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of Heroes in the Mists 
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Evil Genius
Evil Genius
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Joined: Sat Nov 24, 2012 2:26 pm
Posts: 2007
Location: Boston MA
Post of Heroes in the Mists
Dearest reader. It is my sincerest wish to share with you a bit of hard won lore: There are many illusory qualities to these lands we call home. Dark forces conspire to keep us ignorant of this knowledge, yet tales persist of lands beyond the Mists. Outlanders often describe worlds grander in size and scope than our own. Prophets and madmen alike warn of hellish realms and peculiar alternate realities. I have found many of the tales to be true indeed!

I suppose I should start by revealing my identity. My name is Lucian Royce. You may have heard of me. More than likely, you have not. I have been called a “white necromancer”, the “Wizard of Valachan” and “lich killer”. I am a servant of the Mists, compelled to spend my days wandering at their behest. It was not always so. I once enjoyed the freedom to choose my own destiny, or so I thought.

Like most natives of these mist shrouded lands, I grew up accepting a world kept largely obscured from me. I was raised on folk tales and legends which I cherish to this day. I was also warned to be suspicious of foreigners but I flagrantly disregarded such talk. Often the subject of derision in my youth, I was born in the town of Skald with a head covered in raven black hair, where such a trait is considered unlucky. To protect me from my peers, and the occasional malcontent neighbor, my parents taught me how to stand on my own. My father took me on long trips into the wilderness. There he taught me how to hunt, and more importantly how to avoid being hunted. My mother taught me of the many properties of herbs, and the art of curing meet and hides. As years passed and I grew into adulthood, I earned my place among the other townsfolk. It took hard work and many fist fights, but eventually they accepted me, mostly. It may have helped that I had a decent singing voice and was considered attractive by the girls, too. I never felt quite at home in Kartakas though. There were just too many mysteries awaiting discovery. Distant lands beckoned to me in my daydreams. Somewhere out in the world there was a place where I truly belonged. So I left, and in my travels I discovered far more than I ever could have bargained for.

I decided I would start my exploration in Sithicus. On a pleasant spring afternoon, after saying my goodbyes to family and friends, I followed the Musarde river south west, hoping to catch a glimpse of the reclusive elves said to dwell in that land. As fate would have it, I was diverted from my path by dire wolves, and forced to flee into the Mists on the southern border of Kartakass. To my dismay the wolves hadn’t given up the chase, but they had been slowed by the Mists. This was my first indication that the vapors may have a mind of their own. I had heard legends of how travelers could be fugued by the Mists, but I knew that the dire wolves were far faster than me, and that they could follow my scent even if I did manage to outrun them, but somehow they had fallen off my trail for a time. Why? Was it the Mists? Could they have been aiding my escape? Eventually I came again to the river’s edge. How was this possible? No matter. The dire wolves had found me, so I decided to brave the Musarde’s treacherous current to avoid becoming their next meal. I swam as hard as I ever had in my life, barely making it across the river, and passed out for a time, clinging with all four limbs to a fallen tree. I awoke to two swarthy men yelling at me from the shoreline. When I barely responded they dove into the frigid water and helped bring me to shore. I was in terrible shape, shaking violently, coughing, and barely able to stand. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. It had not even dawned on me that I was in Valachan. My memories of how I got to Rotwald are hazy at best. Apparently my rescuers had carried me all the way into town.

I awoke for the second time to find myself lying in a bed. I was in a tiny room and I had been clothed in a sleeping gown. The sun had set and candle lights flickered from wall sconces. I was warm and cozy but quite sore. My strength was all but gone. No sooner had I sat up to stretch my aching body, there came a knock at the door.

Sat Dec 22, 2012 12:28 am
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