Title: The Legion Immortalis
Story Arc: The Bulwark of Heaven
Setting: High Fantasy
Battle Master: Faidth
Start Date: Within the next two weeks. This will give everyone time to create characters pending approval of this board battle. I will continue to take submissions once the story begins. Should you submit an approved character after the BB commences, your character will be worked in within two posts by the Battle Master.
A Note on Characters:
Your character will be one of the renowned Ageless. Your ascension to their ranks was quite recent, and as a new immortal, you will be sent to the capital city of Avalon, the headquarters of the Ageless. There, you will meet with veteran Ageless who will initiate you into their order, The Bulwark of Heaven, and aid you in your new life as one of the Chosen. Tantamount to this, will be your enmity with the Forsaken.
Introduction (Please read carefully)
I cannot provide you all the answers you may want. I do not know why the Ageless were created, or why they endured for so many years, only to evaporate into obscurity. The issue of our creation has been argued by scholars and theologians alike for as long as we have existed. Are we the chosen of God himself? Are we defects in his nearly perfect design? Are we aberrations of nature to be persecuted and destroyed? I confess that I do not know the answers to these questions.
Personally, I have always considered the words of my dearest friend, Deya Fury, to be the closest to the truth. Getting Deya to open up about anything was a feat in itself. As you all very well know, she is a legend… second only to Oran Raven himself. She is called The Blood-Warden General, The Bane of the Forsaken Hoarde, and The Raven Wing Knight. She is all of these things, but it is more important to consider what she was not. She is not a philosopher or a priest. She is not perfect or divine. She is simply Ageless, and like all of us, does not know, nor care for the reasons why.
She was never one to remain in a conversation for long; she prefers action to words. As far as existential thinking is concerned, the answer meant about as much to her as a single drop of dew on a blade of grass. Still, despite my better judgment and hoping at the very least I may find some amusement in her answer, I hazarded to ask her this question. “Why are we here?” I remember she looked at me with sadness in her eyes and said, “Because we were never given a choice.”
It was simple. It was brilliant. It was truth.
You may very well be confused, so please allow me to enlighten you. You may be asking yourself, “Well, who wouldn’t choose virtual immortality?” or “Who wouldn’t choose to be spared sickness, disease, and the horrors of aging?” The sad fact is that I know many of my fellows never would have chosen this for themselves.
Yes, as one of the Legion Immortalis, you may very well live for hundreds of years, but such an existence may be wearying. Though you may be spared sickness and aging, it is highly likely that those whom you love will not. We are CHOSEN, and as such, our gifts are not passed to our descendents by blood. Do you know what it is like to see your child grow from a baby to a man only to be taken away from you by death? Do you know what it is like to watch entire civilizations crumble around you? To see the shape of the world itself change before your eyes?
It is not desirable. It should not be glorified. It is exhausting.
Now, if you were paying careful attention, you may very well have recognized that I used the term “virtual immortality.” I am sorry to disappoint you, but contrary to popular belief, even the Ageless may die. Granted, it is much more difficult to kill one of us than it is to kill our human cousins. Though we enjoy life spans that far exceed those of normal humans, that is only if we are not dispatched first. When we do fall, sadly, it is usually by the hands of one of our own. In order to understand what I mean, you must understand the nature of the Ageless themselves.
A child is born. It looks like a normal human. It acts like a normal human.
But it is not a normal human. Perhaps it is fortunate that many of us do not discover our unique situation until we have departed from the tumultuous waters of adolescence. We bleed like any other. We cry like any other. However, we do not die like others. At some point in our lives, we are killed. Or at least we should be. For whatever reason, death does not come to take us. We are given a second chance.
A scenario. You are a proud and noble warrior. The battle has raged on for what seems like years, even though in your human form of time notation it has only been a few weeks. Your skills are nearly flawless. You move with the grace of a winged bird, and when your blows connect with the fragile forms of your enemies, you crush them as if you were a bull gone mad. You seem preternaturally lucky. Even you, yourself, may begin to think you have bested mortality. But then there comes a day when your luck runs out.
As your weapon collides with yet another soldier’s skull, you feel the sharp, steel blade of their weapon penetrate your armor and imbed in your flesh. Blood begins to pour from your wound. Your breath quickens, but soon becomes slow, labored and ragged. As your eyes gaze in disbelief upon the instrument of your defeat, you feel your knees become weak and you start to fall.
At least you should. But you do not. In fact, you feel fine.
You pull the weapon from your body while your dumbfounded attacker can do nothing but make unintelligible sounds in your direction. Your blood stops flowing. Your wound begins to close, and you regain your breath and balance.
You have joined the ranks of the Ageless, and may take comfort in the fact that death may never claim you. That is, unless you are dispatched in such a way again. Think of it as an Achilles’ heel. One small point of weakness is all you must endure to be granted a second chance at life. Though the wound has already ceased to pain you, you will bear the scar for the rest of your life. You must know full well that others of your kind will be vigilant and seek information on your weakness. Though humans may injure you, death by the hands of humans is impossible. Only by the hand of another Ageless can you be slain.
The blow must be exact. It must be quick. It must be dealt by the hand of one of your brethren.
Unfortunately, there are many of our kind who would make war with us. We know them as the Forsaken. They were once like us, but something about them changed. Any honor or virtue they claimed became replaced by hatred and jealousy for our mortal cousins. Perhaps, they saw in humans their own weaknesses. They came to view the mortals as a blight upon the face of the world and endeavored to destroy them. The Ageless that remained loyal to their mortal ties, to their old friends and family, could never let this occur. They felt it was their duty to protect those weaker than themselves. So began the war between our people, The Bulwark of Heaven, and those of the betrayer, Severan Victor, leader of the Phalanx of Renewal.
We have fought against the Forsaken for hundreds of years. If you are wise, you will not let the pompous arrogance of the Forsaken affect your heart. Do not be swayed by their supremacist propaganda! Do not fall in line for their calls to arms! Do not wage war against your mortal kindred! You may very well join the ranks of the fallen to uphold the freedoms of others, but at least you will not die without honor.
Do not fear! Your death will not be eternal! You will be born again!
In a new body, in a new place, your spirit will reincarnate. Again you will face death. Again you will neglect its call. Again you must find your way home. There will be some who remember you, other Ageless who recognize you for what you are. You will experience a pain greater than sickness or aging. You will know sadness and loss as you live just long enough to see all your fellows fall around you. Then one day you, too, will die… And the cycle will begin again.
Charming, isn’t it? Is our condition a kindness or a curse? Well, my friends, you will have plenty of time to decide.
Dethys Night
First Scribe of the Sacred Order
Poll