The Crowning of Stars - By Dior Eluchil

Fan fiction from the Darkness Falls universe.
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The Crowning of Stars - By Dior Eluchil

Post by Daleth » Mon Feb 01, 2016 7:13 pm

The Crowning of Stars......
By Dior Eluchil

Part 1:

A soft tapping came from the main door of the Temple of Vesta: Kaeria, on business from the Arcanum, slowly called: ‘I’m coming.’ The door opened, and Kaeria looked out, and saw nothing but the twilight of the evening. She sighed, and thought to herself, pranksters. The children would be having too much fun tonight. She softly giggled, remembering her own past. Suddenly she heard a baby cry, and she looked down, seeing a bundle wrapped in a basket. Kaeria picked the basket up, and peered at the face crying. A girl! ‘Gaea! Dior!’ She called.


It was nearing evening as I strode up the hills, heading for a distinct pile of rubble, needing a break from the bustle of Carendal, headed for my favorite place.
I had prayed to my goddess Vesta for answers to whether Carendal would be busy this night. She had answered no, if I needed repose, I could go wherever, and not worry about some needing me…After all, I mused, Being the Oracle of Vesta means being the right hand of Carendal, for it was Vesta, sister to Niord, who was the one who could bring life again to any. The goddess, was, after all, revered by all, even the enemies of Niord, for her gifts and powers of healing, both in the mortal realm, and the Shining Realm.

I sighed, and paused a minute to gaze up into the sky, noticing the stars starting to appear slowly.. ‘twas going to be a beautiful night in Carendal, after all, with no clouds visible for miles. Returning to my goal, I began digging slowly through the pile of rubble, that was before me, until I formed a tunnel. Crawling through it, I found my favorite place to escape. And a surprise.

There was a woman standing by the edge of the small grassy meadow, staring at the majestic waterfall I so always loved to watch, clad only in the earthy tone of the robes of the White Dragon Brotherhood, hood drawn, as her hair flowed over her shoulders, almost nearing her stomach. As a princess, she was in looks, and I knew suddenly who she was, even if I didn’t see her face.

‘It is beautiful, isnt it?’ I simply stated, and the monk named Marina turned around, sapphire eyes meeting my silver ones. ‘Lord Oracle, good evening. It is, indeed. But why do you call me by my true name?’
I stared off into space for a minute, and sighed deeply. ‘Because I suggested it. Only your mothers and I knew. I saw you as a baby wellnigh twenty-five years ago. I am glad my vision was true. Oh, how the stars shined on you that night. It was almost as if you were crowned by them.’ I chuckled, a soft smile curling around the corners of my lips as I recalled that night.

Elerrina: (Quenya) star-crown, literally, crowned by stars.

Part 2:

‘Where is it?’ He thought, as he rummaged through the old books in the Temple of Vesta library. All were covered by dust, as he coughed. ‘I shall have to send someone to clean this up with a dust mask.’ He continued looking, coughing all the while and suddenly exclaimed: ‘Here it is!’, as he holds up a black book covered with arcane runes in the language of the Bael Elves, he knew, because this book he was holding was a stolen one from Cverick’s disciples.. He stood up, and turned to leave, when suddenly he spied a tome laying on a table. ‘Hmm, odd. That wasn’t there….. I’m going to take a look.’
Kaeria sighed softly as she looked at those gathered before her in the great hall of the temple of Niord. ‘Wise of Carendal, I come with grave tidings. The magicks of Cverick are unusually stronger. Even Dior has not found any new information from the stolen tome of Solmyr, the greatest of the Bael Elves. Those gathered were considered great among their guildmates, and one was the Avatar- Grips, Jagorn, Magister, Dior, Daithus, Morgiana, Andromeda, Metanoia, Durnik were all here. Magister sighed, and nodded. ‘Dior? Any information on why this is happening now?’ Dior shook his head, and sighed. ‘Even Vesta has not given me any details on what is causing this. She did say I would find a sign- the sign that would mean Cverick’s final downfall in his own tower. What that sign is, I cannot tell. Perhaps in a few days, or weeks, or months, or possibly years. Until then, I shall keep praying to Vesta for guidance.’
‘I cannot tell what language this is in. It is certainly not one of Olmran,’ Magister studied the tome intently. ‘Even one such as I, who have wandered far, cannot master all languages. And you say no clear answer has been given from Vesta herself?’ I sigh, and shake my head, looking at the elf before me, proclaimed the Wisdom of Niord himself, Lord Avatar of Carendal. ‘She has only said I will find out in time. I wanted to inquire of your wisdom, but it seems even you cannot unravel this dual mystery. Both the magicks of Cverick and this one.....’

