Bio

*Still a work in progress. I know it’s long, but I’m just getting started.

The Story of Neollmhór, or Arth-Mael

Neollmhór, or, as he prefers to be called, Arth-Mael, is a child of two worlds: the Arth-Lachdanans (“Stone Warriors”), a tribe of giants that live in the mountains to the northwest and Sun’s Hollow, a farming hamlet settled by humans on the outer fringes of the kingdom of Tora’lan.

Arth-Mael’s father, Vis-Maen, had been separated from his hunting group while hunting a particularly ferocious beast. An avalanche swept him down to the land below his mountains. A human woman from Sun’s Hollow, a widow by the name of Aliana, found him barely alive and nursed him back to health. During his recovery she bore him a child. Vis-Maen named him Neollmhór, or “little giant”.

Vis-Maen wished to take his son with him back to his people when he recovered, although he realized the potential danger: the Arth-Lachdanans did not look kindly upon procreation with ‘softer’ species. To save face with his people and to lessen the prejudice against Neollmhór, Vis-Maen concocted a story: he discovered this child was forced upon a woman by his recently deceased brother, who had been greatly shamed by his people before his death. By taking the responsibility of raising this bastard child upon himself without any obligation, it would be seen as a great act of honor and loyalty. Neollmhór would still have to deal with the shame of his “father”, but would be given a fair chance to show he was better than him and would be raised properly.

Aliana was furious. She wanted, she NEEDED her son and Vis-Maen to remain with her. Being without a husband or family in a farming settlement meant she could not support herself. She pleaded for Vis-Maen to stay, appealing to his love for her. Her world was shattered when Vis-Maen made it unmistakably clear to her that he felt no love for her, that his sharing of his seed was for his own benefit. Inconsolable with grief and rage, she told him to leave and take his ‘cursed child’ with him. Vis-Maen was not being malicious; he simply had a very different view on love than Aliana did, and genuinely felt sorry that he had unintentionally caused her to believe that he felt something he did not. He promised Aliana that Neollmhór would periodically return to help provide for her. Aliana did not respond to his offer.

Vis-Maen returned with Neollmhór to his people and carefully wove his lie about the origins of the child he brought with him. It worked beautifully. Vis-Maen had returned to his people a hero and his actions had earned him a voice with the Elders of his people. He prospered greatly, and good hunting and women were always his for the taking.

Life was hard for Neollmhór amongst the Stone Warriors. It had nothing to do with the sins of his supposed father, but rather his being smaller and weaker than the others due to his human maternal lineage. Inspired by Vis-Maen, Neollmhór strove to live up to be as great a figure as his father was, and sought to do so with a military career. More than anything, he yearned for the title of Arth-Mael (“Stone Chief”), a title bestowed upon the most skilled warrior in the tribe. Neollmhór fought through the insults and the jeers, the beatings and the harassment.

At around the age of 13, Vis-Maen pulled Neollmhór aside and told him that he would have to return to Sun’s Hollow to tend to his mother for a time. Neollmhór was firmly against this, as it would interfere with his training. Once Vis-Maen made it a matter of honor, however, Neollmhór begrudgingly agreed to go. He did not want to shame his father in any way. Before leaving, Vis-Maen also cautioned Neollmhór not to believe his mother’s “insane rantings” about his father: after all, the horrible experience of Vis-Maen’s villainous brother forcing himself on poor Aliana did irreparable damage to her. Steeling himself for the trials ahead, Neollmhór went to Sun’s Hollow and found his mother living in a hovel, barely making a living by crafting jewelry out of shoddy, discarded materials. Neollmhór expected some sort of hostile reaction from her, but before he even said a word to her she burst into tears and embraced him, sobbing that she had missed him terribly. It was very awkward for him.

