TheDragonsRoost

@BlueeThe story continues in the second arc of the “Key to Oblivion” series in Arcas.

Previous Stories: Part 1: Part 2: Part 3: We have reached Part 4 in this series, ending the first arc in the “Key to Oblivion” stories. Thank you for reading the storyline so far and I hope you enjoy “The Darkness Within,” the final story of the first arc. ~(+)=~=(+)~ Some stories don’t get to end with a joyous note. Others have far more twisted ends to them while the people are left with a sobering fact of life. We all can die and never come back. This was especially true to Karren Myrsta when his throat was slit back in the Druid Grove by Nivndil some years ago. He had left the world while the September Prince still roamed the land, terrorizing the population and leaving him with the sense of powerlessness that drove him to begging for death. Now, he resided in a world that offered no quarter with demons wishing to end his pathetic life so that he may never exist again. When his grandfather “dreamed” of seeing him as he was now, in the middle of transitioning into a beast of corruption and wielding dangerous magical power, he did not wish for him to see how far he had fallen and how close he was to turning into a being of pure hatred-tortured relentlessly by those that resided within the hellworld of The Pit. It was the one thing that he had wished to never lose-the good memories of him, tainted forever by how far that he had become-and the one thing that forced him to cling to dear life within this hellscape. To Jarsek, however, the sight of his grandson being a figure of pure heart and how he became something frightening was enough to break his very heart-shatter his core into millions of pieces. Ascended could not help him with this kind of problem as it affected him deeply to the point of wanting to die, but there was another force deeper within that fought to keep him alive. There was no other way for him to stay alive, broken as he was, besides taking up the darkness within his very being and letting it run free within him. Surging like wildfire and feeling cold to the touch, Jarsek would begin to learn about this driving force of Creation and even attempt to understand it through how it would react to certain situations, but however, something felt like it was being prevented from unleashing itself fully into his body, acting like a powerful restraint that would appear to be indestructible. Not a single clue on how to release that preventive restraint, Jarsek had only one option left to him at the time: begin to learn about the darkness within. This would motivate him into something that would either drive him into insanity or elevate him into power, depending on how fate had willed it. He wanted to know what this darkness was inside of him to the point of asking critical questions that would prove to be even more complex to answer as they simple to ask. “What is this feeling? Where did it come from? Is this part of our curse?” would three of the many questions that would plague his mind for years to come until he either gained a satisfactory answer or not. Critical questions that would endlessly plague him to the point that they would be burned forever to his core, questioning everything. Unbeknownst to even most High Elves, curiosity can be a powerful motivator for either the good or the bad choices made every second of every day, but Jarsek was the most afflicted in this case. Intelligent and witty, he would try his best to understand how this feeling within him worked and what it was truly... ~(+)=~=(+)~ While Jarsek had this feeling within him, something else was brewing in a currently unknown continent known as Arcas. Something that was not always so simple as the lands were brimming with life and suppressing that which was attuned to the darkness, keeping it in perpetual slumber. At least, for now...

