Magus
The Fiendlord
The dark prince had found a niche. A niche of solace despite the turmoil of his life, before Ayenee and during his stay there, a niche that allowed the Magickian to allow his darker parts to settle.
He was a human, enlightened by birthright and thus susceptible to strong emotions, to magic, and the darkest desires of all. Revenge, Power, Ambition. Yet, this enlightened One had seen more than any of his long-extinct race, and honestly, it had grown old. Terrible. His mind had scars along with his body, and now, the dark prince spent his days in quiet solitude.
He was known as Magus then and now, as a title or a name, but Janus Zeal cared not for such things. He was doing his best to resist the callings of fate, for his quests had been completed as much as could be hoped. His last had sent him into a plethora of mental breakdowns and lost causes. The presence of those damned red shards that had terrorized Ayenee and culminated in...something.
He remembered the last days when his memory was clear. He was running from something, and there was a girl, Mayu, he remembered her name to be. Running from some damned and terrible thing. There had been a presence so great along the coils of the Multiverse that it had outstripped anything the Warlock had ever seen.
Then it was gone.
After a confrontation of some sorts, there was no afterwards. The last thing Magus remembered was walking alone in a forest, nearby the Ayenee Capital City - in a glade he knew well. It was the glade where the original violet gateway had brought him to Ayenee so many years before.
Now he had ventured a bit from that spot, to a little village outside the suburbs of the capital, and for a full year and several months had rested there, content not to ask questions or go searching. Within, it bothered him only a little, mostly for the fate of that girl, Mayu.
His previous quest had more or less been answered. He had searched the realms for Schala, his long lost sister, and had found her, and they had parted ways again on peaceful terms. She had become a Paladin, of all things! He saw her not anymore, but he was content to know that she was alive and not dead or worse at the hands of that ancient nemesis of his, the long-dead alien thing called Lavos. Those days were behind him, and little but a blurry memory now.
Janus Zeal was, as best he could admit, happy.
----
He was getting old! He realized this as he rose from his bed and felt a dull ache running up his back. His body was finely toned, the muscles trained by years of adventure and battle. Yet, no-one could resist the pull of age, and at the idea of him as a crotchety old geezer sent a small smile to Janus' face.
The morning light had quaked about the small rooftops of Norfandell, the little mixed village of elves and humans he had come to call home, and Janus' sharp eyes took the light in without turning his head. It would be a good day.
Or so he thought.
Most days had been good days, even the miserable, rain-choked days that threatened floods and disrupted the peaceful springtime air of Norfandell. He had seen much worse on sunny days in the past. If there was no war today, today would be a good day.
After doing his morning wash and grabbing a bit of breakfast, Janus Zeal stepped out onto the little porch that adorned his little house. He lived alone in a small cabin near the outside of town, a meager, humble thing that served his ends. Despite his retirement, the mage was still a mage, and all of his important items were hidden away properly - forever, he often hoped.
The sun was stronger now, and the air was warm. The simple forests that surrounded the town couldn't contain the rising sun, and it now sat nestled between two puffy clouds and allowed him a bright view of the village and in the distance, the little hills that ran for miles before reaching further towards heaven in the form of the Despot Mountains.
A voice interrupted his thoughts, and the magician turned his blue-haired head to the source of it, knowing full well who called his name. As he turned his head, he tried his best to make his mouth into a scowl and turn his brows down. He figured he looked absolutely vicious. But not -too- vicious.
"Mr. Janus! Mr. Janus! Come show us the woods again today!", the source of the voice called, a fairy, childlike voice resounding from the little girl named Haliea. She was angelic, a child just into her 9th year and still holding onto the innocence of the young. She had seen no battle.
When Janus turned to her with the scowl, she jumped back a few feet and turned her head down in. "I-I'm sorry Mr. Janus...I just thought-"
"You thought?!", he grimaced, "You thought?! Really? Well...obviously not! You didn't think much if you came asking for me to take you exploring and you didn't even have your backpacks ready!", The blue-haired man crossed his arms and quickly shifted his scowl into a hearty smile, a knowing smile, and inside he felt warm as the little girl's face brightened to match the sun at her revelation of events.
"Oh, you'll take us Mr. Janus! I knew you would! Let me go get Beshar and Illuvias! They'll be so happy...they already have the backpacks ready, and the walking sticks!", the little girl shouted even as she turned on her heel and skipped off towards the thickening cluster of houses within the village.
Janus turned as she vanished around the side of a wooden cottage and allowed his smile to rest comfortably on his chin. It was still strange, so easily smiling - there was a time when a smile was something alien, much more alien than the notion of blasting a group of human soldiers away with a thought-out fireball.
Janus shuddered and stepped into his house. A once-around located his thicker walking cloak, a pair of leather gloves and a gnarled old walking stick the children had found for him one of the first times he had acted as their guide into the woods around Norfandell. He enjoyed the present, and really it was a nice walking stick.
Janus stepped again into the sun to see the three children running towards his porch, each packed out and looking like honest, miniature adventurers. Instead of swords, they brandished walking sticks and he knew their backpacks contained lunch, compasses and paper and ink for drawing maps, not containers of acid, or crossbow bolts or scrolls of fireballs.
