Christoph
04-10-17, 10:42 AM
((Closed to TwinCast.))
*
Year 1815, Spring
Occult scrawling covered the rooftop, a dizzying maelstrom of chalk lit by the stars. The Radasanth harbor warehouse overlooked the ocean. Built of brown bricks and timber, it was a stout and plainly rectangular and empty. Two years past, the building came under new ownership. Since then, no freight has moved in or out. The entire structure assumed a new role as the work and training space for its new owner: the former Pagoda master Elijah Belov.
Known as an eccentric sorcerer and part-time gladiator, Elijah earned a small reputation in the Citadel back in 1807, but gained true notoriety after Salvar's civil war. Those who remembered the bright-eyed, boyish Belov from before scarcely recognized the grim, cynical man who returned to Corone in 1812. He took the Citadel and Dajas Pagoda by storm, displaying new power and ferocity, dispatching foes with bored proficiency. Whatever he had endured in Salvar, it made him strong, yet left him hard, with sharp edges.
His skills made him famous, and his fame made him rich. Students sought him for training, nobles hired him to solve problems. To many, he was to be envied. A wealthy young man whose natural talents could provide a life of comfort and leisure. To the eyes of man, he led exactly that. And he could have. Coin, respect, status, all at the price of leaving his home behind. That price, in the end, was too steep. Besides, more was at play than mere homesickness.
Belov paced from one end of the roof to the other, carefully placing each foot to avoid smudging the countless chalk lines. He glanced down, then up, then down, making slight adjustments. The night was clear, the sky a veil of glittering stars. A hundred constellations formed the firmament. Elijah's interest focused on nine signs so ancient that few living astronomers knew them. They formed a forgotten zodiac from the dawn of time – before the Tap, when the Old Gods walked Creation. Dragon, phoenix, unicorn, and others, they marked the heavens with the power of what some scholars called the “high beasts”, powerful creatures of divine lineage. The nine signs, Elijah believed, held some of the last remnants of the old gods' power, and perhaps the last hope to fight the slow unraveling of the world – an unraveling he believed would soon begin anew in Salvar. He now needed allies to help wield this power.
The stars were nearly aligned. He focused his power, channeling magical energies through the chalk scribbles. Elijah had friends and former associates he could call on to wield the signs, and a couple others he knew by reputation alone. However, even if he tracked them all down and convinced each one to join him, it would leave a few signs vacant. Thus, he turned to astrology – not his strongest discipline, but nothing he couldn't manage with some research. The same old magic written into the firmament, he reasoned, could help guide him to someone suited to wield it.
The heavens were aligned. Chalk lines glittered with starlight as magic coursed through them. Elijah tiptoed to the roof's center, to a bowl of pure water he'd prepared. He peered into its shimmering surface. Sure enough, an image began to form. Amidst a field of stars and mist, a castle appeared. Not just any castle. All in Corone knew it, and though Elijah had only glimpsed it in passing once, he recognized it instantly. It was the castle of the Ixian Knights.
*
Year 1815, Spring
Occult scrawling covered the rooftop, a dizzying maelstrom of chalk lit by the stars. The Radasanth harbor warehouse overlooked the ocean. Built of brown bricks and timber, it was a stout and plainly rectangular and empty. Two years past, the building came under new ownership. Since then, no freight has moved in or out. The entire structure assumed a new role as the work and training space for its new owner: the former Pagoda master Elijah Belov.
Known as an eccentric sorcerer and part-time gladiator, Elijah earned a small reputation in the Citadel back in 1807, but gained true notoriety after Salvar's civil war. Those who remembered the bright-eyed, boyish Belov from before scarcely recognized the grim, cynical man who returned to Corone in 1812. He took the Citadel and Dajas Pagoda by storm, displaying new power and ferocity, dispatching foes with bored proficiency. Whatever he had endured in Salvar, it made him strong, yet left him hard, with sharp edges.
His skills made him famous, and his fame made him rich. Students sought him for training, nobles hired him to solve problems. To many, he was to be envied. A wealthy young man whose natural talents could provide a life of comfort and leisure. To the eyes of man, he led exactly that. And he could have. Coin, respect, status, all at the price of leaving his home behind. That price, in the end, was too steep. Besides, more was at play than mere homesickness.
Belov paced from one end of the roof to the other, carefully placing each foot to avoid smudging the countless chalk lines. He glanced down, then up, then down, making slight adjustments. The night was clear, the sky a veil of glittering stars. A hundred constellations formed the firmament. Elijah's interest focused on nine signs so ancient that few living astronomers knew them. They formed a forgotten zodiac from the dawn of time – before the Tap, when the Old Gods walked Creation. Dragon, phoenix, unicorn, and others, they marked the heavens with the power of what some scholars called the “high beasts”, powerful creatures of divine lineage. The nine signs, Elijah believed, held some of the last remnants of the old gods' power, and perhaps the last hope to fight the slow unraveling of the world – an unraveling he believed would soon begin anew in Salvar. He now needed allies to help wield this power.
The stars were nearly aligned. He focused his power, channeling magical energies through the chalk scribbles. Elijah had friends and former associates he could call on to wield the signs, and a couple others he knew by reputation alone. However, even if he tracked them all down and convinced each one to join him, it would leave a few signs vacant. Thus, he turned to astrology – not his strongest discipline, but nothing he couldn't manage with some research. The same old magic written into the firmament, he reasoned, could help guide him to someone suited to wield it.
The heavens were aligned. Chalk lines glittered with starlight as magic coursed through them. Elijah tiptoed to the roof's center, to a bowl of pure water he'd prepared. He peered into its shimmering surface. Sure enough, an image began to form. Amidst a field of stars and mist, a castle appeared. Not just any castle. All in Corone knew it, and though Elijah had only glimpsed it in passing once, he recognized it instantly. It was the castle of the Ixian Knights.