Insanity's Call
05-25-11, 10:24 AM
Cains story truly began at the age of fifteen, but that story is long and boring, so another, much later in his plot will be told instead. It all started once warm summer afternoon in the deep recesses of the Forrest of Underwood. So deep that light rarely pierced the fierce canopy of leaves that suffocated the life below. So deep that not even the elves ventured near. It was hear, constructed in a man made clearing, Cain found his home.
It was not necessarily his, but his masters' mansion. It was the type of mansion one would expect to see in a cliche horror film for the rickety planks and the moonlit sky backdrop with the random bolt of thunder. There was no random thunder or dark sky, but any who approached it would feel its sinister aura. It was here that Cain had come to learn dark magic three years earlier at the age of fifteen. It was here his journey in becoming possibly the greatest force of the nether would be started with a bang.
Cain, a slender pale youth, had the strangest of back-stories. His mother and father had been killed by an arcane horror. He had managed to kill it as a toddler, which showed his magnitude for magic. Unfortunately some others decided he was dangerous, and sealed his mind, and magic, into the deep recesses of his mind. Completely forgotten. That was until Master came along and broke the seals for him.
He clothed himself in the robes Master always gave to his apprentices, and spent a majority of his apprenticeship reading in the Masters ancient library of tomes where the smell of yellowing pages and dry leather were strong enough to make your eyes water and nose burn. He would glance out the windows on the western wall and fantasize being a great evil sorcerer living in a tower.
After indulging in his daydreams he would remind himself of why he needed to study by glancing at what would happen if he would fail. The Master had a rather nasty tradition of sealing his failures in paintings, and took a rather sadistic pleasure in leaving them out as a warning for the other apprentices. They all wore the same horrified, gaunt expressions, and as far as Cain knew, were sealed a hellish form of existence that was damn near impossible to imagine.
He glanced back at the ancient scrawl of a lunatic that was his studying material. Then the door to the library opened.
It was not necessarily his, but his masters' mansion. It was the type of mansion one would expect to see in a cliche horror film for the rickety planks and the moonlit sky backdrop with the random bolt of thunder. There was no random thunder or dark sky, but any who approached it would feel its sinister aura. It was here that Cain had come to learn dark magic three years earlier at the age of fifteen. It was here his journey in becoming possibly the greatest force of the nether would be started with a bang.
Cain, a slender pale youth, had the strangest of back-stories. His mother and father had been killed by an arcane horror. He had managed to kill it as a toddler, which showed his magnitude for magic. Unfortunately some others decided he was dangerous, and sealed his mind, and magic, into the deep recesses of his mind. Completely forgotten. That was until Master came along and broke the seals for him.
He clothed himself in the robes Master always gave to his apprentices, and spent a majority of his apprenticeship reading in the Masters ancient library of tomes where the smell of yellowing pages and dry leather were strong enough to make your eyes water and nose burn. He would glance out the windows on the western wall and fantasize being a great evil sorcerer living in a tower.
After indulging in his daydreams he would remind himself of why he needed to study by glancing at what would happen if he would fail. The Master had a rather nasty tradition of sealing his failures in paintings, and took a rather sadistic pleasure in leaving them out as a warning for the other apprentices. They all wore the same horrified, gaunt expressions, and as far as Cain knew, were sealed a hellish form of existence that was damn near impossible to imagine.
He glanced back at the ancient scrawl of a lunatic that was his studying material. Then the door to the library opened.