The Return of Azaran Valis...

Azaran sat staring at the fireplace. Pops and crackles sent tiny wisps of orange sparks up the torrid currents of hot dry air above the campfire. The scent of dry burning wood was heavenly to his senses.

He sat in the center of a wooded glade next to his tent. He just had to get out of the city into the woods to remind himself what nature felt like. The technological, concrete and tarmac life that he led since his return from Britannia played on his nerves. He felt like he had spent decades in Britannia though only a few years had past and no one seemed to have noticed his departure let alone his return apart from a few raised eyebrows at his attire and his perfectly pronounced olde english which seemed to be hard to shake.

His attention snapped back to the fire, its allure pulling him back to memories of his house on the main road between Trinsic and Britain. The sounds of birds flapping around in the darkness above him, brays of animals off in the distance. His mind wandered further inward places and faces faded in and out, smells of freshly baked REAL bread, foul smells of swamps and open sewers made him blink subconsciously. Honor, courage, honesty, valor, justice, sacrifice, spirituality and humility he repeated to himself in his mind for fear of loosing touch with his fading memory of a place that seemed so far from reach.

With a sigh, Azaran propped a couple more logs onto the flames and shored up the fire surround with a few more stones before laying back on his bedroll.

Sleep beckoned, and he answered its call... (to be continued)

 

(Just a little subnote for background. I am Azaran, once leader of the Soldiers of Virtue(SOV) Europa, and Paladin of the Duchy of Trinsic(DOT) Europa. I'm also known as Dargalin, former Baron of Trinsic DOT. I thought I'd better clarify as I've seen a few more Azarans out there since I originally created him back in the second age )

 

He had slept badly, the battles in the final days of his life in Sossaria haunted him. Demons, Ghosts and strange machinations chased him through the Jungle south of Trinsic as he frantically searched for the site of the moongate. He needed to escape as he held an orb of moons. Should the enemy ever get a hold of one of those, Earth may be next. He had to destroy it, as it was the only way to ensure the same fate did not happen there.

There he saw it, the light of fires in the north... Trinsic, or what was left of it. The City of Honour and home to the Paladins. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, leaning hard on the spongy moss covering one half of the giant palm tree that had only just stopped him from toppling to the ground with exhaustion. His laboured breathing masked the sound of something approaching from behind.

"Sir Azaran" a voice whispered from behind. Glancing around he saw a tall thick set figure in blackened armour, grey hair protruded from beneath his heavy plate helmet. "Brother" he sighed heavy with relief, the voice continued "You must go, take this, they are almost upon you. The deed must be done.. but know this, the Dragon must awaken, as must the Lion." A small bag landed at Azaran's feet, glancing back up, the figure was gone. "Bomb?" Azaran whispered genlty looking around.

"My thanks to thee, Lord of the Sleeping Dragon" He whispered again, unsure if his friend would ever hear the words.

Opening the bag he discovered some food and a small selection of round bottomed bottles with wispy liquids.

He pulled out a Yellow bottle and pressed it to his lips. The sweet taste washed a day of running from his dry mouth, the liquid warming every part of his throat then chest. He felt renewed.

Tucking the bottle back into the bag, he set off again, with the sounds of heavy footsteps far to the south behind him. "They come" he said to himself. "Let them come... for it shall be too late"

Fording a stream he saw a feight blue glow through the trees, almost overpowered by the yellow flickering light of the raging fire that was Trinsic, he pulled himself up onto the bank and walked towards it.

Falling to his Knees at the unexpected drop, pain set through him. Before him the unstable whirl of the moongate granted him a moment of relief as he realised that his duty was almost done. He dragged himself towards the moongate, pulling himself up next to one of the large boulders that surrounded it. This was the place that he must do it, the sage was quite clear. You can only truely destroy an orb of moons in the presence of the moongate that it first appeared from, and this was the place he had first set foot in Sossaria.

If he were simply to leave now, the stone would remain here, though he was not sure what would become of him on its destruction.

He placed it on the boulder and drew his sword, praying to all eight virtues for the strength to carry it through.

A large explosion rocked the small glade. a massive red winged figure landed and glared over to where Azaran stood, sword in hand. "Give me the stone" it bellowed at him.

