Battle Axe

It was once, long ago, in the depths of the dark chasm of death, that the Battle Axe of Death was forged. This was no ordinary axe, it was imbued with certain magical gifts by its creator, Gorob. Gorob was an ancient warlock who was neither good, nor bad. He was a selfish man who did what he thought was best for himself. What better way to protect himself than to come up with a weapon of unmatched power!

He had thought of this very idea for centuries, and had never acquired a spell strong enough to do what he wanted, until now. He had stumbled upon the ancient book of secrets in a library that had been covered by a volcano eruption. Luckily the entire library was made entirely out of ancient black-stone, and even more luckily the door was shut when the lava flowed through killing nearly everything in its path.

Gorob had heard whisperings of an ancient city that was destroyed, so he had been traveling many years, searching for such a thing. Not just for old books, but because he wanted to know the history behind such a civilization. Why were they destroyed? Did they not know they were near an active volcano? What was their culture like, and who was the most powerful at the time. Gorob had hoped to glean more information for himself to make him that much stronger. Knowledge is power, and the more you got, the better you could protect yourself and your things.


He had finally found it whilst out amongst hist travels and searching. He cast the dispersion spell and it blew off the top layer of dust and dirt around him. He just happened to see a glint from the corner of his eye. He ignored it at first, then walked over to the bush it was nearby. He reached down to uncover it, but it was stuck. He grabbed a nearby stick, and started digging away around it, careful not to be too rough, even though he was slightly excited.

The thing that caught his eye was black-glass-like and sharp. It looked like a knife blade made out of obsidian. He would definitely keep this for later, and make a nice haft for it with bone and leather. He knew if there was a blade lying around, that it meant there could be civilization. He also understood that the knife could have been dropped a ways away from the prior owner’s place of residence. As he searched more in the immediate area, he was frustrated as he couldn’t find anything further.

He spent the rest of the evening searching and hoping, to no avail. He had a feeling he was in the vicinity, so he decided to do something he never should do; camp overnight in the wilderness. You see there is nothing wrong with camping in and of itself. It was the night creatures you had to worry about like the demon-hawks, scythavats, and the shivlats. All of which would make you wish you had never been born. Luckily, Gorob knew of a spell of moderate protective abilities that would surround him and a few feet around him. It wouldn’t be perfect, but better than nothing.

In the middle of the night he was awoken by howling and snarling. The largest scythavat he had ever seen! It was attempting to bypass the barrier he had bypassed, and it caused the creature great pain. It must have been so hungry that it didn’t care of its own safety and kept trying to get through. The problem was that these creatures were magical too, and Gorob knew that this wouldn’t hold the thing off forever. So he did what anyone would do in this situatuion, and raised his staff to start chanting the correct words–Too late! The scythavat had broken through, and was now about to attack. Gorob brought his staff down with lightning speed, and hit the creature on the head, teaching it a lesson it would never forget, but it didn’t slow it down at’all. It was crouching down, ready to lunge when the obsidian shot out of Gorobs pocket, tearing through the material, then through the creatures left temple, brain, right temple, and then hovered within reacing distance of Gorob.

Protection stone

This was Gorob’s lucky day, not only did he not have to worry about the scythavat, he unwittingly discovered an enchanted protection stone. He reached out and slid it in his other pocket without the hole. He had heard of these protection stones long ago. They were said to protect anyone who held it in their posession. They were very difficult to come by as only a few were made in the ages of dread that came thousands of years ago.

He chuckled with delight as he knew this was not only a good omen, but a tool that could protect him from unknown dangers. Of course other magic could defend or thwart it, but nevertheless, it was a great thing to add to his arsenal. Gorob usually carried several items each day in his satchel for safety and protection. Magic wasn’t the end-all, be-all, so one needed to be prepared, especially since there were places magic didn’t work at’tall. So he carried his staff, and satchel, and belt with some items. In the satchel were bandages, food, fire-starter, and water. In his pocket was a pencil and some scratch paper to write down ideas that came to his head…things like spells, places to visit, people to see and such.

He carefully put the stone in the pocket that didn’t have a hole, and was wondering how to come up with a good way to keep the stone concealed, but in a place where it could break free without puncturing him or his clothes. He thought of his staff, but he would rather carry it on his person, in case he was in-disposed, or his staff wasn’t easily in reach.