Part 3:

3 months after the Azure Council
'Vesta, sister to Niord, I beg thee, show favor upon thy Chosen, help him understand this tome' Dior mumbled, as he studied, zealously, since the tome interested him, and he wondered also, if it was to be the sign, the sign of Cverick's downfall. The mausoleum had taken on a whole new look, almost like as it was renewed with even more fierce, even more darker, sinister forces. the adventurers had quite often come in and died. It was no cakewalk, anymore, even for the most seasoned of fighters. He remembered one day he narrowly died from an mass incantation of baleful curses coming from the necromancers in there, whilst trying to save a wizard already claimed by their strengthened magicks..
And Vesta answered. There, in front of Dior, where he was praying, appeared yet another tome, apparently written by some unknown author. Curious, he bent over and picked it up, and began to read:

He stands once more, and withdraws a cruelly jagged dagger from his robes. Words of power, ancient before man or even elf crawled from the primordial soup, flow from his lips as if they were his native tongue. The tingle of sorcery cascades throughout this ancient and reverent place, and his chanting becomes louder and more driven. The dwellers of this shrine shuffle forth and gather around his ceremony, none daring to interrupt him, even if they could form the intent to do so.
Dark lightning arcs and bounces from the altar, and ancient power, the force of death and decay, streams forth. Evilsangel's eyes alight with that same power, and his voice rises ever higher until it reaches a fevered pitch. He can feel his god, taste the power, and touch the divine in every syllable and gesture he makes. The dagger spins and dances in his hands, driven by a will other than his own. Magick consumes him into ecstasy, and his frail elven form rises into the air, carried aloft by the tidal flow of sorcerous might. At the zenith of his incantation, he plunges the dagger into his own hand. As his lifeblood drips upon the dark altar and is absorbed by it, he becomes one with entropy, his consciousness consumed by the enlightenment of the downward spiral of all that was, is or ever shall be.
. . . .
Hours pass, and he awakens upon the altar. Even before he is fully conscious he can feel the resurgent power infusing this sacred shrine. He smiles, and grasps at the precious knowledge still singing within his soul, the knowledge of power and death.
He stands, wrapping his cloak around him. He senses magicks within him that will fade with the passage of time, but for now this added might is the blessing of Serenath. He has done well, and his god is pleased. The shadows open beneath him, and he steps from where he stands in Cverick's Tower to his chantry in Tamia. His quest is complete, for he has renewed the ebbing magicks of the first of the Bael Elves, and Cverick's Tower is once more the shrine to death that it ever was meant to be.
Flood waters of biblical proportions were about to engulf a shackled corpse, with its allies, a spirit of vengeance, and a tortured soul, until a black hole began to form close to the assembled foes of Slrix as he laughed, sensing victory near at hand, with his full onslaught of power coming down on these enemies that dared assault him. He could not see the black hole, until it was too late. The spell was interrupted as Slrix was devoured whole into the black hole, and transported to the domain of Serenath.

Unnatural waves of pain repeatedly slammed themselves against Slrix's mind, and he screamed in torment as he was pushed back against the wall by a seemingly impenetrable barrier of darkness at the same time. The Elf soon lost consciousness. When he came to, he was bound on a makeshift table with his hands cuffed behind his back, and his legs also were cuffed, and an arcane rune of silence permeated the room. Slrix was rendered powerless for now.
There was alarm in the abandoned Karimere Castle soon as the other hunters found Slrix missing, they had it planned to the realm that Slrix was missing, and the Azure Council, as they were called now, gathered swiftly at the bidding of Lady Morgiana in the apothecary among the chatter and traffic as was usual there, and decided to retreat to the temple of Niord, finding it much quieter, to hold a meeting.

