The Pilgrimage East

Largely covers Ammod as he escapes the wretched hold of Ark-Nah-Moor, the banished land of an ancient time. Enlightened and anew he finds himself in the Ultas Wilderlands. It is there, oft in the mountains of Dura that elite bowmen of the Accura Academy farm. Indeed, these parties are the finest among Edolorian Ranks, the best students of many, Happenstance chanced him upon meeting Aria Falconer; the Fleet Commander of Pe’l’zek, once an ancient tribe of hunters who believed the lost tales of the Eldar God Naryloxe, the Elemental Ranger, one with the land. When a legion of War Ant Crusaders; today’s common ants yet more fearsome and deadly, being the size of fully grown Elven Warriors; ambushed the small party of newly graduated students from the Accura Academy in the Citadel of the Stars, Ultas, where Lady Falconer is an ‘honourable professor’; graduating herself at a mere age of 71 Woodlander Years, yet fairer than the brightest star furthest in the endless skies above. It was then that our hero entered the fray! Reminded of his brash nature as a ‘Black Belt Potential’ he at that moment severed the bonds of physical violence in favour of the Moon and Sea, enchanting and playing with the elements akin to the Sound Weavers of the Amygdalaneon Era; he did defeat his foes! With the sacred blessings of Accura bestowed upon him for his Heroic Deed, a tight friendship blossomed between the two...

Word of mouth had spread to Enchantress Accuralysa, The Distant. Descendent of the once great Warrior Monk Eldar God, Ul Dyr: the last Farseer to walk the land of Edolor, she bade Ammod accompany Aria; as she too, wished to assuage a darkness of old with the Wisdom of the Shaman of the East, a man said to commune with the spirits. His presence was not wholly unknown, for he was sought by many a class and profession as not only was his Wisdom beyond reproach, his person shrouded in mystery, for it was unknown to any how a Shaman would possess the necessary skills to be both wise and physically powerful! His foes perished mercilessly before his hand should he have seen it so necessary, was he, as legends had often prescribed: an oracle, or prophet of the Gods? Or was he an Elven Monk, vigilante of the Eldar Days? A question for the thinkers of Edolor, not Warriors! Would be the assigned view of the people, for most lacked Wisdom enough to think for themselves, thus sided with the latter view. They fail to understand, as I do, he is neither Warrior nor Monk, he simple is!

It was on this quest of Wisdom that they encountered, for the first, Siegmund The Dark Disciple and his Acolyte, Jezebel Arconis, a freelance Scholar due to her High Elven upbringing (with all the privileges and arrogance in the world). Decades past, it was told that an Elven Scholar had joined allegiance with the Dark One, for his treacheries were great, and his cunning greater. She sought the Dark One for his aid in the Sorceress and Alchemic arts: his first Acolyte, who gained class of Geomancer through passed trials and suffered amorous horrors...finally...tapping into her Magik power, animated those horrors! Being well learned in the Lorehood, Ammod knew that in the Amygdalaneon Era, Tharlon, the Great Alchemic Sorcerer described Horrors as “The initiates desperate “Cry of Rage” to break the geomagical hold over their Magik Power”. This led Ammod to believe that the much rumoured Jezebel Arconis, had Ascended.

Unlike Ammod, Siegmund was not under the delusion his Acolyte had Ascended before he, The Dark Disciple! Well aware, due to his uncanny connection to the flow of Magikal energy in the land, he believed this power to be born of the Stars, only something so unreachable could describe it...Jezebel was merely touching the ‘Wall’ of this Necromagikal ‘Cell’.

Aria self counselled Ammod in the girth of the eastward path, suggesting it a better idea to separate, True to thought, Ammod too, was aware of the necessity of a parting of company, for he believed in the Dark One’s hold of Magik, believing he could almost ‘sense’ it. Such legends were spoke of in susurration by the Brothers of the Monkhood, where Monks with enough skill in the martial ways of Wisdom entered the profession Black Belt, it was there, in what felt like days time lost, that Ammod trained 60 hours in a 46 hour Edolorian day, in his hopes of one day becoming a Juggernaut worthy enough to take seat among the High Courts of Edolor, where justice prevailed!

Despite this, their needing to part did little to please Ammod, as he had fallen deep to his emotions and now cared longingly for the Lady of the Wood.

Ammod reached the Haven of the Shaman with the whispers of the wind and the call of the sea; thinking in the guidance of the mighty and benevolent Ul Dyr. Upon his arrival, the Shaman seemed impassive, not yet concerned with his presence. He chewed on what appeared to be a type of plant, yet pungent in smell with long stalks and buds nestled atop the leaves...a queer plant indeed, the likes of which Ammod had never seen, but the change in his posture and outward emotions was clearly apparent, the plant seemed to revitalise him, for now he was about his desolate ruin utopia full of life, the plant continued to intrigue Ammod, for its smell was truly like nothing he had ever encountered or heard of. He approached me at last, remembering the tales of old, I aback, not trusting of this demented demeanour, he then chanted reluctantly

‘So come the Dark,

Lingering afar,

Awakened from eternal sleep,

So did the Dark One Speak’

Most likely a Ritualistic Call in the time whence he came...this song convinced me of his identity, he was indeed the Shaman of the East, my quest was complete! Suddenly he kneeled toward me, confused I took a step forward and with a burst, a gate of aeneous light formed behind his rear. He now stood and looked me over, as if searching my mind for answers which I knew not, I could barely see his face, but could tell he was age old, a lived being. Marvelling at the formation of this Gate of Light, I noticed a transmution circle was the reason for its unexpected appearance...what manner of sorceries did this lonely hermit have knowledge! As if in answer to my question he calmly spake, “Wisdom cannot be given, only gained”. Retreating to his near finished plant of wonder, I thought of Aria; she had not come, and as much as I cared for her and grieved what could have become...I could not resist what lay before me in such stupor...my destiny approached!