Previous Stories: https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/179359-the-dream-part-1/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/179386-cursed-bloodline-part-2/ ~(+)=~=(+)~ It doesn’t end. Ozais and Jarsek went into the town of Belvitz to find all the residents asleep, but strangely enough, Jarsek wasn’t feeling the darkness within him surge through his veins as it did the last time he was in the presence of his master. Even as his true name was called out, something lingered deep within his soul-eating away piece by piece of his ethereal light. He didn’t feel like something invaded his soul or was growing inside of it, but it felt hollow-empty from within. He didn’t wish to seek out the help of the Ascended, who might help him understand why his soul felt hollow inside, or seek any kind of magical attention due to the fact that Jarsek didn’t understand what was happening to him. Then he felt his mind slip, replaced with a dark hollowness that seemed to entrance him. Jarsek kept muttering how cold it felt, even though it wasn’t horribly cold in the town of Belvitz. This coldness radiated deep within his soul and if he was touched, his skin would’ve felt cold to the touch. It wasn’t any magic that affected him, unless you counted what has happened to him thus far. From the dream to the bloodline curse awakening deep within him, Jarsek has had an adventure that most people would try to back out of once they realized where the story was going. Unfortunately, Jarsek was not the type to back out and as a consequence, he would suffer great torment and pain from within. Merely half an hour passed before he regained his senses by Ozais slapping some sense back into him, but it was not without its cost. The bloodline curse took hold within his soul and then would spread to his body, slowly beginning to break it down and further exhaust the young high elf. Little did Jarsek know that some parts of his dream weren’t just symptoms of depression, but of something else. Something else that if awakened, would change Jarsek’s life forever. If people cared to notice his eyes, they could tell that the ambition had been reignited, but not in the way they would’ve expected. His eyes were carrying the Blighted Fire, a darkened flame that burned two types of colors: Black and Purple. The blighted fire wouldn’t mean much in the present time, but no one could predict what it would mean in the future.... A hollowed soul... A blighted fire, reignited... The pain of rememberance... Death of one they loved... A will, shattered by false hopes and dreams, turning to ill... Something was brewing deep within the high elf that would continue to fester until it either broke him or forced him to commit acts of impurity and murder. A hunger was beginning to take form within his soul that not even he could fight alone-a hunger that would become lethal. This was something else.... Something that can blight even the sharpest of sight and quench the fire within. There was an evil within that wanted free.....

Previous story: ~(+)=~=(+)~ I felt the darkness take hold when I stared into the eyes of my master Ozais, along with the insanity that strangely flowed into my inner darkness-fueling it. It felt replenishing for me to feel my blood grow cold with my darkness flowing through after decades of burying it deep within. The pain and suffering I went through.... I finally understood why I was a good soldier.... The Myrsta bloodline always had some kind of darkness within them, awaiting to be awakened. From their inception, each of those within the clan-either man or woman-felt their darkness be dormant within and the urge to try to coax it awake. Some of the Myrsta bloodline-like Karren prior to his death-had a greater urge to awake and sate their inner darkness while others-like Jarsek-did not have such powerful urges. It doesn’t take much for their darkness to be coaxed to the surface, however, because darkness can come in varying forms. From wishing to know or experience dark magic to even the simplest task of killing those either innocent or otherwise, those within the Myrsta clan can coax their darkness out to the surface, but with a severe cost of losing part of themselves to their dark depths. No magic can undo this, sadly, because it is a firm belief of those within the Myrsta bloodline that those who carry Myrsta blood-even changing their name would not work-within their veins are cursed to feel their inner darkness take hold and make them suffer in varying ways, though no one is sure just how many ways this darkness can make the person suffer. Shades cannot shade those within the Myrsta bloodline due to this belief, but it doesn’t mean that they aren’t susceptible to the dark thought. When Karren was still alive and wishing to be shaded by an old friend of his, the shade felt the darkness of their family curse and threatened to not shade the boy and his “split personality” if he continued to seek being shaded. What the shade did not realize at the time was that a single act of denying Karren that which he wished to have fueled his darkness even more, even to the point of fracturing the boy’s mind. When Ozais, Jarsek’s master, looked into his eyes, he found the darkness take root within his mind-fueled by the Graven’s Eye and coaxed into being. It turned him into a soldier of darkness, making him a Dark Phoenix. To those who are not aware, a Dark Phoenix is the physical form of a Myrsta fallen into darkness-never to be returned to the light. Madness and in the presence of a dark creature made Jarsek’s darkness truly come alive and nearly wipe away the man’s personality that he worked hard to create, but even the family curse could not completely change the person they once were. They couldn’t be returned to the light by any magical means, of course, but there are always pathways back to the light if needed. Though Jarsek now felt his curse take root, that did not alleviate his nightmares about his grandson. When Jarsek was shot and knocked out in Sutica, he was sent back into that hellworld of a nightmare. This time, there was endless screaming along with the ever-burning fire and brimstone accompanying the sight of the black armored figure. It was also different in the fact that the armored figure was turning to face him directly. The figure seemed to have black eyes within his helmet and at his side, the figure had a sheathed greatsword with some kind of magical symbols on the scabbard. Symbols that Jarsek did not understand. He looked to be the same height as Jarsek, but the black eyes within the helmet seemed to be soulless, unlike his master’s eyes. The figure would begin to speak in a gravelly voice to Jarsek... “Grandfather?” The figure would ask with a sad tone. “How can you be here?” “Karren? Is that you underneath all that armor?” Jarsek would ask his grandson, almost pleased to see him once again. “Yes, but you need to leave grandfather.” Karren would say with a small undertone of urgency. “If you stay here, you won’t be able to get back.” “Back?” Jarsek would ask Karren, confused as to what he means. “To Atlas. You aren’t done, not yet.” Karren replied, sounding a little joyous to see his grandfather. “Though I wish I could hug you, you need to wake up.” “Where are you, my grandson?” Jarsek would ask, shedding tears of both joy and sorrow. “Somewhere that only the dead can survive. Barely.” Karren would reply as he would withdraw his sword in preparation of a fight. “Now go!” Jarsek would want to reply with saying how much he loved him and how badly he wished he was there to save his poor grandson from the darkness, but it was when he heard his true name that he felt the chains of life begin to force him awake and suffer through the pain of being shot in the arm. His anger took root as he remembered where his grandson had been this time and that made his inner darkness grow even more within. He was not going to allow himself to fall into that darkness again.... He woke up in his room-hours later-as he didn’t sleep easily last night. He would have a long day ahead of him, but there was a lingering question in his head. Where would the dead survive barely and how can I get back there?

