Rjalex
How do you throw a space party? You planet.
This is the first Chapter and a bit of my Fantasy. Would love any feedback I know the the tone is quite formal; that's what I'm going for but it might be annoying...Or confusing.
CHAPTER ONE
You need to know my memory is not what it once was. These last few thousand years are quite clear but as time stretches back my memories thin out and fade in the mist. It was 533 A.C by Imperia Arcana reckoning when I found the baby who would become Cael Oakwood. My awareness of this date was obtained through inquiry with my sister, Gaiaxen. She has a sharper mind than I. Her memories are clear from almost her first moments after being reborn. I, on the other hand can recall nothing until near four years after my rebirths. And although I often reminisce on my lives, the order of events can tangle in the re-telling. Many a time I’ve woven the finest tapestry with memories as my thread only to have Gaiaxen tug at a corner and have the whole creation fall in a heap. However, my lives are my own and much of my history is known only to me. I do remember the final night of my last incarnation; merging with the forest canopy. Drifting through the leaves like a mist in the cold night air. Gazing up at the night sky and watching as each moon slowly moved into alignment. Knowing that in the passing of a moment all the light from those five celestial bodies would coalesce and I would cease to be. My consciousness reduced to a seed which by some natural force, inherent to this cosmos, would plant itself in the womb of a virgin. Then, to emerge unformed in the mind of a screaming baby—somewhere. The Great Conjuctions; like tree rings marking each season of an immortal life…
In my musing I forget you’ve never been to Imperia Arcana. You have no knowledge of Conjunctions or Shadowings or how magic came into the world. All important things, but you came to hear about Cael Oakwood and the great battles that took place; about the great houses of Valerius and Meridia and the realms of Ashenfell. Of course, if only my poor brother Pyrothos had not revealed his secret it could’ve all been avoided. But, things are as they shall be. And perhaps—even after all the pain and death—for the best. After all, can you imagine a world without magic.
Forgive an old man the detours of his mind… Now, to the crux of our meeting; Cael Oakwood. Wrapped in swaddling in the twisted buttress roots of a giant Eldertree. How did he get there? A mortal human baby in an arcanian forest, a hundred miles from Ravenswood. Who knows? I was in transit to the Seraphic Coast to join with my kin. Communing with trees and accepting their offer to help me on my journey. My senses merged with theirs and swirled through pungent living earth, up twisting trunks, through countless tiny capillaries and into dappled sunlight. My attention flittered between birds, animals and insects as they harried about their lives in the ancient woodland. Amidst my revery and with my soul unshackled I felt his presence. I slowed, focused and came around. In the far distance, barely audible between whistling bird song, a cry echoed through the damp forest air. Although my time was precious and my journey long such a cry could not go uninterrogated. And so I set on a new course through forking branches via the caress of leaves and as I moved the wailing grew in clarity. I did question if what I heard was indeed the cries of a child but as I came closer it was clear that my senses weren’t deceiving me. I drifted lower and weaved my way among ferns and mossy boulders, the wailing, in time, became piercing and drowned out all other sound and thought. Finally I emerged into a small clearing, Rays of afternoon sun dappled across the scene. A massive Eldertree, its roots sprawled out, weaving a network between moss covered boulders. So forceful were the screams as I approached that I almost dropped my commune with the forest and fell into mortal form. But I held my composure, and as I circled the great tree, there in the shadows, between two enormous roots, was the screaming baby wrapped in swaddling. The little face bunched in a knot of effort, with one arm free and flailing about.
What was I to do? I could not miss council with my kin for such a trivial matter. Already I could not trust that Aquanis would emerge from the ocean depths and grace us with his presence. And of course Pyrothos had been incarcerated and enslaved by Ashenfell. If I too where to not arrive in a punctual manner…Well, I’m a gentle soul, I avoid confrontation when I can. However, being such a soul, I also found myself, in that moment, unable to leave the child. Perhaps in that fragile infant I could see myself. I have never been abandoned at birth—such that I remember—and am forever grateful to the many virgins who have birthed me, nurtured me, and delivered me safely to the Imperia Temple. Who could ever leave, without thought, such a helpless thing alone to the mercy of wild boars, shadowbats, direwolves and come what may? Perhaps the mother herself had her own tale of abandonment and violence. Humans I have learnt, through much grim experience, are capable of brutal cruelty, from the hidden and mundane to the most bloody and inventive.
