Legends of Belariath
Archaon Ebonscale
Archaon's Story
Darkness.
All around.
Deep within a subterannean complex, the world of the place later known as the Wyrmcove, a struggling elf slumbered. During this struggle of uneering dreams.. these haunting nightmares..images of power, of conquest and absolute notoriety flash vividly and rapidly.
A bright light.
Before his very eyes, a large, powerful, nearly omnipotent being stood before him. The large Dragon was sinister, complex, mysterious. Wings that spanned as far into the darkness as the eye can see, with a tail as thick as a redwood, and stronger than a gator's bite. The most darkest black beheld upon its scales, as if the mighty wyrm were utter darkness itself, and burning, raging red eyes that seemed to render the elf's soul from his body by stare alone.
'You wish to serve us.. do you not?' a large, booming voice as ancient as the sands of the desert above.
The elf could only nod in response, shaken and baffled at this unearthly sight before him.
A bright flash.
The elf wakes up from a most unnerving dream, sweating, shaking..panting for breath. His head ached..throbbed in unconditional pain. His back also in pain, wondering what exactly had happened to him. Was he attacked?
His hands begin to wander along his head, when noticably, a pair of tiny horns poked his fingers. His back shuddered rather oddly, and as he reached back, he felt the leathery, scaly appendages. Four in count, he had suddenly sprouted wings like that of the one in his Dream. All previous memories seemed to be nonexistant, and replaced by a voice.
'My child, you must seek out all you can find of the mystical Magic. Learn it, control it, harness it..and observe those you find along the way. Record what you've learned and bring it to me each season.' the voice spoke to him within his head..and instinctively, He stood from his resting place. Beside him on a table not far away, provisions were mysteriously left for him. A robe, a whip.. and some rations for travel. How it got there, he did not know.
After spending some time in preparing himself for the new journey and quest he was given to complete, the new Nightmare found himself courageous enough to take his leave of the underdark he once called home. His eyes squinted from such intense light, never before seen in all his past years. Garbed in the grey robe, with the whip at his side..the young Drak Sen took his first steps into destiny.
With no one to trust, no one to know, and only his whip to protect him, Archaon traveled many, many miles..always to the South. 'Go South my young one, and seek the human land known as Nanthalion. It is there you will find your place. It is there you will learn what I wish you to know.' the dark, low voice spoke again within his mind..and all he could do out of instinct was to obey unconditionally. Long paths and the perils of seasonal weather took its toll at times, forcing him to find solace and shelter for a day or two..and still he pressed onward once these conditions subsided.
During his travels, Archaon had come across a mangled wagon lying at the side off a crossroads path. Curious as to what this strange thing was, he took it upon himself to walk over and simply search it over for any valuable information to help further his learning of the world..but little did he know, that not far away in the dense foliage to his left..a band of goblin bandits and cutthroats lay in ambush. Seeing the lone Drak Sen as an easy target, the small band attacked. One by one they came barreling forward with dagger and sword, rampaging towards Archaon..screaming curses in their tongue that he was some kind of abomination.
Twisting at the sound of bloodthirsty screeches and warcries, the tall Drak Sen watched in shock that they were coming after him. Taking hold of his whip, he lashed out in defense..snapping a sound breaking crack across one of the goblins' eyes..blinding them painfully..but he was in shock again at how dexterous he handled the whip. It was not the only thing however that would manifest from the dark Nightmare..as the goblins soon surrounded him and taunted him to make a move. A move he would indeed make, as he began to growl in frustration..when suddenly after shouting a curse in his old elvish tongue, a bolt of fiery magic erupted from his hand and skewered one of the goblins through the head. The small band soon looked at the odd stranger with wide eyes, amazed, shocked..and suddenly fearful of whom they had tried to ambush. Shouting discouraging words of retreat, the small band suddenly dispersed and fled away in fear that this oddity of the world would unleash more wrath upon them.
Panting softly after what had just happened, he looked about and moved towards the broken wagon to rest himself. The bolt of fire had taken a lot out of him, leaving him winded and in need of rest.
After he had finally caught his breath, the travels resumed..the Drak Sen once again walking South as he was directed to in order to find the civilization he was tasked to find. Nothing very eventful had brought itself upon the tall and slender nightmare in the coming days that brought him from his long forgotten home of Wyrmcove to the dense forests that surrounded his destination.
During his trek through the wooded passes, something very unexpected had crossed his path. A small bear cub had run across the path and skittered up the tree in search of food. Archaon took a moment to observe what was going on since he had never set foot upon the overworld surface in his life..but that would be his unconscious mistake. Barreling through the forest, a much larger, and much angrier bear had trampled onto the scene..and suddenly stood upright once it had seen the Drak Sen. Wide eyed, Archaon just stared in awe at the sheer size of the creature and made no attempt to move away or run, but the bear before him wasn't trully keen on his presence there. With a mighty swipe of its massive paw, the clawed talon dug into his flesh, scarring the nightmare from eye to lip above his right cheek. Reeling back after this incident, Archaon suddenly grew frustrated and angry..and once again that fire had manifested itself into his hand..which was then sent towards the bear and putting it down in a singing blaze of pain and burning.
The large bear roared in pain, and stumbled back and away from the Drak Sen, before it would scurry off to live another day..while Archaon had checked his face. The gash across his cheek wasn't very severe, but it was bad enough. With no knowledge of healing himself, he could only stumble through the forest for a place to rest that was not occupied. About an hour or so later, Archaon finds a small cave nestled and hidden in the flora of the forest, resting and tending to the seering pain upon his face. He was not dreamt for healing applications, and thus, he did what he could to treat the pain and seal the wound..which to this day scars his complexion.
To this day, Archaon lurks in the shadow.. growing in power, and in the vast knowledge that he has collected. Each season he presents his findings to the Elders, and each season he is favored. The once wary and young Nightmare had now grown immensely wise.. and equally dangerous. The gift of his Elders, the power over the dead and all things dreadful, sealed his place as the Elders' Soulkeeper, their child of the Deadlands.