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Part 1:So what is this? Well being the bearer of time, and the muse, this is a break I suppose. Shouldnt I bear my own mistakes in the history of the world as well? I should think its only fair. I mean, Ive had my fair share after all.
Question is, where do I begin? From my youth, or my second beginning? Probably my new beginning. I recall very little of my actual true youth. So I guess with that, my story starts with the meeting of a woman. Its always about a woman isnt it? At least I can say she wasnt just a woman, but a very special woman. Now I know many say that, but how many can actually claim it as fact? In my case, it was indeed fact. Not many fall in love with a goddess, and have it returned. How or why it happened isnt really all that important, but the fact that it did is. The development would change my course in life beyond words, but I think Ill try anyway.
Being loved by a goddess causes problems you see. If it is to succeed.. Changes have to be made. Drastic changes. Changes involving your own mortality are always drastic. My role in the world of Aleria would be changed forever after this encounter. My mortality was taken from me by Brom himself, and replaced with my own version of immortality. Brom justified this by giving me a responsibility to help and watch over the peoples of Aleria during the exile where the gods left the world of mortals behind. To be with the woman I loved made it a small price to pay in my mind, or so I thought. Command over time he said, and foresight of possible futures was granted me. A gift he said, and in the beginning I thought so as well. That opinion would change over the centuries, and in a way I think he was getting back at me for being involved in the first place.
This wasnt the only change of course. More was to be done as well it seemed. In order for me to leave behind the mortal life and still maintain the balance which all life requires, a part of me had to be left behind to replace what was leaving. So here it is, my second birth. A rebirth of sorts for my mortal shell coming unto the world. Odd that, watching yourself being born. Some people claim they remember being born, but how many can claim they were witness to their own birth? It makes no sense of course for anyone to say that, but in my case it was the truth never the less. Orphan born, to be raised by a family of my choosing. Mortal Lairus once again walked Aleria, oblivious to myself. I took pride in myself much like a father takes pride in his own son, and that is how Ives and myself considered this new Lairus. A son. Eventually he would be my pride, and my own undoing, but well get to that
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Part 2:Many perilous events would take place in the following years, and I did the best I could in order to maintain that which was placed before me. A woman born of my own people was chosen to alter the course of an entire history. Morgania she was named, a beauty beyond words, and yet her heart was heavy. I watched her often, silently of course, as direct intervention was not allowed. Until the day came that Averindale took arms against the Bengrathy in the fields just before the gates of Lsarielian, SasSaras ancestral home. The siege of the forested gates would last for weeks, and many would fall in those days. Many would fall indeed. Many who were young and as yet unseasoned in the ways of the world.
In those days Averindale was sorted but caste, those of the healers, and those of the warriors, none to ever mingle with the other. Morgania would change all that I watched as she fought against her own heart, and struggled with her own beliefs, as she looked upon a felled soldier not much more than a boy. Until by her side appeared the sword, the sword forged by no mortal hand. A sword that was not a sword, but the essence of a goddess. Resolved, I watched her, as she lifted the sword and entered the fray. Unskilled, and non-fearing she defended the young man, and paid the price of an innocence lost.
For once however, the price had no treasure to bestow, at least not one that anyone would choose as good. For in that fiery blue explosion that would follow Morganias confrontation with those of the Bengrathy, I briefly glimpsed the appearance of Brom once more on the mortal plane. An appearance, which rarely brings good tidings, I feared. However, when the dust settled and the light had faded a reborn woman stood strong amidst the horrors around her. Morgania walked in her nakedness to her new life, forever changed. The Sword-bearer had been born, and she bore the mark stoically upon her brow. The mark that only one before her had ever worn, a mark that was dead to the ages and long forgotten. The mark of a down turned sword, branded into her flesh, and the flesh of those descendants whom were to follow. I would not see this brave woman again for many years, but I would see her again nonetheless. Destiny was being written into the ages, and my duty as procurer of the fates of man had begun.
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The Vision:You feel drained, and wanting. The scene before you is horrid, and the stench of death and fire fill the air. You are not dreaming, at least you dont feel like your dreaming. Everything just seems so surreal.
