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The Great Mountain Necromancer

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This is Jasoran’s tales. In all, he has three big tales in the world of En’on. The first, how he came to power and fell from it, the second, how he rose again from nothing. The third and greatest is a story of the Elves of the north and, though the other two stories are open to the world, the wild elves keep the last in their secrets.

* * *

Jasoran comes from a small farming town called Bayardeen at the base of the mountains in the northwest comprised of a healthy mix of human and elven peoples. (Map: spiralofdragon.deviantart.com/… ) He had parents and a little sister. He was close to his sister, but not so much to his parents - the feeling was mutual. One day an accident happened and the house he lived in caught on fire. Jasoran was able to get out fine, but the rest of his family wasn't so lucky. Naturally, he went back for his little sister, getting her out just before the building collapsed. At this point, it was clearly too late for his parents and Jasoran and his little sister could do nothing but watch as everything they knew burned to the ground. The towns people took the two orphans in, but there was a little suspicion floating around that Jasoran might have set the fire on purpose. The prejudice from some was bad enough that Jasoran was denied the opportunity to train his fledgeling magical powers. The mage in town, a gold elf by the name of Cerdic Harrowas, caused a lot of problems for Jasoran through his dislike since Cerdic was a central figure in the town social circles.

As a result of this, Jasoran and his sister retreated to live off the woods just outside of town. They lived like that well enough for a while until one day when Jasoran's sister wandered off a little and decided to try some strange mushrooms. She was dead within minutes. The townspeople buried the little girl by her parents in the town cemetery. In the meantime, if Jasoran had felt public dislike before, the disgust from the town was now bad enough to drive him out of town. It is likely that people eventually realized he was innocent of both crimes they had laid on him and felt a little sorry, but, since he was just a homeless brat, not too sorry. Since nothing tied him to the north any longer, he went south, bouncing from town to town and eventually picking up scraps of black magic.

Eventually he ended up in Tintagel, the center of black magic. There he learned necromancy and became very good. With so much power at his command, he was no longer welcome in Tintagel and he spent some time wandering and developing his army of dead spirits. He caused a considerable amount of destruction across the central valley.

There are four locations in the land where massive pentacles dedicated to using black magic are carved deep into the land. Two greater and two lesser pentacles known as the Great Mountain, Great Sea, Lesser Mountain, and Lesser Sea pentacles. In essence, the pentacles allow dark mages to become land mages - mages that have a powerful connection to a specific territory. Think archmage. Jasoran, now known as Melitornan, sought one of these places as a permanent residence and found one. The Great Mountain Pentacle was located in the mountains less than five miles from Bayardeen - the town where he grew up.

Jasoran returned to the northwest with his army of spirits and took control of the pentacle, though he didn't actually bother the town. In fact, he was feeling settled enough to make friends with the wild folk who lived in that part of the mountains. (Weirding them out a bit in the process since necromancers usually try to kill off wild elves and the changelings who also live in the northern mountains.) In particular, Jasoran befriended a panther changeling by the name of Lauren who Jasoren had found injured on the battlefield. After convincing him that no, he didn’t actually intend on torturing the changeling to death (a well founded fear - there’s a history here, but I won’t go into it now), Jasoren and Lauren made quite the good team. Lauren could travel the mountain without suspicion as well as reach out to the nearby wild elf and changeling tribes to let them know Jasoran meant them no harm and Jasoren could, in turn, provide some protection from the wars.

Here Jasoran reigned as Malitornan for a good ten years in a constant state of either war or peace. However, the townsfolk didn't take too kindly to having a powerful necromancer settle in in their mountains. Bayardeen remembered dark mages who had controlled the pentacle before in legends. These legends showed how Bayardeen, while superficially protected by the pentacle’s power, also served as a hunting ground for the resident dark mage if they needed blood to fuel a spell. It didn't help that some of the wars from the south had followed Malitornan north. Eventually the town’s most powerful mage, Cerdic Harrowas, went to do battle with the Great Mountain Necromancer.

