[[ drabble 01 ;; reflections. ]]
It is said that some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them. It’s difficult to discern which of the three I fall into. As I write this, I’m keeping watch of our campsite in a canyon out in the Aryat Wastelands while the others sleep.
I’m a Primordial. The exact meaning of the term has been reintroduced several times to me over the last year, but when I first asked my mother so long ago, she simply explained it as a being above the scope of humanity, a blessing by the gods to reflect the stages of evolution in sentient life. Such a definition has helped humble me, and give me the perspective I need to use my talents in the aid of those less fortunate than myself.
However, when my family met him, everything changed, and my understanding of the world and the true nature of the relationship between humanity and the Primordials would become crystal clear to me.
He operated under the guise of being an emissary of peace. In reality, he was Ragnar, king of the Northern Tribes, a man with such a grip over the Afisk northlands that he was free to leave it to pursue the destruction of the other three main regions of the country.
He seemed like a kind, soft-spoken man at first, with a steadfast heart and a passion for unity of the Four Regions. He fed my father lies about how his mission was to gather travelers and head around the country to lead a summit at the Apex Maw, the center of the tragedy that befell humanity hundreds of years ago, in order to forge a peace treaty that would give humanity its greatest hope against the demonic forces that continue to threaten its survival.
His real mission was to assassinate Primordial families he believed had potential to birth the Chosen Primordials. To that end, he made many subtle but now all-too-clear attempts at both my own life as well as my brother’s. Food poisonings, mapping out the region in enemy territory--but worst of all, manipulating my family to believe that their allies, the tiger clan, were their most bitter enemies, all in an attempt to further his standing with high-ranking individuals in Primordial society.
Leonardo, the heir to the clan’s fortune, and my former best friend, was the real target for this treachery. His father and Ragnar had also grown close, bonding over their mutual desire to drag the Four Regions away from this senseless idea of war over opposing ideals. He had fed both our families false information about trading routes and ideas about the summit that ultimately drove the two apart.
Soon, conflict erupted, and blood was needlessly spilled. Raids became frequent, and it became a danger to leave the walls of our settlements. Leonardo and I became bitter enemies, and while we have since worked out our differences, I don’t think either of us can ever return to the way we once were.
It ended with less than ten survivors from both sides and Ragnar’s mysterious disappearance, and most of the survivors died not long after. I assume assassins sent from Rangar’s tribe finished most of them off. Regardless, after my brother Darius and I sought refuge in the Mercenaries’ Guild, we spent roughly four years there, training ourselves in the art of battle until infighting amongst guild members threatened to destroy the Guild entirely. Darius and I agreed that I would take a faction of those most loyal to my vision for the Guild and leave the Chisow Wetlands in the west to attempt to see if the southern kingdom of Dolakhan would accept us with open arms.
Suffice it to say, that was not the case, as affiliation with the Guild got us into hot water fast, and we were exiled from the land. Most of us left at this point, but the few who stayed loyal to me helped me build a small settlement outside the kingdom on Mount Gnass just east of the city. That settlement grew with time, and during that time I got to know many wonderful people; it was the time Jareth, my most faithful companion would describe as “the golden year”.
That peace would soon be interrupted when word got around that Ragnar had sought court with the King, a Primordial named Amadeus. Try as I might, I could not sway the King away from Ragnar’s grip, and again, much blood was shed in the wake of his twisted lies.
It was at that point; after being reunited with Leonardo, my brother, and various other Primordials, that I had my near-death experience. In a fierce battle that pitted the Guild’s might against Ragnar and the kingdom’s armies, I had sustained a grave injury that slowly but surely drained the life from me. I was certain I had died that day, but I met a mysterious being in a dream; the deity Lumos. He explained to me the truth behind my bloodline, and the true extent of Ragnar’s threat to the world.
Primordials are said to be a race that transcends human limits and can perform impossible feats of strength and speed, as well as taking on animal form. In fact, Primordials are the last line of defense against beings so terrible they are purged from the havens of the afterlife to walk the mortal realms again. We are the protectors of mankind, a race created by Lumos himself to ensure the cultivation and survival of humankind. At first, I didn’t believe such a possibility could exist, but as time passed on, I came to realize how true those statements would ring.
It was at that point that Lumos also explained the key to the Primordial Awakening, the ritual which grants each Chosen Primordial immense power over their destined Domain. My own was, oddly enough, my “death”, and concurrent rise from the ashes. Up until that point, I was a dragon unable to create fire. Using the weapon Novem as a focus, I was able to learn the art of pyromancy, and as my bonds with the other eleven Chosen Primordials grow, as does my mastery over my awakened powers.
Since my Awakening, my life has been akin to an intense dream-like state. Truthfully, I have my doubts that I am any more than Lumos’s plaything, an idea given form by the deity’s immense power as a form of entertainment in the afterlife. I have had many adventures, and witnessed many of my comrades go through their own trials and tribulations.
I have found everything from family to love, my ancestry and my strength. Moreover, I have found my purpose; to stop Ragnar from fulfilling his ambitions.
I have traveled throughout the Four Regions, meeting and recruiting each of the other eleven Chosen Primordials to our cause of stopping Ragnar from reviving the demon lord Umbrias. From what I was told in my adventures in Ragnar’s homeland of Afisk, several hundred years ago, the first “cycle” of Chosen Primordials fought against the original onslaught of Afterlifes that were hellbent on destroying all of existence as revenge against those who judged them unworthy of safe haven. Prime among them was Umbrias, a terrifyingly powerful demon who orchestrated the cataclysmic event that forged the Apex Maw at the center of the country, both a testament and a tomb where the original twelve Primordials were victorious over him in battle.
I certainly hope that the twelve of us have what it takes to triumph over the Afterlifes. Certainly, even getting to where we are has been hell; I can’t count the number of times I thought I was going to die once again, and I’m sure all twelve of us have fought through hellfire and brimstone to ensure our own survival. However, despite the lack of bonds forged with our newest companions, Diana and Clare, and their lack of mastery of their domains of Nature and Mind, respectively, I truly believe that we will all unite and stand victorious at the end of all of this. I just hope that we will not stand over a mountain of corpses.
I should probably end my drabble here. My shift is almost over, and it’s time for Marcus to relieve me of my duties so that I may get some much-needed rest. Hopefully we can make some good progress towards the Apex Maw come sunrise.
-Deucalion