I circled the tree, lost in my quandary, drifting in indecision, struggling to hear my thoughts over the relentless piercing wails. I could not take the baby with me, as to walk in mortal form would never see me arrive in a timely manner. Could I build some structure as protection? How would I do such a thing?
The poor baby was beginning to tire and its wails became wracking sobs and then merely gasps. I debated myself at length, for in the grand scheme of events a tiny baby left to the wolves came to nought. At least for the wolves, it would be for the best. And after all why should wolves be considered any lesser beast than man or arcanian. A fear of something, living or dead, does not reduce its worth in the world.
To not arrive at council with my kin, on the other hand, could indeed impact the grand scheme. In truth I was on the verge of leaving the child, though the thought of it pained me, when once again, I heard a presence. Not foreign this time. An arcanian presence. Voices in the still air. arcanian men returning to Elisendell from a hunt. They where chanting as they passed in the distance and would not come this way unless I could summon them or otherwise lure them in this direction. For a moment I listened:
From twisted paths to blood-soaked ground,
The hunter's call, a haunting sound.
A forest's bounty, a double-edged blade,
In shadows deep, a debt repaid.
Yet still we sing, with voices low,
In the darkness that doth grow.
For balance kept, in light and gloom,
Our souls entwined, through forest's tomb
Even if I could, by some means, summon this party of arcanian hunters what would be the outcome of such an action. The arcanian are, by most all accounts, and indeed in my experience, a race who value peace and commune above all else. However even for the most pure there are priorities and judgements that must be weighed in dark times of war. And, I greatly doubted a human baby—humans, who had wrought so much misery upon the arcanians—would weigh more than a feather in a scale against kin and survival. However what choice did I have?
Magic? I can see the question in your eyes. Surely you, Vitalis, a powerful Aeternum with all the power and magic you so clearly possess, could whisk this poor newborn to safety or summon these mere mortals with the simplest of spells.
Well, I will tell you, and as you will come to understand, I and my kin are merely vessels. In us the magic lies dormant until it can be unleashed by another. The forms which I inhabit—those you may mistake as magic—are simple manifestations of my nature and require no conjuring. I take mortal form or commune as spirit with the living flora. Flora, that is my Element. As the Element of my sister Gaiaxen is earth, and that of my brother Pyothos is fire. Aquanis; the sea. Aerion; the wind and the air. These are my siblings who you will come to know with all their foibles.
CHAPTER ONE
You need to know my memory is not what it once was. These last few thousand years are quite clear but as time stretches back my memories thin out and fade in the mist. It was 533 A.C by Imperia Arcana reckoning when I found the baby who would become Cael Oakwood. My awareness of this date was obtained through inquiry with my sister, Gaiaxen. She has a sharper mind than I. Her memories are clear from almost her first moments after being reborn. I, on the other hand can recall nothing until near four years after my rebirths. And although I often reminisce on my lives, the order of events can tangle in the re-telling. Many a time I’ve woven the finest tapestry with memories as my thread only to have Gaiaxen tug at a corner and have the whole creation fall in a heap. However, my lives are my own and much of my history is known only to me. I do remember the final night of my last incarnation; merging with the forest canopy. Drifting through the leaves like a mist in the cold night air. Gazing up at the night sky and watching as each moon slowly moved into alignment. Knowing that in the passing of a moment all the light from those five celestial bodies would coalesce and I would cease to be. My consciousness reduced to a seed which by some natural force, inherent to this cosmos, would plant itself in the womb of a virgin. Then, to emerge unformed in the mind of a screaming baby—somewhere. The Great Conjuctions; like tree rings marking each season of an immortal life…
In my musing I forget you’ve never been to Imperia Arcana. You have no knowledge of Conjunctions or Shadowings or how magic came into the world. All important things, but you came to hear about Cael Oakwood and the great battles that took place; about the great houses of Valerius and Meridia and the realms of Ashenfell. Of course, if only my poor brother Pyrothos had not revealed his secret it could’ve all been avoided. But, things are as they shall be. And perhaps—even after all the pain and death—for the best. After all, can you imagine a world without magic.
