They were in the backyard of the house, Suran and Iylia were. With the light of day fading, Suran decided to head back to the estate, but they were only in the back by the quiet insistence of Iylia. It was no secret that he had no training with a sword. It was for this reason Iylia asked to spar with Suran, under the pretense of helping him prepare for the tournament. He was hesitant to accept, but saw no reason to decline.
He swung the wooden stick Ulfric had given him around in the air, testing its weight and size. While he was getting used to the practice sword, Iylia stood motionless opposite of him with her sword in both hands. Suran stopped waving the stick around. “Ready?” He asked. She nodded her head and straightened herself.
Suran took a step forward, but she took two. In the blink of an eye, she was in arms reach. He swung out a flurry, she parried to the right. He countered to the left, but she ducked underneath. From below, she used her great shoulder as a battering ram, smashing into Suran and launching him into the air and onto the grass.
“I’m s-s-sorry!” Iylia exclaimed rushing over. She tried to say something more, but her face was stuck in remorse so no words came out, instead shying away from Suran.
Still on the ground, he waved his hand, “It’s fine.” He got up and brushed the dirt off his clothes. Retrieving his practice sword, he said, “Again.”
And so, the rest of the evening was spent sparring. The outcome was almost always the same: Suran disarmed and neutralized, Iylia cornering him with her sword, or with Suran sprawled on the ground. After each victory, Iylia would panic quietly before Suran resumed practice.
The sun set and Suran was sprawled on the ground again. There was a noise in his head; he was laughing at himself. Not once did he get close to beating her, but what else should he have expected? It might be enough practice for the day, he thought. He learned a lot being on the receiving end of Iylia’s surprising amount of skill, and that was enough for him.
He got up from the ground but, instead of telling her he was done for the day, he said “Once more.” He was taken aback – those were not the words he wanted, yet he made no move to correct himself.
Rubbing out the kinks in his neck, he instead muttered to himself, “Good grief…” Going for one more round shouldn’t be an issue; no need for fuss. Besides, he saw a means of victory. There was no use in sitting idle when he could lead by example.
No matter how he cut it, the task would still be a difficult one. Especially when he was only using what was given to him (a handicap in its own right). There wasn’t much time to prepare since she was already barreling down, but his observations gave him some insight.
There was a familiarity between his rounds with her and when Greyson spent time sparring with him back then. Greyson fought with form and precision at all times, forming an impenetrable wall that boxed in and suffocated his enemy.
Iylia fought the same way, in that her stance was rooted in form. However, she maneuvered with agility and finesse, opting to tear open weakness in her opponent rather than how Greyson imposed his will on them. But, what was strange was that her form fell apart after she engaged. Almost entirely by choice too it seemed. Her agility and finesse remained, but instead of careful maneuvering, she fought scrappily, always in his face, grappling with her free arm. She fought like a cornered animal stained with the fear of death.
In any case, it didn’t matter which way she fought since she was likely to win either way. But, she didn’t fight one way or the other. Iylia alternated her style. Suran sought his opening in the transitions.
He held his ground as she approached, not moving an inch. Iylia set upon him from the right. She chopped vertically. Suran dodged, but she anticipated his movement and almost grappled him with her free hand, pushing Suran off balance. Once his footing was lost, Iylia unleashed a flurry of sword strikes and hand attacks. His opportunity was lost, so he jumped out of her reach before her assault gave him no quarter. Iylia charged him again, and Suran steeled himself. He held no qualms with continuing this dance until he found the opening he needed.
And so the motions repeated. She opened with her refined movement while Suran stood in wait. By the time her attack turned into whirlwind, he disengaged, realizing his window had closed. There were opportunities to engage, to fight back, but he let them go. He simply watched her moves, waiting for the right opportunity, for he knew that his first strike might be his last.
And so the motions repeated. She closed in with her swift speed while Suran braced himself. He watched her movements closely. Iylia jabbed with her sword, he moved out of the way. Reaching out came her hand, aiming to finally grasp victory. Yet, all it grabbed was air, as Suran clasped his hand around her arm and yanked her forward. Iylia tried to reach around with her sword to pry Suran off, but he leveraged his position, forcing her to tangle her limbs simply trying to reach him. With the twist of an arm and a shove, she ended up face down on the ground. Pinned to the ground with a wood sword at her neck, Iylia had lost.