Again, your memes are not dank enough. Try again later.

The dream happened again. Jarsek wasn’t sure as to why he had the dreams of his dead grandson Karren, but something felt strange down to his core. Each dream was the same every time he closed his eyes and let his exhaustion take over from the day’s events. These dreams fueled him every day, but the fuel was mortal and it ate away at his soul little by little as if they affected him on a much deeper scale than what any magic could do to him. To those he considered friends, he looked tired more and more with each passing day. His once-glowing ambition that burned within his steel gaze had grown dimmer and colder as his essence was being affected by this strange coldness he felt within. Within the privacy of his home, he had grown sad and his intense feeling of depression had begun to ravage through his veins-sometimes even attracting attention from the outside. Though no one could understand just how sad he truly was. How badly his grandson’s death-that happened years ago-affected him and how he bottled it up. This dream that kept cropping up in Jarsek’s nighttime slumber was not helping to please him, but it made him even sadder. The dream, from what Jarsek could remember, was what he wrote in a journal before he departed to Haelun’or: A dream of fire and brimstone. Jarsek would appear in a giant place full of fire and lava, full of creatures that he did not easily recognize and was scared of. To this warrior high elf, he wasn’t sure why that he dreamed of the place that Iblees would call home, but nonetheless he would try to force himself to wake up to no avail. He felt like the world was too hellish for his steel-like determination, but something kept urging him to try to survive the hellish world around him. With no other chance, Jarsek would try to follow the urge as if it was his only guide in this hell he found himself in. It would continue to go through the fire and brimstone landscape until he would wake up, drenched in sweat. The high elf would, each time before he would wake up, see a black armoured figure with the strength of a hundred men with some kind of spectral black aura. A pure black aura, blacker than any dark magic he knew. The dream, Jarsek would come to realize, was an omen. A powerful dark omen that would change his world forever...

notices @BronCloch‘s interest in necromancy and begins spying on her bunny farm in the distant north...

+1 this rewrite of Necromancy! -Beautifully well written. -Gives the reader a pleasant read of what will come to the necromancers of LotC. -Visuals help to show the degrading effects of the magic. -Definitely worth the submission!