Glancing around, Azaran put all his strength into his sword and brought it down just as a massive fireball from the demon connected. The stone shattered just as the blast of the fireball blew Azaran, the fragments and the boulder careering into the moongate.

He awoke screaming, opening his pained eyes to a small wooded glade, the world seemingly drained of colour.

The smoke of what was left of the campfire wisped up into the blue sky above. He gasped and lay back down again sighing with relief. The dreams were getting far more frequent.. what could it mean, he thought to himself.

He poked the fire readying it for its morning work, heating his coffee. "What's this?" he pondered, he moved the ashes to reveal a shiny black stone in the centre. "Funny, it looks just like" his eyes widened as he flicked it from the fire with his poking stick. Cold to the touch, it sat comfortably in his hand. "Stone born from oak and fire" a voice in his mind spoke "Speak my name and thou shallst know me"

(To be continued.)

 

The coffee went down nicely with a little sliced cured ham and some home made bread. Azran's mind was set ablaze by possibilities. Perhaps Sossaria was not destroyed, maybe there was a way back. It was not quite like his orb of moons, but it was a similar size with flecks of a shiney black substance shocked through it instead of being jet black. Each time he placed his hand on the stone he heard the same voice "Stone born from oak and fire, Speak my name and thou shallst know me".

"Riddles...", Azaran sighed, pacing around the glade in the morning light. "Virtues preserve me, why must it always be riddles". "Carbon" he said, staring at the stone, though nothing happened. "Fossil?" again nothing. "Obsidian? no... I am thinking too much of earthly things... I would think blackrock, however that has nothing to do with oak.." "Blackrock" the voice repeated. "Joiner of worlds, born of the celestial oak, and sacred fire" "Thou dost know me, but I am gone of this world and must be laid to rest"

"An orb of moons, though you look nothing like the one I had" the voice did not reply, the stone was silent, but was now warm to the touch. Azaran's mobile phone burst into life, vibrating and ringing over by his backpack, leaning on the tent. The world seemed full of colour again, and the stone seemed to be an ordinary pebble, the fire long cold and he felt freezing. "I must be taking leave of my senses..." he murmured picking up the mobile. A lost call, his work. looking at the date on the phone, the 18th? a day gone!

He packed his things quickly, subconsciously pocketing the pebble and left the glade for home.

(To be continued)

 

Days passed uneventfully. Azaran had returned to the drone of normal life in the hustle and bustle of Scotland's capital. The last few days had seen the normal stormy weather of April, absolutely nothing akin to the wash of usual, but remarked to as unseasonally warm weather.

16:46 caught Azaran's attention in the lower right of his screen. Friday afternoon and nearly time to head home. The office windows bowed with the wind, decorated by spats of rain. "Summer... I can't wait for summer" Az remarked to himself... "Best day of the year in Scotland" he grinned though thought that he should take a note of that for later use.

Rose street was particularly busy as he left the office outer door, the station was just down and across Princess Street, though with the freezing cold wind whistling through and the sea of faces, whose soul intention was to get out of the wind and rain.

As he sat on the train home, he discreetly observed the people around him. Three girls sat a little further up the isle, completely silent except the tapping of fingers on plastic as they used their phones, probably to converse with each other. An old gentleman sat wearing a tweed sports jacket, his hands impatiently twiddling with his hand carved pipe, ready to spring into action as soon as he was off the train.

Azaran could smell the pipe tobacco after seeing it, not at all unpleasant like cigarette smells.

Another woman sat at the other end of the train, staring at Azaran. She was slightly overweight, with messy curly hair with white shocks through it. "Like Frankenstein's bride" Az chuckled to himself, until he realised that she was truely and intently staring directly at him, making him now feel slightly uncomfortable.

The moment was broken as the train thundered through a tunnel, and the world went black for a moment as the lights flickered on, though the woman was nowhere to be seen. Gone.

"Maybe I'm loosing it" he thought.

He arrived home, to be greeted by his cat, Ginge. Sitting patiently waiting its master? Nope... lazing unconscious on the radiator next to the door.

He closed the door to the elements behind him, kicking the envelopes from the post to the side of the hall before walking down towards the study.

He sat in a leather backed chair, hot cup of coffee in hand and gazed at the computer screen.

