The Book of Leaf

Tale of Leaves

by Anonymous

______________________________________________________

It all began with a soft wind, upon a brink of thin light slashing through then lying near and on the seeds of La'ra; leaves are given birth. Wave after wave, leaves began to pour from ground and thin air eventually meeting and greeting each other. With the soft wing behind their back, leaves could go anywhere. To the far top of the mountain and to the huge pale plain, through leagues away they could venture. Then they landed and began to discover this new strange world. They found out the world itself completely empty and untouched. The rivers were crystal-white, ground was harsh but accepting any form of living, mountains were tall, almost with an invisible peak when looked from down. 

Leaves remained at this world. They first moved from ground to ground, land to land for their discoveries. So, they ventured in groups from their birthplace to the leagues and leagues away. The main group remained with the seeds as to protect them. They were led by Mok'ko, the brown leaf.

Then the groups, one by one departed their birthplace to explore and discover. The first group was led by Akh'ron, golden leaf. Who chose to venture through North. They departed the third day of their arrival.

The second group was led by Im'on. Who chose to venture through West and they departed the fifth day of their arrival. And the last group was led by Gol'or. Who chose to venture through East and South and they ventured the tenth day of their arrival.

Mok'ko, meanwhile gave each leader a Whistlewind. For the time comes of danger and bloody day, shall this be whistled by the leader of the group. Then, he prayed the La'ra to bless them as she did to seeds.

Korran - The Hunter of Wilds

Some call him Korran, but he is known by the title of "Hunter of Wilds".

Korran is one of the valuable members of Scion's Guild, located in Forests of Menwe. He is tall (Around 1.70 cm) and thin (Pounds around 70 kg.), and quick to act. He has eyes in color of dark green, a muscled facial look, long dark green hairs which often is clasped with a group of wool lines and not-so-broad shoulders. He usually wears a hunter outfit he tailored himself out of the hard skin of Gragnoks living in Hairpond, a mysterious pool which leads the diver into even more complex maze, which eventually leads to Underwater Ruins of Ashgar or so it is believed. Along with the outfit, he wears his leather boots specially crafted with special Mushrooms that grow in the Forests of Menwe, which makes it easier to move and perform difficult moves against any type of animal, a leather seal around his forehead which carries the Mark of the Guild, a scion. He also wears leather gloves which covers only till to the half of his every finger, a bracer, a pair of leg-armors crafted out of Gragnok's hardskin, the necklace as the reminder of only thing left from his family, leather skirt and leather tunic inside his thin leather cloak supported with Magmon scales.

His early life is unknown, noone knows of his family or where he was born. His known life begins with his entrance to the Forests of Menwe, the days of long-running in hopes to lose his track from the looters and when he finds himself within the forests themselves. There, finally he sees the looters for last time in the middle of an unexpected assault from the Scion's Guild, in order to preserve peace in their territory. There he also witnesses the assault was also done by several forest habitants including the Burglar Foxes, White Ravens and the Menwe Tiger, Korran also remembers an Owl signing the warning with a whistle.

After the assault, his unskilled disgusing got him away and Menwe Tiger quickly captured and brought him the assault ground. There he was going to make a decision which is going to change his life for all eternity and his destiny led him to places noone ventured before. When Scions helped Korran, he was a child of fourteen years old. Now he is one of the most valuable members of the Guild in his age of fourty-six. He still remembers that day dearly and holds his respect to who fought there that day. 

Aerys Fiery-eye

Not everyone is born the same in the world of existence. There are those beings who come out of uncommon breeds. Aerys is such breed. Her history in unknown to herself and all other living. She is a reasonable person mostly, not the cleverest though. Most of her decisions in her life often led him to terrible results which buffed his aggressiveness and thoughness over the years.

It is rumored she has been living for over two hundred years already, however those who knew her youth are long-gone years ago. So her past is long-forgotten. Aerys is a sorceress of fire, where her fiery-eyes come from. She gets into an unbalanced state of emotional change and sensation conflict rarely, which reflects to her eyes. Though, her ability to casting fire is well-known in her homeland, however it is often over-graduated in other realms, such as Elvoria. Her abilities are well-trained by Arkosfil, High Sorcerer of Temple of Kutash. High Elemental of Fire.

However, over the years...there were other things Aerys got her interest caught rather than her trainings, and by the time passes, her knowledge began to shatter her memories to ashe. For over two hundred years, she ventured from realm to realm, took her place in uncountable wars and conflicts. Finally, her adventures took her to forests of Elvoria where she met Ingoll over thirty years ago. She was greeted warm-heartedly due to her talent over fire and was often tempted to gift her skills in wars future would bring over Mistwood. So, she studied and began to remind her teachings from Arkosfil.

She never could become as good as once she was, but her teachings were hard for her to forget over years. Still it costed to her with knowledge. She is suffering on controlling fire and cannot bend the element itself even now, however her ability to unleash fiery balls of fire or breathing fire returned to her. She is now the leader of Mistwood with the fire at her command, after the failure of Ingoll which costed with his life. She was the right person to rule after all, Mistwood needed such a leader for his future and it was the common choice of Mistwood to sit her on the Throne of Spike. As the Forest Sage says;

"There she reigns with a rightful choice to bring power and to bring chaos. Elvoria will know that."