"The disappearance of Lord Slrix has to raise quite a few questions." Jagorn said, continuing, "One being is his disappearance related to the mausoleum being revamped with some unknown magic? Two: who abducted him, and why?' The others nodded. Morgiana spoke, "Dior has shown me a most peculiar tome that he was granted by Vesta herself, and it contains a new revelation no one has seen or heard, apparently because the writer had to have snuck past our guards and our comrades' watch into the mausoleum and watched as Evilsangel renewed the altar of Serenath." Those assembled gasped at this, and it was Grips who spoke first. "Even if it was his sacrifice that renewed the altar of Serenath, he is dead, and bothers us no more. It is apparent the cause of the ferocity of the monsters inside is fueled by this, but now the question still remains. Who abducted Slrix, and why? And yet another added question would be how do we counter this renewed fury?" Daithus sighed, and said: "The only way we can. Bring an invasion force to the mausoleum and end the cycle for good. Niord and Vesta will be on our side, I am sure of this." Magister added: "Soira as well." Metanoia nodded, as did a few others, and spoke: "An invasion force it shall be, then. Vengeance shall be ours." The meeting was over, a silent end to things for now. The priests huddled close around themselves, and conversed. "We will have to go and aid our realm-mates out there," said Spire. "They will certainly need our help." Everyone nodded briskly. Soon after a cry for the call to arms came. "Lord Magister wishes we all convene near the mausoleum entrance."
Whisky sighed, as he was the first to be at the entrance, as he looked at the grand golden gate some distance away.
The others filed in soon after, and after a while there were a whole force of Niordians assembled. Spire, along with Whisky and Morgiana quickly buffed and shielded the groups assembled there. "Let us enter, and ready your weapons!" shouted Metanoia, getting ready to open the entrance.
Slrix slowly regained consciousness, and as he moaned, and stirred, a ghostly voice cackled evilly: "Good, you are awake. It is time. The final Awakening awaits." Slrix sighed, as his vision was still blurred, and he felt horrible, and tried to focus on where the voice was coming from. All he could see was dark, and more darkness. "Do you know who I am?" the voice floated from the shadows. When Slrix gave no answer, the voice whispered: "my name is the First. I am the Elder. I am the master of this tower granted eternal life by Serenath. I am Cverick!" Slrix gasped, and that was all he could do as he was slammed unconscious again. Darkness tried to take his mind, and his journey fell through shadow and pain. He tried valiantly to put up some mental defenses, but they did not last very long in his weakened state. The barriers protecting his mind were overthrown and the darkness prevailed.
The invasion forces of Niord were battling it out with the occupants of the Mausoleum when there was a shriek coming from the stairs that reverberated throughout the mausoleum. The shriek suddenly froze all the creatures, and they slinked back into hiding. The forces were confused, and they gathered in the hospital, wondering what would happen next. The shrieking subsided for a while, and the monsters re-grouped, gathering closer to the hospital entrance, waiting for them to come out. Everyone that was in the hospital suddenly rushed, with renewed fury, screaming the name of Niord, Vesta, and Soira, and assorted other gods/goddesses. A great cry arose, and those who were fighting turned around to see Dior coming through the hallway, crying "Aurë entuluva! Aurë entuluva! Day shall come again! Light shall shine forth again!" And as he finished speaking, there was a wave of darkness and death devouring whatever they touched, headed straight for the groups assembled. Only a few were able to take cover before the wave flooded over those not fortunate enough to be quick. The priests assembled inside the hospital rushed out and dragged every dead soul back into the hospital to begin their resurrection duties. Once everyone was back alive and healed, they began to head for the tunnel downstairs, deciding it time to completely annihilate the remaining monsters. As they began their march towards the stairs, victory seeming to be in hand, there was a great flash of dark light, and when the smoke cleared, there stood Slrix, and before anyone or anything could react, he muttered a few incantantions and wellnigh everyone suddenly dropped to their knees, writhing in pain. Slrix cackled madly and grinned evilly. "Is this the best Niord has to offer? It pales in comparision of the power of Cverick and Serenath!" The now-possessed Slrix sent waves and waves and waves of unending pain coursing through the currently disabled forces, laughing maniacally. Unnoticed behind Slrix crept Marina with all the stealth, and advantage, she having been healed by Vesta and shielded by Niord unannounced disappearing, and reappearing.
Dior, seeing this, struggled to his feet, and shouted "Elerrina tultane, aid us in the hour of our greatest need! Nai Vesta tiruvasina." And Vesta did indeed heed this, and the green stone around Marina's neck glowed brightly, as she touched Slrix, and his body went limp, and Cverick's spell was broken, and he himself was so wroth that he appeared suddenly, and sent forth a wave of Doom, that was instant death if it touched anyone, towards Marina. But she stood still, and waited, and watched as there was a green aura around her absorbing the wave. Cverick was so stunned that a mere mortal had survived that which none before had. She simply laughed, and whispered "Good shall defeat Evil forever. Now begone before I end your pitiful existence, that not even Serenath can bring you back alive." And Cverick vanished, preferring a life of banishment than a life of eternal rest.

Slrix awoke, groggily, a few hours after almost everyone departed, having killed every monster still alive in that hellhole. He looked up to see a few of his friends Vodka, Whisky, Xirtell. They all were waiting anxiously for him to awaken from that horrible experience he had. Everyone of them and the rest of his realmies were happy to see him back on their side.

Dior held up a tome, laughing to himself, as he read through it.

"So this is the answer to all the cries I spoke, and the names I gave."

Aurë entuluva (Quenya): Day shall come again.

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