Previous story “The World Timeline [ET Story]”: =========={(++)}========== “Energy. Mana. Amber. It’s all the same, but under a different name. No magic that is known to those in Atlas is destructive but yet offers creation. At least, not yet...” Some stories don’t end the way you expect it to. From those that offer salvation of the aeguls to those the crave eternal torment of the archdaemons, there is no greater battle than good versus evil. Yet, even though the battle is fought for millennia from the beginning of known Time, we always forget that there is no true evil or true good. Ascended are not truly pure of soul as they wish us to perceive them as and those who wield dark magic are not truly psychotic as many are led to believe. Most of those that wield the powers of the ether do not understand the true consequences of magic and nor would they. At least not at the beginning. Each one of those who wield magic are never able to scratch the true depths of light or dark and are forced to understand little. Until it begins to manifest in its own magics. Shades are merely a drop in the ocean compared to those forces that truly allow casters to do magic beyond the normal capabilities of a descendant. Necromancers are people who see no boundary between the forces of life and death, but are weak in power, even at their greatest of heights. True dark magic is never achieved by simply tapping into the soul and casting spells that remind all of their mortality, but it is when you have suffered through the very depths of pain and torment that even a daemon’s torture would seem like child’s play. That is the power that is behind the magic of darkness. The true forces of Oblivion itself. Born of suffering, of torment, and of pure rage, those that have been through Hell and back can feel their rage grow into a pure destructive force to where even those that walk in the Mindspace would be unable to quell such craving of destruction. The light within their souls becomes no more and transforms into a Black Soul, forcing no more joy or happiness to arise and only the pure dark emotions to exist. No sane person would ever wield this kind of power and survive intact, but even those driven into a pure frenzy of bloodlust, of carnage on a unheard of scale would appear to be normal folk until they let their true banners fly. Masters of concealment and trickery-while being true psychopathic monsters-those that wield this power are forever barred from the Seven Skies and those within the very depths of Hell would writhe in fear of those tormented by such dark feelings. Pure shadows of their former selves-daemonic in nature-they can never truly return to their old lives and for those that suffer in their presence, they are faced with the true face of those possessed by the very dark emotions our souls filter through. Darkened beyond the blackest of nights and eyes that become purest black, those that are faced against such a creature are never intact again.... If they are lucky to escape with their lives. All of existence should tremble in fear of these that succumbed to their pain and rage, but even they are not gods. Merely creatures that live forever-that are bound to their darkest of natures and are quick to respond violently to those who dare to cross their paths. Death lives among those who notice not its presence, but its cold grasp. ==============={(++)}=============== OOC: This isn’t an ET Story and holds no relevance to the previous story, but it is worth mentioning why I created this story. I’ve always been fascinated with dark magic (yes, it’s true) in any fictional story and roleplay server. Even on LotC, it is true that OOC’ly I am fascinated by the concept of Shade Magic, Striga, Necromancy, and even Liches (hence why they are mentioned here in the story), but this fascination is what drives me to create stories with not-yet-existing magics that have truly dark origins and have some kind of tie into those that wield it. Even the concept of Oblivion itself isn’t like my previous illiterations of it, but I strive to make it something that is powerful in its own right and yet offers itself checks and balances. Of course it can be said that I’m a “mega-nerd” for magic, but all I can say is that they aren’t wrong. I do love magic and the endless possibilities it offers to help further a story along (though only in the fantasy genre). Anyways, I do still plan to write up this magic for LotC (while my own rp version of Oblivion is not going to be on LotC since the lore wouldn’t be usable on this server) and make it possible for all to enjoy than just me. I hope you enjoyed this story “Wrath of the Darkness” and I wish you a good day! -TheDragonsRoost

Already stated in the OOC part of the story. Why you noob everything? :(

So far. It may just have future reference but it is just a story

because I like to write out stories and no one in the community can really tell me to stop writing?

I forgot about that. What event character if I might ask? Not to mention that this is merely a story that could have future reference to any eventline I do upon becoming ET. I always love to add suspense and some kind of mystery of what I do in the future to my works. Thanos has dat infinity gauntlet, not seven artefacts. Also, the Artefacts of the Divine storyline is a starter to any future events that has ties with it (if there be any). I get that people would also hate on me for posting huge events and stuff, but this is small to me ?

@UnwillinglyIt is a story that wasn’t endorsed by any staff. I figured it most likely not be feasible.

