Time passed on the Island of Thorns as the elves matured. They formed tribes, warring each other and growing stronger. They became proud, proud people, who valued their freedom and their blades above everything else. They had no qualms about spilling each other's blood, and there was only one thing they feared... Night winds, and whispers they brought. They would shut themselves in their huts and houses when they came, afraid that mere listening to them could drive them crazy or corrupted.
Only one place was hallowed for them. The House Of The Goddess, little valley resting in the shadows of the Fanged Hand, highest mountain on the island. There, in small wooden house, their mother, their Goddess lived. No blood was allowed to be shed, no conflict was allowed to take place there. Goddess welcomed all who were brave enough to traverse many dangers that awaited on the road the the valley. Many perished on their journey there. Many more gave up. But some found their way to this holy place and returned, carrying the words of the one who gave them all life.
One of them was Cerbin, artist and warrior who lacked in strength. Knowing that he was not able enough to survive on the battlefield, he decided to seek advice from the Goddess. Barely, he made his way to her House. There, she found him weak and refused to speak him in the first place. But then, when he was about to live, broken, she noticed something that she was not able to describe. Spark of power in him. She invited inside, and did the best she could to kindle this spark into a blaze. Every night, she forced him to fight, almost killing him. Every day, she made him endure the winds and thorns, as she once did. Her heart broke, inflicting such torments upon him, but she of all could understand the need to do so.
And then, one night, what she hoped for happened. As Cerbin screamed in agony, something snapped in him. Earth itself shook as he let his dormant powers awaken. The reality bended to his will, and he understood that he was the first of his kind to mater the art of magic. Ios smiled, proud.
'You have done something unbelievable, son' she whispered, observing him sculpting the elements with but his will.
'I will not tell you what potential lies in this power, for you are aware of this already, are not you?''Indeed, mother' he replied, throwing ball of lighting high into the sky
'I know what I have to do. And, sadly, I am afraid that I must leave soon, Mother, for...'She put a finger on his lip, interrupting his speech.
'I do understand, son. Go. Go with my blessing'Cerbin returned, his power protecting him. He visited the chiefs all tribes, threatening them with his magic. They had to obey his command. And so Cerbin became the first ruler of Island of Thorns, though he did not dominate the island, merely forcing tribes to accept him as their sovereign. He also sought other elves that had this same spark of power as he had, and helped them harness it as he did. They became known as Crows, his most faithful servants. From amongst their midst, he picked a maid as fair as thorn blossom, and made her his bride. Thus, the ruler line of House Of Crows was born.
Meanwhile, on the mainland Windstalker laughed, observing the toil of other god and other races. He considered his work finished, and, honestly, found himself a bit bored. To amuse himself, he leaked a bit of his powers on the land, allowing hills covered in razor-sharp grass to grow, and populated them with vicious predators.
2d6+7=16Advance Civilization (elemental magic, government), Command Avatar: Create Order (House of Crows), Shape land x1
1 power remaining
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Topic: Xemorid - Dawn of Worlds PBF (Read 36891 times)