Unsure of how exactly he would help support his mother, Neollmhór tried his hand at being hired to work at a farm. He found that he was quite good at unskilled labor, given his strength and endurance; he could easy do the work of three men. It was a start, and bought his mother basic commodities that she desperately needed, but it wasn’t enough. He noticed that her jewelry business was not going well at all. The people in the community did not have much need for such trinkets, and her work was not very good anyways. Neollmhór had an idea, and this idea ended up revealing to him one of his callings in life.

One day he took a light workload on one of the farms so that he would be finished by the late afternoon. He then told his mother that he would take care of her business for her and that she could rest that day. She happily obliged. He took her work to a local blacksmith and smelted it all down. When he went to work on the raw materials, he immersed himself in a world he did not know existed. Something about the work spoke to him on a primal level. It was as if he had linked his senses to those of the metals. He could feel the impurities in the metals, could let the refiner’s fire embrace him and know exactly what was enough. Some metals sang together, and he wove them together masterfully. Others hissed, and he cleansed them from his work. They were all an extension of him. When he finished, he had very little of the original materials remaining, but had crafted a ring of immeasurable beauty.

Fortune was with Neollmhór that day, for word had reached the ears of an affluent merchant who visited Sun’s Hollow every year for trading goods. This merchant was astounded by the quality of the ring and paid good money for it. He brokered a deal with Neollmhór to craft rings exclusively for him. In return, the merchant would bring him materials to work with on his journey every year. Neollmhór agreed, happy to honor his father by providing for his mother.

When Neollmhór told Aliana that he had made an exclusive contract with such a wealthy trader, she was overjoyed that such an important man would so appreciate her work! Before Neollmhór could correct her, he saw something in her: he saw self-satisfaction. Here was a woman who for so long genuinely believed that she was of no worth to anyone or anything, who was only able to scrape by on the pity of others. By believing that this merchant valued her work she had gained something she had not had in many years: a purpose in life. Neollmhór could not take that from her. He resolved to himself that he would do whatever it takes to have her believe that it was her work that was so highly prized. With the money he had made from just selling one ring, Aliana could live in a modestly comfortable way until the merchant returned the following year with more materials. Arth-Mael made the rounds among the people of Sun’s Hollow, who all agreed to go along with the lie for Aliana’s sake. Having spent the better part of two seasons with his mother, Neollmhór decided it was time to return to his father and his people.

Neollmhór was treated far worse than ever by his peers. He was constantly mocked for being a soft, squishy human, and the insults toward his mother were even worse. In scrapping with the other soldiers in training Neollmhór discovered that while he was not as strong as them, he was more agile, flexible and hardy. He could outlast anyone in a fight, though he would take a considerable beating. One giant in particular, Jor-Ghyn, made it his personal quest to remove Neollmhór as a threat, for he was the only other giant who fought for the title of Arth-Mael with as much zeal. Jor-Ghyn and Neollmhór never did find out who was stronger, for every time they fought they would always eventually be broken up by a superior officer before one would kill the other. Seeing the pride in his father’s eyes at his accomplishments gave Neollmhór the will to keep pushing himself. His stubbornness paid off and the other soldiers began to respect him; the unit polarized into two groups, with Jor-Ghyn as the de facto leader of the other.

Eventually the time came for Neollmhór to return to his mother once more. Jor-Ghyn, waiting for just such a time, carefully timed an ambush for just before Neollmhór had to leave. He and a group of his friends ambushed Neollmhór while he was alone and, in an effort to supremely humiliate and demoralize him once and for all, rendered him helpless and sodomized him. Neollmhór did not have time to carry out revenge or even cope with the ordeal before having to leave. As he was departing, Jor-Ghyn and the other assailants taunted him. Still traumatized from the ordeal, Neollmhór could do nothing but scamper off, looking like a coward. Looking back, Neollmhór could see the look of disappointment on the faces of his friends.

Neollmhór returned to Sun’s Hollow a very different person. When he came back, he took no time to greet or spend time with any of his friends or associates. He threw himself straight into his work and continued his training. Every day was a routine: train in the morning, spend about half of the day doing hired work, take a few hours to craft rings, then spend the evening practicing his maneuvers dual-wielding shields. The villagers were concerned about his singular focus and his constant rage. Anytime anyone approached Neollmhór they were turned away scornfully, and when someone pressed him on the matter Neollmhór barely stopped himself from getting violent. Little by little, everyone distanced themselves from him and he was alone. It got to a point where the only ones who spoke to him were Aliana and the ring merchant.

Neollmhór’s singular focus was re-establishing dominance over Jor-Ghyn. This thought alone consumed him. An idea struck him: he was so talented at crafting rings. What if he tried to imbue it with magic? He had heard stories of wondrous artifacts that imbued their wilder with otherworldly might. With the fortune that he had been making and the help of his employer, Neollmhór acquired books of magic, ignoring all caution. Holding the work of his first attempt in his hand, he could feel something…wrong. At least, he wasn’t sure if it was wrong or not, given his unfamiliarity with magic. Still, he needed to know. He went far out into the wilds alone, just in case the worse happened. He tentatively placed the ring on his finger, at which point some unfamiliar energy began ripping through his body. Nothing he had experienced in his life came close to being as physically painful as this was. For a moment, he felt a part of him succumbing to death, willing to let go. But memories of Jor-Ghyn renewed his rage, and Neollmhór pushed himself from the brink of oblivion and wrested the ring from his finger. He wasn’t sure what horrified him more: the cursed item he held, wrought by his own hand, or the realization that he knew he would try again. He wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t just beat Jor-Ghyn, he had to dominate him completely. Neollmhór would have no peace of mind, no respite from the mental torment he constantly faced, until he did so.

He returned and fashioned for himself a necklace to keep the cursed ring, then set himself to crafting another one. This time he was able to see the mistakes he had made. He did not know magic, but he knew the metals. They spoke to him, guiding him, revealing to him which magics complemented their nature and which ones defied it. He was able to recognize the dark energy that corrupted his first creation and purge it completely. His work done, he set out again into the wilds.

Bracing himself for the worst, he firmly placed the new ring on his finger. A surge of power flowed through him. He felt more…connected. He became keenly aware of all of the working parts of his body, and everything seemed to work in harmony. At the center of his body he felt what he could only think to describe as a foundation of earth, firmly uplifting everything in his body. He tested himself on a nearby boulder that he knew was too heavy for him. Yet, when he strained to lift it, he could feel more of his muscles working together as one. After a few moments he hefted the boulder off of the ground, then over his head. In sheer ecstacy he hurled the boulder with all of his might, throwing it a good 50 feet. Worried that he might have somehow injured himself by pushing himself too hard, he looked inward again. His ‘earthen center’ was rejuvenating his muscles before they even felt tired. For the first time since his ordeal, he felt supreme confidence. His second creation never left his finger.

The days flew by for Neollmhór as the moment of his return drew near. He thought of nothing else. He barely even registered the presence of other people. So consumed was he that he barely even noticed when his first creation went missing. When the time came to return to his father he was bounding out of the door by first light.

Upon returning to his tribe he went straightaway to the training grounds. Jor-Ghyn, along with his friends, jeered him upon seeing him arrive. Saying nothing, his face showing no emotion, Neollmhór slowly but firmly walked towards him, never breaking his gaze. Sensing the fight to come, and eager to hold his position as the foremost soldier, Jor-Ghyn welcomed the challenge and threw Neollmhór a pair of shields before taking up his own. Jor-Ghyn threw the first blow, a jab with his front shield meant to force Neollmhór to parry, but Neollmhór took it square on the chin without so much as flinching. At the same time that Jor-Ghyn threw the jab, Neollmhór wound himself and threw all of his might into an upward double bash. His front arm connected solidly on Jor-Ghyn’s chin and his back arm hit his solar plexus at an upward angle, driving the breath from him and the strength from his limbs. Landing on his knees and hands, Jor-Ghyn’s vision had not even fully recovered before two thrown shields smashed into his ribs and elbow, breaking several bones. Crumpling onto his back, utterly bewildered at what was happening, Jor-Ghyn looked up to see Neollmhór smiling cruelly down at him. He quickly threw his shields in front of him to defend himself as Neollmhór laid into him, raining down devastating punches. Jor-Ghyn could feel his broken elbow shattering under the assault, but his shields gave out first as Neollmhór punched through them. Surprisingly, Neollmhór stopped his assault once he broke through the shields. Standing over him, Neollmhór looked around and proclaimed to everyone what Jor-Ghyn and his friends did to him just before he last left them. As he finished his story, Neollmhór reached down and grabbed Jor-Ghyn’s manhood and wrenched viciously. Jor-Ghyn prayed that the snapping sound was not as audible to everyone else as it was to him.

SOULBOUND – STONE
-Unless stated otherwise, all activated abilities require a standard action to use.
-All saves are DC 10 + STR modifier + class level
-Any numbers listed by an ability indicate a required class level to learn that ability
-A * before the ability name indicates that it has been acquired

Passive
*Resistance – Gain Resist Physical 1/class levels. This does not stack with other sources that give physical resistance.
*Stone’s Strength – Deal an +3 damage with weapon attacks. This bonus increases to +6 at level 4, and +9 at level 8.
*Endurance Aura – Allies within 10’/class level of the character hold their ground despite all odds, gaining a +1 bonus to Fortitude saves.
*Stoicism(5) – The radius of the aura increases to battle map, while the bonus to Fortitude saves increases to +2.
*Blessing of the Earth – You gain a permanent +1 bonus to Strength and Constitution

Action
*Fortress – Once per battle, the character adopts a supreme defensive stance; he becomes completely immobile, gaining a +1/class level bonus to AC. The character can remain this way for 1 round/class level, and can leave this stance at any time as a free action
*Barrier(3) – While in Fortress, the character is now invulnerable to all non-magical ranged attacks. The character cannot be flanked or caught flat-footed while using Fortress
*Sanctuary(6) – Character can now move 5 feet per round while maintaining stance. He extends the bonuses of stance to adjacent allies
Castle(10) – Becoming unbreakable as the earth beneath him, the bonus to AC granted by Fortress increases to +2/class levels. He also gains +2 to all saves, Fast Healing 1/class level

*Insult – Once per battle the character can, as a free action, insult a single enemy. That enemy must make a Will save or target the character immediately for 1 round/two class levels. After the initial Will save, the enemy must include the character in all of his attacks
*Infuriate(3) – The effect now lowers the attack bonuses of the target by 1/two class levels as the enemy recklessly charges the character. Save DC is increased by 3
*Glob It(6) – Insult can now target every creature in 20’, or 1 target/two class levels. Save DC is increased by 3

Epicenter – Once per battle, the character slams the ground, throwing the terrain outward. All creatures within up to 5’/class level take 1d10 + 3/class level bludgeoning damage and must make a Reflex save or be thrown back 10’ and knocked prone. The area becomes rough terrain
Upheaval(3) – The sheer force of the impact adds 1d10 + 3/class levels of Force damage. Save DC increases by 3
Aftershock(6) – The reverberating shock wave causes all creatures to make a Fortitude save. Those that fail the save are now stunned for one round. Save DC increases by 3
Graviton(10) – After the initial impact, the wave reverses direction and moves back on the caster, repeating all effects. Save DC increases by 3

Stone Thrust – Once per battle, the character can bend earth or stone in a 10’/class level straight line. All creatures take 1d10 + 3/class level bludgeoning damage and are thrown 10’ perpendicular to the line and knocked prone (Reflex for 1/2 damage and avoid prone). Terrain settles back into its natural state after the ability resolves
Stone Wall(3) – Character can choose to leave the earth as a standing wall; 5’/class level high, Hardness 2/class level, 10 HP/class level, duration 1 round/class level. Save DC increases by 3
Stone Turrets(6) – After using Stone Wall, character can, as a Full-Round action, manipulate wall to fling chunks at enemies with the following stats:
-Number of attacks: 1 per 10’ length of wall
-Attack: +4/class level, 1d10 + 2/class level bludgeoning damage
-Special: enemies struck must made a Fortitude save or be knocked back 5’ and prone. DC increases by 2 for each additional projectile that strikes them
-Save DC increases by 3
Stone Coffin(10) – Character can push over a Stone Wall, flattening all creatures for 1d10 + 5/class level damage and pinning them (Reflex 1/2 damage and avoid pin). Reflex saves can only be made if there is an empty space within 1/2 the move speed of the creature, and creature moves there on a successful save. Pinned creatures remain that way until breaking through the wall, and cannot be targeted by attacks that require line of sight unless they are pinned under the outer edge of the wall. Save DC increased by 3

---

As Armen places his hand on your shoulder, you are pulled into a dream. Immediately you can tell that this is the dream you have been having for months, yet something is different…

She runs toward you, you must get her to safety. She must live.. The growls behind you grow louder as you look into her beautiful eyes one last time. Fight in my place. You push her away as you turn to face the horde of creatures, led by that man and that woman.. Go! Your voice..no, his voice, echoes in your mind. He takes a stance, raising both clawed fists, and takes in a slow, deep breath. This is the end, but she will live. You can hear her choked sobs as she runs back to the portal, you know he can hear it to, you can almost taste the feeling of peace settling into his soul as he glances behind him, he accepts his fate. She will make it.

A growl snaps him back to the front, a claw tearing into one of the creatures, tossing it’s corpse aside. He begins to claw through the enemy ranks, his form perfect, his strikes true. Wounds open upon his body, but he fights through them. You can feel him ignore the pain, you can feel the agony and the desire to give in and submit. But then.. there was the man, his gaze full of hatred, sword raised. A deft hand catches the man’s wrist, another grabbing the woman’s neck. With a twist, he takes that look back to the portal, seeing her enter it with a tight smile across his lips. Goodbye, my love. Everything is devoured in fire..

Suddenly the dream shifts, you are standing in a place void of light save for a small fire, it grows until it envelops a space, shaping itself to a form. As the fire fades, the world around you shimmers from place to place, many buildings, many cities. Where the flame once was, stands a dark elf, eyes on you, you know him. He is the one who sent the dreams, he is the one you were dreaming of. He is the one who sacrificed himself. A small smile on his face, he speaks: I am Avignis, Archangel of Fire. The voice echoes all around you, and you feel as if you should know this name. As Armen has told you, I need your help, we all do. Break my seal, and together we will lead our world, all worlds, to a future where we are free. Stepping forward, he locks gazes with you.. To awaken your soul, I bind ours, Bjorngar. For everyone, and everything..For your mother’s soul. Avingnis turns back into the living flame, stepping back from you. The world around you fades once more, you can feel something awaken deep within you. An innate power coming to life, coaxed from it’s nest by the whispers of another. You can feel yourself being reborn.

Awaken, Soul of the Stone, and take our vengeance upon Her. You can feel Avingnis return to the seal, to fight that ancient evil. As you open your eyes, Armen has moved away, but where he had touched your shoulder, you can feel the burning of a tattoo, glowing gray on your skin.

---

As you sleep, you begin to dream. This is not like the dreams that were sent by Avignis, you cannot feel his presence within this. No, this is something different..

The temple of Angaroth, last bastion of life within your world. The miles of steps leading up to a summit marked the most defensible position left. One thousand warriors, and a larger number of non-combatants.. This was all that remained of the empire you served.

“Tarkus! I need you to ready the spell.” Your heavy armor echoes upon the marble stone, your massive limbs moving as quickly as possible as you near the mage. He was Grand Enchanter Tarkus, the only magus who had agreed to leave the Capital and avoid a death trap..the rest of the empire lay dead. He pulls a large leather-bound book from his robes.

“Of course, High-General. I have already prepared the circle.” You nod carefully, glaring at the book in the mage’s hands.

Your voice is commanding as you look the magic circle he had prepared over, you would never be comfortable trusting everything to magic. “Will this work, Tarkus? We don’t have much time.”

Tarkus thinks for a moment, lost in his thoughts. You understand..your family had fallen to the enemy too.. “There is nothing else we can do, Daro.”

With a grim look, you clap the mage on the shoulder heavily. “Open the portal Tarkus, give our people a future.” Turning to leave, you do not look back. You had never trusted mages, now you were about to die to save one.

You push the heavy doors of the Great Hall open, striding down to stand in front of the men you commanded, a thousand strong. Looking out over the encroaching army of darkness, you can feel the fear in your men. Turning to face them, you look the front line in the eyes as they look at you.

“Most of us are already dead. Most of our families already lay cold at the base of the Citadel..” Several men look down, the air of fear holding. “..We are all that remains of the Karriden Empire. We are the final vanguard. Men, look at me! Do not give in to your fear! You are the finest warriors of our world, proven in thousands of battles!” Looking back up, the men’s reaction to your words is becoming apparent. “I have served with you for decades now..we are more than soldiers, we are brothers..” Your solemn tone is answered with the sound of gauntlets slamming against breastplates in unison.

“Together, we will bring down this enemy. These..cowards that lie before us! Together, we will venture into the dark embrace of death and meet him with a grin!” Another volley of gauntlets slam. “And we will secure our place in the howling beyond by laying the skulls we have ripped from a thousand cowards at his feet!” Tearing the great sword from your back, you raise it triumphantly as you turn to face the approaching horde.

A cheer rises within the ranks of your men at your back, chanting the ancient battle cry of the Citadel as they draw their weapons. With a cry to the gods, you lead the charge down the steps. Death would be your last testament to this world.

Jolting up from bed, Avaric stirs by your side, but remains asleep. You can feel the familiar presence of Avignis, and hear his voice softly echo throughout the room.

“You never gave in. Even in your dying breath you cut down a score of enemies. Your ability to lead will be tested in the battles to come..even if you do not want to, you are needed.”

---

As the music washes over you, the world around you blurs and disappeared.

“Can you do this, Armen?” Your words echo in the throne room as you turn to face the old mage. His plan was risky, in more ways than one.“Yes, yes. I believe the spell is almost ready, where are the rest of them?” You looked across the room, no one else had made it in. No survivors of your entire city. With a heavy sigh, you only shook your head at your old friend. The room shook as the portal began to take hold. The sounds of battle outside the room intensified.

The shaking increased before a wave of power emanated out from Armen, shattering the windows of the throne room.“The portals open, move through now!” He shouted as he stepped down from the now-obliterated throne, his arms already moving to cast another spell as the door splintered open. You grabbed his arm, looking him straight in the eye.“No. You must go through. No one else can do this.” Only a slight nod was his answer as you spoke, his eyes trailing to the elf by your side. You looked over at her as well, her eyes locked on you.

“Take Avaric with you as well, I will remain here to make sure you aren’t followed.” Her eyes narrowed as she began to shake her head as you continued.“Goodbye, old friend.” Armen turned and left through the portal, to his new world, safe from the Tree. When you turned to face her, she was already beginning to protest.“Avaric, you know what has been sacrificed. You know what will need to be sacrificed. Go with him, survive this.” Your tone was calm, surprising even to you. A stark contrast to the tortured expression upon the young elf’s face.“Please. You don’t need to do this.”

You chuckled softly, placing your hand upon her shoulder. “This is my home, these are my people, I’ll defend them until the end.” Her eyes fell to the floor for a moment before she moved to embrace you, her voice barely above a whisper as she continued on to the portal. “Goodbye, Jarvis. I’ll see you again.” And then she was gone..

Turning as the door was broken open by the enemy soldiers, you moved forward yelling. “Come on then!” As the first enemy approached you, you could see the soulless look in their eyes. They were already dead. Grabbing him by the back of his neck, you brought his head down into your raised knee, bringing a satisfying crack as he went limp. Not missing a step, you spun around the falling body, drawing your dagger.

