"Beyond the Arkati" - by Grishom Stone.

Post date: Jan 10, 2016 8:37:56 AM

"Beyond the Arkati" by Grishom Stone.

Chapter 1 - "The Age of Darkness"

The Age of Darkness saw the clash of two titanic powers in the world-changing war between the regal Drakes and the chaotic Ur-Daemons. As history shows, the aftermath of the war brought the rise and adoration of the Arkati, beings who, up until then, were merely servants and play-things for the powerful Drakes. Our world has become so enamored with these selfish deities that they have so easily forgotten that with enough power we could easily repeat history and replace them. My father, Sabasation Stone, was a revolutionist among the Arcane Eyes, which was originally based in Mestanir. Most of our brethren held a devout reverence of Koar but never gave credence to the myths of him being the last great Drake. It was my father's belief and now mine that even Koar himself has lost his way, turning his back on the true power that lies beyond the Arkati. For it is not only a theory that we can ascend to such power; it is in fact our destiny to do such.

There is a new age dawning, one that I will herald in. The Age of Ascension. It is during this time, through enlightenment and magical growth, that the lesser races will find their opportunity to replace the Arkati. It is the natural cycle of our world. Power rises and falls, servants become the masters, slaves become the rulers. The Arkati demonstrate their power in many forms, granting abilities and prowess to clerics, paladins, or faithful servants who follow them. Less commonly, they even answer the pleas of mortals during religious communes. What if this power is less an extension of the Arkati themselves, and more of an innate ability within us all being drawn forth, albeit temporarily?

This is the thinking that will usher in our greatest achievement. When we forsake our mortal vessels of blood and flesh and move stars and rocks with our will. When the sheep of the world build great temples to our glory and carry out acts of zealotry in our name. When we tear down the houses of the Arkati yet remain mindful of the past and their role during their time. Our time, our era, is approaching. I am not insane or mindless as I write this, so know that I speak truth because I have seen it. I have not only felt the power beyond the Arkati, but I have also harnessed it.

Chapter 2 - "A Remarkable Birth"

In my darkest hour came my greatest triumph. I had fled imperial meddling in Mestanir and was hidden away on a sea vessel when krolvin raided our ship. While defending my own life, I was wounded and tossed overboard, unfit to keep as a slave. I was certain then that my life was nearing its end, that the arctic waters would freeze me to the driftwood I clung to or the creatures of the sea would tear me to pieces if my wounds did not kill me first. I was not afraid of death; I was merely determined to deny it. Seizing my destiny and focused on the truth that mortality is but a choice, I cried out in the middle of the storm that ravaged around me. From the darkness, my call was answered.

After darkness had overcome me, I awoke to find myself on the shores of an island, its sky a rustic crimson hue, a sharp contrast to the ocean storm I had just survived. I felt the gritty sand between my fingers, and I knew then that the island was alive; I could sense its energy humming along the beach. Before me stood a dense ironwood forest, and from it came a wave of force that overtook me, and veins rose up from the sands, embracing me and leaving me with a birthmark on my neck. Instantly I became aware of the island's sentience, and my blood felt aflame as my wounds healed and my weariness washed away. I was reborn.

For over ten years I dwelled on the red island, learning its secrets, harnessing its unbridled power, and strengthening the bond it had made with me. It had given me life. It had immortalized my body and enhanced my powers. Having no true voice, the living island spoke to me in the form of dreams and visions, imparting me with the knowledge of blood magic beyond anything I could have imagined. To this day I have never fully gleaned the island's origin, for part of me knew the answer would never be given, while the other part of me knew the truth. Was it a creation of the Drakes themselves? Perhaps the trapped spirit of an Ur-Daemon? Maybe something else entirely. But it was ancient, and it was confirmation of my father's and my beliefs. It was true power beyond the Arkati.

Chapter 3 - "Gasp of Life"

A master of summoning, my father knew no equals among our order of the Arcane Eyes. While I had studied all he knew, I had never reached his heights until coming to the red island, where the use of blood magic allowed me to stand with no rivals. Even my family's enemy, Elithain Cross, could not compete with the power I now wielded. With the art of summoning and blood magic combined, I was able to call forth and gather the flesh and metal I needed, and then able to bleed life into my creations. The island's power was endless, offering me an unlimited supply of energy to create vast numbers of servants. An army loyal to me and my cause.

