Hero Wars-Guardians’ Stories: Mages

A sharp knock at the window startles Cornelius Witt, respectable member of the Academy, well-known scientist and artist. The venerable man turns around and sees a Spring wren, a rare bird in these parts, beating against the glass. The sight takes him back to a time three years ago, when a bird just like this was flapping its wings against the windows of the Strongford Library. And then the stained glass exploded into hundreds of piercing shards, letting an army of Dark wizards led by Kragg into the spacious reading room…

Witt remembers the snap decision to burn his life’s work to the ground. He cast the Darganay Ash spell just in time to destroy his magnum opus: "Methods of Countering the Darkness." Enraged and disappointed, Kragg let out a fierce shriek. That very second, pain encompassed Cornelius' body. While the Dark squad escorted Witt, bound by magic, the scientist withdrew from the torturous sensations, trying to think the situation over in his head.

The emissaries of the Dark came for my book, and that means I must have been close to uncovering their secret, and thus became too dangerous for them. They most certainly want to find out if there are any copies of my work. As long as they are unaware of the fact that the only copy is safe in my mind, I still have a chance to survive.

Several days later, the group reached the outskirts of Graven, the capital of the Dark Elf traitors to the Dominion. At the time, high-ranking Dark officers were staying there, and they were quite pleased with such a catch. So, thus began the torture.

If only you knew, how thrilled the dark elves were to torment the scientist that brought up their hated Galahad, Aurora, and Ginger! And, trust me, mages are adept in the ways of inflicting pain without spilling a single drop of blood. His mind gripped tighter and tighter as if by a vice, Cornelius was brought to utter exhaustion. Painful hallucinations created by the best Dark sorcerers produced visions of his loved ones dying in front of his eyes, of the Dominion falling, and the Dark reigning supreme. Affect spells smothered him in clouds of utter hopelessness and despair. Two years went by from his capture, but he felt like the torture had already lasted several hundred years, and it showed no signs of stopping.

But even when his mind defied him, even when his body was about to collapse, Cornelius never gave up. Despite being a man of advanced age, almost an elder, he still managed to stay sane and never reveal the secret of his research. And do you know why? He learned to oppose, and even suppress, the magic. The Dark mages themselves held the key to solving the mystery. Cornelius had realized that a long time ago, and had been honing his skills to perfection ever since.

It was a sight to behold when Witt, imperious and dignified, descended from the platform, breaking his restraints as if they were made of glass. The sorcerers around him flapped their arms, made magic passes, and muttered the strongest spells. But all in vain. Cursed by Cornelius, they were no more harmful than puppies barking at an elephant. Even the great and terrible Kragg didn't last a minute. The once mighty wizard fell, stricken aside by a huge boulder Cornelius had launched with the power of his mind alone. Powerless, the servants of Darkness could only look on as their former captive, the famous scientist Cornelius Witt, walked towards the rising sun, safe behind a protective shield.

So now, sitting in the Strongford Library, Cornelius thanks Fate for how things turned out. His research on the methods of suppressing Dark magic helps the Dominion fight evil to this day.

They can't even get a decent king for themselves, can they? – Heidi grumbled, carefully wiping his pet, an incredibly poisonous snake named Koba. Heidi doesn't like impostors, especially after what happened fifteen years ago.

Heidi was just a child when Gurjar visited the forest with his escort. Eclipsing the sun with his grandeur he looked like the most beautiful tiger ever. The newfound favorite's wise words flowed like a river, and the animals listened with admiration to every word the guest said. And nobody had doubts that he should become the new king of the forest.

In those days people and animals just began getting along with each other. It seemed like things would get even better with the new king. Gurjar quickly got into role, found the servants and made a schedule. Tiger's character proved to be quite difficult, and only those who met the regal's demands without question could get along with him. Relationship with people worsened as well – on the king Gurjar's orders the servants ransacked people's fields and villages. With time raids on villages grew into the attacks on cities. But the most terrible of it all was when the ruler's newborn son disappeared. The grieving king-father accused the forest dwellers of stealing. Furious and heavily armed men moved into the forest. Animals, angry at people for such a serious accusation, prepared for a fierce battle too.

