Post by becbec on Oct 7, 2008 10:30:01 GMT -5
The Prologue-
Solaria. The name of your beautiful land. Solaria is an angelic place, where it’s people all possess wings, as well as magical abilities. Not overly gaudy abilities, but more the power of persuasion. Typically, a Solarian would have this power over a certain element. The Solarians were steeped in deep moral codes and traditions, so they only used their gifts for the good of the country, and never for ill gain. These gifts did not run in families, but were gained randomly, power over the wind, over the ground, over water, over fire, over animals, very rarely over people, and over all things that grow.
Now, the Solarians mainly believed in their rulers passing down kingship or queenship by inheritance, so their country was ruled by a large family. But times wore on, and not all of the rulers stood up for the same right things of the most original. A group of Solarians known as the Seditionists came to believe that their country needed modernizing. They stood for a democracy, so the people could choose their ruler and get rid of them if they did not do their job. To keep things simple, a war soon broke out between the Seditionists and the Patriarchs, those who believed in ruling by inheritance.
The Seditionists won, but at a high price. The man who gained control over the country was an even worse ruler than Solaria’s late king. Valcan, for that was his name, became a self-proclaimed tyrant, gaining control by brute force. This continued for years, and in that time, the Plant Whisperers all but disappeared. All of Solaria’s gifts were lessened, not as powerful, yes, but those with the gift of growing either died or disappeared, and none were born that showed signs of possessing that gift. The country was soon steeped in a famine. Solarians did their best to try and grow food, but without those who could help tame the land, very little was grown, and food prices skyrocketed.
Now the Seditionists have regrouped, only fighting a different enemy. Those who are loyal to Valcan and his armies soon became known as Turnsleeves by most of the people, as they are not loyal to the ideas and dreams that had made the Seditionists abandon the Patriarch ways.
Then there were the rumors. The whispers. Had Valcan really found the last Herbal Whisperer? The Seditionists were getting ready for an uprising, but they know that the weakened people of Solaria will only fight behind a true hope for their country. Now the Seditionists have found out that the rumors are true, and that their only hope for gaining the people’s confidence is the last Herbal Whisperer, a symbol of hope and new life.
And now, a bit on Solarian magic-
Solarian magic is steeped in ancient symbols, runes, texts, and old dialect. They perform spells by making these symbols on the item they wish to affect, and often repeating what they wish to happen in the old Solarian language. The language after many years grew into disuse in speaking, and many words forgotten, so the extent of their magic is limited to the few common words that are known, and the ones that were written in books. Valcan had all of the books containing old words, runes, and spells destroyed when he first took over. Traditionally these texts and runes were painted or branded onto weapons or tools to affect the item’s wear, too increase it’s accuracy, and other various things. Valcan himself was a thorough spell caster when he came to power, but he feared the power of those who might threaten him, and had many great Solarian spell casters put to death on false accusations of conspiracy against him. What Valcan didn’t know, is that the rebels soon known as the Seditionists had managed to infiltrate his ranks and learn of his plan. They smuggled as many old books out of the major cities as they could, and formed a safe camp several miles outside of Ethriel, using the fresh magic that they knew and studied to guard it’s presence to all but those who knew of it, and could be trusted. New Seditionist followers are taught basic spells and magic for emergencies, but they are advised against using it. The magic is typically done with an object as a vessel; a staff, small wand, candle wax, and various other items, but those who practice magic often and have worked hard can do a few spells with just their fingers or by even imagining the rune in their mind. This is exceedingly rare, though, as it is almost impossible for one to train their magical skills that far without the knowledge in some of the books that were lost, or without being found out and executed for treason.
More to the Prologue-
It was a quiet night. Strangely warm for the early spring season, humid-like dew covered the grass and leaves. She sat on a log in a small clearing, a silver pipe between her fingers and at her mouth. Bright green baby vines snaked over the log, and seemed to grow as long as she played. Small, clear notes came from the small pipe, in a long flowing tune that just kept going. She had quite a mind for music, and wasn’t afraid to enjoy herself in it. Flowers hesitantly pushed their way through the ground, anxious to unearth themselves for an influence they had long since stopped hearing. Her wings were a curious thing, the length of their tip maybe falling to her waist. They were quite long though, at least ten feet wide. They much resembled a bird in the way that their length was horizontally and not vertically. They were covered from the base at her back to the very tip in what looked almost like off-white bandages. Some spaces they were tightly wound, others the scraps of material hung a little, though you could not see what lay underneath, for these were her wings, and that was what they were made of. Hard to believe, hard to understand, but true. Her hair was a long and untamed mane, flowing down to at least her waist. It’s chestnut color was shiny and thick, with a bit of wave to it. Her tan skin was lovely, evidence of many long days spent in the sun. Her face was not quite as delicate as most young female Solarians, but that did not tame her beauty. She had a sort of wild and natural look about her. Her tunic was brown, looking to be made of a close-fitting leather-like material. It fell down to her thighs, where a pair of brown, close-fitting slacks came from underneath. Having a quick, natural hand for embroidery, her garments were covered in almost invisible stitching. The closer you looked, the more you could see the shimmery, barely green vines that snaked across her apparel. Her boots were brown also, dirty and dusty. She played the pipe unceasingly for many long moments until a sound in the woods caught her attention. She stopped immediately and looked over towards the trees, a small smile on her face when she saw the figure that emerged from them.