You are standing amidst a battlefield. Broken bodies lay scattered as far as the eye can see. Black shadows flow wickedly from place to place, and strangled battlecries can be heard everywhere. One such shadow looms ominously over the fallen body of a warrior, not much older than a child. He is broken, and barely moving. The shadow thing appears hungry.
Huddled back, and kneeling beyond the broken bodies, a small group of individuals look onward to the hulking beast and the child. They look broken, and afraid, unwilling to aid for their own reasons, save one.
A lone woman stands up, and sturdies herself moving forward. One of the other individuals nearby grabs her swiftly by the arm, halting her.
Morgania, he says, staggering. Morgania, you cant.. The Bengrathy will destroy you!
Something must be done, she says casually. I cannot abandon a child to that thing.
You cannot defend yourself, and you cannot bear arms! It is forbidden, you betray your people! the man pleads, almost in tears.
It is also forbidden, that an Answan neglect to aid those in need, She looks around for a moment, and spies a muddied blade. It looks about to shatter if used, and she didnt recall seeing it before. Without a second thought to its strange appearance, she hefts the foreign blade, and rushes forward to save the child.
The others watch on in fear and regret. Morgania would nevermore be an Answan, or at least to they eyes of the elders at this point. The pact had been betrayed.
As Morgania arrived at the hulking beast, the once dirty and marred balde flamed to brilliant blue life. Shining nearly as bright as the sun. With one felled swoop, clumsy and awkward as it appeared in her untrained hands, the beast erupted in a blue fire so fierce, the resounding boom of the explosion echoed far across the battlefield. And of Morgania, there was no more. At least, as far as it appeared.
Housed with in the blue flames, she stood, naked and burning. The flames consumed her, yet did not harm her, and she looked on to the face of a god.
Sword bearer, Brom said, for it was Brom father of all who addressed her. Sword bearer! You have been born, and you have taken the blade. The trials have begun. Sword bearer born, and sword bearer you will remain. As will all your blood to follow. Rise and live, Morgania of Averindale. Your destiny, and that of your children is at hand.
When the smoke cleared, and the flames subsided, a naked and forever changed Morgania emerged unscathed, no sword in sight. As she walked, with a purpose, towards her huddled companions they all stared awestruck at what they saw. Bathed in a light, much like the sun, Morgania was branded. Her life forever changed.Morgania, one man said is amazement. Your face! That mark he did not continue, as she past him by on a heading unknown, the mark of the sword forever branded on her forehead.
The scene fades, and a bout of vertigo sets in. You can feel your body, wherever it is writhing slightly at the sudden shift.
You stand now, in a small hall with a large circular table surround by strange individuals. One man stands tall near a large window looking thoughtfully at the rest of the gathered individuals.
Vel has once again attempted to break free, the man says. And we have been removed because this is not yet the time. The armies of the east will secure this war, of that I am sure since that much of the future is known to me at least.
The bulky young dwarf standing near the door opposite the tall man, peers up.
Why ya been pullin me from the battlefield for eh? he bellows, Im missin my fair share of the fun ya buggered outlander. Yer stealin my fun again Lairus.
Lairus smiles, amused. We have been friends many years, Duric. Id not pull you from your amusements had I another choice. As it may be, Dwarden has chosen you. He looks around at the rest of the gathered crowd. A young, and quite beautiful SlaeTin, an aged elven warrior, still quite handsome in his years, a cowled figure unseen clearly in the dim light, and Morigana many years later and with child. All of you have been chosen. As I said, this is not yet the time. The confrontation will not happen in your lifetimes, as some may think. The time now is for preparation.
You are tied to each other, in ways beyond even your understanding. And the day will come when your ties will decide the fate of the world as we know it. The Sword bearer is known, he nods graciously at Morigana, And now the defenders of our only hope are to be known as well.
Duric Stormhammer, the Guardian your path is now chosen. The protector, the caretaker, you are the Guardian of the sword bearers and their line.
Duric nods, slowly, not fully understanding the statement, but accepting it..
Ayliena SlaeTin, Defender you are born, and your destiny has been chosen.
The young, attractive SlaeTin regards Lairus openly with a look of questioning on her face, but seems to accept this decree. I will serve as fate has demanded, as is the way of my people. And my children after me will carry my honor as well. She responds.
Eldaran, Lairus continues, You have been chosen, and the shield bearer you will remain, and all your blood that follows you.
He looks at the party for a moment, and ponders. What will come of this line? At any rate, this is not the time.
Now, your paths have been chosen, and bound by blood you are. Your destiny, and that of your children to come is from now till the end, tied for all time. Lairus pauses for a moment. Now we must flee this place, even as we speak the hunstmen are loose. It is not safe-
The room erupts in a spray of stone and debris, and the walls of the enclosure shudder at the tremendous force from beyond. Stones cave in, as the gathered party scatters for their safety, barely escaping the rubble around them. Briefly you catch a glimpse of six large hulking humanoid figures clad in heavy black cloaks and clanking chains burst through the breech in the walls, and the scene fades.
Once again you can feel your body, from a distance, although at this point you cant be sure you still exist, writhing as you strain to steady your traveling soul.
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Katrinity had this to say about Jimmy Carter:
<smooches the Fae!> RAWR!
RAWRS!! <Drags Kat off into the sunset!>
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The Unitaur:
These noble and hardy creatures were once many, but now number only in the thousands, if that, and are rarely encountered save for that soul wanderer in search of love, adventure, and her place in the world. During the great birth of the world, when the Unitaur first stepped onto Aleria, their numbers were vast and could often been seen as guards for the many races of Aleria. Usually in the more wooded regions, and secluded outposts, but still far more common than they have ever been since. When the great conflict came however, and the abominations arose such as the Bengrathy, the Unitaurs were spurred into action, as is their way. Their defeat at the hands of Vel and his horrid creations would of course lead to the breach, the corruption and violation of their mother and protector SasSara, and the imminent backlash that would corrupt the great woodland home of SasSara herself. With the aid of nearby Averindales legions from Vellan Shire, the Unitaurs made a defiant stand against the oncoming hordes, but even their combined prowess, and with the help of the Answan, the ruined gates of Lsarielian (SasSaras Woods) would fall. A failure that these noble beings have yet to forget.
Very spiff Fae.
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Trent obviously shouldn't have said:
Always been a history fan.
Very spiff Fae.
Yah, figured I'd share.. There's more, but this was mainly cause I was bored at work this morning. 
*grins*
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Part 3:As I said, it would be many years, but I would see her again nonetheless. Seeing her again however would bring about several changes in the way things were supposed to be done, and the way the eventually happened. Nearly a decade after being chosen, Morgania would find herself with child. By whom, believe it or not, was never said. This is still a mystery to me, as considering my role, I should have known. But I digress. As I was saying, Morgania would be with child, and Vel would once again try to break free of his centuries old bondage to enslave all of Aleria. It was at this point decided that the blooded should be chosen in order to protect the sword-bearer, and an ancestral alliance was formed. The dwarves offered up their chosen, as did the walkers, humans, and fey. The elves gave their own support in secret, and separated themselves from the affair having already suffered tremendous defeat at the last immortal encounter. They pledged support when needed, and devised their own legends of how one of their own would prove vital to the cause one day, but otherwise withdrew from the conflict never to take part in the main scheme of things. It would take me seven hundred and thirty-five years to realize the implications of this silent sylvan pact. Even then, I wouldnt know the whole truth..
After the blooded had been chosen, and secreted away to their new, and fugitive, lives, my work was just beginning. For the many years that followed, in secret, it was my duty to hide and protect these precious bloodlines. To mold and build them over the centuries. A matchmaker of sorts, if you will. I watched them in their youths and secured their lineage in their old age. To be quite honest, I enjoyed this part of my work, and for the most part all was well in my subsequent bondings. All, that was, save one particular match. The lineage of the sword-bearer line, the pivotal link in the whole chain. My greatest pride, and my most terrible of mistakes. In one moment of vanity, and false pride, I would subjugate a nation and plot them on a course to their imminent destruction. For the love of a child, and a bout of vicarious envy, I would destroy a people. They say that power corrupts, and that no man mortal born can escape its effects. I stand as proof, that no matter the strength of will, this is a lesson that is hard learned and never forgotten.