Completely unaware of the identity of his foe, Cerdic climbed the mountain after one of the battles the southerners had with Malitornan, assuming the necromancer would be worn down enough at this point to gain a chance of defeating him. Sure enough, Jasoran wasn't expecting the attack and had let the most taxing defenses on his lair drop for the time being. The full power of the pentacle, while enough to control anything dead within the borders of his land, was very hard both to start - requiring blood sacrifice - and to keep going. Although the necromancer didn't feel the full weight of the power being used while the pentacle was active, it could kill them after if not careful. Thus Jasoran had shut the pentacle down and needed rest after the attack.

Nevertheless, Cerdic had severely underestimated his foe. Using dark magic corrupts any natural fire magic one may have had before, so Jasoran had both this and the weight of decades of anger and emotional agony to throw at his attacker. Though Cerdic was no weakling mage, he knew quickly that he was outmatched. It didn't help that about half-way through the fight he'd finally gotten a good look at his opponent and recognized him. The knowledge that he had somehow played a role in making this monster haunted him for years after. Since he knew he could not win through power and he had a limited time before Jasoran used his blood to restart the pentacle, Cerdic had to think fast. He poured most of his power into a desperate attempt to bind Jasoran in a suspension spell and, just barely, succeeded.

The spell was fragile, so, after a long rest and watching for the glowing green watchmen to disappear, Cerdic closed the door to the giant cavern that held the dark pentacle and laid layer after layer of spell wards on the door. Cerdic returned to the town as a great hero, though he never told a soul that he had failed to kill the necromancer. He spent much of the rest of his life crossed between either the guilt of driving a young farm boy away from people who could help him and into the arms of evil or the guilt of not being able to kill him. His excuse was that he would return to the mountain and finish the job when his magic recovered, but it never did. Breaking the power of the mountain had broken him. This ended the tale of the dark legend.

Thus Jasoran slept for nearly six hundred years.

* * *

Eventually it was Cerdic's own granddaughter, Sayara who unlocked the door. She was running from orcs and came down a seemingly blind alley when she sensed traces of magic at the end. Since she was related by blood to the one who had set the spells, she was able to almost completely bypass the spells. Afraid of those chasing her and forgetting the old stories about this particular mountain, she ran through the door and closed it behind her, stepping across a pentacle line in the process and waking the necromancer from an ageless and very lonely sleep. Jasoran woke up in precisely the same physical state - including the physical weariness of a recent battle - as he had been in when he went under.

Disoriented and weak, Jasoran helped her escape into the inner defenses of the pentacle chamber where, unless accompanied by the master of the pentacle, the tunnels became an inescapable maze. They left by a hidden back exit (after Jasoran ditched his 'concert black') and made there way down to town. Further disoriented by how Bayardeen had grown to a small but bustling city in his absence, Jasoran allowed himself to be led around, claiming to be a traveller. (Remember, everyone thought he was six hundred years dead.) The statue erected of Cerdic in the town square disturbed him particularly as did a street artist selling highly dramatized images of Cerdic (looking very shiny and heroic) fighting some necromancer who was definitely not anything like him. Of course, hearing that the girl who had just rescued him was Cerdic's granddaughter and that Cerdic, though quite old, was still alive didn't help. The only comfort, although somewhat puzzling to him, was learning that everyone apparently thought him long dead. Jasoran's retreated to the old cemetery to find some peace by his sister's grave - the stone now unreadable with age and crooked in its place. He had to find it by memory.

For a while, Jasoran lived at peace on the fringes of the town. He hung out with Sayara since, despite her heritage, she had saved him from an eternity of silence and she was fairly pleasant to hang out with. They had a particularly entertaining encounter with the aforementioned artist who saw Jasoran’s pale skin, black hair and brilliant green eyes and immediately asked him to be a model for the Great Mountain Necromancer Malitornan in one of her drawings, promising to make him look epic. Feeling quite uncomfortable with the whole thing, but pressured by Sayara, Jasoran eventually complied.

