Chapter 5: The Chasm of Derelima

Posted by on May 28, 2014 in The Sorcerers of Thunder Hold | 0 comments

“I suggest we travel to the land of Thornhelm,” said Flamecrest, “After all, the steward, Rofan, is said to be an acceptable, temporary replacement for Anrhys while he aids in the resistance against Vildrin’s forces, and Thornhelm is one of the safest kingdoms I know of.” Indeed, Thornhelm was an extremely fortified kingdom and Rofan was an “acceptable, temporary replacement”, but it was a kingdom of paranoia and the people were scared.

“Safe! Thornhelm is nothing but a kingdom of cowardice, when did they ever come to help Darromane at Aovus Creek?” said Talonmaw. “Since when did Anrhys care about the safety of other kingdoms? Since when did Anrhys ever come for us when we were rotting in Thunder Hold? Since when did Anrhys care about Athrin?”

“Thaygo, that is enough!” scolded Xeleoth.”I agree with both you and Flamecrest but we have no choice. Howlveil is too near the Wastelands of White Blood, Messorfrost hates all “southerners”, Remnoth is ashes, and Astermound and Netherwind are under the rule of Vildrin!” said Xeleoth. “Flamecrest can predict what is to come through her magic and I respect her judgement. Remember, Vildrin has put a price at our heads, and he’ll do everything he can to get them on top of a stake. Don’t forget, Aried will need the tender care of his grandfather if he accepts him for adoption and we are in the presence of the Stone-Carrier. If Vildrin gets a hold of the Gem, he’ll unleash indescribable destruction on the world.”

Everyone else agreed with Flamecrest to go to Thornhelm, including Thaygo, even if he thought Anrhys was not to be trusted. However, they had an obstacle that they were not aware, for it was formed by Vildrin while they were stuck in Thunder Hold. Vildrin created it himself with his incredible power, the Chasm of Derelima. A dreaded realm of both evil and suffering, the chasm was infamous for its bewildering passages, tunnels, pathways, and mazes. Vildrin formed it for the purpose of keeping all the kingdoms trapped unless anyone was daring enough to try to travel through the savage chasm. Even the great Elder Anrhys cowers in fear at its enormous size and the fact that no one has ever come out alive. If  Anrhys still sits upon his throne with the Crown of the Almighty Elder resting upon his head, his people will be constantly dying from the punishment that Vildrin has forced them to burden.

As the party of ten walked along in the meadows and got their boots wet from the sparkling dew, they eventually came to the immense chasm, stopping them very abruptly. They all stood in shock, except for Aried because he was being carried by Xeleoth.

“Since when did this happen?” stammered Xeleoth.

“How should we know, we were all cooped up in that prison for five years.” said Thaygo. “This has Vildrin written all over it. Do you think we should go around it?”

“No. Vildrin is probably hunting us down right at this very moment. We need to get to Thornhelm before he reaches us.”

“Maybe we could hover across.”

“We can try, but I’m sure it’s enchanted.”

They slid down a small depression towards the chasm. When they reached the maze, Thaygo started to hover a few feet from the ground and ever so slowly lingered towards the great drop in the land. Everyone stood in suspense, and once Thaygo was just above the chasm, he immediately dropped like a stone.

“Thaygo!” screamed everyone, echoing across the vast landscape, mixed in with Thaygo’s screams.

However, he had just barely caught onto a ledge as he fell, breaking his fall, but giving him a large gash on the palm of his hand. When he managed to climb up, his dirty cut was dripping from blood. Norkra, being a healer, quickly tore off a long strand of her robe and wrapped it around the cut very tightly. She put her hand on his hand and a light blue glow emerged from in between the two hands. Thaygo clenched his teeth as his cut was singeing from the magic. Norkra unwrapped the bandages and the cut was now a pale scrape.

“You should let that settle as best you can. Don’t try to do much work with it.” said Norkra.

“Thank you,” cooed Thaygo, who had a strange appeal towards Norkra. “It feels much better.”

The two gave a small smile to each other. However, Xeleoth was getting a little tense.

“I think my theory was correct,” said Xeleoth. “I don’t think this place allows magic in its caves. Everyone should stay close and try to climb down as easily as possible.”

As they did this, many of them slipped and got bumps, scrapes, and bruises, but they managed to get to the bottom. Xeleoth tested another theory of trying to climb across, but the minute you touched the rocky walls, they formed into smooth, silky edges.

“We have no choice, we must now walk through the chasm,” announced Xeleoth. “And may Deishma bless us all.”