But the instincts of animals and mindless golems was not enough. I strove for more. The island knew I could achieve greatness. Nothing fascinated me further than the creation of life. What more must a man do to prove his worth beyond the Gods? I would create a superior being, wrestling with the power of chaos and manipulating it into order, into servitude, and into life. After a decade on the red island, I returned to my home in Mestanir, in a time when the barony had finally been freed of Jantalarian control. The new baron was more accepting of the practice of magic, and while I still operated within the shadows, it was indeed easier than before. My order had been splintered, so I gathered to me those who had once been loyal to my father before his murder at the whims of our rival, Elithain Cross. It was then, among my father's old work that had been hidden away, that I discovered all that I needed.

In my father's old collection was a unique chunk of urnon, which he had recorded to be far more chaotic, and by nature more powerful, than any other of the metals he had seen before. Years before his death he had created a ritual to transform the urnon into sentient life, but all his attempts had failed. Using blood magic, I was able to complete his rite, taking life in order to give life. I had in my possession the tool to achieve such a powerful transfer of force. You see, my father's enemy, Elithain Cross, manipulated his daughter, Madelyne, into seducing me in the naivety of my youth in order to get close enough to my father to kill him. While I was too late to save him, I bore witness to the murder and used Madelyne's dagger, the one stained with my father's blood, to in turn kill her.

Later inspection of the dagger revealed to me that Madelyne's spirit had become trapped within. Even before I had arrived on the red island, there was an innate power in my being that had been used to infuse her soul into the blade. Yet another testament to my belief. After my bond with the island's magic had formed, I mastered my ability to manipulate emotions into energy. I knew my father's ritual would need the power of spirits to be successful, and I knew exactly how to acquire them. I chose my victims methodically, seducing women with hair and eyes that matched those of Madelyne. Their appearance fueled my anger and heightened my pain. When I dug the steel of my dagger into their flesh, their eyes, full of betrayal, gave me the energy I needed to trap their souls. It would be years of building up the ritual and claiming countless spirits until I was finally ready.

When the time came for my ritual, I was surrounded by my brethren, all members of the old Arcane Eyes but now fiercely loyal to me and our new path. My dagger glowed red with the souls of hundreds of women, the energy humming loudly as I uttered my father's archaic rite. I plunged my blade into the urnon, its metal shifting to accept the dagger as the spirits emptied into it. We stepped back as the chunk of urnon sprang to life, shaping into the likeness of my victims. Before me stood a slender nude woman, ready to live but not ready to serve. Arms and hands shaped into razor-sharp blades, the urnon golem killed two of my summoners before escaping into the night. While many among my order labeled my ritual a failure, I instead claimed a victory. I had transformed chaos into life. Now I would go reclaim that which was mine.

Chapter 4 - "The Frontier"

My creation eluded me for two years, taking on the name of Mirayam and immersing herself among the people of the Empire. She was finally discovered in the frontier town of Wehnimer's Landing, a dirty speck of a town that the empire itself considers a blight on the land. While my allies and I worked hard to manipulate the leaders of the town into returning my urnon creature, the citizens of Wehnimer's proved far more resilient than we originally thought possible. After waves of my golems battered the town, the frontier people remained. To my despair, when the town was finally threatened with extinction, Mirayam sacrificed herself to protect the town, thwarting my power and destroying her body in the process. I moved quickly to regain her remains but only retrieved one shard of urnon, while four others remained at large, all secreted away by the townspeople.

I eventually will tell you of Wehnimer's Landing and its final days. For in my path to ascension, the town and its people will not survive for their defiance against me. I used my wealth and my charm to infiltrate their town under the guise of an influential merchant, since none could prove me the creator of the urnon golem. For over a year I manipulated their town, frightening merchants into doing my bidding and eventually overthrowing their mayor, who proved a constant thorn in my side. All the while I used my wealth to buy favor in the eyes of the townspeople, a feat easier than I could have imagined. Despite many small defeats, I eventually took control of the town from the shadows and would take the next step towards ascension.

In one of my struggles against the frontier town, I came across the knowledge of a creature called Drangell, who was once a giantman mercenary for the human empire, but a curse had turned him into an immortal troll. I manipulated new servants among the town, those who sought to serve me out of their own personal gain for power, into releasing the troll from his magical prison. In exchange for Drangell's freedom, I asked only two things. I tasked him with destroying Wehnimer's Landing and giving me some of his blood. He set about gathering his armies of trolls, and for nearly two months, waged war against the frontier town but ultimately proved weak in the end and was defeated. But from his blood I gained something even greater.