Interestingly, the artist had had a keen eye for the precise physical characteristics displayed by necromancers. Possibly a side effect of calling the dead, necromancers had skin that was pale as death and eerily colored eyes. After a recent summoning, especially a big one, a necromancer’s eyes might even glow for a while. Prolonged use of necromancy could render the user’s eyes permanently that brilliant, eerie color. Jasoran was one such user and his eyes, naturally a dull green had become a brilliant spring green, the same color spirits he summoned appeared in.

Jasoran was also surprised to be able to reconnect with Lauren and his grandson, Sorrel. Lauren was very old now, but quite happy to see his old friend. He introduced him to some of the other wild folk in the area after getting the full story of Cerdic’s attack out of him. The wild folk were pleasantly surprised to see him as they remembered his time as the Great Mountain Necromancer as a rather peaceful time in their history. They knew the pentacle couldn’t stay unoccupied forever and that Jasoran was no threat to them while other necromancers often chose to prey on the wild population. They had some idea that changelings had the key to ultimate power in their ability to change form, believing that such changing of one’s essential self was the answer to questions like how to obtain eternal life or extreme power. Jasoran, however, already knew the secret as he had learned it from the previous pentacle master’s journals. He knew it did not have anything to do with eternal life and he had no need of the extra power it promised as he was already quite powerful himself.

As he wasn’t a threat, the wild folk agreed to work with him. As far as they were concerned, as long as they had to have a necromancer in residence at the pentacle, they’d rather it be Jasoran.

Of course, with such a powerful weapon as the Great Mountain Pentacle right in the nearby mountains, peace in Bayardeen never lasted long. Great pentacles like this one could only be controlled by one person and this person got complete mastery over the pentacle’s power and surrounding county side as long as they lived. Often, in the case of the various types of dark mages likely to take control of such a power, they didn’t get to enjoy it very long. Especially conveniently, taking control of a large pentacle required the use of a sentient sacrifice. Such a sacrifice could be human, elven, changeling, dwarven, orcish, goblin, slasseran (an aggressive race I created some time ago),... as long as they belonged to a race that had intelligence and some sort of innate magic. Many new claims on pentacles were made using the previous mage’s blood to fuel the new bond. Jasoran had been either lucky or unlucky in that the previous mage to use the pentacle had been more of an academic, and, while capable of defending himself, had eventually just slipped off into the realms of forgotten legend. Jasoran had remembered the legends and the layout of the area from his youth. He hadn’t even had to fight for the pentacle - just kill someone to get it started.

However, activation of such a great power is hard to go unnoticed. Just the act of calling up the full power of the pentacle creates a beam of light into the sky accompanied by disturbances in the clouds as they form dark concentric rings about the center of the pentacle’s ring. On the ground level, the power output causes a shockwave that manifests as something resembling an earthquake and any mage within the pentacle territory borders would be able to feel the wave of dark power.

Thus, when Jasoran had woken the Great Mountain Pentacle, it had been a little like sending out a beacon to every other power-hungry dark mage across the land (and what dark mage isn’t power hungry). They came with what forces they had to try and challenge for power. As he had reigned over the region for ten years, he’d had plenty of opportunity to show the world that he was fully capable of driving off or destroying any threat to his power. The previous dark mage had let knowledge of this spot fade from the records, but a fresh legend like Jasoran and his apparent death had kept them coming even now after the pentacle had been silent six hundred years. The spells on the door had kept even the most determined prying eyes away for a while, but those spells were gone now. As far as the contenders were concerned, the only thing standing in their way was finding the door.

Suffice to say, Jasoran wasn’t terrifically pleased to find a triad of necromancers trying to claim the power rightfully his. Still less happy was he to discover that, not only were they zombie-type necromancers - a particularly distasteful breed in his mind - they had apparently decided to surround the now walled and fortified town of Bayardeen with him in it. He himself was a necromancer who summoned pure spirits. The task of summoning a bodiless spirit was harder to accomplish, but resulted in an army of warriors that were untouchable by mortal weapons. In his mind, the only use of zombies was as a learning tool for fledgeling necromancers and as a certain shock and disgust factor to wage psychological warfare on enemies. Spirits, especially young ones, weren’t capable of the same brutal strength as zombies. This meant that in a battle, using zombies could allow the necromancer to take control of the bodies of any his army killed while a spirit-based necromancer found no use in this. Spirits that fresh often didn’t even have recognizable features and they were too weak for anything else.

