Slay now!
abandonedrealms.com 9000

Game Information
Main
Getting Started
Classes
Combat
Economy
Roleplay
Races
The World
Help
Literature
History
Theran Mystique
Player Essays
Comic Strips
People
Immortals
Cabals
Players
The Graveyard
Community
Forums
IRC chat
Community Sites
Banners
Contact Us

The Theran Mystique - Volume 4, Issue 3
************
STORIES CONT
************

The Legendary Monk

There once was a powerful monk, one who all powerful fighters look up to. His strength came not from the use of weapons, but of his own body. He became so powerful, that he could strike down a Hero of Thera in a single swing of his fist. Many say that this legend dates back as far as the beginning of Timaran, yet some believe that he still exists.

This man was not always a monk. When he was young, he was one of the smallest boys in his home village. He hoped to become a valiant warrior one day, so he trained with the local village boys. He always felt odd with a weapon, and it showed. He was constantly getting picked on and provoked as a young lad. In the distance, he saw an old man dressed in a brown robe surveying him. As the boy went home, in tears, this old man confronted him. "Boy, why do you try so hard", the old man said. The young boy smiled and said "I wish to become a Warrior Hero!" The old man took the boy aside and said "The weapons are to awkward for you, have you ever tried just your fists?" "That is absurd!" said he young lad. The old man then grinned and said "I can make you stronger then The young boy, full of enthusiasm, agreed and began to train under this old man.

In the far corner of Timaran, the old man and young lad trained for hours every day. The old man brought many races for the lad to train with. The lad quickly learned the weak points and anatomy of every race, far quicker then his teacher could have ever imagined. By the age of only seventeen, after seven years of training, he surpassed even his trainer. One day, the trainer wished to see his students progress and decided to have a friendly sparring match. Everything was going well until the boys fist surged with bow, striking a mighty blow to his teachers chest. The old man fell and his student caught him. The old mans eyes began to fade. He said "My pupil, I have taught you all I know. Your power is great, greater then I have ever seen. As this old mans last request, do what I could not. Learn how Harness that massive Chakera and us it to protect the ones you love." As the boy held him, he agreed to his last request. The old man slipped into the void, dying peacefully.

This young man, now full of ambition, set out to continue his training. He wished to become the strongest Hero in all of Thera. He knew already that he could defend himself well enough yet desired more power. He has his whole life ahead of him at this time and has much to learn.

To Be Continued


Underappreciated men and women of Thera

Lorial of Valour is one of the most remarkable women in the Realms. Since she was only a young woman, she has been serving the Monarchs of Valour (and the Executors as of late) as Statistician and Tax collector. It is her job to know down to the third decimal the success rate of each Knight, Squire, guard and stallion, and to be able to recite it at a moments notice. (But I don't recommend asking her to do so, there are a lot of guards and squires and horses!) In addition to that, however, she also keeps track of each gold coin that passes through the hands of the city officials, and every flag that is issued by the citizens of Valour. Without her, things such as the 'Valour's most wanted' roll and the low taxes Valourians enjoy would not be possible.

But who takes the time to consider the woman behind the pen? Day and night, Lorial sits in the city forum, trying to stay ahead of the (impressively tidy) pile of papers that never ceases to grow. "I left my family a while ago." She told me. "I miss them, but I take comfort in my work." When asked if she ever desired to go off and start her own family, she replied. "Its an honor to work for the Castle."

The sun had grown very low in the sky by this point, and I stood to let her get back to work. (She had never really stopped, but I was distracting.) Halfway back to the nexus point, I turned back, another question on my lips, but the woman had disappeared. Tip-toeing back, I found her curled up in a sleeping bag beneath her deck chair. Even the most devoted have to rest sometime.


Back