But little Heidi acted in a different way. Being a disguise fan and knowing the forest like the back of his hand he went straight to the Gurjar's house. What he found didn't look like a king for one bit. A huge and furious demon was preparing to finish off the baby! What to do, how to stop the murder? Heidi grabbed the first thing he could and threw at the demon. The snake, that's what the hero threw at him, bit the demon. Surprisingly, it was more than enough to send the monster back to hell. The child was saved, and the people, learning that Gurjar was actually a demon, realized their mistake. The forest dwellers weren't guilty, and the evil demon wanted nothing but to make them hate each other. Thus, humans and animals were at peace again. A very poisonous snake Koba remembers it all as well – since that time they've become best friends with Heidi.

Kings, queens... – Heidi shook his hairy head, – You can live without kings just as well!. He spat on grass and after stretching his legs went to the Guardians' camp.

The Senate old-timers were filled with indignation when an elf of the common people, even though he was pure-blooded, came to their inner sanctum. An angry whisper crept along the hall, and their perfect faces became even more wry as the grand chamber was graced with the appearance of the tall and lean Kai – the stumbling stone that sent ripples across the stagnant waters of the Senate.

Despite the scorn of his elders, he held his head high and day after day persisted in involving himself in Riversar’s life. Now, the most interesting thing is that he was quite successful in his endeavors. Aside from being busy with community service, Kai enthusiastically practiced magic. His interests went far beyond elven magic - he excavated the ruins of the orсish Santar, corresponded with the University of Strongford and kept up an acquaintance with the sages of the Adjalar Oasis. At all times, he was helped with this research by Thea, a young guardian of the Sacred Grove.

Less than three years passed like this, when the hordes of Darkness descended upon the Dominion with their full might. And all the mages somehow found themselves powerless against the dark sorcery. A new and extremely dangerous type of magic spread like cancer. Then one morning, the citizens learned that Kai had left the kingdom in a hurry, having informed Thea that he was going to study the magic of darkness. The Senate wasted no time in proclaiming him a traitor, and instead of searching for leverage against their common enemy, decided to focus on renouncing the defector. The people of Riversar went on and on about youngsters like Kai disrespecting elven culture, and warping the art of magic.

So, when six months later the wayward magician knocked at the city gates, nobody opened. Kai screamed his head off that the enemy was near, that he knew of a way to defeat them, that he had learned to counter dark magic, and that they had to present a united front… But the Senate remained silent, and instead deployed archers to kill the traitor if he even tried to use magic.

Then, several large deployments of the army of Darkness advanced from the forest towards the elven capital, with Kai alone standing in their way. The magician managed to cast a spell at the very moment a well-aimed arrow pierced his body. And had Thea’s healing beam not suddenly lanced out from the city wall, everything would have been over. Just as Kai’s explosive sphere burned several enemy troops to a crisp, and so pushed the attackers back, the fragile girl exhausted all of her power on that crucial spell, and fell from atop the walls of Riversar.

Kai easily caught Thea, and then threw such a withering glance back at the city that the elders became painfully aware and ashamed of their mistake. At that moment, they realized it was not ambition that made Kai turn to dark magic, but a burning desire to help his people.

Kai and Thea never returned to Riversar after that, even though they eventually let go of their old grudges. They’ve chosen the path of Guardians, and use their powers for the greater good!

The flames were dancing, just like the fragments of shadows covering the sooty walls of the cave. Old Trott of the Zarakkhar tribe was telling his favorite story, surrounded by kids...

"Those was the days, Zarakkhar marshall and cruel, eager fer 'ealthy kiddies. And whot wi' the rest of 'em? Nuthin'! Thrown down the charm behind the Troll Mount, that's whot. But it weren't so wi' Mojo, oh no. Momma woun't give 'im away – but who cared? Feeble was the kiddie, feeble and ugly as mud."

The children, all ears on Trott, started touching their faces and glancing at each other. But the old troll kept speaking. "And so they threw 'im down the chasm, poor kiddie. But he woun't die!"

What he told them next bowled the kids over. All scabbed, scratched, and bruised, yet alive, the boy crawled through the corpses and weathered bones. At night, his exhausted body trembled with the cold. In the daylight, the unbearable stench of rotting flesh made him sick to the stomach. There was no bottom to this terror, and even the scanty troll tongue was enough to give the bravest of hearts shivers. "Whaddaya lookin' at? Add some fuel to th' fire. Or we all freeze cold, like poor Mojo," Trott yelled at the older kids. He waited for the flames to heat up, and continued.