"Mistwood before Aerys was a society of Elvorians, but now with Aerys sitting on the throne, things that were changing for thirty years already now became permanent within their bonds. They smell fire, I fear."

About Elvoria - Current Time

Forest is now divided into realms peacefully in the meeting summoned by the Erl, the Long-forgotten Keeper of the Elvoria forests. After all the war and chaos that lasted for two hundred years, he had to wake up and put it all an end. He stayed over twenty years in Elvoria to bring back what was lost and broken in time of chaos. All the power Tearborn has was now all gone as the Erl took this special gift away from Elvoria. Upon his departure, he took the Tearborn and Thurol with him to the regions beyond Hime Tree for safe-protection. As there was no promise for Elvoria to fall into another chaos for the claimage of Throne with the addition of this gift they didn't deserve.

• Now, The Veil Court (Court of the Forest) holds the middle part of the forest. That was negotiated and was found fair by all leaders as opposed to their least important and dangerously placed territory before the meeting. 
• Thurol's Followers band together up to the top parts of the forests, holding almost all the borders to the rest of the Southernmor. 
• Greenwood holds the borders and inner circle to the Hime Tree.
• Mistwood holds a part of the borders to the Southernmor and inner circle.
• Tearlings hold the below the parts of the forests.

The Veil Court (Court of the Forest) is now leaded by Arkham again and traitor Orbus has been sent to the deepest caves in Hithilmor for a life-time prisonment. Arkham again becomes the Lord of the Hiren.

Thurol's followers are leaded by a group of three loyalist to the Thurol after his departure.

Greenwood is leaded by Prince Lorkan after the dead of the old King, Ersos.

Mistwood now is leaded by Aerys Fiery-eye, after the sacrificed old King Ingoll whose failure was considered a grim shame by its own people. It was believed to be elitist in war among the society of Mistwood.

Tearlings decided to remain unlieged and live in below parts peacefully without any reign. However, it was rumored Erl actually leads them in secret for he no longer trusts Elvoria.

Amber - League of Sellswords

Amber is one of the few leagues. Soon...

Kolan - Thief in Hungard

Kolan is an exceptionally skilled thief who is currently taking resident in the town of Hungard. He is usually known as a relaxed and pleasant man to the townsfolk, so he is being well-regarded. However, there is a hole of mystery where his deepest secrets lies within his presence. Despite his ordinary look, Kolan is the...Master of the Thiefs in Hungard. A part of the bigger network he is part of who takes contracts all around the Southernmor, in and out.

Most of the work thiefs in Hungard do involve of information and knowledge, therefore Kolan's thief party is usually considered more like a company working for brigand leader. Simply put, thiefherd in Hungard is quite different compared to other thiefherds around the Southernmor and can be easily identified for his different purposes. Not that they eventually get Knife Contracts, but in Hungard, being the headquarters of ancient Hun League, so many information swim to here and there about mostly everything and anything, from a secret to a well-known debut. Everything a client would like to know and lay his hands on, so that is what Kolan's thiefherd is for.

Kolan himself, though, is an open book. There is like noone who is NOT familiar with him and his dirty errands, but anyhow he is never considered a threat to the League, in fact there happened to be times League had good usages for Kolan too. So it is a fifty-fifty trade, only that Kolan steals a five from each percent.

He usually wears a brown linen coat with rich ornaments pinned on, leather boots mixed with orange and green, a golden ring in his middle finger, a lightweight silver necklace around his neck. He is a bald man with a though body and middle-sized shoulders supporting his 1.80-1.85 height. His smell comes from a mix of Greenberry and Rose which can exhaust the strongest will in a woman. His speechcraft is among his known characteristics and he is usually referred as a noble soul when walking through or simply standing. He has a style in presenting himself.

Nowadays, his meetings with the Shan is catching attention more than ever. Beautiful daughter of Egon Hun, current League Spokesman.

Harlod Graypelt - Relentless Northern

Among the sons of Ygrion, there are those with lesser courage than the other Northern lads. Those who prefer a normal life absent of any unusality and...adventure. Those who have not much to say but speak about his everyday activities when asked and Harlod was a son of such man.

Hern was the name. He used to be cook in Sowlond, right inside the King's Palace. Torhald the Bloodless' hall was that it and within these halls, Hern was cooking one of the finest meats within this region, that fine his meat was as famous as anywhere else...even in the Frontiers of Midland. 

King Torhald would often gift Hern with several delicatities whenever he returns from a raid or a battle. Let it be a Golden Ring of an enemy commander, or the supplies of a newly-raided Al'iv caravans. Where some really handsome stuff can be made out of, like spices for instance.

However, Hern was a strange man even though of his meat's fame. He wouldn't talk without being stiffled for more than a few seconds and every time he was asked to cook this meat of his for the night of that day, he was taking himself a look of unsatisfaction and misery. Which King, good-heartedly would come to his chambers and speak with him countless of times but no matter what, he got to this conclusion Hern was this and nothing could be done about it. King wouldn't throw him away or execute for his behaviours because his famous mate anyway and Hern was just clever enough to use this as his advantage. So he had done no good to his act and behaviours to have some fun with royality without not really crossing the line.