And off the party went, into the darkness.

Chapter 4: The Black Domain

Posted by on May 18, 2014 in The Sorcerers of Thunder Hold | 0 comments

In a dark place where no ordinary sorcerer dared to enter was the lair of the wretched Vildrin. It was an enormous palace that was slowly melting away as its walls were being consumed into time. This place used to be Remnoth, the City of Valor, as it was called there. Tothris was held prisoner there as Vildrin’s slave along with Elder Anrhys. The great citadel was now renamed, Vuldurius.  Vildrin sat in his black throne with spikes jutting out of the sides and back with dark engravings carved that read the names of dark demons of the Everworld. His throne room towered over all that it could view. Black walls surrounded the dark Vildrin in an enormous rectangle. Vast windows alined the large walls that used to let in bright sunshine, but are now shadowed over by the gloomy clouds that hang over the castle.

Vildrin was frightening enough to be feared by nightmares. He had a dark, sinister face, his nose was pointy and long, and his eyes were not blue, green, brown, or any other human eye color, for his eyes glowed with red hatred of piercing fire. His white, dreadful hair hung down to his shoulders which were plated with spiked armor from the darkest worlds. A black, sorrowful tabard covered his chest plate. Black, leather boots covered his feet and his calves. A withered cloak trailed behind his back like a black ghost, and topping his head was a crown of silver that spiraled from his head. Vildrin sat in his dark throne, staring into nothingness, wishing to slay every living sorcerer. Barrowm appeared in the center of the large room in a black tornado. Barrowm came rushing towards Vildrin, and, still looking into space, he said in the most terrible and chilling voice, “Stop!”

Barrowm ceased in his tracks, standing about five yards away from Vildrin, and then he stooped his head low until it touched the cold floor.

“Lord Vildrin,” Barrowm bellowed, “I have sadly brought grave news from the prison of Thunder Hold.”

“Barrowm Enderfoe.” said Vildrin in a calm, but at the same time, hating voice, “Of what news do you bring me on this time of day?”

“My lord, Thunder Hold is gone.”

“What do you mean by “gone”?”

“You see, one of those stupid warlocks of yours bashed me in the head, knocking me straight out. One of them sorcerers must’ve carried me outside, ah, what was his name…Xeleoth, that’s it. Apparently he was from Remnoth like me, so he thought of me as family you see. So then, I woke up, and all of Thunder Hold was ashes, I swear on the name of me old aunty. Then, I stabbed that wretched prince and his equally wretched lady friend. But then I saw something beautiful in the prince’s hands, something red and bright. I had no idea what it was but I had to have it. Then Xeleoth came and scared me away with his crummy sorcery ways.”

“Anrhys’ heir.” muttered Vildrin, more to himself.

“Come again.” said Barrowm.

This time, Vildrin stared right into the soul of Barrowm. Barrowm felt it and began to trample to the floor in pain. Vildrin stood up with black fire surrounding him, or in other words, pure hatred striking terror into Barrowm’s heart and soul.

“Athrin was the last Stone-Carrier!” bellowed Vildrin, “That red glow was the great Gem of Deishma, the holder of invincibility, I needed that stone! You dare to fail me?!”

“Please master!” screamed Barrowm, “Spare me, please spare me! I will get the gem for you my lord, please, just don’t send me into the depths of fire and torture!”

Vildrin sat back down in his throne, cooling down.

“Very well.” cooed Vildrin, “You will bring me the gem from the dead hands of Prince Athrin, and you will retrieve it by tomorrow before the sun reaches its highest peak. Otherwise, you will feel the almighty power of Vildrin.”

“I promise you my lord, you will have it.” said Barrowm, and he reached inside a raggedy pouch and pulled out another handful of black powder. He cast it upon the ground and the same tornado erupted in the throne room and the cowering servant was gone yet again.

Chapter 3: The Future Stone-Carrier

Posted by on May 10, 2014 in The Sorcerers of Thunder Hold | 0 comments

Athrin hurriedly lodged the key into the lock and the gate opened with a loud creak that screamed throughout the entire tower. Athrin started to hear yelling upstairs.

“Hurry,” said Athrin. “We don’t have much time!”

“Wait!” called Xeleoth.

“We don’t have time for this Xeleoth!” retorted Athrin.

“We can’t just leave him here.”


Xeleoth pointed to Barrowm.

“We can’t bring him, he’ll be trouble!”

