The world of Fjor- Undeath

Chapter 1, The Days Before Death

One mortal soul cannot equate for another. Each has its own value in the eyes of the Gods. They were all made for some reason. Some to transcribe the word of the Gods, some to find the large dungeons they have made, and others to rule over the people who choose to be under their control. But with so many different things one mortal soul can do it's hard to truly describe one's worth. It's almost nearly pointless to do so. So then what in the name of the Divine is my purpose. What is my worth, and what exactly do i do?

Late at night in the capital of Yuria was a prince. This boy soon to be a man was still unsure of what he is to do. He was third in line for the throne. It was highly unlikely for him to become king without his elder brother and sister in line to become king before he even had a chance. Yet this seemed ok, normal even. He had time and whatever he needed. All he had to do is let someone know what he wanted and immediately steps would be made to do it. He had been thinking about this since he was fifteen years old. Often he found himself being a Duke or sometimes even head of military. The only issue he was having with either is that he had not experience or training in either. Magic was near out of the question. He had taken a lesson from the court wizard, and that didn't go any smoother then his weapon training.

But this night was something more than special. As the always crescent moon rises he closed his eyes, took in a breath and took in the power of whatever would let him for it was soon to be midnight, and his birthday. The boys name was Bjor Sullen of house Entrouse. Though his house didn't make him any more special than any other, he often took pride in the thought of belonging to something. Something that usually helped when he attempted to take in some kind of power, weather in thought, magic or strength was up for question. As the night grew ever so onward he still had trouble connecting with what he needed, or thought he needed, to make up his mind on what it was he is to do in this life.

Breathing and croaks could still be heard from the pond below is tower window. He had selected the room because it was so close to the castle forest. It had always brought him comfort. Though tonight seemed like another dull night of pondering and mental harassment only to be brought on by himself, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should know something if not anything by now. A splash of water from down below in the pond by fish occasionally brought him back from what would seem like his own madness. He went out into the hall now to go for a walk. He didn't know where he was going. Midnight had now past and went, meaning that all the guards were either drunk or asleep. Meaning his walk would go unchallenged. It usually wasn't anyway, but the guards always had a funny way to address Bjor.

Not long into his walk he could feel the cool night air on his hands and face. Something he had grew to find comfort in. he made his way to some trees, now not far from the base of his tower. Soon he found the familiar pond, He took off his boots and rolled up his pants, once he had settled down and put his feet in he could feel the familiar comfort it gave him from the sharp coolness of the nightly water's touch. His feet quickly became numb. He could sleep like this, finding is peace at last.

Drifting into sleep Bjor found himself seemingly in a dream. He even knew it was though he had no control over any of it. He wasn't at the pond, nor was he really anywhere he new. He had only read about this pace in stories. He was in Brupland on the day of staffs. He looked around just watching the act play out., The white stone falling, the scattering of the stones, and the ensuing darkness that moved like a dancing black mist. As it moved over the hills of Brupland it grew to enormous size, that was until the moon no longer covered the sun. once true light of the sun could cover Fjor again it was then that the black mist was gone. But in its wake lay death, rot, bones, armor, and a staff that had now just been floating just above where its user had perished not even moments ago. The sky became grey, dull. The grass and plants black, and the stone crumbling all around. It was silent, the kind that only becomes this way in a graveyard. For that's all it seemed to be now. A large and seemingly endless reach of death. But then from behind him he could hear a portal open, so he turned. Then he could hear in a language he didn't know something that sounded more like a deep growl than actual spoken tongue of any humanoid race. The fowl tone filled the air around him as more cloaked figures came out from the portal. Seeming to circle him as if they knew he was there they began an incantation in that deep growl and groaning language. Bjor shut his eyes and covered his ears as the sound and sight slowly became unbearable and near painful. And that's when they all slit their hands, allowing their blood to pool under themselves. Then all the chanting had stopped all at once. The staff that lay just outside the circle was pushed in where Bjor was, making him move. While he may not actually be there the boy needed to know what was going on. Storm clouds grew near, and struck the staff. The blood pools making sharp and rigid movements toward the stricken staff, changing it as the blood moved up its pole of a body. And once it reached the top it collected into a smooth and round ball. A woman reaches her hand out, calling for the staff, and it came. The woman struck down with it and all of the other hooded figures knelt in their circle formation, all bowing to her. She did it again and all of the people bowing collapsed, some turning over. Blood dripping from their eyes, noses and mouths. All had died.