It was the day when the King of the region next to him was going to visit and taste the infamous meat of Hern himself. Torhald invited him personally as these two Kings were two old man-at-arms and fought together in many battles during the conflicts of Neimhald.

And they had arrived. Two kings entered the hall where was decorated with tons of beauty and amaze. Not that Sowlond was an amaze itself but Torhald made special arrangements for the hall to be cleaned and to be turned to an outstanding visual joy. So, nothing was missed.

There were tens of guards all around the corners and outside the hall. All within the hall were totally absolute and fitting to such a royal event. Only if Hern didn't wouldn't turn this into a massacre of shame.

Harlod was on hunt during the execution.

Damrod, the retired Swordsman of Green Princedom.

Raelth. The young wolf, a bright heir to the Southernmor throne but also the one whose right is defiled mercilessly by the Arch-duke of Lorses and the Queen of Arhgarden. They know Raelth would seek out restore and peace for the future of his lands and his father's lands. No...they wouldn't allow him to sit on that throne by his right.

And, they didn't. (See: "a Tale of Stab" (Vol. III) by Arel Dwillmor.),

Damrod was one of the first believers and supporters Raelth ever gained on his side, and one of the best and most loyals too. He was a strong capable warrior with a solid swordplay and devil charisma which was capturing the attention of even most dreadful women.

He was tall and firm. Had a bear long as I can remember, hairs dripping out of his head through his broad shoulders, eyes black as night...but his voice. Damrod's warcries and screams were one of the several impacts on Princedom Army's success in warfare. With his solid look of artistry in art of War and battling, combined with his outrageously coming-out warcries, Damrod was one of the only men Raelth would trust his life for.

Until he took a an arrow in the knee (See: "a Tale of Stab" (Vol. III) by Arel Dwillmor.), was left out as the Marshall of Green Princedom.

Now, fourty-seven years passed since Raelth courageously declared the revolution for that little village of "Pimp Baron" and forged this Princedom from ground. (See: "The Pimp Baron")

Raelth now grown into an old man but still fighting for the throne when and wherever he can, with his most loyal men on his side...is on the verge of succession he is soon about to seize as he expects. Damrod is even an older man than Raelth now but still protecting his solid look and years of silence for one final moment of his life, as he speaks about it.

The old Marshall of Green Princedom lost nothing of his pride and charisma, perhaps a bit black here and there and lots of war scars but still serving fine to his only King he ever would give his life for. Only wished his family could still be here by his side and wouldn't be the reason to cause all this desperacy on him. Traitors.

Dwarvelf - "Tales inspired from disputes between Elves and Dwarves!"

A dwarf and an elf. Sounds like an old myth when they are mentioned together. We all know the two races from their very depth features, specalities, forms, styles, lore, appearences and almost EVERYTHING!

However, there is something I find quite important but sadly kinda remained behind-the-scene compared to all important events and such an incredibly-astoundingly incredible strong lore. I thought I would kick this off as my own showdown and give it a chance to see if I can manage to deal to create tolkien-quality also not threating any part of Tolkien material. I will completely go through the line of Tolkien created and will be preserving all the rights I have while respecting the immense creation. None of the tales I will be writing is any fiction of Tolkien and by no means are related with him except that it is HIS lore I am inspring completely.

Brace yourselves!

~Sigh

Marva - Blue Prophet

Prophets...

They are known with their distinct appearences, vibrant voices that are most appealing to even most headstrong leaders and their unknown mystic side to the living. But nothing else is exactly certain about them.

It is rumored they are NOT living at all, however that is proved wrong once in an arguable way. (See: Tale of Raven) 

What else is rumored, one of the several meeting points they have is bound to be in Eldgrad, the ancient stronghold of Torvahal Paladins located somewhere inside the mountains of Orobrun. Where was served as home to many fanatics and devilry, lastly to Pilgrims of Ager.

However, none of the rumors could be proven so far. Prophets still hold their secrecy well enough.

Marva, though, is one of the few prophets in the history to show herself often to the living, that is how she could actually be given a title to recall with, "Blue Prophet". Usually a true prophet only appears in the times of need and peril wherever that be, which caused people to think they have unusual knowledge in ways of travelling within long distances and perhaps within the time too.

A true prophet is identified by his mind-bending ability. An unique way of magic comes from times of Nobu Illusionists in Ode Kingdoms. That is how Marva got her reputation grown quite slightly compared to others. During the conflicts of Brothers, when Marva was needed to consult on and needed to prove she is a true prophet in front of the King's court. She chose to bend the King of Ininmor's mind to think of joys he pleased at most, something a prophet never does,  then the King Korran declared Marva considerably an allied Prophet to his people and told them to respect her in all royal ways by person.

After that day, she became as close as possible to living but not exceeding any rule in the Antique codex of Moorn, the Master Prophet. She is mentioned in countless history books by infamous authors and poets, and usually described as such;

The first volume of "Aeslt" sequel, written hundreds of years ago by Gorin;

"Even though days of blight were upon us, we were feeling slightly well when she was close and weaving her thin hand to the people. We didn't need to see any glimpse from her, she just needed to speak and weave her hand just like that. Though, I feel considerably lucky compared to other ones because I actually had seen a part of her face with all her glory for a moment and strangely, I remember none of that glorious memory. 

