War of Emperium

Geffen's Dark Secret

Geffen, the City of Magic.

Home to the powerful Mages and Wizards that walk the world of Midgard. Of all the citystates, Geffen was the strictest when it comes to Novice admission alongside Morroc. Geffenese mentors priced Intelligence and Dexterity among other traits, and have the highest requirement level of 12. Potion making, a Mages first test, was considered the hardest in the world. One slight mistake an excess drop of Payon solution or an extra dash of Fluff was enough to have a Novice kicked from the academy to repeat everything from the start.

But the Mage Academy was just the first hard step. Mages still had to face the greatest challenge of all to become a fully pledged Wizard. Very few Mages ever earned the right to wear the "Eyes Robe", as they called it. The Council of Elders could be considered the damned, very hard to please people in the world. One slight "impurity" seen on a Mage could get him whacked off Geffen Tower.

Because of the extremely high-set standards, Wizards grew to be proud. Many of them (but not all) considered themselves as "gods", superior to other classes because they have the gift of magic. Many classes, especially the Knights and Priests of Izlude and Prontera, grew to hate them. In the First Conflict, the war between humans and gods, Geffen was one of the most stricken citystates. Thor, God of Thunder, wanted to destroy the city because its citizens were "proud fools with no brains and definitely no gratitude". Odin gave him his vanguard to finish the job.

When the war raged and Geffen was losing, Prontera and Izlude sent their mighty cavalry to help. Geffen suffered a deathblow to its pride. She came under Pronteras authority and lost her superb government and homemade laws.

Gradually Geffen became subdued under Pronteras rule. But the pride of its people was still there. It endured for a thousand years, waiting to wake up.

This pride awoke when Lothair, High Elder, met his match in a fifteen-year-old Izlude boy by the name of Nerva al'Thor, son of the celebrated Knight, Sir Tiberius Thor.

Lothair had no doubt that Nerva was the most brilliant student he had ever seen, but he couldn't permit that a young "boy" could become a Wizard too quick and without any real effort at all.

It might be because Nerva was from Izlude; one of Geffens most hated rival citystates. Or maybe Lothair hated him so much because he attracted followers far and wide without even knowing it. The Council of Elders had long been Geffens guiding light. They could not just accept the fact that the world was ever changing, and someone would always be greater and better than they were.

Lothairs pride grew to envy. Envy eventually grew to anger. Anger matured into blazing Hate.

Lothair did everything in his power to destroy Nervas image. He succeeded in accusing the young Wizard of smuggling illegal Wanderer and Bathory hybrids into Geffen for illegal magical experiments.

But Nerva, newly admitted into Isidore Cranes elite party of Swastika, turned the whole case upside-down. All evidences pointed to Lothair of participating in the smuggling. Lothair was then the one who landed in prison for a whole year.

He hated Nerva even more. Things weren't going his way as well, as Nerva journeyed around Midgard with Swastika and created a massive line of followers from the highlands of Al de Baran up to the desert sands of Morroc.

Lothair grew desperate to reclaim his glory; the glory stolen by a ruffian from Izlude. Summoning all of his power and knowledge in alchemy and sorcery, he created the darkest creature to have ever walked Midgard.

It was the creature that finally caused the downfall of Nerva al'Thor and his inevitable confinement to the Geffen Tower.

"YOU BLASTED CRETINS! WHY ELSE DID YOU THINK I HIRED YOU? YOU CAN'T EVEN KILL A BUNCH OF SLEEPING KIDS!" Lothair screamed his lungs out at the three Assassins standing before him.

The nearest Assassin stepped up courageously.

"Well for your information, dear client, we had no idea what we were up against. You didn't tell us that WE WERE BEING SENT TO KILL FIRNHEILD! Do you know what Firnheild is? Or should I probably tell you?"

Lothairs face became an ugly shade of violet.

"I know what Firnheild is, indolent dolt."

"Really?" said the Assassin.

"You're a powerful Wizard yourself, old man, why don't you go kill them yourself? Afraid to get your hands bloodstained, aren't you?"

"I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Lothair shrieked, summoning his Arc Wand and pointing at the Assassin. 

"FIRE PILLAR!"

The Assassin burst into flames. His two comrades were horror-struck. The burning one shrieked and flailed his arms wildly as blood and muck oozed from his like glue. Then he fell to the floor until only his ashes were left. The other two were too scared to move, let alone blink.

"GET OUT! NOW!" Lothair boomed.

The two Assassins raced for the door and left without closing it. Lothair stood up and cursed under his breath as he walked toward his bookshelf. From here he singled out a hardbound encyclopedia and gave it a pull.

There was the loud clanking of chains and metal gears, and the bookshelf slid away to reveal a hidden passageway illuminated with torches. Lothair climbed down the spiral stone steps and into his secret laboratory.

His pride and treasure was found in this laboratory. Arrayed against the walls were bottles of different powerful draughts and potions. Five worktables stood alongside each other bearing assorted magical equipment. Ancient books lined the bookshelves, covered all with thick layers of dust.

Lothair gave a satisfied look around his secret haven. Then he turned to the massive tank at the back.

The glass tank held a living nightmare inside it, a creature of purest black and red eyes.

"I know you are eager to be released after a long sleep, my child." Lothair spoke, his eyes twinkling with a crazy light. 

"And I have come to release you. Your prey awaits."

He stepped back and pointed his Arc Wand ready.

"RELEASE!"

The glass panes of the tank gave way and crashed to the floor, breaking into millions of shards. The Shadow rose up in all its darkest glory, furling its demonic wings and uttering a low, death moan. Its hair was black shadow, its bony body clothed in rags and its breath pure poison. It was the creature of Hell. A great invisible force swept throughout Geffen with its release, shaking trees and reaching thousands of miles away to the whole of Midgard.

"GO AND KILL NERVA, MY CHILD!" Lothair shrieked.

"GO AND KILL EVERYONE WHO SURROUNDS HIM, AND LEAVE NONE ALIVE!"

The Shadow rose up and flew out of Geffen Tower like an angel of death, soaring toward the night sky like a horde of bats.

A hundred kilometers away, Nerva felt the thing in him respond.