“Aaron.” She said, standing up and greeting the young golden-haired man that walked towards her. His cerulean eyes were troublesome, and he did nothing but nod in greeting.
“Aaron, what is the matter?” She asked concertedly, for his discomfort and distress was quite evident in the way his eyes shifted and his hands were not still. She prodded him gently for several moments, to no avail. Finally he looked up at her, forcing a smile.
“It is nothing.” He reassured, walking over to the log and sitting down. Aaron struggled to be at ease, to relax. But he could not. “You get better and better at that thing every time I see you, Serasi.” He said, indicating her small pipe. Serasi smiled.
“It’s almost like second nature. There are so many other things I’d love to try in my lifetime.” She said. At those words Aaron’s face fell, and he looked away. Serasi sat beside him. “Aaron, please tell me what is wrong. What is the point of our friendship if you have to keep things from me?”
Aaron looked up, pain in his eyes. “Serasi. . . . I have done an unforgivable thing.” He whispered, struggling to keep her sienna gaze. Serasi looked confused.
“It can’t have been that bad. . . Did you kill someone?” To that, Aaron shook his head. “Steal?” He shook it again. “Then what can it have been?”
Aaron took a deep breath, standing up and taking steps back. “I’m so sorry Serasi. . . But I have betrayed a good friend.” Serasi was about to ask what he meant, until she felt hands over her mouth and her wings, so she could not fly away. Her world faded as she was hit upon the head, and her body fell limp.
Aaron watched her be taken as if in a daze. It was almost as if he couldn’t conceive what had just happened. What had he just done? The Turnsleeves had her, the treasure, the special one. What was he to do? He had to contact the Seditionists.
Solaria. The name of your beautiful land. Solaria is an angelic place, where it’s people all possess wings, as well as magical abilities. Not overly gaudy abilities, but more the power of persuasion. Typically, a Solarian would have this power over a certain element. The Solarians were steeped in deep moral codes and traditions, so they only used their gifts for the good of the country, and never for ill gain. These gifts did not run in families, but were gained randomly, power over the wind, over the ground, over water, over fire, over animals, very rarely over people, and over all things that grow.
Now, the Solarians mainly believed in their rulers passing down kingship or queenship by inheritance, so their country was ruled by a large family. But times wore on, and not all of the rulers stood up for the same right things of the most original. A group of Solarians known as the Seditionists came to believe that their country needed modernizing. They stood for a democracy, so the people could choose their ruler and get rid of them if they did not do their job. To keep things simple, a war soon broke out between the Seditionists and the Patriarchs, those who believed in ruling by inheritance.
The Seditionists won, but at a high price. The man who gained control over the country was an even worse ruler than Solaria’s late king. Valcan, for that was his name, became a self-proclaimed tyrant, gaining control by brute force. This continued for years, and in that time, the Plant Whisperers all but disappeared. All of Solaria’s gifts were lessened, not as powerful, yes, but those with the gift of growing either died or disappeared, and none were born that showed signs of possessing that gift. The country was soon steeped in a famine. Solarians did their best to try and grow food, but without those who could help tame the land, very little was grown, and food prices skyrocketed.
Now the Seditionists have regrouped, only fighting a different enemy. Those who are loyal to Valcan and his armies soon became known as Turnsleeves by most of the people, as they are not loyal to the ideas and dreams that had made the Seditionists abandon the Patriarch ways.
Then there were the rumors. The whispers. Had Valcan really found the last Herbal Whisperer? The Seditionists were getting ready for an uprising, but they know that the weakened people of Solaria will only fight behind a true hope for their country. Now the Seditionists have found out that the rumors are true, and that their only hope for gaining the people’s confidence is the last Herbal Whisperer, a symbol of hope and new life.
