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The Sage Of Shellivorn's Veil
StoriesW. R. Frady
Rank (male) – Lvl 1
Elemental energy crackled over the faceless warrior’s armor and shield as he stepped out of the waterfall. His boots made not a sound as he stepped onto the grassy bank, and though he emerged from the pristine pool that formed the waterfall’s basin, the mystic warrior’s clothing seemed untouched by the water’s surface. To Relnar’s alarm, the mystical being strode toward him the blue arcs of energy playing about his perimeter.
“Who dares tread upon the sacred banks of Shellivorn’s Veil?” The faceless being inquired. As if on cue, the wind changed direction pelting the young seeker with mist from the gossamer falls.
Gathering his courage, Relnar cleared his throat and replied; “I seek the wisdom of Ergal Noran Mordul, the King of Gareklyn has sent me bearing this ancient sigil, showing that I am his emissary to speak with the ancient sage. The mystical warrior gazed upon the sigil, a rampant griffon whose talons pierced the body of a prone serpent with the sunburst set into the background. There was a brief pause as if the entire Forest of Celwynd held its breath for what might come next. To Relnar’s surprise the faceless warrior began to laugh- not a menacing laugh, but one of true amusement. As if to accentuate his mirth, the elemental energy ebbed and surged with each breath.
“Well now,” The Mystic Warrior spoke at last, “that’s something I have not seen in a great many years.” At his will the elemental lightning arcing over his form subsided and he beckoned for Relnar to come closer. “Bring that to me, young seeker, and we’ll discuss your matters over a hot meal and wine.”
Relnar relaxed some, but hesitated as he gazed upon the faceless one merely a pace or two away. The shimmering mist settled upon the mystic being allowing the sun to glimmer on the ebony folds of his rune-covered armor.
“Ah, still put off by this faceless visage you see, eh? Well, we’ll just have to do something about that, now won’t we?” With that the faceless mystic waved his hand over the front of his face as if trying to see his hands on the dark, only when the darkened gauntlet passed over the place where his face should have been the third time, Relnar was greeted by the chiseled features of a middle-aged man whose eyes glimmered with humor, yet the creases in his brow and the hint of sternness in his face, bespoke the experience of a thousand battles or more.
The seeker, Relnar Kalisten, relaxed involuntarily despite himself. If he hadn’t known any better he could have sworn that he was among the greatest of men who had ever lived, from whom he could learn the entire story of the lands of Etheswyn and never miss a beat. “Are you whom I seek,” he asked sheepishly?
“That all depends upon you, my son,” the mystic answered cryptically, “am I?”
Relnar was taken aback by such an answer, but returned with a more direct question. “Are you the sage, Erdal Noran Mordul?” He wasn’t sure of how the older fellow might respond, but he was sent here with a purpose, though now thinking about it, he did not know what that purpose really was other than the rising of Dathaek Kurgiz the deathless warlord of Sarengaard and how he had began mustering his armies both from the vile savages of this world and the next.
“I am the sage you seek, young seeker,” Ergal responded with a nod. He saw the struggle that was taking place in the young man, and quickly understood. It was up to he to prepare the lad before him for the purpose with which he had been sent. “There is much you don’t yet understand, seeker, but with time and a little hot food to warm your senses, you’ll come to know why it was that you were sent here… to me.” He approached the youth, and draped his arm around his shoulder like a father would his son. “First let’s have your, name. After all, you don’t want to be called young seeker during your stay, do you?”
Relnar shook his head, as he found himself approaching the basin of Shellivorn’s Veil. “I am called Relnar… Relnar Kalisten. Before him the waterfall parted like a great curtain, revealing a cave beyond. No, it wasn’t a cave, on a second look, it was the gateway to the grand courtyard beyond. It was as if Shellivorn’s Veil served as a watery portcullis, all the while hiding the enchanted land beyond its shimmering gossamer.
“Well met, Relnar Kalisten,” Elgar spoke gently, “come, we’ve much to discuss, and there’s no place better to discuss such matters than over a piping hot meal.”
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I am a writer based in the foothills of North Carolina, specializing in Gothic Horror and Fantasy. Though I do play around with some Science Fiction.