The fact that they were dealing with a triad working together to cast their spells made the issue at hand even more concerning. Since they were working as a team, they had been able to call up a fair sized army of decaying zombies and actually lay siege on the town whereas most previously dark mages, working alone, had had to content themselves with physically searching the mountain. These three intended to torture the information out of the supposedly only person alive who still knew where the pentacle entrance lay.

Very concerned for the wellbeing of everyone in the town, the town elders called a meeting. By virtue of her bloodline, Sayara was allowed to attend and by virtue of being Sayara’s friend and also very sneaky, Jasoran managed to sit in. Made nervous by the zombies threatening to destroy the town, the town elders wanted to ask Cerdic how harmful taking them to the pentacle would actually be. Jasoran found seeing his old nemesis as a weary, broken old man quite weird and spent a lot of time trying not to stare and bring attention to himself.

The council’s question caused old Cerdic to think for quite some time. He knew, on the one hand, that having anyone in control of the Great Mountain Pentacle would not be in the town’s favor in the long run and that the council’s deliberation only provided a short term relief. However, he also knew, as no one else did, that the pentacle was not actually empty. Waking the necromancer he had sealed away in this manner seemed almost like a win-win scenario for him. Either Malitornan would be killed by the usurpers, or Malitornan would destroy the trio. If he was honest with himself, he rather preferred the second option. He strongly suspected that this new zombie-loving trio would make much nastier and more violent neighbors than Malitornan. He was almost temped to go wake Malitornan first to let him recover from the time suspension spell to ensure a win. The only problem that he saw was that any scenario on this situation would require him revealing how Malitornan was not actually dead.

With a sigh, he finally spoke, saying, “I think it is long past time I share the full truth of this matter.” Slowly, he revealed how he had faced the necromancer and failed to kill him. He shared how he had, in the last few minutes of the fight, recognized the Great Mountain Necromancer as no other than a member of their very own town - one that Bayardeen was largely responsible for ostracizing through false accusations. He even shared his personal guilt of not allowing Jasoran the chance to use the much more socially acceptable and much less deadly fire magic he’d been born with. Finally, he told how, when it became clear he could not win, though from his own disease with the situation or from the vast difference in their power’s was still not clear to him, he had chosen to seal the Great Mountain Necromancer in a time freeze spell that would hold him in the exact same condition until the spell was disturbed.

The townsfolk gathered listened to their hero tell his story in disbelief. Jasoran himself found himself stunned by hearing the other side of the story. He almost found himself respecting the old man a little more. However, none in the crown was more taken aback by the story than Sayara who was finally realizing just what she had stepped into. As the people present began debating over what to do about this new information, she debated whether she should go ahead and tell everyone that the one known as Malitornan was sitting right there in the room. A side glance at her friend showed her that, while he seemed very bemused about the whole situation, he didn’t seem particularly inclined to offer comments. He caught her eye and simply shrugged, not much caring at this point whether she revealed the truth or not.

Fairly certain now that he wasn’t planning on striking her dead for speaking, Sayara nervously broke into the debate. Her words brought the attention of the whole room down on herself.

“I’m pretty sure you people are discussing a moot point,” she said. “He’s been awake some time now.” Stunned, the people asked her to elaborate and she told the story of how she had been chased around the mountain by orcs but, finding her grandfather’s spellwork, she had broken through it and come into the chamber that she was now pretty sure was the Great Mountain Pentacle itself.

“If you woke him,” began one of the elders in a rather accusatory voice, “then where is he and why haven’t we heard from him yet?”

“I assume he’s been recovering from the time shock,” Sayara replied, “and he’s right here.” Now she gestured at Jasoran, who just waved at the roomful of shocked town leaders while lounging in his chair. In disbelief, the people looked to Cerdic next, the only one who could tell them whether this strange, pale young elf was in fact Malitornan, the famous Great Mountain Necromancer.