All I remember is her Gray steel-like cloak, her star-blue cape, her warm aura which fires the very heart of anyone near her with a great sensation. "

Marva cannot be seen through last hundred years though, it is said she was occasionally got into view of Watchers of the Orb in the same silhouette except now with a silver circlet on top of her long cape following her same still and thin body from bottom to top. No wonder where next she is headed to and for what purpose.

As the Olds say; "Never think about the Blue Prophet, you don't want her crawling your mind."

Griffle the Fuzzy Sailor and Regarding to Red Navy

Navy of Redhold was always well known with its power and wealth during the recent ages. Often proved its loyalty to Southern Kingdom in times of war and massacre while proving their worth even more by time. The captains of Redhold are fierce, strong and men capable of taking any risk worth to. The crews are over-experienced with the manners of the seas and unexpected encounters, which makes them an absolute choice for every Captain. It is by tradition to not sail with same crew over and over for every captain after all.

A celebration is usually in order before any Captain sails away, where he also chooses his crew and declares his voyage with joy and brave words that encourages every one in celebration ceremony to step up and join with this Captain of Honor on his adventures. Then comes the phase of invincible Redhold poets. 

When the Captain steps down concluding his declaration, it then gets all silent for a moment. First a mourn, then a second and a third. Then starts the Hail to the Captain. Entire town becomes as one, joining to the Hail. There is no voice, no sound...only the legendary poet of Hail being sang all together, to greet the Captain who will soon to take the voyage.  

Hail...

Hail...

Hail...

*Silence*

To the brave captain,

Who will soon take the voyage,

To the sea and beyond,

Knowing may not return,

*Lesser Silence*

Hail...

Hail...

Hail...

*Silence*

To the brave sailors,

Who will accompany the brave one,

His galleon they will follow,

Knowing may not return,

*Lesser Silence*

Hail...

Hail...

Hail...

*Silence*

To the sea,

Who will lead them through,

His ship and his crew,

With thy captain brave,

*Lesser Silence*

Hail...

Hail...

Redhold will hail...

*Silence*

For thy captain,

For the crew,

Until they depart to the seas,

Knowing may not return,

*Lesser Silence*

Hail...

Hail...

Hail to thy galleon! 

Hail to thy departers!

Hail to thy REDHOLD!

*Fades away  slowly with a continous mourn until the ship is lost sight*

That is how Griffle set sail to one of the greatest Wars Redhold was ever called for. Under the command of Redhold Marshall Barg Falcon, with his Captain Toran Grizz he was sailing to their fate. An Agatha, it was. Three thousand galleon was sailing to reinforce the tunnel of Thorn. And they had arrived.

The sight was terrible, eye-blinding. From Griffle's Journal luckily founded in excavations, records eighty-seven days of the journey, the last page which was written after the event by Griffle himself;

"We had arrived. And, we all wished we hadn't. I couldn't look around of my now-stunned soul but I could feel what everyone was feeling that time, I could hear their cries of fear, I could smell their tense that was freezing their veins...it was a total eclipse. We were immobilized by the sight of terror and chaos we were brought to face against, all that monstrosity and all that abomination. 

They were everywhere, the army stationed around the Tunnel was already scattered around. But there was still a huge resistance, a huge army of Southern and Western kingdoms were fighting side by side to deflect one of the greatest terrors of the last few centuries. Then, all in an instant, we heard an army of horns all sounding at same time. At first, we glanced upon the tunnel and beyond in fear what else to come out but it was still hounds of terror was pouring from within the tunnel wave after wave. We were all almost dead of fear, entire Agatha were cut silent all in an instant. But then...

We turned our faces towards the second wave of horns blown nowhere near to tunnel, it was sounding from the cliff above where the armies of Western and Southern kingdoms could be overlooked, and also us.

We were speechless...there was nothing more to say. We began to grab a bit of courage back with the sight of...an entire army of Glurhooms. With the every banner appearing, we were feeling our courage growing even more and more. And it was then.

We were instantly forced to hear a voice of someone we really needed to hear. Fearless captains of all, a legend now. He was calling for us, he was summoning us to step forward and to join forces. He was cheering at us, screaming loud...and even louder. 

It was Agor Fellsea. We were done. We knew what to do...

Agatha was starting to sound again with the orders, the clitchy song comes out while pulling off the flags was like a music. We had found our courage and bravery all again. Glurhooms were also agreed with us, it seemed like. They were cheering at us joyfully with the moving of Old Gale, the Marshall's ship. 

What a sight. All the shore we will be landing was filled with armies of corpses. They were shapeless creatures crafted out of this world. Nothing about them was predictable, we didn't know how to fight against them. And this had costed us almost everything."

Redhold always remembered this day and always will. Redhold will never forget the Seven Necromancers and the chaos, ruin and destructing they brought to our lands, the armies of Glurhoom and the alliance of Southern and Western Kingdoms, which was named later by "Alliance of the Tunnel" in the Book of Sailors by poet Radon and Griffle, Fuzzy Sailor.

Now, Griffle is sailing alone on the seas under no banner. He is not the same Griffle with what he was before the war. Those who are seeing him on the seas, may help him. As Redhold needs to make him live...

Words of Terrance, Captain of the Galder of Redhold. After returning.