Forgive an old man the detours of his mind… Now, to the crux of our meeting; Cael Oakwood. Wrapped in swaddling in the twisted buttress roots of a giant Eldertree. How did he get there? A mortal human baby in an arcanian forest, a hundred miles from Ravenswood. Who knows? I was in transit to the Seraphic Coast to join with my kin. Communing with trees and accepting their offer to help me on my journey. My senses merged with theirs and swirled through pungent living earth, up twisting trunks, through countless tiny capillaries and into dappled sunlight. My attention flittered between birds, animals and insects as they harried about their lives in the ancient woodland. Amidst my revery and with my soul unshackled I felt his presence. I slowed, focused and came around. In the far distance, barely audible between whistling bird song, a cry echoed through the damp forest air. Although my time was precious and my journey long such a cry could not go uninterrogated. And so I set on a new course through forking branches via the caress of leaves and as I moved the wailing grew in clarity. I did question if what I heard was indeed the cries of a child but as I came closer it was clear that my senses weren’t deceiving me. I drifted lower and weaved my way among ferns and mossy boulders, the wailing, in time, became piercing and drowned out all other sound and thought. Finally I emerged into a small clearing, Rays of afternoon sun dappled across the scene. A massive Eldertree, its roots sprawled out, weaving a network between moss covered boulders. So forceful were the screams as I approached that I almost dropped my commune with the forest and fell into mortal form. But I held my composure, and as I circled the great tree, there in the shadows, between two enormous roots, was the screaming baby wrapped in swaddling. The little face bunched in a knot of effort, with one arm free and flailing about.
What was I to do? I could not miss council with my kin for such a trivial matter. Already I could not trust that Aquanis would emerge from the ocean depths and grace us with his presence. And of course Pyrothos had been incarcerated and enslaved by Ashenfell. If I too where to not arrive in a punctual manner…Well, I’m a gentle soul, I avoid confrontation when I can. However, being such a soul, I also found myself, in that moment, unable to leave the child. Perhaps in that fragile infant I could see myself. I have never been abandoned at birth—such that I remember—and am forever grateful to the many virgins who have birthed me, nurtured me, and delivered me safely to the Imperia Temple. Who could ever leave, without thought, such a helpless thing alone to the mercy of wild boars, shadowbats, direwolves and come what may? Perhaps the mother herself had her own tale of abandonment and violence. Humans I have learnt, through much grim experience, are capable of brutal cruelty, from the hidden and mundane to the most bloody and inventive.
I circled the tree, lost in my quandary, drifting in indecision, struggling to hear my thoughts over the relentless piercing wails. I could not take the baby with me, as to walk in mortal form would never see me arrive in a timely manner. Could I build some structure as protection? How would I do such a thing?
The poor baby was beginning to tire and its wails became wracking sobs and then merely gasps. I debated myself at length, for in the grand scheme of events a tiny baby left to the wolves came to nought. At least for the wolves, it would be for the best. And after all why should wolves be considered any lesser beast than man or arcanian. A fear of something, living or dead, does not reduce its worth in the world.
To not arrive at council with my kin, on the other hand, could indeed impact the grand scheme. In truth I was on the verge of leaving the child, though the thought of it pained me, when once again, I heard a presence. Not foreign this time. An arcanian presence. Voices in the still air. arcanian men returning to Elisendell from a hunt. They where chanting as they passed in the distance and would not come this way unless I could summon them or otherwise lure them in this direction. For a moment I listened:
From twisted paths to blood-soaked ground,
The hunter's call, a haunting sound.
A forest's bounty, a double-edged blade,
In shadows deep, a debt repaid.
Yet still we sing, with voices low,
In the darkness that doth grow.
For balance kept, in light and gloom,
Our souls entwined, through forest's tomb
Even if I could, by some means, summon this party of arcanian hunters what would be the outcome of such an action. The arcanian are, by most all accounts, and indeed in my experience, a race who value peace and commune above all else. However even for the most pure there are priorities and judgements that must be weighed in dark times of war. And, I greatly doubted a human baby—humans, who had wrought so much misery upon the arcanians—would weigh more than a feather in a scale against kin and survival. However what choice did I have?
Magic? I can see the question in your eyes. Surely you, Vitalis, a powerful Aeternum with all the power and magic you so clearly possess, could whisk this poor newborn to safety or summon these mere mortals with the simplest of spells.
Well, I will tell you, and as you will come to understand, I and my kin are merely vessels. In us the magic lies dormant until it can be unleashed by another. The forms which I inhabit—those you may mistake as magic—are simple manifestations of my nature and require no conjuring. I take mortal form or commune as spirit with the living flora. Flora, that is my Element. As the Element of my sister Gaiaxen is earth, and that of my brother Pyothos is fire. Aquanis; the sea. Aerion; the wind and the air. These are my siblings who you will come to know with all their foibles.
Last edited by a moderator:
