Post by Brett on Jul 31, 2012 16:44:45 GMT -1
With the end of the second Divine War the prime universe was left in a time of peace, but the peace came at a great coast as many worlds lay in ruins, while others had been obliterated completely. While the combined forces that had stood against Baelze all went their separate ways to nurse their wounds and rebuild what had been lost, Dragos Midnight went about trying to revive dead worlds which they felt responsible for. Meanwhile, their leader slipped away into the night without world and disappeared into the Multiverse for a six months, carrying with him the weapon which had slain Baelze.
Isaan knew that he couldn't keep the lance, a weapon capable of killing a being like Baelze just shouldn't exist, but he also knew that one day it may be needed again if not for the likes of Baelze then for another, equally or even more powerful evil. So in secret he broke the lance into pieces, deciding he would scatter it across the multiverse where he would know to find the the pieces to repair it if ever the weapon was needed again. In practice, he made a point of leaving these pieces with the alternate versions of his own people that he knew he could trust, to be protected by them and their decendants.
In one of these universes he met a young Leona, who was oblivious to the world beyond her own, but whom he trusted enough to explain everything to. He left the blade of the lance in her care and left, not knowing the problems he was leaving behind, for other forces came to learn of the multiverse from an artifact he had left behind by accident - his Dragos Midnight signet ring.
The rain poured down around him and he was thankful for the shelter the old tree provided while he watched from a distance as his son grew up, oblivious to him and never able to discover who he was or that he was even alive. Sometimes he came in the rain like today and just watched the old house from under the old tree, where many happy moments had been shared but had now become a source of his lingering sorrow and shame. He would stay until he saw the light from inside the house go out, then would begin the long trek back to the order.
Older and older his son grew, he began to learn to wield a sword and fire a gun, his mother made sure he was taught exceptionally well and he could occasionally catch his training sessions before dusk during the summer when the rain was away. But the older his son got, the less and less he came to see him, because as time went on his courage to leave the order and go and introduce himself waned as it was less and less likely his son would ever accept him. When his son came of age he began to be away from home, working for his mother.
He stood by the tree in winter looking at the house, it was already dark and snow covered the ground. He hadn't seen his wife - or former wife as she was now - since he had been forced to leave, it had been a good sixteen years now but not once had he seen her with another man, perhaps because he had promised to return some day or perhaps because she knew in her heart he was watching over them even from a distance. His eyes fell upon the ring on his finger, the black circular top with the red talon within, if only he had never shown this ring to his peers.
With a deep breath he plucked up the courage, then made his way from the tree and down toward the old home, he used his magic to unlock the back door and slipped inside - he knew all of the traps that were meant to keep intruders out and dodged them accordingly. Once inside he looked around, things didn't look as different as he expected them to, he ran his fingers across the wood of the dining nearby table he had sat and spoken with her at many times and then walked over and looked at a small collection of weapons he had seen his son wield throughout his growing up.
He was so caught in his nostalgia and a swelled feeling of warmth in his chest that said he was home, that he forgot that his beloved was in the house somewhere while he stood admiring things he had long felt detached from, the feeling of familiarity and closeness returning to him rapidly. His back was to the door and he'd let his guard down in this environment, fortunate for him his son was away or if he had come through the door he might be killed, but then who knew what would happen if she came through the door too after he'd been gone so long.
Isaan knew that he couldn't keep the lance, a weapon capable of killing a being like Baelze just shouldn't exist, but he also knew that one day it may be needed again if not for the likes of Baelze then for another, equally or even more powerful evil. So in secret he broke the lance into pieces, deciding he would scatter it across the multiverse where he would know to find the the pieces to repair it if ever the weapon was needed again. In practice, he made a point of leaving these pieces with the alternate versions of his own people that he knew he could trust, to be protected by them and their decendants.
In one of these universes he met a young Leona, who was oblivious to the world beyond her own, but whom he trusted enough to explain everything to. He left the blade of the lance in her care and left, not knowing the problems he was leaving behind, for other forces came to learn of the multiverse from an artifact he had left behind by accident - his Dragos Midnight signet ring.
The rain poured down around him and he was thankful for the shelter the old tree provided while he watched from a distance as his son grew up, oblivious to him and never able to discover who he was or that he was even alive. Sometimes he came in the rain like today and just watched the old house from under the old tree, where many happy moments had been shared but had now become a source of his lingering sorrow and shame. He would stay until he saw the light from inside the house go out, then would begin the long trek back to the order.
Older and older his son grew, he began to learn to wield a sword and fire a gun, his mother made sure he was taught exceptionally well and he could occasionally catch his training sessions before dusk during the summer when the rain was away. But the older his son got, the less and less he came to see him, because as time went on his courage to leave the order and go and introduce himself waned as it was less and less likely his son would ever accept him. When his son came of age he began to be away from home, working for his mother.
He stood by the tree in winter looking at the house, it was already dark and snow covered the ground. He hadn't seen his wife - or former wife as she was now - since he had been forced to leave, it had been a good sixteen years now but not once had he seen her with another man, perhaps because he had promised to return some day or perhaps because she knew in her heart he was watching over them even from a distance. His eyes fell upon the ring on his finger, the black circular top with the red talon within, if only he had never shown this ring to his peers.
With a deep breath he plucked up the courage, then made his way from the tree and down toward the old home, he used his magic to unlock the back door and slipped inside - he knew all of the traps that were meant to keep intruders out and dodged them accordingly. Once inside he looked around, things didn't look as different as he expected them to, he ran his fingers across the wood of the dining nearby table he had sat and spoken with her at many times and then walked over and looked at a small collection of weapons he had seen his son wield throughout his growing up.
He was so caught in his nostalgia and a swelled feeling of warmth in his chest that said he was home, that he forgot that his beloved was in the house somewhere while he stood admiring things he had long felt detached from, the feeling of familiarity and closeness returning to him rapidly. His back was to the door and he'd let his guard down in this environment, fortunate for him his son was away or if he had come through the door he might be killed, but then who knew what would happen if she came through the door too after he'd been gone so long.
