DORULL STORIES - PRISONER OF THE AMULET
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Existing on the other side of the
reality, where natural laws and orders had no significant foothold, was a
mystical realm of shadows. The place that existed without the knowledge of the
majority of people living on Dorull. This was the place in which the souls of
the deceased could find their final rest. And it was the place whose secrets
were kept only by the handful of chosen ones. Those who were granted the use of
the magical powers. Those who knew that without the access to this dimension, such
powers would be nonexistent.
One of those guardians was Roshnak
Baanar. Orc shaman out of Vur-Paan, a small village situated at the farthest north
of Chaygor. The village in which Roshnak hadn’t stepped in for over a hundred
years. Ever since he realized, the encounter with Badzanogh completely changed
him. Ever since he figured out he wasn’t aging like every other orc. Like any
other humanoid. Ever since he realized he could no longer stay in one place
for a longer period of time.
Instead, Roshnak chose to wander around
Chaygor. Traveling from village to village. From place to place. Or
often deciding just to stay in the wilderness. For most of the time, solitude
was what he needed. Perhaps even wanted. Especially if someone would recognize
him. This happened less and less as the years went by. Mostly due to the fact
that those who once knew him, made their final journey into the realm of the
shadows.
And that was one of the reasons,
Roshnak now finally decided to head towards Vur-Paan. He knew no one would
probably recognize him there anymore. If that turned out to be true, he hoped
he could stay there for a longer period of time. He missed that place. He
missed his home. He would give anything if once there, he could stay forever.
This condition of his could not
last for much longer. Sure, he looked the same as he looked on that day when he
managed to defeat Badzanogh. He certainly felt a lot better. The burst of life altering
energy he received from that creature bettered him. Changed him. Besides
healing him when he was at his end, it left him with an unexpectant present of
prolonging his youth. Roshnak had no idea how long this gift would last. But it
couldn't last forever. The years which he seemingly had stolen, could soon come
up for pay.
He was now just to the south of
Novil field. He was so close to home. He could already feel it. In just a week
or so, he knew he would be there. Or he should, if he stayed away from the
trouble. Just a couple of days ago the trouble found him, when he stumbled upon
a group of horse thieves. He interrupted their attempt in trying to catch and
control several young stallions.
It reminded him for a moment of
the past days, when he alongside the group of youngsters from the village
patrolled the field, protecting the horses from similar groups. He remembered
they eventually put an end to such groups. It would be a shame to see they had
returned. But that would mean his return was also needed. This region perhaps
again needed to be put under control and protection of the guardian of the
northern pass.
What became apparent almost
immediately, was that this group of thieves had no idea who he was. Nor what
his protection meant to this region. So Roshnak made sure they found exactly
that. He offered them a short and expensive lesson. One they paid with their
lives. Not that they didn’t deserve it. He caught them red handed. He knew they
couldn’t let him pass by. He was a witness of their crime. He had to be dealt
with, before he could tell others what he saw.
And they would deal with him, if
he was an ordinary orc. Even the most skillful warrior stood no chance against
their numbers. These thieves probably found themselves in a similar situation
before. Where they had to deal with some unfortunate passersby. Only this time,
the thieves were the unfortunate ones. In their ignorance, they decided to
attack one of the most powerful individuals in the entire Dorull. Once they
realized that, it was far too late to reconsider their choice. But they had the
eternity of thinking about it, as they found themselves in the shadow lands.
Roshnak knew this battle would cost
him a day or two, which he would have to spend in the realm of shadows,
regaining the lost energy. But it was a small price to pay, seeing he learned a
long time ago it was better to be prepared for the worst. Another troubling
encounter could very well be around the corner. This group of thieves perhaps
weren’t the only one around these parts. They could’ve had allies nearby. If
they’re to find the bodies of their friend, they could be after him.
