ARYSARNIA

AGE OF FLAME

The vengeance of a sacred soul was menacing and severe enough to send ripples of fear throughout centuries of what came to be called 'The Blood Age'.
A time filled with magic and its horrors in the bossom of a world where everything is possible if only you will it hard enough.

Ancarta...

"Your hairs will stand on its ends as I reveal the mysteries of the world... My dear girl, it is amazing how events of history still affects our lives even today.

Time was measured by the cycles of the moons; Oswand, Getherina and Orre. hile the fates of men were driven by cruel prophecies -words woven by the clerics and obeyed by all who spewed them"

His last words had been coarse, he hemmed and continued.

"When feared and terrible creatures like gorgons, dragons, griffins-even those of fantasies like phoenixes and unicorns used to prowl the earth; we coesisted and they all lived in the lands of the races and taught them powerful magic.

Like all good things, gradually everything went wrong, for learning magic from its source meant that those magicians that had these powers had much more up their sleeves than they had bargained for. The powers they had acquired were not meant for their mortal beings...They had acquired magic fit for gods...Ancarta!"

The frozen scene of enchantments in the first volume of Arithadale's chronicles materialized in the girl's eyes...

She saw rivers pouring out of the outstretched arms of bonny infants, the earth screaming with chasms at the touch of old men ,fire swirling with destruction at the gentle command of elves, dragons at each other's throats...

He flipped a page and the connection broke, what she had seen had her spellbound. 

"And that was only the chronicler's impression" he said.

"I would be holding up the rest of your jaw if you saw the real deal. Their magic was strong and terrible as the creatures that had taught them; they were not supposed to be handling such power withouta consequence.

With time their-our very nature altered, such that the earth became an unwilling host to our existence-our new lifestyle and the practice of magic was too much for nature to comprehend and accommodate without injury to her laws.

Our forefathers, they opened up portals to worlds that nobody knew existed, new races were born out of the unintended evolution the new magic had triggered; they became people of peculiar and amazing capabilities.
Air nomads called Etskins, Howlers of the swamps, and Shifters of the plains,Lightendales and all other kinds such that the laws of nature was tearing up at the seems. Where a constant struggle for survival exists, there is bound to be death.
Therefore, battles raged among the powerful lot, battles that led to the extinction of many races. It was a scramble for space; lands and treasure and with every race striving to dominate the other. All this time, the gods sat and watched quietly in their realm, pretending not to care- while their creations grew arrogant with power and thought they could even be gods of their own.
They folded their arms and let the races they did not originally create, perish. The bloodshed was necessary for the survival of the earth, the peace of the earth. These were wars to end wars...so they stared on, until all the lands were trimmed and purged by blood. 

Excuse me...It's getting cold, I need to take the tea I brewed for my back pain"

He took a goblet and sipped its steaming content.

"Oh the things we old people have to endure..."

AGE OF FLAME

A dead shrub heralded the gentle hill, tilted and standing stark against the night that had drawn swiftly like the cold blanket of a shivering man over the lonely camp.The full eye of Orre; the golden moon, looked down upon the camp portraying tents like gigantic pale bats. A scattered troop of soldiers also kept watch, scouting the vicinity to ensure safety.