“He is a soldier of Remnoth, like me. We Remnothis respect all dwellers of our city and we think of them as our brothers and sisters.”

Athrin’s bright blue eyes looked into Xeleoth’s gray eyes. With a heavy heart, Athrin bestowed Xeleoth the permission to take the wretched Barrowm with them, not knowing that this was very foolish. The sorcerers and sorceresses followed Athrin through the curved tunnels of the dungeons, sprinting as fast as their legs could take them. Bellra and Sapien lugged behind. A jet of fire shot past Athrin. He repelled back with a blast of red light. The warlock shot backwards, hitting the wall with extreme force. Different colors of blasts were coming this way and that. Bellra couldn’t keep up, she tumbled over and stared into the eyes of another warlock, about to blast her with a jet of red. Athrin stared in horror.

“BELLRA!” screamed Athrin.

He dodged every burst of magic, pushing through the crowd of the other sorcerers. The blast of red fled from the warlock’s hand, aiming right towards Bellra’s head. Then, Sapien ran from out of the shadows, and cast a bright blue shield around Bellra. The blow returned to its caster, and a burning hole had singed through the warlock. He fell to the ground with a thud. Athrin ran to Bellra and carried her the rest of the way. Light had seeped through the doorway, filling the eyes of the magic users with delight.

“C’mon,” yelled Athrin. “We’re almost there!”

Athrin broke through the oaken doorway. The sunlight erupted onto their faces, lightening their expressions with the heartiest of joyousness. Athrin turned back towards the dark and sinister icon of the entire world, its walls nearly indestructible, and its spirit tarnished by the terrible Vildrin. Athrin reached into the back of his brown cape. Out he pulled a jewel of the brightest of reds. Its edges jutting out from its center like a sea urchin. It was so perfectly polished without a speck of litter upon it that it cast a red shadow upon the grass that was set aflame. Every prisoner stared in Athrin’s direction, waiting to see what next heroic deed he would create. Athrin looked down at the brilliant gem, then looked at the tower, warlocks getting closer to the doorway. Athrin made his decision. He raised the marvelous jewel into the sun. A blindingly white beam struck the stronghold. The warlocks cowered back in fear and amazement. Soon, screams echoed through every crack in the spire as the tower burned into ashes and the nothing was left of the amazing, brilliant, mighty Thunder Hold.

Bellra’s knees buckled, and she spilled onto the green grass, still wet with dew. She was howling with pain as something red and raw began to take shape. Flamecrest ran towards Bellra, for she was a healer in Thornhelm, and she had delivered many young ones. Time passed, and Flamecrest held a pink, sleeping, soft, perfectly healthy newborn baby.

“I bestow upon you, the heir to the throne of Thornhelm!” called Flamecrest. She gave the baby back to Bellra. Bellra held the baby in her hands so gently, that it would almost feel like you were floating in midair. Athrin calmly stooped down towards his heir.

“What shall we name him?” asked Athrin.

“It should be in the language of your ancestors, since he is the next Stone-Carrier.”

Athrin stood thinking, and finally a name came to his mind.

“His name mean the everlasting star of the north, the great barrier of justice that stands between the dark and the light, his name shall be Aried!”

Bellra stared at her new baby for a long period of time.

“Aried you say,” said Bellra. “Perfect.”

Barrowm’s eyes flickered while he rested on the shoulders of Xeleoth, who had been carrying him the entire time. Barrowm quietly pulled out a dagger from his cloak. Barrowm kicked Xeleoth hard in the jaw. Barrowm fell to the ground and scurried back to his feet. He charged towards Athrin and stabbed him in the back. Athrin stared into Bellra’s eyes as she looked back at him in horror. Bellra screamed in anger, but Barrowm stabbed her too. Bellra quickly cast an invisibility charm on Aried as she and Athrin fell to the ground in silence, the prince of Thornhelm, the son of Anrhys, and descendant of Deishma, had passed on, and joined all of the deceased men and women in the World of the Dead, along with Bellra. Barrowm then saw a gleaming red light in the lifeless hand of Athrin, for he had not dared to drop the gem. Barrowm reached toward the prince with his disgusting hand. His hand began to singe and the smell of charring skin filled the air. He screamed in agony and dropped the knife that had been set ablaze. Barrowm spotted Xeleoth with his hand clutching toward Barrowm. He felt himself raising from his feet. Barrowm quivered in fear as Xeleoth came closer and closer.

“You are no guardian of Remnoth!” cried Xeleoth with red fire in his eyes. “You are a monster!”

