You fall asleep after a long day, and you wake to the sight of a tall white-bearded man gesturing you to come closer...
Gather around, children! Gather around! I have a story to tell you…
This story starts in the mists, a long time ago. There was a place, whose name is now lost, where the melody was birdsong and the lyrics were children’s laughter. You see, they had learned the secrets of Magik in this place and because of that there was no lack of anything. People lived happy and productive lives, their every wish fulfilled with the wonders of Magik.
One evening, a few strangers appeared from the mists, the first visitors that this land had seen. They came attired in strange garb and spoke in a harsh, accented tongue. The people of the land greeted these strangers and welcomed them into their homes. The strangers were enthralled by the wonders done with Magik in this place, and quickly learned the tongue of the land so as to further understand how all this came into being.
Unfortunately for the people of that land, the strangers were exiles from yet another place in the mists – a place where Magik was a rare wonder. They were exiled for abusing that rare commodity, and their dark hearts pulsed with selfish greed at the thought of the apparently unlimited Magik that the people of the land had at their disposal – Magik that those same people took for granted.
The people of the land laughed at the seemingly childlike joy of the strangers as they learned all the myriad things that were done with Magik. If something could be done with Magik, the strangers watched as it was done, over and over again.
Many months passed in this fashion, the strangers learning everything that there was to know about the mechanizations of Magik. The strangers filled many shelves of their dwelling with scrolls of parchment and vellum, all research about the very essence of the Magik in that place. Eventually, their research finished, they had their graduation exercise.
The strangers had learned how to absorb the essence of Magik. In doing so, they learned how to absorb the essence of life itself, the two being so interconnected there. The strangers spread out over the land, and at a pre-arranged time, started taking Magik into themselves, much as a great maelstrom takes in everything around it. The strangers became bloated with the Magik they stole; excess Magik seeped from their pores like sweat. So as not to lose the stolen Magik, they imbued items with Magikal essence, creating the first artifacts.
The immediate areas around each of them became almost completely barren of Magik – and, in spreading waves, panic consumed the people. Not a one of them had ever lived a life without Magik, and could not even feed themselves or take shelter from inclement weather. There was much death, as hunger and disease took its toll on the people. Many of the people fled to areas yet untouched by the strangers, but, to their horror, the strangers moved to these untainted areas and started stealing the land’s Magik again. Eventually, the strangers had drained Magik from every square hectare of the land, and the remaining people waited in dread of what would befall them next. The strangers gathered the people together and stated that they would release some of their stolen Magik back into the land, and each released just enough so that the land could barely support the people that were left.
Many years passed in this fashion. The land, whose melody before was so sweet, was now a place filled with the harsh croaks of crows and the crying wails of hungry babes.
Once each generation, some of the people would rebel against the harsh conditions imposed upon them. The response from the strangers was swift and merciless. The strangers, in learning of magic, had also learned of life. As they could draw in the magic of the land, so could they draw in the life of the land. In reprisal for each uprising, a stranger would go to a town and draw the life from the land. Every living thing in the immediate area would sicken and die, and nothing would ever grow upon that plot of land again. It appeared that such an effort would weaken the stranger, however, causing their features to grow gaunt and skeletal, their hands to palsy and shake. The stranger in question would then immediately go to their artifact trove and consume some of the artifacts that were held there. They would return, strengthened and hale.
This fact gave the people hope. They gathered their brightest in secret, and they pored over documents stolen over the years from the storehouse of scrolls that the strangers had compiled when they first arrived. After many decades of study, these leaders came upon a way to rid themselves of the strangers, but at a great expense. In researching how to construct the artifacts, the strangers had discovered a way to sense artifacts that they had made, thus making it essentially impossible for anyone to steal and hide an artifact from them. The leaders of the people had discovered another use of this artifact sensing ability. They could use the ability to cause ALL of the artifacts constructed by the strangers to be the target of one ritual – Banish. This would permanently render the land barren of magic, but it was thought that it would allow the people to rise up and defeat the strangers as they would have no way to replenish themselves. Additionally, this would make it so that the land was cut off from the mists, thus trapping the strangers.
The people put their plan into action.
They would arrange to have an uprising in each stranger’s demesne, and when the strangers would come to drain the life from the land, they would then cast their ritual, banishing all the artifacts to another plane and sealing the land away from the mists. It took many months to gather the resources for the ritual, and when everything was finally gathered together, the leaders sent word to start the uprising in each demesne. Their plan worked... almost without a hitch.
One of the leaders of the strangers, a scholar, continued to research magic, even after their plan of conquest had reached fruition. He wanted to delve into all aspects of magic, regardless of morality. One of his favorite research subjects was manipulating the will of the people. After many, many, decades of study he had almost perfected the technique of substituting the will of others for his own. To test his mastery of the technique, he was in the habit of testing it on a whim. To his surprise, he learned of the plan for the strangers' ruin.
Going to his workshop, he realized that the ritual of the people was almost complete. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to survive in a land without Magik, he sent himself through the mists just as the people’s ritual completed. He traveled to the place where he sensed all the artifacts were being sent.
That place is here.