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Part 4:My pride, my own undoing I promised I would get to this, and so here it is. Some choices we make in our lives can often have unexpected consequences. Some more dire than others. I was warned against meddling for personal gain, I was warned to separate myself from that mortal half of me that yet lingered on the material plane. My foresight strongly bid me not to intervene in the overall scheme of things, yet vanity spurred me on. The sword-bearer line would prove to be most glorious, that much was always assumed. Great notoriety would come with connection to such a noble line, such great wonders and prestige. The line was already ingrained into the blood of my former peoples; youd think that would be enough to satisfy my glory lust. But I wanted more I wanted a higher glory; I wanted my name to go down in history as something more than merely a fabled historian. As my new course in life separated me from the ability to be involved directly, my achievements, my glories, and my life were all hidden within legends and myths. With no face to be put on high, no name to be heralded in tidings, I sought to change all that, at least in part, and be a glory vicariously through what remained of me from the world before.
Averindale was growing, the capitol of Vellan Shire especially, and was shaping up to be possibly the greatest nation of all time. An unexceptional race becoming the new seat of wonders, its glories were becoming paramount, showing only promise of more to come. My mortal self, my other half, was already well on his way to being a legend in his own right. His heroism and valor touted above all. I was selfishly proud, but still not satisfied. Morganias daughter, Deandra, was coming into womanhood about this time, the next continuance of the bearers line, and quite a beauty in her own right. A strong willed, yet overly kindhearted slip of a girl, it occurred to me it was nearly time for her union possibilities to be explored. The line would have to continue of course, the question was, whom should I place in her path.
Simply enough, my attentions were drawn to Lairus Leorin, my mortal self, that other half of me I had left behind. He was a hero of some import by now; his deeds would eventually become legendary, why not? He would have the support of a nation behind him, and it was already fairly obvious that Deandra had some small girlish fascination with him. I would have a chance to bask in the glory of myself, from afar, and have a notable impact on what was too come.
The molding of this relationship was easy enough; they took to each other almost immediately. For all intents and purposes, they were the image of perfect love, not a hair wrong could be said against them. With Lairus many victories, and his noble hearted actions, he was soon one of the most respected men alive. Deandra, of course, being the woman she was, followed swiftly in her husbands footsteps, learning blade and tactics. Eventually she would rival even the best of opponents, but it was her beauty and heart that won the respect of thousands. There was no family more loved or respected than the Leorin line, and soon enough two darling baby girls would join the family as well. Finally, I was proud, and everything appeared to be going exceptionally well. Happiness and peace reined under the shelter of the east, and darkness seemed only a miserable memory fading swiftly into the past. The sword line had been secured, I had done well in the beginning of my ongoing crusade Or so I thought.
Tragedy feeds on what some consider happiness, and destroys. Less than a decade past before the shadow fell once more. BaXeth, Vels bastard son, had finally secured his power as the shadowlord, king of the abyss and the demons that dwelled there now through the breach. With his huntsmen, the vile aberration king, fell in at his fathers side from his shackled throne. Vel had learned, through deceptive means and his daughters twisted ear, of the blooded and a way for him to be free of his wretched torment. He charged BaXeth with the task, to destroy the blooded and all their line, and so it was done. During the war of the Crystal kings, when the Bengrathy rose again at Vels command to torture the land, BaXeth and his huntsmen rode on the wings of the shadow and hunted the land for those who would complete the circle.
Distracted by my duties to the main front, I was not there for the attack on Averindale, until it was too late What would happen next would throw destiny into the deadly wake of darkened tides, and put question on the possibility of Alerias very existence.
It's the saddest story I've ever heard...
I can really relate to it on a personal level...
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Nevia DuLake had this to say about (_|_):
*sobs softly, blowing her nose*It's the saddest story I've ever heard...
I can really relate to it on a personal level...
Okay dunno how to take that.. As either you, or Nevia.
Anyways, part 5 will probably come about when I'm bored at work tomorow. 
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Part 5:Piece by piece, BaXeth and his huntsmen would scour the nation of Averindale, in search of the link and his fathers chance at freedom. Farms would be burned, men would be slain, women would be defiled, and children would be placed on spits for the wicked twilight meals. All around me, for as far as I could see by the time I was made aware, laid wreckage and suffering. Eerie wooden skeletons of long burned farmhouses, and bodies places haphazard on sacrificial pyres, would be waiting to greet me as I stood walking in a foreseen vision I chose to ignore so many years before. What my choices made in pride had warned me against now walked amidst my ancestral home. Nothing but waste and death would open up before me, and because the path chosen that had led me to this point left no one to blame but myself, I feared the outcome when I reached Vellan Shire. I knew then that, given the possibilities I had foreseen, the one outcome I put aside was the one that my actions had chosen. By then end of the fortnight, the Answan would be no more.