She struggled underneath. He pushed her harder into the grass. Now this, he thought, was an example. Then, he realized where he was. Suran stumbled off of her back and fell onto the dirt, wondering what he was doing. He shook his head and rubbed his temple. “Sorry, I… went too far. That’s enough for today.” Before Iylia could even get off the ground and respond, Suran retreated to the house, retiring for the day.
The next morning, Suran was nowhere to be found at the house. A note was left on the kitchen table that asked Natalya to keep an eye on Iylia and maybe take her out for clothes and other necessities.
There was a sour, cold spot in Suran’s stomach. He couldn’t bring himself to face Iylia after losing control yesterday; even though what he did worked, he wasn’t all too happy with it. A quiet place was what he wanted.
Suran went towards the college. He recalled that there was a large library nearby. He could read about the subjects he eagerly wanted to know more about while getting a nice, silent area to cool down.
Nestled on the outskirts of the campus, the library stood. It was large, as he thought, but its large wooden doors hid more than he imagined. It’s true, the library stood several stories tall, but, through an elegant octagonal opening that cut through, Suran peered down, witnessing layers unseen from the outside. Its grandiose grandeur was a sight to behold.
He went straight to a directory and flipped it open. There were actual several directories too sift through – all of them monstrous in size. Several interesting books immediately caught his attention: Mana Manipulation and the Potential for Producing Entropic Effects, Impact of Language within the Sphere of Magic, Modern Age Breakthroughs in Alchemy. Fascinating topics, but he held little confidence he could understand them. He flipped to a different page. Something more digestible surfaced as he skimmed through. Books on Sacred Treasures, races and species, history, and geography were part of the selection. He jotted down a list and went off to retrieve them.
It took some time to gather his list; they were all spread out on the various floors. But, when he had them all, he sat himself in the recesses of the upper floors by windows that overlooked the city. The first topic that interested him was Sacred Treasures. His goal was to find one, after all. He cracked open the first book, titled, Ancient Lore and Myths on Sacred Treasures.
Sacred Treasures, staples of time that drive legends, fables, tales, and history. Said to be forged from the immaculate Heart of God, their presence and influence exert undeniable sway on the shaping of history and culture. Even when the birth of Sacred Treasures has stagnated in the last centuries, the timeless relics that remain never cease to be a driving force. In the sands of time, some stories and record have been lost for these unequaled items. But, for those whose history has stood the test time, their stories and legends will be recorded here.
He flipped back a few pages, away from the introduction to the index. Quite a few names were on the list, but no matter how much he searched, he could not find Freymar’s Gate listed. For something deemed lost, he was not surprised – just disappointed. There were numerous other entries though, each with dozens of pages and sections. He picked out a few names from the index that caught his attention and began reading.
Warhammer of Azeron
Roughly 2,300 years ago, the Warhammer appeared, wielded by the Holy Knight Azeron. Azeron was a roaming knight who sought to deliver justice to the war-torn lands. He waged war against the Demons and those who brought chaos and evil to the lands. It is said the hammer arose from an expedition to the mountains surrounding Kath-al-Ur. A horde deserted soldiers took refuge in the mountains, preying upon all in the countryside. Azeron caught wind of their presence, and, true to his nature, rode into the mountains with his order without a second thought. However, his arrival was anything but pleasant; he was swiftly ambushed by a legion of demons from all sides. Man and demon alike both fell under the crushing blow of his hammer, but wave after wave crashed into his men. Surrounded, they fought to their last breath. Even Azeron could not come out unscathed. In an effort to be a shield for his men, he was wounded beyond repair, standing at the door of death. Even then, Azeron refused to fall. It is said that in his heroic last stand, he ascended to the heavens and descended a radiant sun, brandishing the gleaming Warhammer. One swing from the hammer sent shockwaves through the mountain range. The ripples tore asunder the mountains, reducing it and the enemy army to nothing. Azeron, wielding a gift from god, returned a saint to his people. The hammer’s tale with Azeron ended with his life at the Battle of Kath-al-Ur where he used the hammer’s mighty power to shake the world, shattering the Maz’rook continent off of its southern half.
The Scythe of Thantos
Thantos was a peculiar man who appeared 2,300 years ago. He simply showed up one day. No one knew who he was, and there were no friends, family, or relatives to speak of. Always alone, seldom speaking, and surrounded by a creeping chill. He became the center of many strange and odd stories and rumors, but that didn’t stop others from treating him with respect. In an interesting twist, he worked as a social servant. In a time of great unrest, he served as a judge and executioner. But, with the demon scourge straining society, the North slowly fell into chaos and disarray. Thantos, however, would not accept that. One day, he came into the city, scythe in hand. When or where he got it, no one knew, but they did come to understand the death it wrought. Without remorse, he culled those that instigated tyranny and the weak that ailed society. The scythe unleashed a hellish frost that quelled the civil unrest and reforged the splintered North. Thantos returned to his quiet life, but took up his scythe once more to participate in the Battle of Kath-al-Ur, settling a thick verglas on the lands that forever altered the land.
