Post by Azriel on Oct 3, 2008 2:22:53 GMT
Azriel’s Exile – The Malgorian Siege
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Sunday, 7:19 A.M.
Aldar is in the midst of dying.
My city’s heartbeat pulsated in agony, failing the nation of Elendil Aldaríon miserably as the citadel was subject to a cruel siege. The Malgorian thwarted the Thalíon’s reflective barrier, the benevolent shield that protected my city from the wicked and malicious. Malgorian wizards cruelly crushed our defences as they stormed the wilderness with blade and halberd in hand.
My innocent eyes absorbed the blood scattered across the shining surfaces of the Thalíon warriors’ swords, the whites of their eyes pulsating red veins with vigour to protect the stronghold. I did not envy their stylish flair, nor their slight psychotic lust for the kill. It was not by my hand that this war came to pass. I refused to participate in an affair that simply encouraged murder, nevertheless I failed my dogma. Dradigar forced my hand, commanding me to defend Aldar. I could not refuse, for he is my mentor.
I was affixed in the centre of the prairie field, lengthy stalks of wheat grass brushing my wrists. Irritated at the prickling sensation, I withdrew the sleeve of my magnolia robe, exposing a tattoo. Men were infatuated with their swords, Dwarves proudly clutched their battle axes, and Elves tactfully aimed with their bow and arrow. I possessed neither. This tattoo was my weapon.
I rooted myself to the earth, staring down the front line of the Malgorian legion. How proudly they cheered, roaring into the birth of a new dawn. Thousands of arms were thrust to the heavens, the gleam of their blades mimicking a monster with an infinite row of teeth. I glowered upon their forms, nearly pitying their position. An army was a beast consisting of hundreds, nay thousands of men. I possessed a true leviathan, a real beast. I possessed a power unlike any other.
My name is Azriel Dragoş, and I am a Summoner.
I hastily fished out my Merlin Dagger, pricking my fingertip with a hiss. No matter the numerous times I undergo the procedure, it never ceased to bring forth new pain. I gingerly dabbed my fingers in the new blood, meticulously smearing the scarlet ooze over my tattoo. The Malgorian possessed shocked or curious expressions, yet most had a twinge of ignorance and thingyiness. If they were unprepared, it was their loss.
Dradigar stormed the field on his horse Dima, her midnight mane whipping against her sturdy neck as she galloped down the knoll. Dradigar was pushing her forcibly, trying to reach me in haste.
“Azriel!” Dradigar howled against the Malgorian battle cries, “Don’t do it! You’re not strong enough!”
I glimpsed over my shoulder, a disdainful and arrogant gleam in my eyes.
“We’ll see.”
The blood stained my wrist like a crimson ribbon, an ominous glow shining underneath. I indulged in the wondrous power bestowed upon my soul, a vigorous strength fuelling my spirit. It was time.
I concentrated on my summon, my mind fading to black as I focused on its shape. I visualized a fearsome beast, its crown made of pure bone and its teeth jutting from its jaw with no flesh. In the midst of my concentration, a swirling portal materialized beside me. My visualizations were drawn to life, a grotesque tongue slithering from the skeletal head of a dragon. The Malgorian soldiers were awestruck, their screams trapped inside their throats. The skeletal dragon slithered from the portal, its long serpentine body crashing to the earth, tearing it to mulch. It was a horrifying creature, consisting nothing more than bone and the stench of death. This was the Undead Dragon.
“Destroy the Malgorian!” My thunderous command struck the dragon’s mind, its hollow eyes igniting with an amber glow. It remained motionless. I became impatient, gesturing to the enemy fleet.
“I command you to fight!” The Undead Dragon deliberately turned its massive skull, its tongue slapping against its jaw hungrily. I gasped, inching backwards.
It was not listening to me.
The Undead Dragon inclined its bony neck, expelling a snort that reeked of rotting flesh. It was not going to obey a summoning mage. It grinned, its eyes narrowing as it eyed the fleeing soldiers – Malgorian and Thalíon alike. I covered my mouth in terror as the situation became dire. It was not going to comply with anyone.
The Undead Dragon roared violently, the earth trembling beneath its massive body. It lurched forward, its mouth wide apart with teeth flashing its devouring greed.
Never had I witnessed such carnage.
________________________________________________________________________
I knew what I had done. The horrendous crime I had committed. It was an accident, and the Trysillion Council acknowledged that fact. Regardless, a mistake is a mistake and one-hundred seventy-three elves were laid to rest because of it.
“Azriel Dragoş.”
I lifted my weary neck, strained from physical fatigue and immense guilt.
“You are hereby banished from Elendil Aldaríon. You are never to return.”
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As I write my memory upon this parchment, I glance to the night sky. The twinkling stars comfort my aching soul, for they do not judge me for my flaws. The stars remain identical for you to guide your way home, no matter which realm you travel. One day, I hope to return to the Thalíon. It has only been two years, so I am not ready to go back. I needed to experience life lessons, and mature my mind as I traveled abroad. I needed to learn many things.
Oh, and think of one miraculous apology.