"I owe him and I know world owes him too. Pay the debt and honor the Hail. For thy future of Redhold, unbind his tongue for flame!"

Kradus: Chronicles of Old Bone - Intro

Ah...been a while dust of the battlefields slipped over my body, lad. As the time passed, so my memory followed along. I don't remember what I promised to not reveal and I have already forgotten more of things I shouldn't have let fade out, but who knows...

Perhaps I am now an old man or perhaps my mouth is just too dry. Words won't come out even if I want them to.

Hmm, no...why not. Yes! I remember a thing but I assure you, my friend, it ain't any deep foul secret of Calradia or anything that might fancy you. However, you may prove me wrong after all, maybe? 

I must warn you though, things you are going to hear will freeze the every tiny bit of blood in your very body, eventually your veins get dry and you...fade away like my memories.

*With a confused look, young lad begins to accompany this now-old drunken pot*

Open your ears large and listen me now, my lad. 

Concept art of Evelyn

Evelyn the torn-apart magician, crown-breaker, life stealer and the Artifacter. 

by Başak Tinli.

A Thug's Pure Son: Vol.I

There are many adventurers around, there always was. It is a dirty manner anyone can handle to their own capability, like Cale. Who used to be a son of Poacher living under unbearable conditions, who used to have been tortured for smallest mistakes he was making, unfortunate boy. However, by no means it was anyone's fault. Everyone, after all has a pure and dark side, it is just the balance between this two side decides on one's destiny. Even his father once was a man with a pure heart.

He used to live a decent life, perhaps a bit jerky but still, no hard would ever come from him. He had a decent job where he was making his money from as a trade-dealer and he was always entrusted on any matter more than anyone. Even though, his early and so dramatical losses in his life grown him as a true man and shaped his life from scratch. 

Then as every man would, he found his equal soul that would come only once in an one man's life and he didn't let it shift through his hands. He held it and claimed it with all the desire and admiration he could gather within himself. Her name was Aren, only daughter of a rich governor who gave out his darling without any question to this young, handsome and successful man who helped carrying his burdens often.

And, they were married all in an instant and lived happily and peacefully for twenty-two years. Well, if you don't count the War of Mercenaries and a few accidents here and there, they were happy as ever. Until this one day when the Akal's magic poured through the rivers while Aren was bathing inside. It all happened in an instant. First caught her legs, then slowly began surronding around her naked thin and firm body. Until Aren's resistance was broken and lost herself completely to this unseen spell of Silver Mage. Then she disappeared and never came back.

Now-old and desperate trade-dealer, Maner was sitting aside his bed. Holding their baby inside his arms, trying to accept the fact she will never return.

Then everything in Maner's life was torn apart completely. His business was no more, as was his life. He couldn't bear this once-beautiful and meaningful village to him anymore. As he was leaving, he left this heirloom of his family which was coming from one generation to other back with the baby just in front of the doors his life passed away. And he was gone too. That old baby was left to dead until luckily a random merchant founded the baby and raised him as he was his own. While he was growing to a man and now with his new family of Pieceloghers', rumors began to spread around about a newly-founded thug party terrorizing the surronding area. Ulros' wife begged him to move somewhere else and leave everything behind just for the threat but Ulros didn't listen her, as he was no coward. He took his three sons with himself and went to fortify the fences. He thought, as his three sons: Elmo, Kuyor and Cale thought, it would suffice but it didn't. A few days later, Senn was heard screaming from the river she went to take water. When the family reached her, it was too late. She was gone. Then, a few minutes later, loud voices began to be heard from home back. They all hurried in an instant and was faced with this new thug party whose rumors were spreading around. Seemingly, they found this lone home, away from any crowd area quite easy to rape and loot. But they didn't expect to see so much male power and specially the Cale himself. It was a great shock for one of the thugs but his display didn't even lose a bit from his wicked image.

Backstory of Elvoria #2 - Veiled Footsteps

Gurrosheall digged through and within the surface for countless centuries, during the times unknown to us. The ancient sheared his axe from rock to stone, from land to sea and dropped tears and they remained still for uncountable time range until one by one, picked up by a different carrier each.

Then, Thurol ventured from his tribe to low-lands first then through the Southern lands and Southernmor eventually. At the very eclipse of his life, he landed his foot on the region of Hiren. Then his soul left this miserable body and flied to the temple of Shar. When his body was found, it was not looking like an ordinary corpse. Veil Guardsmen realized that too and knew what it meant. It was a hopeless adventure turning into a lucky encounter for Thurol and the...Tearborn.

Thurol was an ornament Shaman for his tribe after all, he had to leave and venture through from land to land to meet his judgement as any other Shaman would in some part of his life. It was of the most fortunate, he found it when he most unexpected. Veil People had this one gift which was granted to themselves as an answer of their prays and blessings from their worshipping goddess, Lura. An aura of casting a spirit back to life whenever or wherever as long as there is enough light. However, there was a cost to that; recasted spirit only can return as long as one accepts the essence of Lura to be in his veins. Which causes the spirit to return in a complete different body enchanted with Light by Lura herself.

So, Thurol was renewed and was put into interrogation by Veil Court in an instant. He didn't understand what was at steak, what was happening and more importantly, he still wasn't realizing he was back in...Life again.
It took him a few days to understand this after being put into infamous and most terrible dungeons in the known regions, Caves of Hithilmor. Then when he came to his senses, he gave the answers.

