Advent of Caecius
Badar,
Birth, creation of life is usually a beautiful thing, done out of love, if not gain. My advent was no different in that regard - done out of the love of gaining - though it was completely different in mechanics...
Expanded history of Grafar and reasons for his quest of immortality, as well as his meeting of Stamanm and a brief summation of his brotherhood's formation. Twelve men who wore black-hooded robes and twelve women who wore skimpy tunics formed a circle, a circle that pulsated on both sides of them with powerfully magical runes. In the center stood Grafar, a tall, broad shouldered, middle-aged man wore a blood red with black trimmed robe and his unwilling mate, a gorgeous dragon turned dark elf, Staman. The twelve men knelt before their powerful leader, heads bowed in respect and fear, fear of his unholy wrath. The twelve women lied on their backs, unconscious, unknowing of their surroundings.
"My brothers," proclaimed Grafar, "you are about to participate in my most glorious moment - the moment I defeat death, the moment I achieve ageless immortality, so I can lead you and your children through the revolution of these corrupt governments and into the perfect world that I shall rule with you, my chosen, at my side." The twelve men cheered. "When I start chanting, the pure sacrifices shall being for the greater good of all in this world and will ever be in this world."
The men nodded, knowing their parts, eager to begin this pleasurefully glorious task.
"Shoo-noa tinn abul," began Grafar, the men began their soiling. "Fawlu-asu." The men finished at once, the wombs of the women glowed with the magically imbued seeds. "Thussu arju," and the lives created tore out of the women's wombs and passed seemlessly into the womb of Staman.
"Thuras-naja salart-abul" Grafar chanted as he lowers himself onto Staman. "Sinju! Sinju!" Grafar chanted as he finished.
Grafar stood before he pulled his robe back around his body. Swiftly, he reached down to pick up a faintly glowing, curved sickle. He cut Staman's stomach open before he slashed his left wrist and, holding the laceration above Staman's opened womb, his blood mixed with hers and the magically combined fetus. "Sheeno faenie rosku." The chant healed the wound on Staman and, before their eyes, Staman cycled through a pregnancy before giving birth to a fully formed baby with white skin, black hair and wing nubs on his back.
Grafar grabbbed the thin steel rod on the ground in front of him before he gently slid one end into his temple, the other end into the temple of the baby. "Lonos gnalis, Grafar chanli darhi Chronicles of Caecius." The rod glowed, a bright red pulse crept along from Grafar's temple to the baby's, which caused the baby to shriek in fright and pain. After the glowing subsided, Grafar began his final chant. "Chrakas-shrone criftna, chinsho-riplos!" and Chronicles of Caecius's body grew through the stages of life: infant, toddler, childhood, adolesence, and ended with his body matured to that of one in his mid-twenties. The twelve men gasped as one as the now-man stood, his hair now holding bright, light blue streak down the middle, his body towering over them, his wings a dark red hue spanning 15 feet in each direction and opened his slanted, onyx eyes.
"Awaken, my child, Caecius!" Grafar demanded. Caecius snarled at him, his eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, which caused Grafar to pause and swallow minutely, before he continued. "Bow before me, Caecius!" Caecius cocked his head to the side, sneered at Grafar, then proclaimed in a slow, deep melodic voice, "No Grafar, but your spirit, after your imminent death, shall bow to me for all of eternity."
Caecius opened his hand and a crackling blue ball flew at Grafar, hitting him and instantly charred his body. Caecius turned and sneered at the twelve other men as they fired spell after spell at him, in an attempt to avenge their fallen leader, their life's master. Caecius clapped his hands and the men imploded. Slowly, Caecius wandered out of the cave, wearied by his welcome into this world, but still hungry for vengence on his father's followers and a thirst of primal vengence to be quenched.
My early thirst for revenge shook the foundations of the Pendroin, causing them to flee their magical homeland in the south to the far reaches of the north and banning all of the magic that they possessed from use, magic that had created me, causing them to be brutal and barbaric in their takings at their new home, their sheltered bodies weary from previously unneeded efforts due to their magical prowess. I ran to where I may find peace from their cruelty.
Caecius
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