No, just the guardian of the Artefact is going to be played. Besides, there will be several parts of the story before the eventline begins. First: Infinity Ring (Time Artefact) Second: Ring of Nature (Life Artefact) Third: Ring of Ether (Death Artefact) Fourth: Staff of Wild (Fire Artefact) Fifth: Amulet of Light (Energy Artefact) Sixth: Sword of Solar (Celestial Artefact) Seventh: Scales of Balance (Balance Artefact) “The World’s Timeline” is the story of the first artefact and the other stories will be about the other artefacts. Each artefact in the eventline will be useful in the next event in the story, but I’m not giving any spoilers. You’ll have to read up on them more when each story comes out.

“Time is a tricky yet unstable force of nature. No mortal creature or immortal creature can understand the rules of this force and because of this, the Kha lost their powers to manipulate it and even future attempts to relearn this art are thwarted by the forces beyond mortal understanding. Those who call themselves Skygods, but I have another name for them. The Elder Gods.” When the world of mortals was made back on Aegis, it created what was known as a World Timeline. It was an intangible force of nature that all Chronomancers could access to gain information of the past, present, and future, granting them the knowledge and power to reshape history to their very whims. This did not come without its cost, though as the world of mortals had invoked the powers of the Elder Gods and they began to lose their connection to the Timeline. No one from the mortal world was allowed to change history with the knowledge gained from the future or even to have the power to alter it. That is until a certain object came into being. It was the very thing that the Elder Gods used to alter the Timeline and create a fixed point in Time. No mortal or immortal could understand it or even feel its power, but I could. Those same Elder Gods created me to guard their precious artefact for millennia and while I did, I gained information. Information that could bring this world to its knees. They gave me the knowledge to understand history and guard against it being altered. I know the Laws of Time and all the loopholes they presented, but however, I was not granted the knowledge to see how to break free of this eternal bond. I knew about the Prince and his goal to bring this world to its knees, but I could not change history. I could not tell the Descendants that they were fated to win against such a force or just how dangerous the Prince was. I could not alter the present by telling them that they were to face a threat that if not extinguished, would lead to disaster. I could not even side with them and change the future by erasing the Prince from Time. Like the druids, I was to remain neutral and do nothing. That was the law laid out to me by the Elder Gods. Now, I grow mad by this bond to the World Timeline. My mind slowly ebbs away to the Timeline and I can't escape it. My body, though immortal and never ages, is in torment and endlessly breaking down my physical strength. My very soul is siphoned away into the Timeline, never to be reclaimed. I want to be free. ~(+)=(+)~ OOC: This is a part of a story for an eventline that has dire consequences for all who are involved. It is not endorsed by the LT, ET, Admin, GM, or World Dev Teams whatsoever as this is provides a base for the storyline “Artefacts of the Divine” that I plan to write up. There will be seven artefacts in total.

Giving this submission a major heck yes considering that the Ascended on LotC feel a bit drawn back and not really fleshed out to the point that truly makes them viable and fun to play. Personally, I’ve never gotten the chance to learn magic on this server to the depths that many on the server are already at, but however, I’ve had the pleasure of roleplaying with some in the magic community. Farryn, bless your hard work on the Ascended as I can tell your dedication to those who play as an Ascended and how you personally enjoy it. The overall hard work put into this rewrite earns you a definite +1 in my book because I understand the struggle of writing good lore for pre-existing magic or to even write new magic from scratch (trust me, that is what I go through way too often on this server). Writing good magic and to even submit it to the LT for review makes a lot of people antsy and want to flat out give it a negative rep (which admittedly happens often in any of my posts save for my creative writing posts), but I honestly think that this will get accepted. If you want to, at any time, you could team with me to write some decent magic for LotC. To be quite honest, I enjoy your work ? +1 +10 +100 +1000