Thurol didn't want to come here, it was not within his reach anyway but he was here. He was standing before the Court of Grand-conjurer Arkhell Rimbuan. The leader of Veil People and true heir to the throne of Hiren. Now the elder one, shocked and freezed from what he just heard, was standing like a monument above Thurol. Arkhell now had focused only on one thing and nothing else mattered for him. The Tearborn Thurol brought and the of course, broken chain of bound within the Carrier and the Born.

And...there was no way to revert this breaking back as Thurol was alive, as much as Tearborn was. They had to live and they did.

Backstory of Elvoria - Thurol's Burden

Elvoria. The land filled with Veiled forests to the below parts of Southernmor. To those who aren't familiar, forests give a display of normality and usuality.

Elvoria was once the homeground of the Ancient Kingdom of Elvorens after many others' claimage, from where the forest took its name after third time. When Gurrosheall began digging the earth surface, he had dropped his tears. From where the Ireals grown, which are the orbs of unique essence later would shape a whole new race.

Meanwhile, Ireals were each being consumed by carriers of different races within thousands of ages. But, one specificly was consumed by someone with great importance who would have an impact on history. A shaman. His identity is unknown but we call him just Thurol. Thurol the Rootling.

Thurol was one of the carriers in the known history and he carried it with a great scrimpiness. Until the last of his days...until he made his impact in the history.

Retired Stinking 'Fish

"A'hoy, mate. Another a'hoy then again, aye? A'hoy! Bahaha! Drink up with me, you swag!"

Yes, yes. That was his words I last have spoken with him, about his crew and his Wooden Gallore. He was cheering, probably to cover his undying desperacy eating inside himself. And to cover, he was drinking. Way too much.

This cannot continue anymore, no more. There is still a destiny written for him, still so many accomplishments to achieve by him. He cannot spend a coin of his time lying in this drunken pot with his stomache presenting a complete "greatness". He cannot even remember his own name, it should be remembered...

That what his name is...

What titles do bear that name...

How many suffered from just spilling a word on that name...

And, how many more was going to...

Someone should seek that "Legend" in him, to bring him to a stand at least. Kuromelt may do that, but not anyone in this army. Noone can. We need him so alive. We need a true Captain, someone who is smelling blood, someone who had seen the inside of a Kraken , someone who looked inside the eyes of Meatless, someone who can drink to death and die so, then still able see the next light on the morning and keeps sailing to achieve even more deeds.

We need someone who had spoken to the ears of Dead. We need tha' Captain. We need Captain Oger. Oh and don't you forget to remind him his "Stone", Wooden Gallore may still have a chance.

Daman Massacre

Daman, one of the chiefs shifted his allegiance to Higlaef as a wicked barbarian while giving up his claim on Western Cave Villages as the Lord of the Realm, a noble title which could be later followed with at least noble deeds. But, his decisions led him so far from successing any. Instead he claimed an evil personality for himself and his party of barbarians, terrorizing all across the neighbourhood of the Bone Tribes whether it be the enemy or not. That doesn't make a difference for Daman, a dark soul as he is.

And the "Daman Massacre" is an important event in the history of Southernmor, Southern lands of the Filan. It is said, Daman was NOT on any march for a long time and Orkul wasn't summoning him for any quest or calling him to arms, which eventually meant a lot for Daman as he felt being discarded. Which was NOT the case at all.

Orkul Higlaef was thinking Daman is a man of terror, if the proper opportunities are given. And therefore, as he believed only way to use Daman in his most effectiveness was to let him stay loosen a bit while still doing his service for Galin, the Skeleton god. The very existence all Boners do believe and put their faith on. So, he wasn't summoning Daman to any raid or assigning him to quests to make him think he needs to do things by himself, means creating his own opportunities.

Yet, he couldn't think one of these opportunities would be siding with Remnald, the Leader of the raiding parties of Kuromelt. Higlaef couldn't notice this threachery at his own side even though was being warned by few other Chiefs and specially, his brother until it was too late.

It was one of the days just like any other, snow was pouring from the peaks of the mountains of Olde down below to countryside and the Higlaef territories. Hunters were tracking trails of game and bears for the feast to celebrate the outstanding glory achieved in "Battle of Veins". Enemy was withdrawn from the Southern Lands of the realm with terrible casualties, and Ressalt of the Twin Kingdoms was taken prison. Guards were on asleep thinking no danger would come today, however a few of them was still awake and holding their post, while covering the rest of the guards' situation which could serve as an excuse later in case of any unexpected event like an instant visit of the Woodlings. Who were quite silent these days, no grave news came to tents bearing the words of another attack.

Ah, beautiful maidens were on their own tasks to prepare the feast. It was a busy day, silent too...way too much silence were in and around the resting army of Higlaef.

And, it was then...

So suddenly...

First, only one horn sang his song, reminding the arrival of Kuromelt raiders coming beyond the Seas,

Then, it was two of them which sang their own song, different yet more grinding this time,

And again...they were blown...

Then one more time, while the third horn couldn't be heard on joining the ritual, it was the desperate screams of guards above the gates which was heard before, then came the song of the swords being pulled over from their sheaths. 

