Delete this please

[saromon50 61]

 

[[First off, I am actually Saromon50, but my old forum account is inaccessible to me presently.  I hope to fix the issue soon, and if I do I will repost this under the Saromon50 account.  But if that becomes an impossibility I have decided to post it under this account for the time being.  This is a journal from the perspective of my character Tormis, everything in it is something that has actually happened to him while in character.  Obviously this isn't everything that has happened to Tormis, but it is what I feel is the most significant.  Some of it I recorded on my old YouTube series My Adventures in Lord of the Craft (which I may start up again), some of it not so much.  I just think it is a pretty cool story that Tormis is undergoing and thought I should share it!]]

 

*An old leather bound journal may be found lying on the bed of Tormis within the Vigil Tree.  The contents are carefully written in silver ink.  You notice sections of the journal are scribbled out, while those sections just after seem to have been written by a much shakier hand than those before.*

[[Date to be added when I figure out the damn server date]]

 

The following is an account of my life, the life of Tormis, in this new land of Vailor.  I shall do my best to record what this new life brings; but, before I begin I must admit that I believe I do this for more selfish reasons than even I can fathom.  When I first set out to detail my life in this little book, I told myself it was so that I do not forget the good times this new life will surely bring.  But now, as I write, I fear that the old me is reemerging.  Already I can feel the need bubbling up in the pit of my stomach like so many reaching, grasping hands… Perhaps this journal will do something to save what remains of my sanity.  Perhaps not.  

 

Now, I suppose I should begin - well, where my story began.  My name is Tormis.  I was born in Asulon not long after the survivors of Aegis escaped to, and subsequently from, the Verge.  Yet I was so young that I do not remember much of my life at this time, but what I do remember was an Orc.  No, this isn’t the orc that killed my parents or raided my village.  No, this is the Orc that took me in; that took care of me for my young life.  Korbec was his name.  Korbec… Even writing this name now sends a chill down my spine… Had I known what he was then… what he worshiped… And yet - the name also seems to somewhat silence this writhing need, this tortuous hunger within the pit of my being… Had I known then, I never would have allowed him to infect me so.  

 

I write this journal for myself… And yet I can’t help but think that my story may help some other unfortunate soul who finds himself as lost as I… And so I shall explain just who Korbec was - and what he did to me.

 

Korbec was an Orc born in Aegis only a few years before the first sightings of - of His attack.  Korbec was different than other Orcs in one rather apparent way - he was very learned.  Korbec didn’t care to fight.  Yet do not confuse this with some kind of good natured orc who dislikes violence.  That is not what he was.  Korbec didn’t care to fight, he didn’t care for honor, he didn’t care for anything but furthering his own ambition, increasing his own knowledge and his own power.  To be more specific, he didn’t care to fight in order to obtain honor.  He would fight, and fight hard if it meant attaining his goal.  It was then that he joined a murderous guild under the command of the one they called Wrath.  There may still be some that remember Wrath’s Castle and the siege that befell it when it became known that those of the castle were working quite closely with the Undead.  It is my belief that Korbec wished to join the ranks of the Undead and gain the knowledge and power that was promised by - by Him.  It’s strange actually… Thinking back to the stories Korbec would tell me, I almost feel proud of his accomplishments… He even claimed to have slain one of the Ascended during the battle! Ha! Once Wrath’s Castle had fallen Korbec retreated back to his home of Krugmar - but the Orcish city was too large, too crowded for him to worship the Fallen One unnoticed.  And so he left the city, becoming something of a hermit.  He could likely be seen on the fringes of many skirmishes with the Undead and their minions… But he didn’t tell me much of this time in his life; however, he did excitedly tell me of one day in which he claimed to actually find some sort of portal which allowed him to cross into the home of the Undead… I don’t know if I believe this to be true, for he was rather senile already when he wished to share this tale with me.  That is who Korbec was.  No, no that is not who he was - but that is as much as I am able to say… For he was much more than that.  As to what it was that he did to me… I am afraid if I write it down the hunger will resurface.  If I write it down the hunger will have a foothold again.  Perhaps I shall tell this story later, when I am stronger.  But not now.  Not now.  

 

After Korbec died I was lost.  More lost than I have ever been, or likely ever will be again for the entirety of my long elven life.  What he did to me… What he showed me… That is something I must never go back to.  But if I just go back I will find the way again.  I will find the path again.  Why shouldn’t I go back to his teachings…?  If I go back I will lose myself again…

 

When I first lost myself it was the Mages Guild that brought me back from the edge.  It was their teachings and kind friendship that saved me.  While I studied with them I found a new meaning to life, I found a new path: one of knowledge and learning for the sake of learning.  During this time I met one of my dearest friends and mentor, Goliath Orman.  I never actually found out if he was associated with the Mages Guild directly, but he was a powerful summoner - able to bring a large bear forth from the void to fight for him!  It was incredible!  I learned much from him and should like to say that he learned much from me as well, yet I doubt that is true; he truly was brilliant.  Yet for all his brilliance, he was not an Elf, and old age finally began to take hold of him.  It lasted longer than it really should have… poor soul… But then he was gone.  Another friend and mentor gone forever… However, at his deathbed something - something strange happened.  His son, or perhaps it was his grandson? Was there with him, and he claimed that Goliath wished to grant me with one last gift as an old friend.  Obviously I accepted, but it was at this point that everything… everything gets a bit fuzzy.  Some sort of spell was cast, what kind I do not know, all I do know is that with it went everything else.  The world went dark - all there was was darkness.  And I dreamed.  Oh how I dreamed!  It was as if ages passed before my eyes!  I saw kingdoms rise and fall, I saw The Creator and I saw the beginning, I saw the past, present, and future.  And I saw the end.  But the end was - it was just darkness.  Nothing else… Just emptiness.  

 

No. No, I remember now.  It was not emptiness.  There was darkness, yes.  But there was something else.  There was something in the darkness… I remember now.  I have seen the end and the end has seen me.  The great Golden Eye of… It saw me at the end of time.

 

Just emptiness.  Nothing else.  

 

It was then that I awoke in what I believed to be the cloud temple of Aegis.  Yet I knew this could not be true, for I knew it to be destroyed.  Sitting on the cold stone floor I began to regain my thoughts and my composure.  Slowly standing and walking through the archways I was quickly greeted by a very kind elf.  He informed me that this land was Vailor and the year was 1532.  1532.  Almost 100 years I had slept.  For almost 100 years I had dreamt of nothing but the - the emptiness.  

 

He offered me a place in something called the Vigil.  With no place in this new and strange world and nowhere to go, I accepted his offer.  It is from my small room in “the Tree” that I write this account of my life.  Perhaps these Vigil will help me to save what remains of my sanity.  Perhaps not.  

 

And so it is that my story shall unfold. I know not who I pray to, but I pray that the path that I follow will be the correct one. I pray it will be what I am meant for.

[ImCookiie 1950]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.