“Jasoran,” the old elf whispered. “I never imagined this is how I would meet you again.”

“I suspect you rather hoped never to meet me again at all,” Jasoran replied dryly.

“True enough, I suppose,” the old elf admitted. “I’m afraid, though, that the situation does not allow me to properly speak with you as I would like. You heard our conversation and understand the situation. Is there any chance we could ever convince you to help us?” This suggestion met with a fair bit of disconcerted whispering among the council but, since they had no better ideas, they didn’t argue too loudly.

“I do have my price,” Jasoran bargained. “I’ll help this pitiful town out as long as you promise to leave me in peace afterward.”

“Are you sure you have the strength to do drive these people out?” someone asked.

Jasoran gave them a very long cold look. “Do you remember how powerful I was six hundred years ago?” Nervous nods at this. “As time goes on, dark mages get more powerful. Your power becomes particularly great if you can resist casting dark magic in that time. Dark magic is like a potent drug - once you’ve started, very few can ever stop. It eats any other power you have and, if you fail to cast regularly, it can drive you insane. However, the longer you can hold out, the stronger you become. Now your good friend Cerdic has provided me with a great gift. When he bound me for six hundred years, I was unable to use my power at all but I was also protected from insanity. Six hundred years of power accumulation.

“These zombie-happy meddlers will be nothing but entertainment.”

With that chilling speech done, he rose to leave. Sayara, however, stopped him before he got outside asking if she could be allowed to come along. She was curious to see how his power worked. Jasoran decided that he would rather appreciate the company and chose to allow her to accompany him. Getting up the mountain, while a seemingly daunting task given the zombie horde in the way, did not particularly give him pause. He used a quickly drawn circle and a drop of his own blood to call up the spirit of what had once been a great warhorse. He had often used this particular spirit as a means of transit and, as a result was somewhat famous for it. To his chagrin, he had noticed several of the paintings made by local artists featured very inaccurate portrayals of him astride his glowing green horse. Sayara was understandably very entertained by the idea of riding a legendary steed with its even more legendary master, though she was still trying to decide whether getting to take this ride was a good or a bad thing.

The spirit horse meant that they were able to climb the mountain rather quickly, since the horse was faster in death than any horse ever was alive. Jasoran got the zombies out of the way by disconnecting the power linking them to their necromantic masters knowing, as he did so, that he was taking something of a risk. Whichever of the trio was controlling the zombies he knocked out would sense the loss of the connection and be warned to come after him. The move, though necessary if he wanted to get to the pentacle chamber, was especially risky since he was using power drawn from a sort of remote pentacle activation to work the spell. From a distance, even Jasoran could never fully activate the pentacle’s power. However, many of its smaller powers could be used from a distance like small scale summonings, the basic defense systems on the pentacle chamber and the service tunnels where the pentacle master could live, and a very limited selection of the knowledge spells used to monitor the pentacle’s territory. Jasoran was calling on his land mage status now to partially negate the power of other dark mages on his turf.

Despite the fact that he was in a hurry, Jasoran did pause when he came across Lauren’s grandson. The young changeling had been looking for him out of concern for the threat three necromancers caused for his people. Jasoran assured him that he was getting ready to help but that he needed a little aid in return. Jasoran was a powerful necromancer, but even he could not wake the pentacle without blood sacrifice. Fortunately, after the first waking, the sacrifice no longer has to be a sentient being if the pentacle master is strong enough to provide for the rest of the waking power. Jasoran asked Sorrel to find him an animal that would work instead. Preferably a carnivore since their higher place on the food chain meant that they had more spiritual power to lend to such spells.

Sayara and Jasoran continued up the mountain where Sorren met them at the pentacle entrance with a rabbit he’d caught, the power in the area having scared off most bigger game. Jasoran thanked him and asked Sayara and the young changeling both to follow him inside and remain in the tunnel network where it was relatively safe until all was done. He turned off the labyrinth spells so they wouldn’t get lost. The pentacle itself, while dangerous to anyone in its territory, posed a particular danger to those approaching it in its center. Once the full power was activated, crossing over any of the lines on the floor could cause a terrible death for the one doing the crossing. As the pentacle master stood at the center of the pentacle, this side effect of the intense power being used also provided a very convenient extra layer of protection. Since many of the spells being used in the pentacle caused the pentacle master to send his mental focus out to things happening well away from the pentacle, they could use all the protection they could get. As part of this precaution, he closed all doors leading into the pentacle chamber and raised the ward spells around his inner domain before stepping into the center circle with his rabbit.

