Rough draft, gives a good idea of what the world is like

An Introduction to Current Ruler of The Agmorian Empire





The Agmorian Empire comprises of the 52 kingdoms under the rule of the Agmorian High Kings. These eight High Kings, one from each of the Agmorian-held Islands, are something of a council led by The High King of the continent island of Agmoria proper. High King Senlo Karath is a fearsome man, commanding respect of both his council and any foolish enough to have met him on the battle-fields. At nearly two hundred years of age, his life has been substantially prolonged by the influence of his magic. He is the eldest of the High Kings and by far the most powerful. Karath wields the rare prismatic channeling stone, which he personally recovered from a rather large dragon's lair. When asked how he obtained it, Karath usually replies, “The creature no longer has any use for trinkets...”.

Only a handful of prismatic crystals are known to exist. High King Karath's personal crystal is the size of a man's fist and sits atop a terrifying looking staff, forged for him by the Dark Light Guardians. The staff itself was slightly over 6 feet long, made of a dark metal with the crystal sitting between three talon-like blades, which split off to surround the crystal and form a two foot long blade at the top. The constant shifting of the prismatic colors had distracted many a fool greedy enough to think they could make it their own.

Karath was notorious for impaling opponents before shooting a blast of energy through them. It was particularly messy. He seemed to take great joy from performing this maneuver. The most famous instance being the battle in which he overthrew his predecessor.

Senlo Karath, or Karath the Destroyer as he was then known, had agreed to meet The High King Candova Almuric the Just in single combat. The victor would decide which faction won the third, and final, Almurian war. When they met in battle, Karath was barely thirty years of age. His opponent was well into his 120th year of reign after taking the throne at age 60. Almuric was at an age most men would never see, but he still possessed a vitality common among great sorcerors. Unlike Karath, Almuric did battle with a great mace. The great mace was heavy, but not as encumbering as one would expect, the alloy was only slightly more than half the weight of normal steel and gleamed bright white in the sun. He had taken the mace from a half giant more than a century before. It had seemed small for a giant, but The High King struck an imposing figure with it in his hands. More important, was the stone embedded into a black gauntlet with spiked knuckles, which he wore on his right hand. The stone was black and oily, the slight colors constantly moving across the surface.

Candova Almuric, was a northmen. A hardy race of people said to have grown larger in the north because they had to wrest their lands from the giants. His chest broad, an impressive silver and red breastplate adorning it. His armor rose into spikes from his shoulders, to keep the giants from trying to stomp the warriors of the north.

Karath had the looks of the nomadic tribes that controlled much of the eastern shores of Agmoria. He was around six feet tall with oily skin and jet black hair. At the time he carried a staff nearly identical to the one he uses today, with the exception of the alloy. He wore light, pitch-black armor consisting of leather leggings with metallic guards and a tight flexible black breastplate, open on his arms except for wrist cuffs. His arms and face with streaked with war paint, standing in stark contrast to the armor he bore. He was completely unknown to nearly all in the Empire until he began to raise an army using terrifying demonstrations of the power he possessed.

It was just before sunset as the two warriors prepared for battle. The twin moons were close together, they would soon overlap. The faint outline of Loz, the neighboring planet, loomed far in the distance. The King would meet his Challenger on the field outside of New Quodus, the capital city of the Agmorian Empire. The field was huge, miles across. It was perfect for a battle between these two powerful adversaries.

As the mighty opponents rushed forth across the serene lawn, massive armies hundreds of yards behind them both, Almuric thrust forth his gauntlet. The ground in front of him began splitting and rising, moving faster than he could run. When the pile of broken land reached a mans height it took form, shaping itself into a menacing golem, charging toward Karath. As the golem closed in, a dozen more began rushing out of the ground behind it.

Karath broke his stride, slamming his staff into the ground with the first golem only yards away. The prismatic crystal sent energy flying in a cone before him, shattering the closest five golems into pieces. Almuric continued his advance, commanding the pieces to reform into one massive thirty foot tall golem, the other seven moving to surround The Destroyer. Karath pulled his staff from the earth. He swung it in a wide twisting circle, before planting it once more. The crystal burst into a ball of light, blasting outward all around him destroying the golems who had moved in to attack.