His name is Ruen Kraytor.
What are you going to do about him?
Gather around, children! Gather around! I have a story to tell you…
This story starts in the mists, a long time ago. There was a place, whose name is now lost, where the melody was birdsong and the lyrics were children’s laughter. You see, they had learned the secrets of Magik in this place and because of that there was no lack of anything. People lived happy and productive lives, their every wish fulfilled with the wonders of Magik.
One evening, a few strangers appeared from the mists, the first visitors that this land had seen. They came attired in strange garb and spoke in a harsh, accented tongue. The people of the land greeted these strangers and welcomed them into their homes. The strangers were enthralled by the wonders done with Magik in this place, and quickly learned the tongue of the land so as to further understand how all this came into being.
Unfortunately for the people of that land, the strangers were exiles from yet another place in the mists – a place where Magik was a rare wonder. They were exiled for abusing that rare commodity, and their dark hearts pulsed with selfish greed at the thought of the apparently unlimited Magik that the people of the land had at their disposal – Magik that those same people took for granted.
The people of the land laughed at the seemingly childlike joy of the strangers as they learned all the myriad things that were done with Magik. If something could be done with Magik, the strangers watched as it was done, over and over again.
Many months passed in this fashion, the strangers learning everything that there was to know about the mechanizations of Magik. The strangers filled many shelves of their dwelling with scrolls of parchment and vellum, all research about the very essence of the Magik in that place. Eventually, their research finished, they had their graduation exercise.
The strangers had learned how to absorb the essence of Magik. In doing so, they learned how to absorb the essence of life itself, the two being so interconnected there. The strangers spread out over the land, and at a pre-arranged time, started taking Magik into themselves, much as a great maelstrom takes in everything around it. The strangers became bloated with the Magik they stole; excess Magik seeped from their pores like sweat. So as not to lose the stolen Magik, they imbued items with Magikal essence, creating the first artifacts.
The immediate areas around each of them became almost completely barren of Magik – and, in spreading waves, panic consumed the people. Not a one of them had ever lived a life without Magik, and could not even feed themselves or take shelter from inclement weather. There was much death, as hunger and disease took its toll on the people. Many of the people fled to areas yet untouched by the strangers, but, to their horror, the strangers moved to these untainted areas and started stealing the land’s Magik again. Eventually, the strangers had drained Magik from every square hectare of the land, and the remaining people waited in dread of what would befall them next. The strangers gathered the people together and stated that they would release some of their stolen Magik back into the land, and each released just enough so that the land could barely support the people that were left.
Many years passed in this fashion. The land, whose melody before was so sweet, was now a place filled with the harsh croaks of crows and the crying wails of hungry babes.
Once each generation, some of the people would rebel against the harsh conditions imposed upon them. The response from the strangers was swift and merciless. The strangers, in learning of magic, had also learned of life. As they could draw in the magic of the land, so could they draw in the life of the land. In reprisal for each uprising, a stranger would go to a town and draw the life from the land. Every living thing in the immediate area would sicken and die, and nothing would ever grow upon that plot of land again. It appeared that such an effort would weaken the stranger, however, causing their features to grow gaunt and skeletal, their hands to palsy and shake. The stranger in question would then immediately go to their artifact trove and consume some of the artifacts that were held there. They would return, strengthened and hale.
This fact gave the people hope. They gathered their brightest in secret, and they pored over documents stolen over the years from the storehouse of scrolls that the strangers had compiled when they first arrived. After many decades of study, these leaders came upon a way to rid themselves of the strangers, but at a great expense. In researching how to construct the artifacts, the strangers had discovered a way to sense artifacts that they had made, thus making it essentially impossible for anyone to steal and hide an artifact from them. The leaders of the people had discovered another use of this artifact sensing ability. They could use the ability to cause ALL of the artifacts constructed by the strangers to be the target of one ritual – Banish. This would permanently render the land barren of magic, but it was thought that it would allow the people to rise up and defeat the strangers as they would have no way to replenish themselves. Additionally, this would make it so that the land was cut off from the mists, thus trapping the strangers.
The people put their plan into action.
They would arrange to have an uprising in each stranger’s demesne, and when the strangers would come to drain the life from the land, they would then cast their ritual, banishing all the artifacts to another plane and sealing the land away from the mists. It took many months to gather the resources for the ritual, and when everything was finally gathered together, the leaders sent word to start the uprising in each demesne. Their plan worked... almost without a hitch.
One of the leaders of the strangers, a scholar, continued to research magic, even after their plan of conquest had reached fruition. He wanted to delve into all aspects of magic, regardless of morality. One of his favorite research subjects was manipulating the will of the people. After many, many, decades of study he had almost perfected the technique of substituting the will of others for his own. To test his mastery of the technique, he was in the habit of testing it on a whim. To his surprise, he learned of the plan for the strangers' ruin.
Going to his workshop, he realized that the ritual of the people was almost complete. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to survive in a land without Magik, he sent himself through the mists just as the people’s ritual completed. He traveled to the place where he sensed all the artifacts were being sent.
That place is here.
His name is Ruen Kraytor.
What are you going to do about him?