Although they had heard what the active pentacle was like from legends, very few people in Bayardeen knew what to expect when the pentacle was woken. They felt the ground tremble under their feet and a pillar of eerie green light pierce the sky with considerable apprehension.

With the great power of the pentacle now under his command, Jasoran called up his undead, knowing that this display of power would be both more feasible power-wise and a much more dramatic demonstration of his power than simply using the spells to cut off other dark magic powers in the area. As a returned master of the pentacle, it was important that he show the world that he was nothing to trifle with up front so he could avoid confrontations as much as possible. An army of thousands of undead green-glowing spirits on top of the reputation his old legends brought with them could stir fear in the hearts of most who wanted to try and threaten him. Besides, the results were much more permanent.

Cerdic and others of the town watched with grim hearts as the old army they had worked so hard to banish from the land materialized on the mountain slopes. They felt fear in their hearts even as they saw the horde of spirits, untouchable by mortal swords, tear through the zombie armies like tissue paper. Panicked, the necromantic triad tried to reach out to the pentacle master to bargain. Manifesting as a spirit himself on the field before them, another benefit of the pentacle’s power, Jasoran deigned to speak briefly with them. However, seeing the spirit without understanding the power behind it and assuming he would be vulnerable to their necromantic spells, the triad attacked. Although Jasoran might be willing to talk with people and come to a reasonable solution, his experience as Malitornan had taught him that an attack like this could never be tolerated. He struck swiftly and decisively, ending the battle within barely an hour of first calling up the pentacle’s power. The undead army faded away once more into nothing.

Finished with his main task, Jasoran performed a quick check on the lands surrounding the pentacle, figuring he might as well use the power while it was up and active. Convinced that he had dealt with all that needed dealing with for the time being, he shut the pentacle down. Unfortunately, while he had plenty enough power to summon the pentacle’s power and work it in theory, his physical body was unused to using such massive amounts of power and he collapsed in the center of the pentacle. Sayara and Sorrel found him there and got him into the tunnels to rest. Both were nervous approaching the necromancer, but aware enough of his friendship to help anyway.

Meanwhile, in Bayardeen, Cerdic and his family had finally calmed down enough after the surge of necromantic activity to notice Sayara’s disappearance. In a sudden panic, Cerdic and Sayara’s older brother, Tameron, rode up the mountain where they were quite relieved to find Sayara and Sorrel resting in the sun. Glad to discover that his fears were currently unfounded but freshly reminded of just how much of a threat he and his people now had living atop the mountain, he stayed, intending to speak with Jasoran.

It took some time for the necromancer to recover from the summoning. When he did wake, Cerdic confronted him, still furious at him for running off with his granddaughter. Jasoran, offended that the old elf was trying to blame him once again for hurting people he never would, would have thrown him out on the spot if Sayara hadn’t stepped in and defended her right to make her own choices. Somewhat mollified - and privately very disturbed by the apparent close friendship between the two - he backed off after making Sayara leave so he could apologize to the rather bemused Jasoran in peace.

Thus the Bayardeen entered into an era of peace unlike anything they had known for a long time. Though relations between the townspeople and the necromancer were never truly friendly, they offered each other enough mutual benefits that the situation was able to last some while, even after Cerdic’s death just a few years later. Because of the recent dragon wars that had torn apart the central valley, other political powers left the small independent town to its own devices. The might of Silverymoon, not far to the east of Bayardeen was beginning to spread its own influence across the land with the aid of a powerful mage whose attention Jasoran and others in Bayardeen had no intention of drawing. However, this presence also kept general dark magic activity in the north at a low level like it had not seen since the world was young.

