ordered it, or when it was in the interests of N'Jal. The symbol felt like a lead weight on his shoulder. He wandered back to his apartment with a heavy heart. The matter of the dream was troubling him and he needed to commune, in private, with N'Jal. With a heavy heart, Lorenor returned to his chamber in The Forsaken city and readied himself for deep meditation. Answers would come, or he would die trying...
( Note: Proof of Old Reunion took place roughly when Lorenor was level 1 or level 2. This quest takes place approximately 10 years later, it is a sequel. Lorenor is 100 years old hence the strange time stamp.)
Ten Years Ago--
Friday, September 10th
C.P. 1880
Stepping through the room, the mutant felt as though he'd explored it a billion times. No, was it more than that? The smell was always the same, oak was powerfully built as endless arrays of bookcases that were stacked in that maddening order. Lorenor pulled a book out, it was the same book he always pulled out. The cover was written in the letters of The Otano and was a warning more than a title. Yet, drawn he was to that same book over and over. Across the ages. When Lorenor opened the book, he saw the same thing. Over and over. Blank pages, perfectly devoid of any sort of written text on their person. Reviewing the warning on the cover of the book, The High Priest of N'Jal wondered why he couldn't make sense of the pages of the book. He was Spider Magi, he was also a Neophyte of The Otano.
With that orb he had consumed, Lorenor gained tremendous knowledge about the pantheon of The Otano. Who they were, what they were about, and even had considered leaving N'Jal for them.
But the book was always the same. Then, he heard the voices in the room, the conversation, the yelling. That too, was always the same. Lorenor walked over towards the disturbance in the chamber and saw himself. Rather, he saw a younger version of himself. It was he from that fateful day when the adventure took place. Wizo was there, and so was that man who had saved their asses. Nenkulor Shima. Lorenor saw the man, and for a moment he could have sworn that the man seemed to turn towards him and wink. He wasn't sure if that had happened or not, it had occurred so quickly. Then, the same argument occurred. Lorenor, Wizo, and Nenkulor had their confrontation with the strange Magi that nearly ended Lorenor and Wizo that night.
As Lorenor heard the event go on, it was always the same way to him. Constantly repeating itself across time. Then, Nenkulor Shima summoned a Gate from Phantaria buying them an exit out of there. That's what Lorenor always saw. The event never went past that point, but somehow, his mind stayed anchored to that place this time. Lorenor walked forward as if drawn by instinct. The events of that day replaying themselves over and over in his head as he walked through The Grand Library. Voices echoed through the dark and Lorenor traveled a bit deeper in the temple, in the same direction that their enemy went. As the voices became louder, the mutant focused. He concentrated on using his vast senses to decipher what the voices were saying. They were arguing, Lorenor walked forward until he was close enough to clearly hear them.
"We had him! One day, he will become The Herald if we are not careful. If not for that bastard's interference we would have erased that event from ever occurring. We have the power to change history, why don't you understand that?!" It was the same Magus that had threatened Lorenor directly.
"Despite that, we must act in subtle ways. The events that we are constructing must come to pass without fail. I have assured our Master that we will be the victors in the end. Be patient. Another battle with that wretch will occur someday. It is our destinies to confront him." A second voice said.
Lorenor's senses spotted several heat signatures in the room he was spying on. It was not necessary for him to travel all the way into the room.
"We should have killed him. But is my duty to obey our Master as well." The first voice said.
"If I recall correctly, was it not you who ordered our retreat in the first place?" The second voice said.
"Tch...I was acting on the best interests of the mission. The Prophet is too dangerous a foe, but we could have taken the wretch and his partner as they were." The first voice said.
Lorenor saw at least ten presences in the room, their heat-signature suggested they were not human.
"Understood." The second voice said. "We have new orders. Now that we have recovered The Book, we must..." A pause. "We are no longer alone." The second voice suddenly said and turned towards Lorenor. "It seems that our enemy has grown more powerful."
"How can that be!?" The first voice suddenly yelled and prepared to confront Lorenor.
"Wait!" The second voice yelled, but it was too late.
Lorenor readied his prevalida sword. Drawing it, the weapon made a distinct ringing sound. His eyes turned toward the doors of the chamber as it was flung open by The Magus. Lorenor grinned. This was not the same as the first time they had met. Already, Lorenor could detect tremendous power flowing from The Magus. He saw that the fellow's hands were glowing with power, ripples of energy flowing out of his epidermis. Lorenor moved into a fighting stance, his weapon positioned in a middle center of gravity. Stance loose and relaxed. Lorenor was prepared to meet his fate when he saw a suddenly look of shock on The Magus's face. The man stopped dead in his tracks and took several steps back.