Because of that, Roshnak found a
safe looking spot, in one of the groves, not even the six hours of walk from
the field he fought those thieves. He firstly ate and drink, to prepare his
body for the short, light meditation. He did it, because he knew he mustn’t
allow a complete transfer of energy. One part of his soul had to be left tied
to this plane. In case someone or something stumbled upon him, he’d have no way
to know he’s in danger.
The first day of the mediation
went without any troubles. But as the second day commenced, the fascination of
this magical dimension began to grow inside of him. From personal experience,
Roshnak knew how intoxicating it really was. Especially after a longer,
sustained stay. The tranquility which the soul, especially the alive one, would
begin to feel, could not be compared to anything. The temptation of staying
there forever was a danger, which every young spellcaster had to learn to
resist.
But Roshnak wasn’t new. Nor he was
young. He already knew the exact moment in which he’ll return to his body. But
still, as that moment approached, the shaman wanted to prolong it at least for
a bit. Not just because this place looked beautiful. With its translucent trees
and vibrant bushes and grass surrounding him. But because as he was walking
around this small field, he stumbled upon the soul of his former master,
Gogron.
Roshnak knew he had to keep his
distance. Every contact with the souls of the deceased could present a
catastrophe. Just a moment of negligence could lead to it. The slightest of
touches was enough to disrupt the auras. The soul of the deceased would
momentarily attach itself to the living one, beginning to drain the energy.
Depending on the length of the process, it could very well end up fatal. For
those who were unfortunate to survive the experience, there remains the hope,
the suffering wouldn’t last too long.
Roshnak also knew that hope was
futile. Once touched, the soul would be incomplete. And as such it would return
into the body. The separation of the soul in between these two dimensions,
would momentarily begin wrecking the physical and mental health. This would
last, until the body could no longer endure the strains. Whether it was just
one day, or in some cases several years.
In any way, either option would
end with the same result. In death. From several dozen cases, known to Roshnak,
only a few of them managed to recover. Mainly due to the fact they weren’t
alone in the shadow plain. And because they were fortunate enough to find and
successfully return the stolen part of the soul, before their body was weakened
beyond repair.
But Roshnak was here alone.
Therefore he wasn’t going to risk any contacts. He instead satisfied his
curiosity by observing his former mentor from far away. And he was glad he did
it. He missed his old teacher. His company, his stories, his lessons and his
bright look on life as a whole. Even now, in his death, he seemed the same.
Gogron carelessly wandered through
the field, leisurely collecting various plants and herbs. Almost identical as
he used to do when he was alive. With the difference he wasn’t exactly doing
that now. Those weren’t herbs, nor plants of any kind. Gogron was picking
shadows. And he surely knew that. But he didn’t care. He was doing what he
loved. And he enjoyed it.
Another reason for Roshnak not to
disturb him. This was a place in which his former teacher found his peace. The
place in which he was happy. And Gogron deserved it. There was no doubt about
it. Roshnak could only hope he’d be of similar luck, once his time comes. To
make sure it is not today, he knew it was time to head back.
As he casted one last glance at
his old master, Roshnak turned around towards the spot where he made the
entrance. His body was calling him back, as a clear sign he restored the
energy. Straight towards the south. Exactly five hundred and five steps away. A
journey that will last no more than a minute and twenty seconds. But Roshnak
only managed to make only three steps, when he was stopped by the sudden gush
of the cold wind. With it, came a recognizable voice. The voice he hadn’t heard
for over a century.
“Ah there you are Roshnak Baanar
of Vur-Paan. I finally found you.”
“Ch’ybal?” Roshnak was surprised
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“I couldn’t find you in Vur-Paan.”
the ice maiden said “Nor in the nearby villages. Why was that?”
“Due to my unusual predicament.”
Roshnak answered “I can’t remain in one place.”
“So you’ve decided on solitude?”
Ch’ybal observed “Perhaps that’s for the best. If you indeed received the gift
of eternal youth.”
“Tell me, what trouble is upon us
now?” Roshnak asked “Who do I need to stop now?”
“I’ll probably ask you to do so
someday, in the future.” Ch’ybal answered “But not today.”
“What then?” Roshnak asked.
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