[P] Aldenor

Prologue:Alazor

In the grand city of Alazor, the protectors were waiting. As was the tradition, they would keep a vigil towards the dark shore for the next week as the man who had been chosen to become the next Protector of DarkShore made his way across the land to claim his title. It was something that usually only came a few times in any one Dimin's lifetime, so they had gathered from far and wide to join in the week long vigil. The water surface half an inch above the cities streets rippled continuously from the beat of thousands of Dimin feet. Dwallow mingled among them, hoping for a sight of the man who would truly be their protector. The title of Protector of DarkShore came with more military and political authority than any title except High Protector. They waited for Balanthos of the Bor.

On the Shore Gate, guardsman Hamir stood watch. He was a man of firm beliefs who had served in the Gate Guard for twenty years. He was a sure pick for the next Protector of the Gates, but on this day he was on vigil. His eyes scanned the horizon dutifully. Then he saw it, and his heart almost stopped in his chest. The cry rang out from the men around him. High shrill voices filled the air as guardsmen pressed against him.

"MIST! Mist from the direction of the shore!"

"We're all doomed!"

*Zectiox likes this* ;D

What colour was said mist? If it was green, only one thing can be said about it; a curse approaches, for it is the Blight.

It's grayish like most mist...

Guardsman Hamir stepped forward. He saw the people around him separated, some were pressing backwards, others moving forwards. He might have to pull a few stunts like this in the future to figure out who was worthy of promotions. Then he saw the flashes from the mist. He hadn't seen those since his tour on the shore forts over 15 years ago. He turned around and spoke in a clear, commanding voice that rang through the air, "Men, at ease! The Mist is not a danger. Send messengers to the high protector. Lord Balanthos is going to be coming to the city a bit earlier than expected, and I doubt it's about his new position.
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In a small Dwallow town just outside the boundaries of the protectorate, crowds milled in the streets. Pering Northinger walked along the cobblestone streets. his gray hair and the ceremonial sword at his belt cleared something of a path for him. he was jostled a little less than those around him. His eyes darted through the crowd, then lit up as they lighted upon a flash of pure white. He called out, "Elder Ushan!" and then strode purposefully towards the white hair bobbing in the crowd.

Elder Ushan turned to look at the elderly warrior making his way through the throng. She was a rather tall dwallow, elegant and refined in the finest of fur robes. "Hello Brother, how goes it?"

"I'm more concerned how it goes with you. The men have had to take on two Mogrul raiding parties, three groups of bandits, and a mistweaver in the past week alone. We almost lost seven of our best young recruits to the mistweaver, it was only a lucky arrow from one of our better archers that took him down."

"Better archers brother? Surely you aren't using such terms to refer to your own son are you?" She said.

"Well yes, but how go the proceedings of the council?"

"That bastard Nerris doesn't want to sign ourselves to the Protectorate. He thinks they are power crazed servant construct who have gotten a bit to power-crazy..."

"What the hell does he think he's talking about!?" a touch of desperation had entered the voice of the elderly warrior, "They have a huge infrastructure, huge magical powers, and a large society, how he can relegate them to mere servants is beyond me..."

"I know brother. We will make our final decision tonight and will be ready when the Ambassador comes tomorrow."

"Good luck to you. I must return home."

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Darith Northinger fingered the sash of worked leather that he had recently been given. The men around him had been his friends for as long as he could remember, but now, because of some twist of fate and a single arrow, he was their commander.

The woods around the town were silent, but he knew many things could hide within the brush. His men moved quickly, rapidly scanning, fanning in and out to keep the area around him safe. It was a routine patrol, he knew, but it was the first time he had ever led one, or been on one without Drawlin's commanding tones ordering them all about.

He heard a crash in the bushes, then another, then the beginning of a scream followed by a gurgling noise. He looked around, alarmed, as the woods fell silent. his heart thundered, blood pulsing behind his ears. He froze, wincing as a twig snapped beneath his foot.

"You cannot hide from ussss. We will take you home. Take HIM!" A silent voice came through the trees.

Dark figures in long black robes and with twisted, beaked wooden masks upon their faces emerged from the woods around him. Silent chants filled the air. Then a sudden pain radiated from the back of his skull, and the world went red, then black.