Barrowm was flung towards the ground simultaneously, and when Xeleoth was finished with him, Barrowm looked like he had just run through a thousand-man army.

“You are hereby banished from Remnoth by word of Xeleoth Everdwell, protector of King Tothris, the Ruler of Remnoth, Lord of the Lion!”

“Tothris has given you no such authority.” said Barrowm. “You are just a worthless citizen of Remnoth.”

“Tothris gave me the Royal Heirloom.” Xeleoth pulled out a small dagger from his green cloak with strange script engraved into its blade. “Get out of my sight, for you know well what this incredible blade can do.” Xeleoth stared hard with his dark, gray eyes into the soul of Barrowm. Xeleoth’s blond hair reminded Barrowm of the lion that was embedded in the Remnothian flag with its golden mane blowing in the wind, and its razor sharp teeth gnashing at its enemies.

“The Age of Deishma will soon be over wizard, and you will end with it!” yelled Barrowm. He pulled out a handful of black powder and cast it upon the ground. A humongous cloud of darkness shadowed over the wizards, and the cowardly warden had vanished. Xeleoth quickly grabbed the gem.

“What have I done?” whimpered Xeleoth, his face glowing with the red light. “This is all my fault. If only my admiration had not conquered my mental being. Prince Athrin, son of Anrhys, king of Thornhelm, is dead, because of me!” he sent a flaring blast of fire into the sky in anger.

The cry of a baby echoed as the flame distinguished. Xeleoth had forgotten all about Aried, wrapped in a white blanket was a rosy baby, for the invisibility charm had worn off. He looked almost exactly like his father with his brown hair, blue eyes, handsome looks, and his pointed nose.

“I will make this right.” he whispered as he placed the wondrous jewel in the palm of the newborn baby. Xeleoth picked up the infant and motioned for the other sorcerers and sorceresses to follow, and to bury the prince and Bellra, to become one with the earth.


Chapter 2: Athrin’s Plan

Posted by on May 9, 2014 in The Sorcerers of Thunder Hold | 0 comments

Bellra was getting very close to her due-date, and Vildrin stilled waged war across the world. Athrin and Thaygo were almost the leaders of the entire group. So as the others sat around in their cell, Athrin and Thaygo devised a plan. The whole thing was thought out carefully with even the tiniest of details noted. Their plan involved a dimwitted warden, a few of the prison warlocks, swiftness, and the simple ways of betrayal.

Athrin’s and Thaygo’s plan was to tell lies to the prison warlocks. For example, “I saw your wife, Ulgra, having a serious affair with Crith’em!”

It was both a mischievous and cunning plan, but it was certainly going to work.

Athrin and Thaygo told the rest of the group their plan, and they loved it. Allos and Fallos wanted to try it out first.

Together they said to a warlock, “Hey! Iredwell! We heard that Grothtoll thinks that he should be the warden, AND NOT YOU!” Since they knew all of the warlock names, this would be simple.

“Do you really think that?” asked Iredwell to Grothtoll, in a stuttered tone.

“What?! This is complete rubbish that these filthy twins are talkin’ about!” hollered Grothtoll, in a tone of guilt. “I say we kill em’ right now!”

“No!” called Barrowm, tottering down the stone steps to the top of the tower. “You know you can’t do that.”

Barrowm had slimy, brown hair that was slicked back. He had a stout nose that was slightly squished against his face and he had thin lips with yellowing teeth behind them.

“Warden Barrowm!” exclaimed Grothtoll. “Its been a while since we’ve seen you. Being warden must be very hard work.” As Grothtoll said this, he stepped forward towards Barrowm in a menacing pace in his dark cloak. “You should take a break, lie down for a little, someone could take that heavy load off your shoulders.”

“Grothtoll,” said Iredwell. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talkin’ about sympathy.” said Grothtoll. “So old Barrowm can go to sleep. Barrowm, you wanna go to sleep?”

“Yes,” said Barrowm. “I think I do. AND YOU CAN SLEEP TOO!” With that, Barrowm pulled out his glimmering blade, and Grothtoll got in his casting stance. “NO ONE’S GOING TO BE IN THE POSITION OF WARDEN, ONLY ME, FOR I HEARD YOUR ENTIRE CONVERSATION!” Barrowm swung his sword down on Grothtoll, who in turn, cast a shield upon this body.

“You foolish man!” yelled Grothtoll. “Don’t you know that Remnoth’s power will never overcome?! Your precious city is dead!”

