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The Serpentine Saga
This story isn't about any of the canon characters, and there probably won't be any reference to them throughout the whole thing, but it's still set in Urealms. The setting is within a century after the birth of magic, so expect that sort of thing to be relevant.
I plan for the whole of the story to be many, many chapters long. Every time I have a new chapter, it'll have own post within a spoiler. I'll probably also include some author notes on each chapter, just to provide a little insight, but for now I'll leave those for later.
Please, let me know what you think and critique my work. Don't be afraid to be harsh, I can take it.
Without further ado, here's the story. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Freewell
“Can you believe it? All these lesser creatures wanting to be equal to elves. It’s downright outrageous. Bug munchers and rockskins asking for equality, hell, even the dogs are asking to be treated like people. What has the world come to?”
“Hear hear!” One elf man raised his glass, and all through the bar were voices of agreement.
“Not only that, but there are pigs everywhere! Next thing you know, they’ll want to be treated like real people too!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Eliras muttered, leaning back in the corner. He sighed and took a sip of his drink, wincing at the taste. As nice as beer could be, he much preferred wine.
Actually, no, beer wasn’t nice. But it was alcohol, and he really needed some right now.
Sighing, Eliras took the tome that was strapped to his hip and opened it, flipping through the pages. Each page was covered in his handwriting, and many of them held diagrams or sketches. Truthfully he didn’t need to look at the pages to know what was on them. Already he’d memorized each and every word. The diagrams were drawn by him, there to document his findings in the fields of magic.
Still, it was always good to reaffirm his knowledge, so he checked the book daily to ensure that his knowledge was correct.
Eliras paused at the last page, which was blank. He would ordinarily put a spell here, but he didn’t have any more. All kinds of elemental magic, but the last page was absolutely blank.
Of course, Eliras had a spell he would put here, if he could bring himself to read the scroll. But the ancient spell scroll had an incredibly powerful seal on it, and something told Eliras that releasing the seal would mean that the spell would be ruined.
Finishing off his drink, Eliras gathered his things and stood. The elf onstage was still ranting about the lesser creatures and their actions, but at this point Eliras wasn’t listening. Sure, it was a valiant cause, but the constant rhetoric just got annoying after a while. Plus, he was eager to get out of there before someone recognized him. Imagine what people would think if the sole heir of the Freewell family was spotted in a pub.
So Eliras left the pub, heading up the street to go back home. Maybe tomorrow there would be something interesting to do, but today was pretty bland. What was the point of having so much magical power if you couldn’t put it to use?
Something grabbed Eliras’ attention as he walked back to his family’s mansion. A small form, darting across the street. It appeared bipedal, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell.
Eliras quickly conjured an orb of arcane magic to light up the darkness. Scowling in disgust, he immediately launched the orb forwards, pellets of arcane magic splitting off to slam into the goblin from every side. When the magic finally dissipated, the only thing remaining was a mangled mess and a lot of blood.
Satisfied with his handiwork, Eliras continued up the road.
Goblins. What disgusting little creatures. Nobody was really sure who created them, or which god had allowed them to continue existing. Regardless, they were a blight on the world in every form they appeared, and it was more or less his civic duty to exterminate the ugly things.
The other beastly lesser ‘races’ were just as irritating, though. Gnomes had a nasty habit of making things that were frustratingly useful. Dwarves had proven more than once that their fighting ability and craftsmanship could rival that of elven make. Kobolds were disgusting little furred beasts, but they were vicious fighters. And then Porcs, wherever they had come from, were infuriatingly difficult to kill and even more difficult to talk to.
Eventually, Eliras reached his family’s mansion. Pushing the door open, he crept inside. With luck none of his family were awake-
“And what did you think you were doing, going to a bar with the common elves?”
Eliras stiffened and slowly turned to see his grandfather standing by the door. The ancient elf looked to be in his prime, but Eliras knew better. The old coot had a steady supply of dragon silver that he used to keep himself young. Balthazaar Freewell wasn’t a member of any of the big elven families, but he was definitely among the earliest to come into being. His magical power was nearly unrivalled.
So as the wizard advanced on him, Eliras instinctively cringed. “It was a tough day, one of the octodraks nearly got me, and I needed to drink it off.”
“You’re still taking quests? Waste of effort. If the common soldiers can’t handle it, that’s when a wizard enters the scene,” Balthazaar berated, his brow furrowed. “Now show me the scroll.”
Internally sighing, Eliras took the spell scroll out of his travelling pouch. As it was every night, the scroll was still sealed, ancient magic flowing off of it. The old elf quickly snatched it out of Eliras’ hands and looked the paper over, examining it intensely. Eliras sighed. “I didn’t open it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Of course you didn’t open it, only a fool would use this scroll outside of a truly life-threatening situation.” Balthazaar took one final look at the scroll then handed it back. “And I didn’t train you to be a fool. Don’t use it unless you’re certain there’s no way out.”
“I know. You tell me every time.” Eliras took the scroll and tucked it safely back into his travel bag. “Every single time.”
“And don’t you forget it! You’re still a child, compared to the likes of me! You’ve got a lot of learning left to do, boy, and until you do it you’re not a proper wizard!” The old man snapped, crossing his arms. “Be glad I even deigned to teach you at all! Your father didn’t want to hear my teachings, and that’s why he’s dead!”
No, he was dead because the old coot had decided to surprise him with a pyroblast. That was why Drakin Freewell was dead. And Senna Freewell was dead because pyroblast caused explosions.
And the old man wondered why his family line was down to two.
But Balthazaar was incredibly skilled at what he did, and that skill had eventually led to wealth and fortune. Now the old coot used his power to rule the province around the small city of Essrin.
Eliras shook his head as he ascended the stairs to head to his bedchambers. Balthazaar was insane. Absolutely batshit crazy. But he was the only family that Eliras had, and there was little else to it. If the old coot threw him out, he’d be nothing. No money, nothing to be proud about. The only thing Eliras would have would be his spellbook, and the old man would probably take that, too.
So Eliras sat down at his desk, opened a book, and began to write.