Stabbing it deep into the next adversary’s stomach you wrenched it out as he doubled over, reversing the grip on the knife. Striking downward, the force of your blow slammed the soldier into the ground. Leaving the weapon embedded in his back, you drew your sword and turned to face the others.

The portal closed behind you, and the enemy swarmed into the throne room by the dozens.

…All you could do is grin, you would see her again.

As the world came back into focus, you immediately noticed Avaric, who could only look at you timidly, a small smile on her face.

---

The music continues to play, and your memories continue to surface.

Driving your sword through the last gnoll’s spine, you ripped it upward and out, blood spraying in an arc. With a cry of fury, you brought it back down into the already-dead creature, letting your blade nearly cut it into halves. Behind you, Tiren fell the last two of the gnolls by decapitating them.

Laughing, you approached him, sheathing your sword. “Relish the hunt!” he joined you in a hearty laugh, his grin wide as he replied. “Enjoy the kill! Rendon, running down the dog-men is never dull with you.”

Clapping a hand down on his shoulder, you looked over the carnage. An entire tribe! “It’s a good life we lead my friend.”

The world spins as the memories fly by rapidly, leaving you inside a massive battlefield.

You spun around, digging your axe into the neck of the nearest orc. An elf flew by, planting a foot on your victim’s chest and launching himself into another orc. He promptly tore his enemy apart with his daggers. As you fell one orc after another, you and he became a spinning arc of death. Finally finding yourselves back to back, facing off an entire horde of the beasts.

Without looking back, he spoke to you during a brief respite as the orcs looked at you with bloodthirsty grins, too afraid to advance alone, they hung back in a group. “In the next life then, Kalek?” You grinned and gripped your axe tighter. “Aye, Valen, meet you in the tavern.”

With a savage cry, you both charged the lines of your enemies.

Once again, the memories fly by. Centuries of experience. Never alone. This time you were left in a dark cavern.

The shackles cut into your wrists as you struggled forward, finally reaching the slab of rock you could sit on. Damned dark elves. Other slaves toiled about you, but you would not be a lowly laborer. You were a Dreugar, and here you were. One of the other slaves approached, the only other slave that was a Drow. “Back off dark elf, ’fore we have another body to be rotting in this pit.”

He only chuckled as he eased himself down beside you. A young elf, young and naive. “Relax. You took the only flat space in the cave, I’ve no quarrel so long as you share it. Besides, if we have to be here for the rest of our lives, might as well get along.” You let him sit, but you still didn’t trust him. Only a fool would believe one of his kind. You spoke slowly, carefully. “Won’t be here long. I’ll be free through escape or death, I’ll not be held.”

He looked so surprised, so shocked at the notion. Not that you would try, but at the hope of a release from this hell. Dainty elves always thought of escape as impossible. Stupid elves. “You would rather die than be here?” With a laugh, you looked over. “’Course! Playing servant to a master is no life.” He seemed to really listen to you, he looked confused, yet..hopeful. It was a start, at the least. “What’s yer name, elf?” He looked up from his contemplation, examining your face closely.

“My name is Zaknithra.”
Every lifetime. You and he would stand together. The closest of friends, not even an army could rival your prowess in battle when you were together. You always became separated through some means, and every time, it proved your undoing. There was another constant: You always fought for the Tree, and yet always fought to free the mortal souls from it’s cruel embrace.

Suddenly you were pulled from all the memories, and the music box was closed. Before you stood Avignis, looking at you with a mixture of sadness and contentment.

“Do not look further back, my friend. You’ll find only darkness. There is no joy to see your closest friend fall again and again.. This is why I chose you, Bjorngar. We were brothers.”

He pulled an object from his robes, something wreathed in flames.

“Take this to Mafeyrius, he will finish your weapons. It is the last heart of a Red dragon.”

Handing it to you, he placed his other hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll finish this together, my old friend.”