And now, a bit on Solarian magic-
Solarian magic is steeped in ancient symbols, runes, texts, and old dialect. They perform spells by making these symbols on the item they wish to affect, and often repeating what they wish to happen in the old Solarian language. The language after many years grew into disuse in speaking, and many words forgotten, so the extent of their magic is limited to the few common words that are known, and the ones that were written in books. Valcan had all of the books containing old words, runes, and spells destroyed when he first took over. Traditionally these texts and runes were painted or branded onto weapons or tools to affect the item’s wear, too increase it’s accuracy, and other various things. Valcan himself was a thorough spell caster when he came to power, but he feared the power of those who might threaten him, and had many great Solarian spell casters put to death on false accusations of conspiracy against him. What Valcan didn’t know, is that the rebels soon known as the Seditionists had managed to infiltrate his ranks and learn of his plan. They smuggled as many old books out of the major cities as they could, and formed a safe camp several miles outside of Ethriel, using the fresh magic that they knew and studied to guard it’s presence to all but those who knew of it, and could be trusted. New Seditionist followers are taught basic spells and magic for emergencies, but they are advised against using it. The magic is typically done with an object as a vessel; a staff, small wand, candle wax, and various other items, but those who practice magic often and have worked hard can do a few spells with just their fingers or by even imagining the rune in their mind. This is exceedingly rare, though, as it is almost impossible for one to train their magical skills that far without the knowledge in some of the books that were lost, or without being found out and executed for treason.
More to the Prologue-
It was a quiet night. Strangely warm for the early spring season, humid-like dew covered the grass and leaves. She sat on a log in a small clearing, a silver pipe between her fingers and at her mouth. Bright green baby vines snaked over the log, and seemed to grow as long as she played. Small, clear notes came from the small pipe, in a long flowing tune that just kept going. She had quite a mind for music, and wasn’t afraid to enjoy herself in it. Flowers hesitantly pushed their way through the ground, anxious to unearth themselves for an influence they had long since stopped hearing. Her wings were a curious thing, the length of their tip maybe falling to her waist. They were quite long though, at least ten feet wide. They much resembled a bird in the way that their length was horizontally and not vertically. They were covered from the base at her back to the very tip in what looked almost like off-white bandages. Some spaces they were tightly wound, others the scraps of material hung a little, though you could not see what lay underneath, for these were her wings, and that was what they were made of. Hard to believe, hard to understand, but true. Her hair was a long and untamed mane, flowing down to at least her waist. It’s chestnut color was shiny and thick, with a bit of wave to it. Her tan skin was lovely, evidence of many long days spent in the sun. Her face was not quite as delicate as most young female Solarians, but that did not tame her beauty. She had a sort of wild and natural look about her. Her tunic was brown, looking to be made of a close-fitting leather-like material. It fell down to her thighs, where a pair of brown, close-fitting slacks came from underneath. Having a quick, natural hand for embroidery, her garments were covered in almost invisible stitching. The closer you looked, the more you could see the shimmery, barely green vines that snaked across her apparel. Her boots were brown also, dirty and dusty. She played the pipe unceasingly for many long moments until a sound in the woods caught her attention. She stopped immediately and looked over towards the trees, a small smile on her face when she saw the figure that emerged from them.
“Aaron.” She said, standing up and greeting the young golden-haired man that walked towards her. His cerulean eyes were troublesome, and he did nothing but nod in greeting.
“Aaron, what is the matter?” She asked concertedly, for his discomfort and distress was quite evident in the way his eyes shifted and his hands were not still. She prodded him gently for several moments, to no avail. Finally he looked up at her, forcing a smile.
“It is nothing.” He reassured, walking over to the log and sitting down. Aaron struggled to be at ease, to relax. But he could not. “You get better and better at that thing every time I see you, Serasi.” He said, indicating her small pipe. Serasi smiled.
“It’s almost like second nature. There are so many other things I’d love to try in my lifetime.” She said. At those words Aaron’s face fell, and he looked away. Serasi sat beside him. “Aaron, please tell me what is wrong. What is the point of our friendship if you have to keep things from me?”
Aaron looked up, pain in his eyes. “Serasi. . . . I have done an unforgivable thing.” He whispered, struggling to keep her sienna gaze. Serasi looked confused.
“It can’t have been that bad. . . Did you kill someone?” To that, Aaron shook his head. “Steal?” He shook it again. “Then what can it have been?”
Aaron took a deep breath, standing up and taking steps back. “I’m so sorry Serasi. . . But I have betrayed a good friend.” Serasi was about to ask what he meant, until she felt hands over her mouth and her wings, so she could not fly away. Her world faded as she was hit upon the head, and her body fell limp.
Aaron watched her be taken as if in a daze. It was almost as if he couldn’t conceive what had just happened. What had he just done? The Turnsleeves had her, the treasure, the special one. What was he to do? He had to contact the Seditionists.
Congrats grimn! You're in the real mode, now. I've no doubt that you'll surprise yourself on just how tough and mature you can be.