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    The Tale of Nicodemus, Aeonic Mage

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    LegendaryExGamer
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    The Tale of Nicodemus, Aeonic Mage

    Post  LegendaryExGamer on February 2nd 2011, 07:28

    Aeonic Magick - the changing of causal forms/presencings and/or the creation of new causal forms/structures/presencings. i.e. Dark Sorcery


    My family has ever been strong in the arts of the arcane. that's not to say that there are not other adeptus professions born from our bloodline. In fact, I have a brother that defies the calling of Wizardry. This is not his tale, it is mine. Four generations of sacrifice, my forefathers bled themselves dry to no avail. Clinging to an old mentality, a family "practice" if you will. We primarily breed Wizards. Our house is among the most prestigious of these. We are the primary academy for arts arcane relating to Wizardry. For four generations i have both heard tales and watched as my predecessors went to the walls to die. They were all fools! Blinded by a single mindedness and a devotion to the Arcane of Wizardry. I cannot say, if we had bred more warriors or archers that we would have fared better.

    One would have thought, that with the lineage of power in our veins that a different path would have been attempted. Nay, this was not the case. There is another academy here in "Salvation", one whose practices would be defined as Aeonic Magic by those of my small minded line. That being, Dark Sorcery... However, this part while true in a sense is only but a fraction of the discipline. The Order of the Nethermancers Adeptus is held with respect though fear still creeps int the hearts and minds of the uninitiated of our Kaer. Linked all too often with the rituals which the Triumvirate utilized to fortify the faults within our wall. Blame falls to them and thus, their order has fallen to shallow ranks. All those in our Kaer who ascribe to this nonsense are nothing but simple fools... Perhaps, too, the fear of the beyond or after life and crossing of that barrier is a means for trepidation. If our order was more... approachable, then perhaps things would be different.

    When it came time for me to begin my training, much earlier than normal due to the "climate" of our Kaer, I refused. I progressed in conceptual understanding much faster than my predecessors. Long had I labored to find a path that might better combat the hordes of undead, horrors and faltering of our runic shield from the scourge. I could find little in our training beyond the pure bloodline that fueled out exceptional arcane prowess. I could find nothing that would guarantee I would not become one with the "wall". It is not out of cowardice that I utter these words. It is out of sensible desire to find another way. if magic so heavily flowed within our veins then, perhaps, I was meant for something greater. A discipline in direct conflict with our family.

    Once, upon a time, there was a Nethermancer known only as Nicodemus (the irony of my being named after him is not lost on me) born of our blood line. They were better times before the scourge. However, he was lustful of power and that quest drove him insane. He returned to our ancestral home and slew dozens of my bloodline before he was slain himself. Ever afterward, our line has forbidden the practice of Netermancy and focused upon the futile arts which provided nothing more than powerful blood sealing the faults of our Kaer. I refused and fled. I took up residence in the Order of the Netermancers Adeptus. I began my trials immediately, explaining my story to the headmaster there. They spared no time in my testing. Though arduous I had already surpassed many of their initiates of a dozen years, in my initial trials.

    By the time my family found me and demanded my release it was too late. I had passed the trials, been accepted and the Triumvirate in a rare display of intervention forbade my family's intervention. Thus, my training began in the arts of "Dark Sorcery" as the common folk of our Kaer called it. Nay, this was not the case. I learned that with the thinning of the their ranks so too did the hold on the defenses for the barrier wane. It was not their scheme to do what had been done, it was the triumvirate. However, dulled by their harrowing and deadly trials with the initial binding of the ritual to the walls of our kaer they had become quite silent. Many aspects of our ordinary society fall into disrepair and after their withdrawl from our society as a whole. The Netermancers Adepticus was depleted almost to the point of extinction due to their heroic efforts in defense of our Kaer. My choice was well founded, and had been sealed within my own bloodline. The fear emanating from my family in the years to come was an involuntary reaction to an abomination that I was indeed not. Though I have oft heard my family speaking in hushed voices of the similarities between myself and this Nicodemus "the Vile", as he was called, over the years. I cannot deny the similarity, though I think my family was hoping that I would break the trend and bring honor to the blighted name through wizardry. I will bring honor to MY name through my deeds, the arts which I draw from have no bearing upon the character of my soul.

    When it came time for me to man the walls I was prepared. My magic overwhelmed the foul presences attempting to access our sanctuary. I and the Adeptus Netermanticus have recieved no recognition for this other than that one, fateful, intervention of the triumvirate.... Our Kaer is dying, it is we, of the "Dark Arts" that had the foresight as well as the courage to approach the Triumvirate amd demand them to allow us to assemble a force of Adepts to leave the kaer in search of help and or the freedom to search for what we required to survive as a society. It had long since passed the time that our true elements "time piece" had stabilized.

