Smoke and fire at the end of the Orrain dynasty. Upon the island of Kernsgrund the final members of the royal court held their ground in the lighthouse fortress Vadkern. "Five ships have made landfall on the south point, group C will scurry out to face them. Five elves bent over a strategy map. The heat and fear could be felt throughout the room. "There's a problem.. Sir Jakurk isn't at his post, nor is his lieutenant.." The leader of group c was vacant. Jakurk de Naitch Mianta was nowhere to be found unless you knew where to look.
Upon the fortress wall just outside the lighthouse, five bottles of wine were shared among four comrades. Jakurk de Naitch Mianta who had come a long way from a gladiator slave.
Paraquil D'la Orrain, the fourth prince of purple blood who everyone just called Pars at this point had fallen far from the title of crown prince of an empire. Now he was a crown prince of a falling fortress or at least what was left of it. His golden robes, ridiculous jewellery and face covered in metallic oils still told of the late Orrain's splendour.
There was also Ismael the only other grass folk to have made it this far into the war while still playing on the Orrains side except for Jakurk. He came from the southeast of Moconouis, a world away from Jakurk's homeland in the northeast of Askmark Dulvelsk. And so the two couldn't be any more different. Jakurk's hair was a dry brown, while Ismael's a deep black, While Jakurk's skin was ióriginaly white, now tanned by the Cezen sun, Ismael's skin was already as dark as the dusk elves. They had come from different parts of the world. But spoke the same language, shared the same goal, and followed the same force upon them faith.
And finally there was Oilack. The greatest mage of this generation was the creator of the lighthouse which now set fire to a hundred or so rebel ships by the hour. A beam of light so strong it cut through ships for miles. "Say if you could make any wish what would it be?"
"Any wish? Easy, end the war and the yellow famine, and restore me as supreme emperor under eight skies" Pars was the first with a wish. Well several wishes.
"I said one wish that was at least three" Oilack sighed and leaned back against the stone wall. Drink in hand just like everyone else. "Well i would wish for there to be peace always, any conflict would be settled man to man, not with armies"
"What a boring wish" Ismael took a large sip of his bottle. Dynasties finest wine, it had been smuggled out here when the war started just in case a member of the royal family would have to retreat all the way here. Now it could at least be enjoyed by the few people left. "I would wish to become a god, that way i could do anything i would ever want"
"You all lack imagination" Jakurk didn't bother with the question at all. What good were wishes now. Although he couldn't help but imagine an answer of his own.
"Really? now you can't say that without a wish of your own can you" Pars smiled. Why do the elves need to be so hot? Damn.
"Whats the point, it won't come true, none of our wishes will" Jakurks chugged down another bottle. These were his last days and they were going to be good days. Gods and others be damned.
"Not necessarily" Oilack dropped his bottle over the wall and brought out an iron necklace, no a Feysteel necklace from his oversized robes. "This my friends is one of the oldest artefacts of the hidden library, the Soul Oath, with this one wish can come true"
In the damp dark tunnels of August's drop some fifty years later. Jakurk de Naitch mianta stands with white hair, wrinkles, the ruined robes of Pars and a feysteel necklace around his throat. "Be on your guard, we are not alone"
Eyemik could feel the presence there in the grand caverns with them. There amongst the many corpses was something small and black. Ozzing and slimy. A tiny creature crawled forth. Missing its lower body, just two melting hands alongside a dripping featureless face. It reached out towards them. "A black egg, wounded aswell" Jakurk smiled. Then he laughed. High enough that it echoed throughout the caverns.
"You know I have been looking for one of these for the last thirty years, just to try something, just to see if it could work…" Jakurk took out the Feysteel necklace."U`/\'-" The necklace opened into four slots. Three of these slots held incredibly bright orbs. One grey and white, one dark blue with light blue veins, and one simply bright green. He ate the grey one.
"It is said that it takes thirty minutes for a soul to assimilate to a new body, the grey one i just ate is a world tier soul, like the smouldering soul im here to find." Jakurk stomped on the black egg. And waited for it to change its shape. When it molded itself into his shadow Jakurk smiled again. "It is said that a black egg doesn't just change its shape but also its soul"
"///öÖö\\\" Blue strings shot from Jakurk's hand into the mindless black mass. Slowly extracting two small souls one green and one gray, when extracted the black mass fell apart into a puddle of water that quickly dried against the rock.
"Smaller then what i would have wanted, but good enough, \\\öÖö///" With the same ghastly blue threads Jakurk extracted the grey soul from his heart, it was far larger than the one he had gotten from the black egg and far darker in its colour with strange spots of what could almost be called mold. "You know I was born with two souls, a disability that should have prevented me from ever becoming a mage, but it didn't"
"I became a great mage, one far deadlier than most, with two kinds of magic, Iron and Illusion" Jakurk reslotted the grey soul into the Feysteel necklace. "Things happened, and the iron part of my soul, the named soul, the superior soul within me was cursed, if id let it sit inside it would drive me mad"
"Say, do you want to listen to my story, a story which happened fifty years ago?"
Eyemik thought for a moment before declining. "No, id rather not"