They were inside. A whole army of Boner, alongsided with battalions of Woodlings. They were cheering, singing, marching, killing anyone and anything on their way to Orkul's tent. There were hundreds and thousands. But hundreds couldn't stand a chance against such a gaze. Thousands were slaughtered, including the three Chiefs of Black, Hunter Kiron, Orkul's brother and the Bard Egill. Death of the Maier was not put on records that day. That was the wish of Higlaef. He wouldn't stand his own blood being marked on such a massacre.

Luckily, Higlaef could escape with his lords and his loyal group of remaining Elite Boners. But he was badly injured by a Woodling spear. Then he passed up...

Daman was proud and glorious. He looked around his own massacre, and just smiled realizing Higlaef was already long gone. That was good news for Daman, as he was fearing it wasn't going to be his own sword that was going to taste the blood of an Orkul, the Higlaef's blood. Now that he escaped, he still had his chance. Not that day but some other day...

When he woke up again, he was home. When he stood up, he realized it was no home of his anymore. When he began to walk, he was already summoning all and everyone under his banner and command to the...Steel Caves in three days. Those wouldn't come was going to be specially taken care by Higlaef, and that too was added on the letter sent to each Boner. He was filled with anger, lust and thirst but above all...loss of love. He was never going to forgot that day, and he never did.

Evelyn, the Sorceress of Delusion

Evelyn...

The life of a thief is never too easy, neither is a Lord's or a Blacksmith's. It is though; full of unpredictability, luck and delusions...but not though enough for Evelyn. A relic from ancient times, the times of the great Alkamor the Second, very king of the High Kingdom, defeater of Hulog and Protector of the Realm and Justice or the times when the order of Ilkuon existed. And, it was one of the members of the order where Evelyn comes from. She was borned in secrecy within the magical walls of the Tower of Harmall, where the peak of the mountain lying through, meets with the top of the tower, exactly there, where she was given birth at. Yes, but there is a story behind this all, aye? Listen me now, lad...

It was one of the glorious days of the High Kingdom, the king was returning from another bloody victory over the hills close to dying lands. Even though, he and his army were outnumbered, they were able to withstand the foe with an unseen bloodthirst and will for living. That day, in fact...they gave the Legions of Cirinion a terrible blaster. Half of their commanders were slain too. Then they fled and High Kingdom raised once more, the Rainwell was going to pour a lot longer...

With the victory achieved and enemy withdrawn with terrific casualties...Alkamor was proud and well satisfied, was marching back to his home. Until a messenger arrived carrying a very important news for the king himself, as he was urging swiftly into Alkamor's tent. And, the messenger finally was inside the tent, taking a look to this tired but proud and strong-looking man in front of himself, his very majesty.

He presented the message with all his pleasantries, bowing to the ground. It was an invitation from High Sorcerer Ilydan, calling the king and all his army to his towers for a honoring feast. It was least expected, but well received for the king's side as there was a little tiny note within the wall of text, a coded one single word only so few people can understand, like the kings.

"Tirin."

It meant "Trial" in High language. King knew what that actually meant.

So, upon the rising of the new dawn, he and his army was already on his way to towers of blistering. And, they arrived.

A huge crowd of people and servant-imps greeted them as they entered. Cheering, shouting, flapping, dancing and singing all together to honor their presence in their own land. Except the sorcerers themselves. They are not that great when it comes to things below magic, like emotions or sensations. They ran out of them a long time ago. But, the greetings of the sorcerers and Ilydan were so warm and welcoming that put a smile on King Alkamor's face which invited him into even more now, to return the message.

He ordered his commanders and captains to camp around the towers. But called one specific captain of his with him inside the tower of Harmall, to the royal feast. Captain Iglemor, son of the Reylan Minaor the very infamous blacksmith in Twin Kingdoms. He invited him in, and so he left his post and joined with the King and Ilydan on the stairs to the tower. And, here they were in the feast.

It was very-well organized. Everything was set to ready long before they half-passed the way to towers. Candles were...everywhere. So were the foods, dancing womans, Ire singers...it was excotic enough for Captain Iglemor to lose his focus. With the Alkamor and Ilydan realizing the shocked face of Captain, they laughed each other and told him to have fun as they were heading an opposite way, to the stairs leading top of the tower.

Captain was way too impressed to notice anything as he was already surrendered by different entertainers dancing wildly around him and all other royals in his army. He almost couldn't make to the feast table, if it wasn't the Lord Ithol who pulled him out of the entertainers, also saying; "Be careful when roaming around, Iglemor. Those women can skin you for your "love"." *Laughs as loud as possible.*

While these were happening, Iglemor found himself sitting in the same table next to all other lords, seniors, dukes and royals who sum up all the army of Alkamor in the end. Like the Lord Ithol who just pulled him out of that circle of entertainers, who was leading also Iglemor's battalion in battle, or the Duke Erin who merged his own army with the strongest and mightiest King of all the time to gain even more influence and power. Then the dinners began to be served.

Alkamor was curious as Ilydan was still leading him even higher parts of the tower, talking about his latest discovery in ruins of U'kul and Alkamor was answering with a smile. Then finally and quite absurdly, he broke his own silence.