Thus ends the second great story of the Great Mountain Necromancer’s life.

* * *

It was nearly a hundred years before the motion of history once again disturbed Jasoran’s life. A dark mage named Sai disturbed the fragile peace by wandering through Bayardeen on his way north while looking for a place to hide. He was running from the power of Tintagel, the dark island fortress in the far south where Jasoran had originally learned necromancy. A little surprised to hear that Tintagel was still a power to be reckoned with despite the peace in the north and somewhat angry that this young but powerful dark mage had brought their attention down on him, Jasoran came up at a loss for what to do. Sai had brought with him a gold elf girl named Anna. Anna was a foci, essentially making her a living power funnel for the dark mage she worked with - in this case, Sai. The tale she and Sai told was that they had met in Tintagel after one of the various shady merchants had brought her to the island. Anna only met Sai after they had given her over to him as a foci. According to the two of them, they had fairly promptly fallen in love and decided to get off the island. Tintagel, however, had not been pleased to loose a powerful dark mage and still less pleased to loose a foci - considered a rare and powerful tool. Thus they had run north, hoping that the powers there that usually kept the area fairly clear of dark magic would protect them as well.

A little disgruntled by the invasion but pressured by Sayara to help the pair, Jasoran offered them a place to hide. True to his expectation, though, representatives of Tintagel found them anyway. However, in a result unexpected by any there, the new dark mages, in the process o calling up their power, woke another force none had even considered.

Wild elves have never taken kindly to users of dark magics and the stirring of dark power within their mountains drew the attention of the wild elven land mage, an elf who was at that time a little over four centuries old and known by the name Kaloquin. As soon as he stepped into the story, the infamous silence of the wild elves hid the full happenings from history. Thus, very little is known of what happened to Sai, Anna, Jasoran, Sayara, Kaloquin, and the mages of Tintagel.

What survives is this: The defenders of the north stood up to the mages of Tintagel but, unable to drive them off using petty power, eventually had to draw on the great pentacle’s power again for the first time in a hundred years. In the process, Jasoran was severely injured and decided that, rather than let the Great Mountain Pentacle once again fall into the hands of those who would try to destroy the peace of the north, it would be better to break the pentacle’s power once and for all. The others, now including a couple of other wild elves, decided to help him out in any way they could, Sai and Kaloquin most of all. To complete the spell, Jasoran ended up giving his life. The power wielded by Sai and Anna shattered completely, leaving them both feeling somewhat powerless but also quite free and they vanished thereafter from history’s eyes. Kaloquin, who could supposedly have once matched the Silverymoon archmage, Baron DeBach, for power, broke that day as well. From that day onward, he could never cast on a high level again. His health also suffered severely as he began to age prematurely and otherwise decline in physical health. His only words on the time that he spoke were that he thought Jasoran would have liked very much meeting Baron DeBach, his half brother.

The deed was done. With the pentacle broken, Bayardeen and the northern mountains were free of its threat. Sayara buried her friend beside his sister’s grave, grieving for his loss but glad that she had known him in his time of peace and that he had died for a cause he believed in.

Thus ends the tales of Jasoran, also known as Malitonan, the Great Mountain Necromancer.

Look! I wrote a whole story! This is what happens when I procrastinate on class work... I write a 6000 word eleven page story. :doh:

Anyway, I'm planning to write this a part of a series telling the big stories of the world of En'on in this same condensed, somewhat epic form. This way I can actually get the stories told and start to show how everything in En'on actually is connected together - usually with a little Baron DeBach thrown into the mix.

Speaking of epic, I wrote most of this while listening to Two Steps From Hell. Go listen to the awesomeness: [link]

I have pictures of some of the main characters here as well.
Jasoran: [link]
Jasoren and Kaloquin (with Baron DeBach for company and all acting very non-canon): [link]
Sai and Anna: [link]
A map of En'On, including places like Bayardeen and Tintagel: [link] Be aware, this map is generalized and focuses on the political situation that En'On came into somewhat later in Jasoran's life.
© 2013 - 2024 SpiralofDragon
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DraconWolf88's avatar
Very excellent! :)