Reflected in it, he could make out the armor stand behind his chair, addorned with the armor that he wore on that fateful last night in Sossaria.

He reached out his hand to move the mouse, but stopped for a moment as a scratching noise rather than the smooth movement of the mouse followed.

The stone that he had found in the fire sat in his palm, the mouse far away next to the screen. "You have a habit of landing in my hand... I think it's time I found out what you are."

(to be continued)

 

*tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap* Azaran's hand tapped the stone on the table unconsciously as he read an old book on geology. While Blackrock was rare in Sossaria, it was almost unknown on Earth. The stone responded to blackrock, however it did not look much like the blackrock orb of moons that he destroyed upon his final moments in Sossaria.

Mystery upon mystery, theories and thoughts rattled around Az's head as he flipped yet another page in Mershart's compendium of mineral substances circa 1620.

"Nothing" he exclaimed, closing the book gently and pushing it next to the rather large pile of tomes that had built up over the last few hours. He gazed down at his hand, still clutching the stone to notice dust under his palm. On closer examination, what had originally seemed to be stone, was actually baked on clay, chipped and crumbled away by his unconscious tapping. "unexpected... that must have been from the fire..."

As if a light bulb had sprang into existence above his head, he lurched for the tool drawer half way down his study desk and fished out a small flat-bladed screwdriver and a brush. Carefully he removed the baked on deposits of clay from half of the stone, taking great care not to damage the emerging jet black object beneath.

After a few painstaking moments, the object revealed itself completely. It was jet black and shiny like fresh cut coal. It was round, but had a hole in the middle, torus shaped, though not a ring, it was far too big for that, and too small to be a bracelet.

Something caught his eye. The hole was empty, but he passed it in front of a light bulb and he could not see the light on the other side. It was as if the bulb was turned off, he could see the element as plain as day but not red hot.

He put the stone to his eye and looked around the room. everything looked normal, the chair, the fireplace, the books, his armor hanging behind him.. wait, the armor glows and the sword used to shatter the orb of moons, faint but yes.

Azaran looked at the stone in amazement. What are you... he thought. Magic doesn't work on earth not any more.

The wind, who until now had been happily battering the other side of the house, changed direction, hailstones hammered the study window bringing Az back to his senses.

Noticing the clock he sighed heavily "Bed time... and I still haven't eaten." and with that he decided to go raid the fridge and get some sleep.

Strange dreams visited him that night, no demons or cities on fire, but a green grassy field on a summers day (real summer, not what we get in Scotland) and a small picnic. He sat there next to a child and an old woman. Seemingly oblivious to his presence, the old woman recanted a tale to the child of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_the_Rhymer">Thomas the Rhymer</a> who had travelled to the land of the fay and returned with the power to see what had not yet come to pass. They say he had a magical item that allowed his to see magic, a black stone. Sudden realisation swept over him, the child was he, and his grandmother telling him the story of..."

Azaran awoke covered in sweat shouting "Rhymer's Stone!" He could see the Ether... with great excitement, Azaran grabbed some breakfast and prepared a backpack of items he may need. "This day I may return to my beloved Sossaria... I must prepare".

Before his time in Sossaria, Azaran was skeptical about such things, but he had seen many miracles that could never ever be explained by science. Travel from one end of the world to the other with a few pinches of strange herbs and an incantation of 'Kal Ort Por' or friends brought back to life by resurrection magics. This was only merely a feeling that it may be a way back, but he had to try, he had been gone for so long that this world was his no longer, polution and technology gone rife.

Slipping his armor into a larger canvas sack, he grabbed his backpack and headed out towards the car. The crisp morning temperature bit his face slightly, though the warmth of the rising sun breaking the hills comforted him and warmed him once more.

With that he drove off, to Rhymer's Stone.

(to be continued)

 

He remembered seeing the sign one day while driving home. It took a while but he found it again on a busy stretch of road next to the hospital outside Melrose. He'd never actually been there, but there it was, a Scottish heritage sign saying Rhymer's Stone 1/2 mile.

He followed the country road around a few bends and past a rather peaceful looking cemetery until he reached a barrier closing off the road. "Looks like this is as far as you're taking me Bessie" he said, patting the steering wheel gently.

He left the car and gathered his belongings, leaving the key's in the ignition so that Bessie may find a new owner.