“Don’t you dare talk to your superior that way!” shouted Barrowm, parrying and thrusting his sword at the same time. “It was where I was born! It was where my memories were made, and you dare cast it away like a leaf in the wind!” Grothtoll sent a bolt of fire at Barrowm, setting his cape ablaze. Barrowm quickly clipped it off.

“My mind has been tortured unlike you!” roared Barrowm. “My deepest, worst fears within my nightmares, became real! I was in pain, my own master had betrayed me! But I cannot do anything about it, for my inner body has been chained to a dark, cold wall of misery, and my shackles burn my wrists as my hatred for Vildrin grows stronger! You have not seen the pain and suffering I have seen! You are just a stupid, dimwitted warlock, that tails behind Vildrin like a pointless shadow!” He swung his sword down ferociously several times, each time being blocked by Grothtoll’s great sorcery. “Your own downfall will be the betrayal of your own intellect!” This time, Barrowm’s aim of the blade was true, and it struck straight through Grothtoll’s spell, for he had not been quick enough, and into his chest. Grothtoll fell to his knees. Barrowm pulled off Grothtoll’s hood, revealing black, greasy hair, a sunken face, a pointed nose, and black eyes. Grothtoll stared into the pupils of Barrowm, his killer, and he fell dead, a red stain beginning to form around his chest.

Iredwell came up behind Barrowm and struck his scalp with the butt of a knife. Barrowm fell, unconcious, and Iredwell cackled away, but being a foolish warlock, he tripped over Grothtoll’s body, fell down, and a loud thunk was heard from his forehead hitting the stone floor. A puddle of blood began to form around his head, and his eyes were open, and his breathing had stopped. All was silent, except Athrin holding a bone he found in the cell, reaching out through the cage, with a chain of tinkling keys on the end emitting from Barrowm’s pocket.

All according to plan.


Chapter 1: The Gem of Deishma

Posted by on Apr 13, 2014 in The Sorcerers of Thunder Hold | 0 comments

Deep within the caverns of Thunder Hold were many fallen warriors and heroes who had been led into the greedy yet powerful clutches of the dreaded Vildrin. These wondrous men and women were only given the least of Thunder Hold’s hospitality. Their great magic was possessed within them so they couldn’t be capable of escaping the granite walls. They were given the dungeons as their new home with grimy slime dripping from the ceiling and decaying bones were scattered along the floor. The only light given was a single candle that was in the middle of the floor of the enormous cell that every prisoner has to share. Their only meal for the day was a stale stump of bread and a pitcher that was filled to the brim with sewage water.

As the miniature candle grew to be a worthless pile of wax, the eleven prisoners of Thunder Hold chose where in the room to begin their slumber. All the sorcerers in that gigantic cell had grown quite close together. Sapien was from the kingdom of Netherwind, who was a kindly fellow and a very powerful wizard, but because he had obtained a great age, he had begun to grow insane. Thaygo was from the outskirts of Darromane, but he had a dark background. His father abandoned him when he was nine at the Battle of Aovus Creek. His mother was forced into slavery and was eventually executed by the Grand Baron, Havis. Children were forced to go to war at this terrible battle under his rule where thousands were slain. Thaygo seeks revenge on Havis, and claims that his head will hang upon a sword, skewered through his forehead. The two curious twins of this prison were named Allos and Fallos, only children, were both from Astermound, as well as being exactly identical, they had the unique ability to combine their powers into one, making them a stronger force. Their father was a very strict man who forced both of them into the sorcerer army. A sorcerer prince who went by the name of Athrin, who was the son of Anrhys, was caught fighting against Vildrin himself. Vildrin decided he was too valuable to slaughter, so he threw him into Thunder Hold to be used as bait across the world. Athrin had a lover as well, who had been captured from Vildrin. Her name was Bellra and she was carrying a baby boy inside of her.

The six other prisoners were named Emberath from Messorfrost, Darios from Howlveil, Volltha from Netherwind, Norkra from Astermound, Flamecrest from Thornhelm, and Xeleoth was from Remnoth, or commonly known as “The Powerless City”, even though he was born with sorcerer blood. All of Vildrin’s prisoners suffered in his dark prison, that was once the gleaming, shimmering light of every hero and warrior that stood forth upon the dark soldiers of the powerful, malevolent Vildrin.