Almuric had reached his foe, the massive golem rising from its knees behind him. The king leapt into the air bringing his mace ferociously down upon his foe. Karath attempted to block, but the force of the blow broke his staff in two, forcing him to the ground. The King swung upward and around to strike again as Karath scrambled to his feet. He brought the next blow in hard from the right. The destroyer bellowed violently sending a projection of energy into the King's chest. Almuric was sent flying through the air, some 20 yards or more. His mace flew from his hand as he attempted to twist himself to absorb the fall.

Karath wasted no time, he summoned a huge mass of swirling fire. He raised his broken staff above his head, ready to hurl the inferno at his enemy. He arched his back slightly and flung the staff forward, aiming the fireball. Unfortunately, he had not dealt with the gargantuan golem, which kicked him hard in the chest. Karath attempted to summon a force field of energy. He had reacted too slowly, the energy served only to cushion the blow as he was punted nearly four hundred yards back. The fire ball dissipated with a sudden wisp as he summoned forth a large bubble of water to break his fall.

As he hit the bubble, slowing his fall and landing on his feet, it rushed into the air flying toward the golem. The water froze and turned into a giant spike of ice, Karath sprinting behind it. The two opponents rushing toward each other once more. From the ground sprung a massive war hammer and shield, summoned forth by Almuric for his construct. The golem quickly grabbed his gifts, moving at an incredible speed. The Destroyer swung his staff frantically about while rushing forward. Lightning leapt from his staff, striking wildly about. The golem absorbed it, unharmed. Karath bellowed as he swung the shortened staff in a half circle, sending an incredible burst of energy toward the construct. The golem swiftly rose his shield to block it. The force of the blast shattered the shield and the golems arm up to the elbow. Undeterred it swung the war hammer down toward Karath, ready to strike a death blow. Just then, the massive spear of ice slammed into the golems chest yanking it from its feet. The massive body falling toward the ground, about to crush it's creator. The golem fell to pieces, sending a torrent of rubble in it's place. The ice shattered as it fell behind the rubble. A huge chunk slammed into the king, leveling him.

Karath was no longer running. He strode forward confidently with violence in his eyes. He held his staff low, as if he would not need it to finish the High King.

“The battle is not yet won, Destroyer” Growled the High King. His face contorting with rage, even behind his greying red beard.

“Many years ago, you ended the last war when you defeated the Chieftan of the nomadic tribes in the grasslands of Galneka. He met you nobly, in single combat much like we have done today. Do you remember that battle?” Senlo Karath, bastard son of the last Galnerian warrior chief, asked. His gaze meeting the High King's. Their eyes burning with magic, no longer colored like normal men, but a reflection of their stones.

“Of course I remember, boy.” He responded, momentarily feeling fear for the first time in more years than he could remember. He clenched his armored fist, feeling the power surge through his body. Candova Almuric was larger than Karath. Surely he looked intimidating with the sun beginning to set behind him. He cut a striking figure he thought, as the High King should on the battle-field. The Destroyer looked just as menacing, his long black hair had fallen wildly. His chest now bare and well muscled, with blood streaking through his war paint. Only fools forsake armor, even in today’s battles Almuric thought to himself, as he had many times before.

“I remember it well,” He sneered. “I was just a boy, watching helplessly as my father fought a god-like warrior, clearly outmatched. Your constructs destroying the animals he controlled. You offered him mercy... I will not offer it to you.”

“I knew he would not accept it,” The High King replied, tiring of this conversation. “And I will never accept the mercy of a man who destroys the innocent.”

Karath swung his staff upward, the king threw his gauntlet as if he would strike him. A golem leapt forth, with a huge toothy mouth and long clawed hands. Karath sent a blindingly bright blast of energy forth, it tore through the golem as it pounced upon him. Almuric screamed in agony as the energy struck his gauntlet. He dropped his mace, grabbing at his hand. The Destroyer focused another blast, directly into the king's crystal. The energy poured forth, with the king on his knees helplessly, trying to get the gauntlet off as the energy seared through the metal melting into his hand and arm. Finally the crystal exploded, leaving a gaping hole in the molten metal on the kings arm.

Karath walked slowly toward him, the king now gawking at his disfigured arm. He pointed the staff at him, a blast of ice springing out, cooling the metal.