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It was low mist-rise, the mouth was pulling in mist at full speed, and the sun was shining over the cloud sea. It was a great time to be an Ak-Dimin. The young woman whistled to herself as she let out a line. She already had caught four rather large birds today, killing them with a quick strike of her club. She felt a tug, and braced herself against sun-warmed stone.

Then she felt the line go slack. She looked over the edge, and saw a huge ungainly bird, that seemed burned and cut and warped, hurling itself up towards her. It's toothy maw opened wide and it hurled over he head and landed with a thumping crash behind her.

She saw the claw grasp at the stone and saw the tortured beast drag itself up and turn hungry eyes on her. It began to saunter over and she fell over her own feet as she scrambled away from it. It began to hum, and the thick stench of rotting meat and burned hair wafted towards her. She suddenly felt the stone drop off behind her and realized she was about to fall off the Mouth.

"A bit stupid you little Diminor are. you think you're so high and mighty with your cities, but you ain't nothin' gainst those who owned this land before. And if anyone ever finds a sliver of their power, let me tell you that you are done for...I'm s'posed to git you ta tell yer friends that some seek their power in the Dark Sea, but I think I'm a wee bit too hungry for that."

The young Dimin felt the stone crumble benath her hand and it fell down, into the stream of mist. She had only one hope. She lunged at the bird, her palm glowing, mist twirling around it, and bolt of flame hurled the bird backwards.

Something was going on, she had to alert the village Bak.

The elderly Dwallow made his way along the bottom of the dark sea. He was dressed in long robes of black, rimmed with fine fur, but worn with age. Strapped to his back was a small bundle. He was old; long white hair fell down to his knees. He was wrinkled and his eyes seemed set deep in his head. As he walked along, his ornate wooden cane made a rhythmic thumping on the ground. The mists swirled around him, and the ground warped before him to make a perfectly level path, then warped back to it's normal state once he passed.

A few unfortunate critters lived among the mists. They were strange beings, twisted by desires far above their mind's pay grade. As they sensed the old man passing, their desires were replaced by abject fear, and he smiled grimly as he heard the scufflings, skitterings, and patterings of the beasts flight.

Slowly the mist parted before him and a wide grin cracked open the stony face. He cackled with glee as a monolithic shadow emerged from the mists before him, a vast plateau of unimaginable size. "We're almost here my darling," he said, "almost home. Papa Aldenor wants to see you." he patted the bundle on his back. A small head peeked out, revealing the bundle to be a Mogrul child. It saw the shadowy form rising ahead and began to scream

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Almost an hour later the Dwallow had reached the top of the stairs that wound up the face of the massive stone table. He looked at the flat area, scoured and almost polished. A figure seemed to form before him, a nebulous being formed entirely of darkness. A voice became audible in the weavings of the whistles of the wind. "Who comes to the temple of the Master? Who comes seeking the body of the great ones?"

The elderly Dwallow spoke, his voice strong. "Brother Aran, I come, you know me and you know my duty."

The winds roared and their whistles came together in a discordant crescendo that evoked laughter. "Brother Rakar, last and greatest, you may pass."

The shadowy entity faded from existence, and the dwallow made his way across the great stone surface. Eventually his goal came into sight. Four open sarcophagi holding bodies of beings that had not been seen for centuries. Two male, two female. The feet all pointed at a black stone hemisphere in the center, and the heads pointed in the four cardinal directions.

As he approached he chuckled, then waved his hand in a single imperious gesture. The central orb dissolved into a hemisphere of mist which then exploded outward, dispelling the illusion of Sarcophagi. "How foolish they all are to think that the Forerunner lie in open unguarded air." he muttered to himself. The illusion dispelled, a new scene was now revealed. Seven stone chairs round a seeming bottomless pit the exact diameter of the sphere. In the chairs sat six dark figures. The Dwallow stepped forward and, grasping the child in his hands, hurled it into the pit. He then walked calmly to the seventh throne and took a seat.

"Brother Rakar, we need our bodies."

Great dark, but who is aldenor?

From my gielinor based version:

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For this:

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As to the Purakasi:

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cool Dark, you will make a questline for this right?