Vildrin, of course, could never control one single kingdom for he was a persevering warlock. He had already taken control of Barrowm, his slouching servant, who was the warden of all of Thunder Hold. Being a soldier of Remnoth, he was quite skilled in combat, especially with swords. He went along the cell, clanking his sword on the iron bars, making an irritating echo throughout the entire building. Barrowm wore steel armor with a tattered red cape trailing behind his ragged, woolen boots. His pale face and dark, sunken eyes struck fear into the hearts of Callos and Tallos. Barrown also had long, stringy, black hair that went halfway down his back.

Warlocks obeyed Barrowm’s orders who wore black cloaks with amethyst pendants. Their hoods cast a shadow over their faces, but long, gray hair was still visible. They carried curved blades under their cloaks just in case, but they usually used strong magic for their main weapon. What Barrowm and his warlocks didn’t know was that Athrin was a sacred Stone-Carrier.

Stone-Carriers are the sacred alliance of the five kingdoms. They carry the Gem of Deishma, an unbelievably powerful element of destruction. Deishma was the sorceress who created the entire world, including the kingdoms. When she passed into the World of the Dead, she consumed every drop of her soul into the form of a radiant gem. The gem was handed down to her son, Crosos. Crosos kept the gem hidden from all outsiders, including his sister, Cigytha. After discovering the hidden stone and its power, Cigytha laid havoc upon the entire world, killing Crosos as well. With the newly found gem, she created an heir for herself. Not naturally, but with the power of the gem. Cigytha was the creator of Vildrin. Vildrin was named her humble servant in defense. Cigytha named herself the Mistress of Dusk. Vildrin soon discovered what the secret was behind Cigytha’s strength and sought to have it.

Vildrin took the gem from Cigytha, and killed her with it. Vildrin enforced a great and terrible army of warlocks with his new power. He traveled far and wide to destroy every piece of hope there was. Anrhys and his resistance stole the sacred gem from Vildrin, and Anrhys had the most destructive weapon in the world. Anrhys was an official Stone-Carrier, but not for long. Ever since the reign of Vildrin, he could not risk the stone falling into the hands of the dark lord. So, Anrhys passed the stone down to Athrin, who in turn, will pass it down to his future son, Aried, the baby boy who was being carried by Bellra right at this very moment.




Posted by on Apr 12, 2014 in The Sorcerers of Thunder Hold | 0 comments

In the Black Era, there was only darkness. The darkness never stopped spreading, like roots that haven’t yet been pulled. However, everything in dark’s path had stopped growing, like when death falls over those who’s time has come. The roots of trees stopped sponging water, the birds ceased their cheerful chirps, and the sun had been restricted from ever shining its terrific light on those who take in its pleasure. Darkness was the death of a loved one, darkness was a nightmare, darkness was what every soul feared.

Vildrin, the dark warlock who cast this black magic upon the world of sorcerers, thus polluting the entire land with evil, was a being of endings. Thousands of magic users tried to defend their world of harmony by trying to make peace with Vildrin, but they suffered the terrible consequences. After seeing that there was no hope to be equal with Vildrin, the sorcerers forged alliances with the neighboring kingdoms, trying to defeat Vildrin with brute force. Ever since that fateful day, their peaceful world has fallen into the torturous clutches of Vildrin, living the lives of slaves and peasants under his rule.

Their were five kingdoms of this corrupted world, which were Astermound, Netherwind, Howlveil, Ivefrost, and the mighty Darrowvane. Along with these five kingdoms, there were five rulers, who were all indestructible forces of power. There was Elder Dolth of Astermound, Elder Grimward of Netherwind, Elder Cinder of Howlveil, Elder Roarthain of Ivefrost, and Elder Anrhys of Darrowvane. All of these great fighters fought in the mighty battles that have occurred in their world, but none have been this brutal and dark.

Vildrin was not just by himself, for he had an entire army of warlocks that have served him only to be turned into ash when they were of no use anymore. Vildrin’s servant, Barrowm, was not a magic user, for he was only the lifeless remains of a soldier of the non-wizard kingdom of Remnoth, rotting away in the clutches of Vildrin. Darkness easily corrupted Barrown’s mind, making him think that Vildrin was the supreme ruler of all the kingdoms.

However, not everyone was corrupted as easily as Barrown, for there were those who were spared by Vildrin and brought to the heart of the five kingdoms. In that exact spot was the first sorcerer fortress that lasted through millions of years of existence. Now, Vildrin laughs at this shard of history from the sorcerers, who used this mighty icon as a place to find protection and peace. It is the place where the planning of the world started, it was the place where the art of magic was created, it was the source of all power, it was…Thunder Hold.