Alkamor: So...my old friend. Are you certain this time?
Ilydan: Ah, Alkamor. Every man can make mistakes in his life, but sorcerers only make once. And, as you might understand what we are trying to achieve is not by our hands but the more unholy souls' work. We might even awake some deadly spirits or raise an abomination enough to devour all this tower. Nothing is certain.
Alkamor: That still doesn't answer my bidding. I am tired of waiting, been how many years I wonder since I heard a word from you.
Ilydan: I..ı..a..am sorry, Alkamor. I was busy. So busy finding this right soul.
Alkamor: What kept you so busy that prevented you from writing a single letter?
Ilydan: You shall see. Here we are. Open the door for our King, Shorlet. Please.
Alkamor: Shorlet?
Ilydan: How rude of us. I forgot to introduce you my most loyal friend. Greet our king, shorlet.
Alkamor: I think he doesn't know his boundaries of rudeness, aye? I still can't see him.
Ilydan: Like most minds, you are taking everything that has a soul as a living and breathing see-able existence. How can't you just see this little kind soul opening the gates for you right now?
*A loud voice follows by.*
Alkamor: I should have your head cut-off already, friend. Right, so is she inside that room for real?
Ilydan: I swear upon all the old gods, remnants of seven ruins, undying souls and foul rooms of Hellen that she is there waiting for you, my friend.
Alkamor: Then my friend, I shall or can never thank you enough for this. I will be joining with you as soon as possible. And the Iglemor...
*Ilydan turns back to ladders, down below to the royal feast after he smiles his friend in a way that the Iglemor's work is already done.*

And, Alkamor finally arrives to meet with his Tirin. An ancient Raha. An amaze of existence, a soul of undying will and pleasure, such a pleasure for even a King. Rest of the story is unknown to us, my lad. But, that is how Evelyn came to the life. She is the daughter of Great King Alkamor the second, the defeater of Hulog and protector of the realm and later the...Artifacter. But, definitely she has no mother as a Raha is no living thing, it is a soul summoned or found so rare only for complete renewal and satisfaction for a man. A raha can turn into most wonderful woman for the man she chooses to be with. And grants him a child of unique assets then dies and casts her spirit into a next dead Raha in Hellen. Speciality of a child borned from a Raha is...immunity. To all. Everything and Anything. As long as her father lives or even after he dies, it shouldn't pass the sixth Moonrising which happens twice in a year.

So, here we are now facing Evelyn, the torn-apart magician, crown-breaker, life stealer and the...Artifacter. She is usually seen around the lands that meet with the sea pouring through endless boundaries, however her whereabouts is never exactly known. She is a completely misty trail to keep track of. They say she usually wears a cape of blue linen with brown tatoos embedded on, tatoos that applies Delusion to viewer. What else, a leather belt with mystical stones attached on her cloak, with different shapes and sizes not so different than one another. There are six stones overall that is attached to stone, and none is same except the two in the back which supports the cloak by pouring white mist below the cape that grants the Evelyn her invisibility. Other four stones are her Mana, and each stones has a different rune written on it which are; Darkness, Blindness, Silence and Fear. These four stones are where she takes her magic from.
She has lots of rings and amulets all around her body. They say Amulet of Skolt is also one of them...but who knows. She is also reminded with crystal-blue eyes, beauty as ever can be. A complete delusion itself. With red and brown-mixed long straight hairs falling down from her head through her chest and ends there.
What completes all this set are her gloves of the Wielder, an artifact only ancient sorcerers used to possess, like Ilydan himself. Grants the wielder a total proficiency of Mana and Uha control. (Different kinds of magic and spell.) Her boots, as they say is made of unweavering lines of Arin cotton. The softiest cotton of all. But not too soft to enchant it with Spells. There is also one huge black linen in each part of the boots, which is unknown to this world. No, no...she became a complete artifacter now. It will be though to seek her out by yourself all alone. Ah...what if you are strong enough to join the order of the Fiery Shields on their quest? What, then?

I advise you think twice, her gaze is not her only option when destructing a soul. She has other ways to penetrate...keep your eyes open. You never know what other benefits of being Rahaborn grants to Evelyn beside her beauty, lad.

Southernmor Steel

Ah, those voices of smith hammers back in old days...

In my time, lad...we didn't have so many blacksmith around the land. We had so few, select ones who we could trust our steel with. So few, yet so unique...so rare. Gifted people, as we used to say in my time. And, their hammers...were NOT an ordinary one. Never. Even that thick voice coming out everytime they were hit, it was as if we were that steel. 

Those hammers had a weird grip, the part where they are held was of a material something between Clay and Leather.. Weird, aye? It was said, that hammers were melting its clay inside itself everytime they were hit to the steel down to its sharpest form. And the leather was for the wielder to not burn his hand, as the heat must be outstanding otherwise. But, don't you fool yourself thinking any of the things I just told to you was normal that time, I am talking about a Forge with thousands of degrees inside, burning like a Calamourn itself. Yet, smiths worked there all the time. That leather never deformed and that clay covering around the hammer never emptied. I don't even need to mention about the smith not burning like a Fiarelor while inside of that burning pot. That was the good ol' yet weird times. 

I bet those smiths still lie somewhere around my childhood town, perhaps still there to serve people their fine art. As, the Southernmor Steel never dries, neither dies. Just like its makers...