Vaulting the barrier, he walked slowly up the narrow road, the sun disappearing behind the Eildon hills.

Checking his map against the hills around him, he wasn't far from the wooded glade that he found the stone, it was just on the other side of the big hill behind him.

His boots rasped loudly against the roughly tarmacked road. A warm breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass from ahead, a variety of different birds whistling and tweeting happily around him. There he found it. <a href="http://www.panoramio.com/photo_explorer#user=7279318&amp;with_photo_id=83032913&amp;order=date_desc">Rhymer's Stone</a>

Brushing off some of the dry moss, the inscription on the stone read "This stone marks the site of the Eildon Tree, where legend says Thomas the Rhymer met the Queen of the Fairies"

"The Eildon tree?" Az said, looking around. "I see only bushes.. the tree must be long gone." Remembering the stone, he put his hand into his pocket, the stone moved on its own, gently pulsing. Nervously, Azaran removed it from his pocket. The hole in the center had a dim light pulsing from it. Carefully, he brought the stone closer to his eye, but a safe distance away and meekly looked through the hole.

The twilight grew darker around him as the Sun decended deeper into the hills, The moon peeked over the other hill, not far from the stone.

Looking through the stone, Azaran could see the faint outline of a tree towering over the stone marker, a proud oak, its branches seemingly reaching far into the sky. In place of the stone marker was an ivy arch, passing through the tree. "The Eildon tree.. The Celestial Tree?" He moved forward cautiously, passing through the stone marker as it it was not there, to a small wooded glade, with ancient looking stones positioned around, looking much like a sossarian moongate, though different.

Lowering the stone from his eye, the tree and passageway behind him vanished, the moon much more prominent in the sky, and unnaturally larger than he had seen before.

He looked around for any clue as to what this place was as the Eildon hills were no longer on the horizon, and the bushes surrounding the glade seemed impenetrable.

A breeze stirred around him, making a shiver run down his spine. He reached for the remains of his longsword from the side of his backpack, though more a dagger after it was shattered by the orb of moons and demonfire, though a calm washed over him, the moon now occupying most of the sky above his head.

The stone now pulsed and shifted in his hand with veracity, he could not resist the urge to lift it to his eye. The Center of the glade now had a stone floor, with a marking in the shape of a cross made up of four differently sized triangles of black shiny stone. A line of light crackled from the centre of the cross upward into the sky and bowed out to form a sphere of light, shielding his eyes, the light grew bright, the breeze now a wind whipping leaves around in circles following the outside of the glade.

"This is it!" Azaran exclaimed "I'm going home!!!" He clutched the large sack and backpack tightly as the sphere of light turned red, the wind pushing him inside whether he wanted it or not. Thunder crashed and darkeness consumed all.

(to be continued)

 

He regained his senses as he landed on his knees, the shock of pain rushed through his entire body. Azaran had the misfortune to land upon his bag of armor and it hurt like the nine hells.

He dusted himself off and looked around. He stood in a similar glade, with a stone circle and a pulsing aura of energy in its center. He could see a place beyond the aura, but it was not clear and it certainly wasn't where he came from.

He did not know where he was but it certainly was not Sossaria.

(OOC) That's all I'm going to write for the moment. If you've been listening to my tale, I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave comments/praise/critisism. The next chapter of Azaran's story will be written when more lore is available on New Britannia.

Regards,

Darg, AKA Azaran Valis. (/OOC)

 

I am Folly, a bard and story teller by trade. I wish to tell a tail of Angels, fallen and gone.

I am the ward of a lost soul who still, to this date, wanders the paths less trod looking for his Angel who has gone to where none know.

It is dark, even the creatures of the night fear to make their presence known the only sound is the wind and the rain dripping from branch to branch, down and down, to fall on his hunched shoulders. He appears to be carrying more that the pack on his back. Evil is the taint that he now strives to shed, the mark that has left him alone, cold and dead inside.

A bear watches him pass by then turns to find an easier supper, it has no want to die this night. Death seemed to follow this two legs.

He walks on, head down, no purpose, no joy, no light. A shell of a man going somewhere with no destination and no drive for the journeys end. The thought skitters across his mind that he was known with his Angel at his side, but like a firefly in the trees, as soon as the light is seen it is swallowed by the dark. The thought is gone the rain still falls, one foot in front of the other, the unending journey continues.

