Eseer Darkthorne
Active Member
Eseer emerged from a black pooling vortex of dark energies. The sound of his footfalls echoed through the empty halls. This had once been the seat of his power, of the Darkthorne empire he had built here on Ayenee. The other Darkthornes had vanished with the veil, disappeared with the Blackthornes and the others. In his absence it seemed, no other Darkthorne had arisen to take his place. The halls were covered in dust and cobwebs, the structure was thrown into disrepair, a ruin.
What had happened to the others? Eseer strode up the steps to his dusty throne and his empire of ghosts. He sat upon the throne and looked over the grand hall, no artwork, no tapestry, only dust, and webs. The few debris upon the floor were either shards of masonry or unidentifiable.
"Soon these halls will be filled once more, I shall sow a new tapestry of destruction and conquest across this empty land. The machines I salvaged from the portals I opened could be the tool of my rise back to power. Perhaps the black book can speak once more and share its secrets?"
Eseer stood up and began to weave his hands in the air, knitting arcane webs of power together as his voice intoned words chiming with energy. The air was thick with static, it felt thick as he knelt and touched the floor. All around him the tale of history seemed to rewind, dust and rubble flew upward, detritus became tapestries, paintings, tables, and décor.
His eyes glowed as the power surged through him like a thread through a needle, going down and out his hand. The halls were restored to splendor, but they were still empty. Refilling them with living beings was beyond his magical powers, but not his other skills. He would have to recruit, to resurrect, to locate, and recreate the Darkthornes.
He looked at the steps of his throne, " Now to line the base of the throne with the heads of kings and queens." Eseer smiled and looked over the citadel, it would do he thought.
What had happened to the others? Eseer strode up the steps to his dusty throne and his empire of ghosts. He sat upon the throne and looked over the grand hall, no artwork, no tapestry, only dust, and webs. The few debris upon the floor were either shards of masonry or unidentifiable.
"Soon these halls will be filled once more, I shall sow a new tapestry of destruction and conquest across this empty land. The machines I salvaged from the portals I opened could be the tool of my rise back to power. Perhaps the black book can speak once more and share its secrets?"
Eseer stood up and began to weave his hands in the air, knitting arcane webs of power together as his voice intoned words chiming with energy. The air was thick with static, it felt thick as he knelt and touched the floor. All around him the tale of history seemed to rewind, dust and rubble flew upward, detritus became tapestries, paintings, tables, and décor.
His eyes glowed as the power surged through him like a thread through a needle, going down and out his hand. The halls were restored to splendor, but they were still empty. Refilling them with living beings was beyond his magical powers, but not his other skills. He would have to recruit, to resurrect, to locate, and recreate the Darkthornes.
He looked at the steps of his throne, " Now to line the base of the throne with the heads of kings and queens." Eseer smiled and looked over the citadel, it would do he thought.