“September...” It always began with the simple enough wish. To see nature returned to its former glory and those who caused its ethereal beauty to diminish eradicated. This was nothing new-being attuned to the Aspects wasn’t at all unfamiliar to September-but somehow the Aspects were testing him, prodding him. No one, not even his own bonded, could tell that he grew tired and weak since the descendants harmed him to the brink of complete and true death. He sought the only thing that could restore him to his former glory and mend his broken soul. The Far Glade “Do you remember yet?” That voice said to him as if it was his only comfort. Those that he had bonded were out, causing mayhem to those he saw inferior, but something made him wonder. Something was on September’s mind that day that one of his bonded-Dreycon Rayfus- went silent from his mind and couldn’t be found. He surmised that Dreycon had found a way to break the bonding that bound him to his thrall, but that wasn’t it. September unwillingly didn’t realize that there were two sides to the boy in constant conflict, but he would still sense the boy’s presence. “You wonder and wonder, but are you truly starting to remember or have you fallen from grace?” September began to sleep that night, but instead of dreaming of nature, he found himself whisked away to a foreign world. He didn’t understand it at first, but what he saw had spurred something within him. Fear? Anger? Loss? No, he couldn’t be sure. He saw a world full of many beasts and many people working together to preserve nature. Magic unlike any he had ever heard of existed here, but he somehow felt drawn to a huge island towards the north west. September’s mind wandered over to this island, but instead of the familiar powers of the Aspects, he found a single man. He seemed to be quite different than any descendant he ever heard of, so questions began to form into nearly half a conversation. “What are you?” September asked the man in his dreams. “Someone that has his eye on you, Prince of September.” The man replied, his tone of voice carrying great and vast power-nearly godlike. “And has begun to process of granting you passage here.” “Passage? To where?” September asked, quite confused. “Somewhere where gods and mortals interact. Where worlds collide.” The man replied, but something felt ominous about this man. Something that September couldn’t quite yet place. But the question would haunt him for a short time as he would began to wake and begin preparations to the Dominion of Malin, to the portal to the Far Glade. Yet who would notice that September had gained a Ring of Infinity? OOC: Out of complete respect for the September Prince World Event hosted by Aesopian, I created a short Creative Writing story about September himself and experiencing a very odd dream. In truth, I enjoy the story of the Prince that Aesopian had created since the beginning of the event line back in August of 2018. Though Admin is planning of cancelling the event, I’m showing my support in favor of the event as I hope the story of the Prince continues on! Thanks to @christhemythical, @Aesopian, and the whole September Prince event team for inspiring the character of September Prince. I hope to help extend the story of the Prince sometime in the future if possible! -TheDragonsRoost

“Strength does not come from fear or anger. It is never given freely and must be earned.” Dreycon languished on the roads that he walked upon. The internal struggle within his mind always defeating one side and strengthening the victorious had taken its toll on his physical body. It wasn’t truly as bad as when he had Elvira attempt to remove his bond to September, but to only find out that the bond could not be removed by even Ascended magic. Dreycon’s inner demon, he felt, had smiled with a dark devilish grin as if it knew that the bond was irrevocable to his current knowledge. “You truly thought that the bond could be revoked by those weaker than the Prince? You are a bigger fool than I thought.” It said within his mind, an ever-lasting torment that would drive him insane. He wondered if this was what made dark magic so dangerous-the madness of internal struggle becoming external. Since it was freed upon that day-the day that made him bonded to September-all his demon ever did was truly fuel his own form of torture. This kind of torture was unlike anything that Dreycon himself could do, but he knew that nothing was worse than feeling the darkest emotions take shape within his mind and turn him insane or rendered unable to feel like the gods that watched over them all. There was another method of madness that truly would make Dreycon feel as if his very soul was not there. His mind played as an endless game of strategy, always trying to figure out what kind of scenarios would happen and what they had as potential outcomes. In many ways, he had devised his own type of mental prison without even realizing, but his inner demon did. Akin to a warden that would endlessly come up with varying forms of mental torture, his inner demon wandered this mental prison without the restrictions that presented his good side. This was Dreycon’s inner workings. Without even knowing it at all, he had devised the ultimate mental prison for himself to navigate that was infinite in complexity and size, though however, he wasn’t aware that any mental mage can easily navigate this mind prison as his own inner demon could. In this mental prison always lay madness within madness, insanity beyond comprehension as if this mind was tortured endlessly and always breaking under the strain. “Even inside your own prison, Dreycon, you cannot escape the torture. You cannot hide from the madness. This is your weakness, your greatest failure.” It said, taunting him as it echoed within this mental prison. “Where you are powerless even within your own mind.” In the outside world, Dreycon seemed quite tired. Aging prematurely as if no one could understand how or why. Even to those under September’s thrall could not tell what was truly going on inside of this man’s mind unless they would truly care to notice. This was the eternal struggle made incarnate. Darkness fighting the light and light fighting the darkness. “Yet all I can do is think. I can save people if I tried to just think, to escape the torture for just a few moments. That could ease the pain for a time and that’s all I want.” Dreycon thought to himself. This proved to be right during the battle near Santegia where he met Leyunia, a consul. He had helped to lure a magma giant into the lake where it turned to steam, but it even helped in the next stage of the fight where they met the god Scaldris. He said to Leyunia about breaking the crystal to try and close the portal, but all it managed to do was break off pieces of the crystal and not close the portal. Once the god escaped back through the portal, however, he did not wish to take part in the award of claiming an orb because he already had his reward for the time. He earned a small reprieve from the mental prison he constructed unknowingly and the torture of the madness. It gave him strength and he would need a lot of it to truly overcome the prison and even attempt to force the demon back into its own cage. This made Dreycon smile when he recalled such an event and that memory helped him sleep soundly once he set up camp for the night. He was on his way to the city of Fi’halen where his adventures would begin proper. “Now, I wait to see what the future holds for me.”