It was going to be a good day, Janus felt as he stepped off his porch and headed towards the nearest path into the forest, a group of children dancing around him and his head shaking in amusement.
----
He was a human, enlightened by birthright and thus susceptible to strong emotions, to magic, and the darkest desires of all. Revenge, Power, Ambition. Yet, this enlightened One had seen more than any of his long-extinct race, and honestly, it had grown old. Terrible. His mind had scars along with his body, and now, the dark prince spent his days in quiet solitude.
He was known as Magus then and now, as a title or a name, but Janus Zeal cared not for such things. He was doing his best to resist the callings of fate, for his quests had been completed as much as could be hoped. His last had sent him into a plethora of mental breakdowns and lost causes. The presence of those damned red shards that had terrorized Ayenee and culminated in...something.
He remembered the last days when his memory was clear. He was running from something, and there was a girl, Mayu, he remembered her name to be. Running from some damned and terrible thing. There had been a presence so great along the coils of the Multiverse that it had outstripped anything the Warlock had ever seen.
Then it was gone.
After a confrontation of some sorts, there was no afterwards. The last thing Magus remembered was walking alone in a forest, nearby the Ayenee Capital City - in a glade he knew well. It was the glade where the original violet gateway had brought him to Ayenee so many years before.
Now he had ventured a bit from that spot, to a little village outside the suburbs of the capital, and for a full year and several months had rested there, content not to ask questions or go searching. Within, it bothered him only a little, mostly for the fate of that girl, Mayu.
His previous quest had more or less been answered. He had searched the realms for Schala, his long lost sister, and had found her, and they had parted ways again on peaceful terms. She had become a Paladin, of all things! He saw her not anymore, but he was content to know that she was alive and not dead or worse at the hands of that ancient nemesis of his, the long-dead alien thing called Lavos. Those days were behind him, and little but a blurry memory now.
Janus Zeal was, as best he could admit, happy.
----
He was getting old! He realized this as he rose from his bed and felt a dull ache running up his back. His body was finely toned, the muscles trained by years of adventure and battle. Yet, no-one could resist the pull of age, and at the idea of him as a crotchety old geezer sent a small smile to Janus' face.
The morning light had quaked about the small rooftops of Norfandell, the little mixed village of elves and humans he had come to call home, and Janus' sharp eyes took the light in without turning his head. It would be a good day.
Or so he thought.
Most days had been good days, even the miserable, rain-choked days that threatened floods and disrupted the peaceful springtime air of Norfandell. He had seen much worse on sunny days in the past. If there was no war today, today would be a good day.
After doing his morning wash and grabbing a bit of breakfast, Janus Zeal stepped out onto the little porch that adorned his little house. He lived alone in a small cabin near the outside of town, a meager, humble thing that served his ends. Despite his retirement, the mage was still a mage, and all of his important items were hidden away properly - forever, he often hoped.
The sun was stronger now, and the air was warm. The simple forests that surrounded the town couldn't contain the rising sun, and it now sat nestled between two puffy clouds and allowed him a bright view of the village and in the distance, the little hills that ran for miles before reaching further towards heaven in the form of the Despot Mountains.
A voice interrupted his thoughts, and the magician turned his blue-haired head to the source of it, knowing full well who called his name. As he turned his head, he tried his best to make his mouth into a scowl and turn his brows down. He figured he looked absolutely vicious. But not -too- vicious.
"Mr. Janus! Mr. Janus! Come show us the woods again today!", the source of the voice called, a fairy, childlike voice resounding from the little girl named Haliea. She was angelic, a child just into her 9th year and still holding onto the innocence of the young. She had seen no battle.
When Janus turned to her with the scowl, she jumped back a few feet and turned her head down in. "I-I'm sorry Mr. Janus...I just thought-"
"You thought?!", he grimaced, "You thought?! Really? Well...obviously not! You didn't think much if you came asking for me to take you exploring and you didn't even have your backpacks ready!", The blue-haired man crossed his arms and quickly shifted his scowl into a hearty smile, a knowing smile, and inside he felt warm as the little girl's face brightened to match the sun at her revelation of events.
"Oh, you'll take us Mr. Janus! I knew you would! Let me go get Beshar and Illuvias! They'll be so happy...they already have the backpacks ready, and the walking sticks!", the little girl shouted even as she turned on her heel and skipped off towards the thickening cluster of houses within the village.
Janus turned as she vanished around the side of a wooden cottage and allowed his smile to rest comfortably on his chin. It was still strange, so easily smiling - there was a time when a smile was something alien, much more alien than the notion of blasting a group of human soldiers away with a thought-out fireball.
Janus shuddered and stepped into his house. A once-around located his thicker walking cloak, a pair of leather gloves and a gnarled old walking stick the children had found for him one of the first times he had acted as their guide into the woods around Norfandell. He enjoyed the present, and really it was a nice walking stick.
Janus stepped again into the sun to see the three children running towards his porch, each packed out and looking like honest, miniature adventurers. Instead of swords, they brandished walking sticks and he knew their backpacks contained lunch, compasses and paper and ink for drawing maps, not containers of acid, or crossbow bolts or scrolls of fireballs.
It was going to be a good day, Janus felt as he stepped off his porch and headed towards the nearest path into the forest, a group of children dancing around him and his head shaking in amusement.
----
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