Cult of Angels

Found an old short story I wrote at the beginning of this year. If I remember correctly, It is an adaption of one from earlier. Can’t say that I’m entirely happy with it but I’ll add it to the Lost Archives anyway as a marker of my progress made since that

Original Writing Date: 21-01-16

Foreword: Tenshi

Tenshi, that is what we are called. Some say it is the word for Angels in the Old Tongue.

But I assure you, Angels we are not. Killers, murderers yeah. We used our arcane talents to keep the peace in this world. Some of us felt it was our duty to do so after we created such unrest. A few of us were honour-bound to help those in need. As for me, I wanted glory and fame, I wanted to be known throughout the world. But instead I got this.

It was a peaceful day in autumn, the sun beamed its golden rays down on my copper scales as I harvested my crop. My wife went indoors to tend to our two children. I kept on telling myself that this is the life I wanted. A simple life with two beautiful children and a wife who loved me dearly. A part of me had found peace on that tiny little farm. But a part of me longed for glory and riches. To travel the world with Karra, to show her the glory that I was meant to bring my family. But I have this family to take care of now. If only things had gone differently on that day. On that fateful day, everything changed.

My name is Torinn Turnuroth, and this is my story…

They descended upon us like a plague. Swarms of refugees poured through my land in the night and trampled my crops. Tens of thousands of people were fleeing their lands from an unknown invader that slaughtered anybody that was…not like them. And to be like them was certainly difficult thing to be for not even the greatest scholars of the time were able to figure this out. But I managed to figure it out. I managed to end the wrath of the invaders. I didn’t do it alone, but it was me who made that choice, the choice one should never have to make. Worst of all was that I didn’t even feel any regrets until I started seeing their faces laughing at me. I did a terrible thing to them, there is no way that they should be or even could be happy. But there they laughed, and there they stayed. Always laughing.

But I digress, my farm was just north of Darkhold, I never knew so many people lived nearby. I was raised in a rich family, we had descended from the all-powerful Nymmurh. The copper dragon who gave birth to my kind had blessed my family in particular with great power. Sorcery in its purest form. My family had the rare ability to wield powerful magic without the assistance of any supernatural deity or magical item. Magical essence flowed in our blood and out of it into the world. But when I met Karra, everything changed. I no longer wanted to fulfill my destiny and take up the throne, I spat in my father’s face and left. I ran to find Karra and we fled the floating city. After months of running we came across an old abandoned cottage at the foot of some mountains. I’d travel between the neighbouring cities for supplies while Karra spent her time repairing the broken walls and making the place livable. It took some time but we had made ourselves a home. We grew our own food and hunted our own meet. Our family of two became three and then not long after we were four. I had completely forgotten about my magic, my destiny but it had not forgotten about me.

You see, I am more than just a sorcerer, I can use the essential fluid to enhance the power of any spell tenfold. I am a bloodmage, and I sacrificed my own children to stop the blight of Still Waters from overcoming this land. Naganoids were creatures created from the most powerful of forbidden magics and it could only be an equally powerful forbidden magic that would sever their bonds and cut them down. And I alone defeated them…but at too great a cost.

You wanted to know where I came from and how I got here. Now, are you going to still tell me that you want me on this team of yours?

Its been ten years since I sacrificed my children, I still see their faces. They are still laughing at me, but I know how much they must have hurt. I’ve inflicted all manners of pain onto myself but no matter what I do I just cannot die. I am sorry Karra, so terribly sorry. I wanted to protect no matter the cost, guess you really should mind what you wish for after all.

Chapter One: Cult of Angels

Just like Tieflings were men bestowed power from fiends, the Aasimer were granted their power from celestials. Personally I found them unpleasant, self-righteous snobs. I’ve only ever met one who was likable, her name was Hanariel and she, like me, found great power in liquid life-force.

I had been collecting stones from the mountains when I heard their bickering. I always knew that there was a monastery on the mountain peak but I had assumed it was abandoned. They called themselves the Angels of Xyros, but they were better known as the Cult of Silagur. An imperialistic religious sect that believes in the Hierarchy of Races. Aasimer being at the top, and Tieflings being at the bottom. I call it a load of bugbear balls. The only difference between you and I is that I have failed in my mission, whereas you are not yet finished.

I was curious, so I sneaked a peek over the fence to see what all the commotion was about. Silagur lived two lives. In the first he was a Fiend called, but the tales tell of him breaking away from their traditions and ascending into becoming the celestial known as Xyros, how that works is beyond me and if you ask any of his followers, they will just tell you that mortal minds simply cannot comprehend the will of the Gods. Their dispute was on the validity of a unique text brought to them by some prosperous adventurers. It was pretty much an even split in the monastery, half recalled this exact text being mentioned in other works, the rest claimed it was written purely to prove how Silagur could never have ascended into a celestial. Arguments and accusations were thrown back and forth until the All Mother left, that’s when the fighting started. The scholars had enhanced their physical prowess with magic and the clerics had whipped out their maces and donned their shields. All but one were fighting ruthlessly. She stood in the centre of all the commotion. Eyes forced shut and fists clenched. This was a powerful and experienced battlecaster that knew she alone could end the fight, but if she did…well it all falls down to the cost in the end. But sometimes, no matter how hard we try we cannot contain our emotions and we let them loose upon the world. Us spellcasters know that our wrath can cause whole cities to fall and kingdoms to burn. All Strength must be tempered with wisdom, and all rage must be tempered with compassion. If only those things were so easy to hold onto. And just like I did she snapped. I don’t blame her, I’d have done the same thing much sooner, in fact, I did do just that. In one swift motion she lashed her wrists, blood spewing into the air, creating a thick red cloud. Then it was not just her blood in the cloud. Everyone who had caused injury to another had their vital fluid ripped from their body. 37 bodies instantaneously dropped dead. One loud, muffled thud resonated through the chamber as the hit the ground in unision.

Never before had I seen such power. I feared for my own life, but nevertheless I was still impressed. However the toll the blood magic takes on oneself is just as great as the power it grants. As the red cloud started to lose formation and fall to the ground as rain, so did this woman, this murderous woman whose beauty I could not rid my mind of

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