The Ever-Blood, as I have called it. Using Drangell's cursed blood opened new opportunities for me with magic. Eventually I was able to summon forth an entire army of flesh golems, each one bearing my face. The perfect tribute to a creator. I have only begun my initial research, but it appears some of the ever-blood golems have taken on even minute details, like my tone of voice and mannerisms. I hope by further exploration I can determine whether they even possess memories or fragments of my power. I can only fathom the opportunities if either is the case.

As I write this, I have nearly torn the town of Wehnimer's Landing apart. Its people's spirits are broken and beaten, their own town militia in shambles. Their political leaders are useless or in hiding. I have broken the magical wards their allies have placed around the town, and now there is no force that challenges me. Ironically, it's disappointing in a way. I had never envisioned myself thoroughly destroying a town from the inside-out, especially one so insignificant as this one. But their people, in their blind loyalty to limited reasoning, have stood in my way time and time again, and I cannot allow such injustices to go unpunished. To think, had the people of Wehnimer's Landing returned that which belonged to me in the beginning, their streets would still be clean, and their women and children would still be safe. I suppose in a strange way I needed these people. I have grown in power because of them, and now is the time of my ascension.

Chapter 5 - "Ascension"

With a host of demons and golems at my control, immortality coursing through my veins, and the knowledge of the ancients flowing from my mind, I cannot help but pause and appreciate that I have accomplished as a human what none of my kind ever has. Even the elves with their longevity and their favor among the Arkati could not rival the heights of glory that await me. I have reached a critical yet inevitable apex of my journey. Despite my meddling, the people of Wehnimer's Landing have kept the four urnon shards of Mirayam's remains away from me. I was left with only one, which my research concluded would not be powerful enough for what I originally intended. But from that shard, I have created three more, each infused with the blood of those who once thought me an ally, only to betray them in the end. Once activated, my four urnon golems, powered by their blood shards, will be my deadliest harbingers yet.

When Mirayam was destroyed, the spirits I had infused her with remained behind, many of them haunting me or trying to warn others of my nature. I knew I could no longer rely on their energy, and so I enacted my most significant plan, which has torn a hole into the hearts and spirits of that blasted frontier town. Leading up to this moment, I had summoned swarms of wasps, bats and spiders to plague Wehnimer's, using my creatures to siphon blood from their victims to energize my magic. Most importantly, the blood of the weaker-willed allowed me a stronger connection for what was to come. Distracting their defenders with my golems, I called upon the women of the town and enthralled many of them into joining me in the museum's lobby. Others who resisted my enchantment tried to stop me, but it was no use. I opened a portal to the red island, where I led the women to their captivity, where they will serve as a sacrifice for a cause higher than their simple lives.

Another significant loss when Mirayam was shattered was that the ghost of Madelyne escaped as well. She was a powerful spirit, and, I could argue, was one of the key components to the successful creation of the urnon golem in the first place. She was a skillful sorcerer in her life, and her power was only enhanced in death, when harnessed properly. For a brief moment I felt pity for her, as she had spent all of her living days as a pawn of Elithain, her father. Always a means to the ends. Such is her curse, for I have the same fate for her in mind. I was recently able to recapture her spirit into my sacrificial dagger, and now I feel, with her power in my grasp, I can proceed without the need for my missing shards.

I stand on the cusp of greatness now. My enemies rally, thinking they have found an ally to help them against me. In truth? They are nothing but pawns in our battle. A war between beliefs. A war they refuse to accept I have won. I will have my creation returned, its power unmatched by any mortal being. I will have my weapon, but most of all, I will have my accomplishment. Who can challenge me on the power beyond the Arkati, when I wield the same life-creating force they do? Will I ascend to a place among them? No, instead I will set in motion the twilight of the Arkati. With my knowledge and with my help, the races that now act as servants will rise up and out of their mortal coils, unlocking their innate power that has been secreted away for too long. The power they worship will become the power they control. I will be seen as their salvation as I lead them into the new Age of Ascension. I am Grishom Stone, and I am beyond the Arkati. As are you.

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