“Why?” The High King Candova Almuric the Just asked, unsure of what he was asking. Unsure of what had happened and how he had been defeated. He could not understand how this vagabond had managed to strip him of his power. He looked up to meet the gaze of the destroyer, his own eyes a dull grey as they had once been when he was a child. Karath smiled wickedly as he plunged the staff's blade into the king's gaping mouth and out the back of his head.

“Kneel!” He bellowed at the dead man's army, which had moved slowly forward to confirm their king's defeat. They moved begrudgingly to their knees, looking on in horror as a massive blast of energy burst from the staff, still in Almuric's mouth.

Templars (tentative title)

It has been 698 years since the world of Dangoria was torn asunder. In that time entire empires have rose and fell. Wars have swept across every continent and ordinary people have discovered the source of their new found magic and bent it to their will.

The Prophecy of the Templars says that exactly 700 years after the heavens burned, a new race of warriors would rise to take back their power. These warriors are believed to be impervious to both the new magic and the old, dark magic.

Their enemies will be numerous and undoubtedly powerful. There are many with an interest in destroying them before they attain their full potential.

In an age where life spans have more than doubled, fear of the Templars set in long ago. 550 years after the fires, the High Kings of Agmoria began the ritualistic cleansing of all children born with the slightest resemblance of a deep magic.

The Dark Light Guardians were re-purposed. They no longer acted as king makers and war council. The Guardians were branded traitors to the empire and went into hiding in order to ensure the prophecy be fulfilled. Their new mission to guard the Templars, so that they might learn to harness their power and destroy the tyrannical rulers of Agmoria.

Across the Great Ocean, in the Old Lands of the Felinra the mighty cat-like people prepare for war. Their fleet of airships nearly complete, they move to cross the Great Ocean for the first time in 3,000 years.

All Felinra are born of the Deep Magic. Their race was formed on the eve of the First Sundering of the heavens, before that they more closely resembled enormous house cats than the graceful warrior people they have become.

The old races once controlled the lands of the Felinra, before finally losing their grip and being driven across the seas. The Felinra were once no more than dignified slaves and mercenaries indentured to their superior humanoid masters. As the race of cat-men grew into maturity, their intelligence continued to increase as well until the time came that they no longer needed the old races to function as a society.

The Great Wars ravaged most of the known world for over 300 years before the old races conceded to leave the Felinra homelands in favor of the lands across the Great Ocean. Their new lands were not as harsh and weren't covered in jungles. The climates cooler and more forgiving on their weaker bodies. Though they had lost the war, they often claimed that they had been blessed with a more bountiful prize than the savages.

Creativity

I just got home from a midnight screening of Green Lantern and it got my thinker to thunking. Creativity is the driving force in my life. It's what makes me feel special, it's what comforts me when nothing else does, and it's what makes the world a better place for so many people.

Here are some questions on my mind

1) If you could make a construct out of sheer willpower for any reason, what would you make and why?

2)What single thing/series of things has had the most creative influence in your life?

3) What is your muse?

4) what do you want out of life?

Beauty and Loneliness

Loneliness is an acorn accepting it's fate.

Hundreds of feet above,
the trees do not care
Thousands of miles away
the Oceans shed no tears.
The roar of winter ripping through
Its rage grabbing ahold of you


Unto the ground you are thrust
Nothing alive to know you exist
months and even years may pass
you look around, wondering what will pass
eventually you finally see
that nothing matters
Not you. Not me.


The world around us begins to burn
Every spring, this seems to occur.
We sit here waiting on the ground.
The blade of our enemy upon our brow.

We ask the lord what may come
How foolish to think we can change what is done.

Not a damn thing in this world will ever make a difference

Ze Book

is finished or re-finished.

I am done with the *final* manuscript for The Resistance. It comes to a little over 400 pages. All in all, I'm pretty damn satisfied with it. I've submitted a few more queries, here's hoping that someone wants to read the damn thing.

Maybe this will work out

getting ready to leave this place behind

It just aint right for people of my kind
Its a simple place
Run by rigid fundamentals
Which even they don't have the capacity to understand

This is a place for people who need direction
Begging for life to show them what to do
There are worse places a body could end up
Unless you're anything like me.
After all not all those who wander are lost.


Don't really know where ill head
Honestly don't give a damn
Its not that I don't care
You just weren't ever worth my time