He stops, the forest holds its breath, the scent of smoke is in the air, he lifts his head and spies lights in the distance. The smell of venison drifts to him, his stomach rumbles, he is hungry, time to eat.

He walks into the village, well more of a small collection of houses built up around a coaching Inn, there is a smiths here, he looks up and spots the sign, "Hmm Morris, he a good smith" he thinks. He has been here before, his presence will be welcomed and there would be some bandits or monsters will need evicting from this province, by the look of the carpenters business has been slow. It's something to do with a purpose, but not for him, he should go. But he is hungry, wet and cold, one night wouldn't hurt, too much.

Demons walk in his shadow and claw at his soul, he was told about redemption but did not know how to start, it is easier to do what you know.

He enters the Inn and no one notices him take a seat by the door, for a big man it was strange that he could go so unnoticed. He watches as a serving girl stroking the cat as it napped at the end of the bar, she spots the new stranger and crossed the busy room to where he was sat.

"What can I get you deary?" she asks.

"Food" he replies.

"Beer?" she inquires.

"Milk" he states.

"Ok we have a cow out the back that we can tip, not much call for it normally, are you staying?" trying to strike up a conversation.

He nods.

"You do have the means to pay don't you?" she asks holding out a hand.

Like a flash of lightning he grabs her open hand and looks up with cold penetrating eyes. She shivers and tries to pull away but his grip is solid and her will starts to fade as she feels him look right through her. He releases her hand and allows his to fall back to the table keeping his eyes locked with hers. She blinks and the the spell is broken. He's eyes fade back into the gloom of his hood, what have those eyes seen?

She feels something cold and heavy in her hand, she glances down, there is a ruby the size of a hen's egg shining there, she quickly closes her hand and slips it into the folds of her dress, "it must be worth a kings ransom" she thinks and then it dawns on her.

Under her breath and hidden in a gasp she asks "Bob?" more of a statement than a question.

"No I haven't seen him since last you passed." she whispers

Bob nod's and she turns away.

"I likes that shiny" he thinks and a storm passes behind his eyes. Greed, is a sin, but I am a sinner, I need to have virtue, the constant conflict rages on.

Shame is just around the corner, he could get more, maybe it would be good to go and get some shinies, he was running low, "what should I do", he would have pondered if he knew how. Angel would.

It was easier in the days before, Angel knew what should be done. He always knew what needed to be done, he knew everything.

A single tear falls from an eye, he lifts his head up and cries out in his mind "Where is my Angel?"

The cat jumps up and heads for the door, there would be blood tonight and it only had 3 lives left, time to find a safer bed.

(To Be continued...)

(OOC) If you played UO you may get a couple of references in here or you may have met some of the people mentioned on Europa. The final straw for me was to have my character "Lord Wucking Folly" banned for an inappropriate name after a decade of game play. I would like to point out the spelling of the word Wally (Last pickle in the jar) and that Folly is a fools errand. I still miss Bob and Bob still misses Angel, drawn to the dark side of something shiny that Wow'd him. I will be meeting Az in the new strange place, I could do with some Bob time, maybe we will put a Mini in a tent again.

 

(OOC) Bob you are one of my oldest friends from UO, it will be an absolute pleasure to play with you again mate, Az never had more loyal friends than Bob and Angel, and I still remember Folly's wedding ceremony for Lord Bomb and China Blue, that was pure comic genius

 

(OOC) Thanks Az, I think I'll post some of the antics that we got up to, should bring back some memories... Flashbacks to KSD, SOV, SRC and DOT. Maybe when this goes Beta we could start a Diary. Maybe I could bring the full depth of Bob back out in the game, all two inches of him, If it moves kill it, if it doesn't then try and heal it, it shines then take it, unless someone with a big shouty voice tells him to do something then he does it (and exactly what he is told to do).

 

Oh dear...this thread might need merged with the others. Like you, I didn't realize New Britannia Intros had been started in Threads.
https://www.shroudoftheavatar.com/forum/index.php?threads/arrival-in-new-britannia.1923/

 

I'll just repost it in a single reply I didn't realise either lol