The siege on Vellan Shire would last a fortnight, and I could do naught but watch it unravel. I knew what would happen come dawn, I knew the betrayal that was destined to take place, I knew my failure before the last star fell, and I could do nothing but make preparations to secure the sword-bearer line.
Being a part of me, and I myself being in part demigod, Lairus, my mortal self was an easily accessible target. Before I would have time to shield and protect him, TerReana would reach him first. Broken and twisted like so many of the other admirable men of Vellan Shire, Lairus however yet lived to fight. TerReana, mistress of deceit and prevayer of false visions had other plans in mind, and set into motion his imminent corruption. His battle worn mind was filled with visions of deceit, images of betrayal, and promises of a broken heart. His true loves callous betrayal in the bed of his best friend, and plots of his death by her hands reined most prominent, so she focused on them, she corrupted and twisted them, poisoning his mind with deceptions and misery until nothing remained except the broken mind of a fragile mortal man. A mere pawn in a game far larger than he would ever have guessed.
When nothing but rage and vengeance remained, her work here done, TerReana removed her presence from the field and the final moves in her twisted game were set into motion. Lairus succumbed to his now envenomed mind, his dark and twisted thoughts, and betrayed the women and children of Vellan Shire. Deandra was among the surviving, and full of fury. She took charge of those left living in the temple of Ives, and generaled the last stand. All the while consumed with hate and revulsion of the spawns outside the walls. In the end, Lairus betrayal would prove too much, and the tides of this valiant last stand would be turned.
With Lairus help, BaXeth and a small regime were able to enter the temple of Ives, and lay waste to the last remaining inhabitants within. It was in this opportunity that I took my leave to follow in their path and attempt to salvage the sword-bearer line. Deandra, as I would later learn, was already doomed, and the final outcome of this encounter would end far worse than expected. Sometimes, there are things far worse than death in this world, and her doom would come at a hefty price. The children, however, were my main concern. Two little girls, oblivious to the hate and torment of the world, now forever scarred beyond belief. They were my charge, and for now, my only goal. Secreting them away would prove difficult in the horrid torrent that consumed the place, but I would manage. Through the snow, and challenging the ghosts of winter I would travel, two angels in tow, only partially relieved that the bloodline was secure. I had paid the price of pride, and I had learned the lessons of power. Never again would Brom trust me with such a task, and although he could not remove what he had already granted, once the placement of the children had been made, my banishment would commence. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on perspective, that banishment would not come
Falling in under a mortal guise, I took in with a traveling gypsy and her sons. Suitable parentage would have to be found, and the best way to remain unnoticed, is to travel in the company of those undesired by society. So I chose to travel with them for many days until a suitable placement could be made. That placement would never come, death would find me instead.
I have never suffered a mortal death, as my mortality had been shed in favor of my new life, and I never expected to experience it in the least But it would seem, my vanity had another price, and somewhere, out there in the night, a broken remorseful man in an inn, would fall to a demoness bite. What remained of me, mortally, Lairus a hero born, would die that night at the hands of a damned woman, betrayed. I would not learn the details for many years to come, or even what became of Lairus that night, but when he fell, in a sense, a part of my died. I felt it, I felt his soul being torn away, I felt the straps lashing at his vile sins, and I felt his torment through a link that was previously unknown to me. There, on the snow in a field unknown, I would fall to the mortal death, and my duty was incomplete.
A hundred years would pass, as I served in limbo. A hundred years would pass, where many lives had changed. A hundred years would pass, before I looked upon the world again, unknowing and searching for two children lost somewhere on a ghostly night. One line I would find soon enough, and rather I had not, for what would become of this great line on that twisted branch would revile me for years to come. The other branch however I would not find again, for six hundred years. In the slave warrens, a child cried, and a new life born in misery would learn that what was once considered a cruel and painful life, was only the beginning of a much darker, more insidious, life to come. I shall get to that before too long, for it was the beginning of my redemption, and as I would learn the redemption for another part of me as well