    I have held my ground at the duty of securing the wall. It is the hope of my order, that my extensive experience will keep the first team alive and allow us to return with the necessary supplies to build our lives anew.

    Excerpt taken from the Journal of Nicodemus, just days before his departure from "Salvation"



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    Re: The Tale of Nicodemus, Aeonic Mage

    Post  LegendaryExGamer on February 2nd 2011, 07:29

    "It is time Nicodemus, you must take Davallon Felslayer's place at the wall for he has fallen in battle." The headmaster stated with slumped shoulders

    "How did he die? Master." I responded

    "He held the line long after the adepts assigned that duty had fled in sheer terror of what they beheld. In his final act he evoked the ritual of blood and self and soul. He fully committed his entire being to a singular act which drove the Wormskull kicking and screaming from the crack it had manifested through. His blood and his lineage and heroism have now sealed that fissure..." The headmaster's recounting of the tale while uplifted at the recounting... Faltered near the end for it was he who arrived too late to make a difference.

    "Fear not, my mentor. Davallon Felslayer will live on in our hearts and our minds. The lessons learned from his great and industrious research will not go unheeded. Now there is another matter to attend to... We must inspect the Adepts that fled for horror marks and corruption." I responded

    He looked shocked, then the reality and gravity of the situation hit him. He had been momentarily blinded by the loss of his son. "Nicodemus, I ... You must do this. I am in foul spirits and must attend immediately to my son's research. Though my heart be heavy, I must continue his work... and who better than I to contact him from the beyond...?" He stated reluctantly

    I placed a hand on his shoulder "Master. I will assume this responsibility and this burden. Rest first. Then, with a clear mind approach this task." I turned an left noticing him ease a bit

    The past thirty years had been a terrible burden upon us. Our ranks had swelled momentarily, some time after it became widely known that one of the bloodline of Wizards had gone over to the Aeonic arts. Though this was only a momentary respite, as they all fell in combat during an assault that almost had catastrophic results.

    I left and went to meet a friend. "Melnathos..." I called into the dwelling, I could hear the melodies of my friend ring with beauty from his home "Melnathos Brightsong! I require your uplifted heart." I called loudly inside.

    "Nicodemus, is that you? What has it been? Two years?" A playful voice rang back on tones carried by the air

    "Melanthos, I am truly sorry for my absence. However, I have no time for pleasantries. This is a very grave matter..." My voice carried the burden of what I was about to do.

    A windling appeared almost immediately. He was already garbed in soft leathers, a small sword strapped to his side. His lute was "armed and ready".

    "Nicodemus, I can feel the gravity of your words. I am ready. What is the task?" He asked concerned

    Melanthos knew that if I was calling, with the gravity projected by my voice... Something was very wrong.

    "Melanthos, I can trust only your uplifted heart as my companion in this mission. We are to seek the survivors of the Wall battle today. They may be horror marked or worse." Pain played across my face. The loss of our brethren at the wall should have been enough. But losses due to corruption, though rare, were even more telling upon morale.

    "Let us go at once." Melanthos said with urgency "the headmaster normally attends to these tasks... have you been promoted?" He asked with no humor nor congratulations, for this task was about as unsavory as they came in these dark times

    "I have to take on this responsibility, for he cannot. His son... His... Melanthos, Davallon has fallen..." I, too, faltered at the gravity of uttering those words

    Melanthos, as always, displayed no emotion. I say "as always" because rather than giving into grief which was not helpful to those he worked to uplift, he would display a "lack"" of emotion when he was shaken. I knew him all too well. He placed a hand on my shoulder as he flew up and then landed upon my shoulder, lightly grabbing onto one of the runes on my vestment, sighing slightly.

    "Nicodemus, I am sorry. He must have died gloriously though. he was not one to be taken down lightly." he said trying to lift my memory and infuse it with strength

    "Yes, Melanthos, you are correct. He died in spectacular fashion. He, alone, drove the Wormskull that has been plaguing the lower wards from Salvation. He alone." and I drew strength in those final words "he Alone"

    "Nicodemus, let us be off then. I will immortalize his living memory. He will never be forgotten." he said with certainty

    "No, he will not, my friend. He will not be remembered. He will live in our hearts and minds." I responded as I took my first step on the path toward an unsavory yet incredibly necessary task.

    To be continued



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