"The Herald!" The Magus called. "We are too late!" And then, Lorenor saw the energy bolt come cascading through the air and at his person...
In a flash of energy, it was all over...
Present Day--
Tuesday, April 23rd
C.P. 1900
...Lorenor suddenly awoke as his mind entered panic mode. He took a dagger that was on his table suddenly, with profound reflexes, and stabbed at the shadows. Pain coursed through his body when he felt the psychological pain of the energy bolt from his dream. It was the third time in ten days that the mutant had that same dream. Over and over the past taunted him with new visions. He kept seeing that first job between himself and Wizo Laka Anahandra. For some reason, there was significance in that mission. There was some aspect of the past that Lorenor could not face at the time, and it worried him deeply.
Ten years ago, Lorenor had ventured with Wizo and they had discovered a temple of The Otano. The pantheon was an ancient pantheon that was completely different from The Thayne that Lorenor knew. The Otano had embraced the mutant completely, but something else had happened. In that journey they had stumbled upon a group of bizarre Mages that were up to no good. The new dream revealed that they had stolen something out of The Otano temple, but Lorenor had not found out anything else other than that.
The dream always ended the same way, but that particular time his death had felt more vivid and real than ever before. What disturbed the mutant the most was the fact that The Magi knew how to identify him as The Herald, almost as if his present self was physically there ten years ago.
Realizing that he was still holding his Mythril Dagger, part of a pair of Masterwork weapons, in hand the mutant sighed. Something about the dream had made him exceedingly paranoid. Despite that, he knew that his security detail would never allow a threat to get to his personal quarters. He relaxed his position in his chair knowing that he was completely safe. In the society of The Forsaken, Lorenor had achieved the critical rank of a High Priest. Able to commune directly with The Thayne, N'Jal, Lorenor knew almost everything that N'Jal knew. Lorenor was one of the first of The Forsaken to receive the gift of The N'Jal Protocol so many lifetimes ago.
"Enough!" Lorenor suddenly yelled and slammed both hands on the liviol table in front of him. He stood up in one fluid motion at the same time he did that. Lorenor turned to his single companion in the room, a burly Forsaken Warrior that was part of his personal Honour Guard. "Richard." Lorenor called out to his trusted companion. "Fetch me my robes. I am going to the cathedral of our lady. I wish to speak to the masses who shall attend." Lorenor said casually. As a member of the clergy, Lorenor had the capability of constantly giving sermons based on the decree of the dark lady. Lorenor slept skyclad whenever he actually did get to sleep. Being what he was, Lorenor knew that there was no rest for the wicked. So a restful sleep probably would not come.
Lorenor saw that Richard acted without hesitation. Lorenor was standing now and slid away from the chair. There was a drinking goblet set up on a small coffee table in the center of the room. It was filled with simple juice. Before Lorenor took the liquid to his lips, the mutant looked at it quite carefully and attempted to detect any poisons or other foul substances. He could detect none. A certain event that had occurred several years prior in which he encountered a former ally named Ashiakin, had left the mutant extremely paranoid and jumping at shadows. The event had lead to a most terrifying death...
Lorenor was relaxed when Richard returned with his priest's robes. It was a black uniform with the symbols of The Spider Magi etched in blood and permanently emblazoned on its fabric. The uniform was also embroidered with solid gold. It was Masterwork tailormanship, quite baggy and comfortable to wear. Lorenor adjusted the belt around his waist as his companion wrapped the thing around his shoulders. It felt like the wind was kissing his flesh. Shifting his body weight, Lorenor thanked Richard and together, they walked out to greet the masses...
***
~I~
After about six hours of speaking The Word of N'Jal, other members of The Clergy took over that job for the mutant. Once he was done with his tasks for the day, Lorenor followed people out of the cathedral. He greeted and met with several individuals and gave them various pieces of advice about their situations and problems they were having. Most were fresh meat for the grinder, so they had many questions about Forsaken life. In some ways it was an admirable piece of clockwork machinery. The church spoke The Word of N'Jal and it's masses carried The Word out. Finished with that task now, Lorenor's mind went back to the visions he was having. Always, it went back to the visions. The symbol on his shoulder he had combined with burned with the promise of power, yet awarded none. Lorenor sighed at that, he had the knowledge of The Otano thanks to the orb he'd consumed long ago.
However, his loyalty was with N'Jal. He could only act when N'Jal ordered it, or when it was in the interests of N'Jal. The symbol felt like a lead weight on his shoulder. He wandered back to his apartment with a heavy heart. The matter of the dream was troubling him and he needed to commune, in private, with N'Jal. With a heavy heart, Lorenor returned to his chamber in The Forsaken city and readied himself for deep meditation. Answers would come, or he would die trying...