The Man of the Towers
Once upon a timeless time a great man of the towers thought up an unthinkable notion. It was a soundless night in a derilect tower, one man of the dark arts would find it a perfect study. Lightning creaked and walls of glass lit up with a red glow. A gentle breeze, a cool and sweet remedy to the heat crawled down a loose cloak of a once sane man. One long year of study, under the lengthly century of previous chapters.. it was an old book ripe with decay, but the man patiently observed it, repeatedly from one birthday to the next.
It had only been a short while since the great man of the towers had lost his mind, much death in his time, and a sour goodbye... His name was once known, but only now it is lost. Known by the children he is the Man of the Towers, always creeping about the walls of windows in the highest room of the tallest tower. A story told only by a young ones grandparents, the night of the dead is what they liked to call it. The hour struck twelve, and a shriek crippled the hearts of those nearby. A man respectably known as the towns medicine man arose from his embedded chair and tumbled up random steps, up as far as the stairs would take him. A panic and a rush around the room the man teared at everything in search for the horror he had heard. A strong silence and a glance at a broken shard, fallen from the glass wall he witnessed a monstrosity. A long drop and a sudden stop he saw what pain had become of his only son, a lad of only three shattered and lifeless. Along side him a lady of beauty and of long dark hair, tucked in her arms a beaten daughter as young as they come. A family sight, a long wonderful stair at the midnight sky and of the godly stars.. the man new it was those stars that had taken his loved ones from him. These walls of glass are weak, and any unsuspecting life form could easily fall threw... the towns people found the poor man not at fault.
The grieve night of the funeral the now insane mind thought up an unthinkable notion. Hours were spent on digging up the love he once felt; the three of them filthy and sore were in his wagon on a short trip to the towers they once knew. He then with his unspeakable knowledge of medicine and the likes of the human body preserved his family for the day of reckoning. Marked by the calendar, it was his birthday and he had every intention to study the biggest book known to the Necromancer way... the book of Animation stolen from the hectic crypts of an old witch. He studied it through and through until the markings of his next birthday let his designs begin, and his mind to unfold his new learnings. A long scribing of a chalked circle, and certain alchemist properties scattered across the bones of his wife, the Man of the Towers was carefully ready for the ceremony.
Short fire colored bursts of blood and nature formed upon her soul, loud noises of hatred from the great below lashed threw sound, and darkness seeped threw the room. Looking deafly at his love, no movement or sign of life, just a warm fine dust of ash and smoke. A failed attempt he felt her die all over again, a madness craving to be released from his body. The daughter, marinated in flowers, a deep purple of colors around the room. It was what he thought of the child, warm and lovely - she was to be next. A new formula written, he began chanting and so forth came the flames of Necromancy, and a behemoth of colors and smells smeared into her body, producing what is not human, and of what could not be living. A bone horror he recognized, shortly after the daze and confusion the mindless bone horror was upon his weaker master. A long struggle and a final blow pushed the bone horror through an all familiar wall of glass. His arm had been roughly torn off at the elbow, and his daughter had suffered a horrible fate for the second time. The man could not bare it, to see now his wife and daughter gone from his life again was far to much hurt and fear. Blood and sanity lost through his trials of error, he rolled his sons body off of the splintered wooden table and into the circle. "Fear me not boy a leap of faith and the study of a necromancer will save thee until thy end!" The man now completely insane smearing his own blood on his child's face, and menacing backwards toward his alchemist ingredients. For the boy he would place his own life as the final ingredient, a theory of life for a life, or possibly his own torn soul for his son to feel. His time being up, the dull pulse in his arm had all but spat out what was left of him.. The Man of the Towers had given up life before he could finish the final piece of the chant, an incomplete formula for an incomplete boy. A stream of light began flowing along the floor, kicking up dust and wind around the boy and his father. A cry of a thousand faces was heard through out the quite sleepy town, and a red squall of life swiftly expelled outwards towards the sea. The villagers trembled in fear for the sight they had witnessed was of heretics, and feelings within them were filled of hatred and sorrow.
The tower unstable and weak swayed in the wind, and out from the ashes of a father once sane but banished arose a young figure. A young man of hightend awareness and increasing strength. A monster of the most wretched fairy tales, a ghostly blue form of iced eyes with a glossy white sharpness mixing a glow that no eyes should ever envision. It had begun moving towards the now shattered glass wall.. a quick reminiscence and a sharp pain of anxiety ripped its way threw the creatures heart. "Mother?" A tear from this evil being had dropped from his face and burned its way through every floor of the tower.. He rashly felt the truth of his past and so he leaped from the building, and surprisingly he felt a firm footing beneath him. The towns folk confused - as anyone would be if they saw a young man fall from so high only to land a firm grip on the ground below. "Who are you son?" An eager old chap asked. Another tear, but filled with the sorrow of his family and the memories of his fathers evil doings. "Fuery..." A soft sound, deep but quiet as the night lifted its way out from his chest. Pushing his path clear of the people he sprang towards the mountains off into the distance, all manner of animals scurrying as quickly as they can to get clear of the demon. Trees fell from roots up as he passed them, leaving an inescapable trail behind him.
And that was the last any man or woman, both young and old had ever seen of the creature. Though rumor has it that it comes out at night and feasts on the poor, and fills up on the live stock. Though many believe that to be nonsense, most now believe he had trapped himself in the mountains, and is the cause of the mountains anger.. landslides and avalanches and the such. Believe only what you want to, The Fuery as we call him is a real legend of hundreds of years ago, and lives with us this very day here in Tyria. If one is so bold, there is a small village still alive were lush forests meet the the harsh cold of the shiverpeaks. It is said there is a sacred ground there, were his burning hatred and deep hurt felt through the form of a tear still burns through the ground, forever through the ground to this very day...