He ended up after he got home using a small unused scroll-roll center. He took the handles out, and lacquered the outside with some good wax. He affixed it to the side of his belt near his dominant hand, inserted the stone, and re-attached the handles. It looked a little quirky, but not bulky, and Wizards always looked funny anyways, nobody would give it a 2nd thought. Plus, he could detatch and summon the stone quickly if he needed it for offense.


Gorob was feeling pretty lucky especially because one does not normally part ways with a scythavat in one piece, but also because of finding the protection stone. The following days he kept going back to the area he found the stone, looking for the lost library. One day on the trail, he could make out someone on the trail in the distance. It looked like they were upon a horse, heading his way. He decided to pull of the trail several paces, to give the person a wide berth. He didn’t want anyone intruding upon his important business.

As the person approached, they were clad from head to toe. Gorob couldn’t see skin anywhere. This made absolutely no sense in the summer, the person would keel over from heat exhaustion. The person didn’t seem bothered by it, and just kept riding closer. As the person approached, they slowed down and started easing off the trail towards Gorob. “Oh horse apples,” he muttered to himself, and started thinking how to keep a safe distance. Gorob started walking further away, when he saw that the person was still coming towards him. Gorob, positioned his horse between him and the stranger. As the stranger pulled up, he could only make out the eyes. Gorob was completely taken off guard…This wasn’t a human. The eyes were like deep blueish white stars sunken in the back of the creatures head. He couldn’t quite make them out exactly. The creature halted, waved its hand in some sort of gesture that looked like a greeting. “what in the world is happening?” thought Gorob.

Gorob said in a gruff voice, trying to sound not to annoyed, “Greetings stranger, please be on your way. I do not want to see anyone today.” The creature didn’t move for what seemed like hours, but was only a few seconds. In a dry-sandy deep voice came out the words, “I am called Streyes” and a blink was off his horse right up next to Gorob. This scared the wizard, but he tried not to show it. He swallowed with the creature just inches away, “What do ye want with me?”

“I have been watching you for a while.”

“How is that possible?” asked Gorob

“There are things that you have no idea are possible”

“That still doesn’t explain what you are doing here”

After another long pause, he said, “I have come to help you find the lost city of Voliscov.”

“What makes you think I need help?” Gorob didn’t let his curiosity show when he mentioned the unknown name of the city.

“How long have you been trying to find it?”

“Doesn’t matter, be off with you!” After the words came out, he wish he hadn’t said it. He acutually could really use help finding the city. This thing seemed to know where it might be, or at least have a better idea.

Streyes didn’t respond and stared back for a few minutes. When it got really awkward, Gorob couldn’t stand it any longer and said

“Well ok, let’s get started, tell me what you know”

In the hours that followed, Streyes didn’t get into a lot of detail much to Gorob’s chagrin, just some general history, which was still fascinating. One story he told was how back in the days of Voliscov, that it was a thriving city. This was 1000’s of years ago. they had a lot of people who knew magic, so things were constantly changing. There were rumors of time traveling abilities, mind altering, healing, and feats of strength. There were also rumors of more unsavory magic such as fusing human and animals (This is where some supposed centaurs came from), summoning the dead, summoning demons, and just general very bad things which involved unscrupulous ways to steal, maim, or kill.

After a long pause, Gorob knew Streyes was hiding more information, but he didn’t go into any more detail.

After a few more hours of searching, Gorob heard a gruff “Oy”, or something along those lines. Gorob looked up to see Streyes had uncovered something. In days past, Gorob would normally be excited and overly optomistic that it was something of importance, but the last few finds were just trinkets and shards with no meaning.

Gorob kept puttering along kicking dirt around with his feet, and digging here and there a little.

Just then a huge flash of light and pulse of usneen energy exploded around him, and Streyes vanished.


The valley of Rodol was very peaceful, filled with farms and forests and families. This town had existed for centuries still clinging to its roots of olden times. Trying to shelter itself from the sprawl of the surrounding cities.

A young lad named Trynn was attempting to cliff jump into the ice-cold mountain water below. When you are young, you don’t care about silly things like the temperature of ice-cold water. You are born to have fun.

He had been doing this for years, and always invited his friends to come along. One day, he was jumping when the current was extra swift from the spring runoff, and he was taken down stream a ways and was pinned underwater against the side of a huge tree. He started panicking and gasping for breath. He didn’t want this to be the end of his life, and he whispered a quick prayer, “if i get out of this, I swear I’ll live life to the fullest.” Just as he was about to lose consciousness, he felt a warmth come over him like he never felt before. It surrounded his body and he levetated out of the water and was set gently onto dry ground.