Greatsword of Efrain
Efrain, herald as one of the greatest heroes, was one of the leaders in the war against the Demons. On the battlefields, over 2,300 years ago, he was a force to be reckoned with, cleaving through the enemy lines by himself. He rose to fame and power quickly – without even possessing a Sacred Treasure. His greatsword, a gargantuan blade more fitting of a giant, only came to him late in the war. Before the Battle of Kath-al-Ur, he took the war to the demons, dealing devastation to the upper echelons of the demon ranks. Efrain returned with the giant, smoldering sword. He quickly put the asset to use, utilizing the blade to fan ferocious infernos. In the Battle of Kath-al-Ur, he emboldened the embers of the sword and brought forth a sea of flame that engulfed all the lands. He survived the aftermath of Kath, and spent his later years tending to the broken world., being a flame in a time of darkness.
The book was full of many other stories, going into the history of each item at depth, but Suran felt it was enough. Information was nice, but what he was reading didn’t appear helpful. What might be useful to know is more about dragons. He recalled that the site Mortimer marked out was in Nosirion and that Nosirion is where dragons live. The next book he cracked open was titled The Modern Race of Dragons Compared to the Dragons of Old.
The Dragon race is a pecuilr race simply because of how they changed and evolved over time. Today we see two distinct groups of Dragons: The humanoid dragons, which could be compared to the humanoid beastpeople, and the dragon group which evolved to include drakes and wyverns.
The Dragons where at first simply just that, Dragons. There were no human dragons, no wyverns, no drakes, or other variant. There were of course various types of dragons such as ones that specialized in various elements and the sorts, but there considered to be one species and one group. Despite the differences in their abilities, there were more classes and groups depending on their size and power.
During the turbulent times surrounding Kath-al-Ur, the Dragons were highly sought after as a war asset. Much like the Lords of the Beast people, there were some Dragons that were considered legendary and could match against Sacred Treasures. Unlike the beastpeople, these Legendary Dragons were not as elusive, making them prime targets. The Dragons were incorporated into the ranks of various armies, and those that did not comply were hunted and slaughtered so that others may not use their power.
The Dragon race dwindle in numbers from being utilized in war and methodically hunted. It was then that the Dragon race took on a forced evolution. Many of the larger and more powerful dragons were regularly targeted, so what began to happen was that these dragons began to convert and sacrifice their power and access to large reserves to mana to take human forms. In almost all cases the process was irreversible, thus leading to the creation of the modern Dragon humanoid race. Over time, other dragons began to take this evolution. In a humanoid form, the Dragons lost access to vast reserves of power and mana, but ultimately increased their chances of survival by allowing them to respond to their environment in a more adaptable manner.
At the same time is when the emergence of Wyverns and Drakes came about. Some dragons did not have the sufficient energy to make the human transformation and some simply did not want to make the transition at all. For some heritage lines, this caused a regression that turned them into these other variants. In its own manner, the regressed Dragons stood at a benefit as well reproductive wise and survival wise since they weren’t as sought after. Regardless, still some Dragons nether gave up their power or transformed but their numbers remain few. In fact, some of those original Dragons remain to this day.
However, there remained one category of Dragons that stood above all the rest, simply being referred to as ‘Legendary Dragons’. These were the Dragons herald as standing toe-to-toe with Sacred Treasure wielders. In most cases they gave up a portion of their power to turn into humans or went into hiding so in modern times one has not appeared in a long time. Even if they were to exist, it is plausible that the dragon people would hide its existence. Still, there are rumors that the Legendary Dragons have taken a new shape. Since their power was so vast, it was hypothesized that when they gave up a portion of their power for a human form, they also obtained the ability to willingly change between forms. However, there is no documentation or records of this occurring. The reason for this is that in modern age there has been very rare instances of Humanoid Dragons being able to turn back into dragons and willingly change between these forms – so it grew into theory that these Dragons that stood at the pinnacle of their race could do the same
He closed the book and picked up another. Suran couldn’t spend too much time reading any one book, and there was much to go through. There was a tapping on the window and he looked outside. It was raining.
Forerunner's Odyssey 