[[OOC]] IGN: TheDragonsRoost Discord [Optional]: TheDragonsRoost#0516 [[IC]] Name: Jarsek Myrsta Race: High Elf Age: 163 School(s) applying to: School of Magic (Master’s Certification of Magical Ability in Transfiguration), Institute of Health (Doctor’s Certification of Ability in Health) Magics known prior: None Are you interested in teaching, should you complete a degree?: Yes. Do you accept the rules and regulations of the Eternal College and of Fi’halen?: Yes

The sight hurt. Jarsek Myrsta, upon finding his homeland destroyed and full of damaging magic, was not pleased to find his home in such a state. He blamed September for destroying such a beautiful place while he was away and himself for not being here to defend it. Sometimes, it is enough to find hatred in destruction. He was a pure high elf in every sense of the word, but even he had his faults. No one was immune to emotions running rampant and this included Jarsek. His own emotions were not like most high elves, but this would prove to either be his greatest strength or his weakness. Jarsek felt no pain or sorrow once he looked upon Haelun’or, but rather he felt something else. Something that was beginning to add fuel to a bonfire that would last for the rest of his life. Cursed or soulless? No one knew. Not those left to see the day as this was my own challenge to overcome. He hated the fact that his grandson had been an impurity in his own house. The news of his death did greatly satisfy him, but it was not enough. He wanted to rid his grandson from the history books and make it to where he never existed in the first place. This kind of task would require a great cost, but it was one he was willing to pay. Even in death, his impurity rots. In life, I thought he would grow up to be a scholar working in the Eternal Library, his unyielding curiosity granting us more knowledge. No, this was not to be. After seeing his home destroyed, he came across a fellow high elf. One that even he thought seemed a bit suspicious. This high elf had told him that his name was Illiran Drennan, but he had never heard of such a name before. Even on his journeys abroad, he never once heard of such a house. It was at this moment that Jarsek decided to investigate this house through Illiran, but the risk of having this trust broken was too great at the time. No, he would slowly gain this elf’s trust and try to learn more, though this would also take its time. No greater shame exists than having someone in your own house be impure. Yet, this was something that could be inferred as irony. My grandson was impure and my own impurity stem from the blood on my hands. I took no joy or pity when I fought in battle, but felt nothing at all. This was something that no magic in the world could do to me as I was born with the ability to wield my emotions like a two-edged sword. It was what made me a good warrior, but it can also make me a monster. After talking to Illiran, Jarsek left the site of his old home and journeyed back to the Kadarsi, a cold darkness in his gaze as if he had shut himself from his own emotions. He didn’t know fear or loss, but he did know anger, fury, and rage. This could prove to be his downfall as the sight of his homeland did affect him, but not in the normal ways that a blighted land did. No, he was a blighted phoenix...