"For a year, was Mojo cryin' and callin' for 'elp, and no one was ever answered. He crawled an' crept, and gather'd grass, an' ate its roots, soaked wi' his peers' bloods."

Trott slipped off a pale bladderwort tuft and continued, chewing it with his rotten teeth. For a long time, he told them about the forest where Mojo ended up, his bloody blisters, his cries and memories about his mother. He told them about the kid fighting a pack of hungry wargs, looking to escape the endless dark of the forest, and suffering from pesky gnats. But Trott did not forget about the infinite longing for life that overwhelmed the kid to the bottom of his little heart. And then, he came to the most important part.

"From nowher', Jhu was lyin' on the ground. 'E were the tuffest warrior o' Zarakkhar, and 'e was bleedin'. And 'e was bleedin' very very red! And the enemies was shootin' him from the hill! Oh was it dang-erous! 'T seemed they wud kill this Jhu an' off they go!"

Then, Trott tried his best to describe what Mojo was doing. It was unclear whether his gift was triggered by suffering, or that Providence led the kid. But he crawled towards the wounded Jhu and threw his hands in the air, creating a mysterious staff. Then he flung magical skulls at the enemies. Skulls so small, no one could explain where they come from. Spirits of late children led the skulls, beating their foes severely. Once Mojo had defeated the attack, he moved back to Jhu and healed his wounds with an unknown power.

"An' so", the old Trott finished, "Jhu was the best among Zarakkhar – but clever 'nuf to understand: the weak an' ugly can be o' more use than th' strongest o' warriors. He crafted a mask for Mojo, so that nobody wud ever laugh at 'is ugly face. And since back then, Mojo is the best of Jhu's friends, forever! And Mojo became the brave defender for the week an' wretched, an' the tribe now loves its kiddies well. That is that, young folks..."

The Orion's coming to people was a sight to behold! A roaring red-hot spaceship fell from somewhere in the sky and crashed on the coast of Tyrr. All this rattling and clanking attracted local villagers, who came running. And there, out of fire and smoke, like a silver angel, Orion soared into the air. A blue flame coming from plasma engines highlighted a perfectly flat and shiny metal armor of the alien robot.

Since then, everyone tried making contact with Orion – the Guardians, courageous volunteers, and even the Emperor Ingvar himself. But it was all in vain! The alien guest was silent, though his deeds spoke in his favor. After joining the Guardians Orion helped them with the most difficult tasks and managed to succeed in seemingly lost battles. However, every night at midnight Orion flew into the orbit coming back only by the morning. What was he doing up there?

Eventually people have taken two sides: some see Orion as a threat, a spy from an invading race, while others pray, calling him a savior and the defender of the planet.

Oh silent space guard, reveal your secret!

The Orion's coming to people was a sight to behold! A roaring red-hot spaceship fell from somewhere in the sky and crashed on the coast of Tyrr. All this rattling and clanking attracted local villagers, who came running. And there, out of fire and smoke, like a silver angel, Orion soared into the air. A blue flame coming from plasma engines highlighted a perfectly flat and shiny metal armor of the alien robot.

Since then, everyone tried making contact with Orion – the Guardians, courageous volunteers, and even the Emperor Ingvar himself. But it was all in vain! The alien guest was silent, though his deeds spoke in his favor. After joining the Guardians Orion helped them with the most difficult tasks and managed to succeed in seemingly lost battles. However, every night at midnight Orion flew into the orbit coming back only by the morning. What was he doing up there?

Eventually people have taken two sides: some see Orion as a threat, a spy from an invading race, while others pray, calling him a savior and the defender of the planet.

Oh silent space guard, reveal your secret!

"Sooner or later, fear’s sticky web envelops the mind of any being. There is no escaping it, no hiding from it. There is fear in every one of us. Do not fear death, or you will die!" The Epic of the Ashlur. Chapter 1117, Innora’s rescript

The wooden shelves, rubbed down by a thousand sleepers, hit one’s side painfully at every bump in the road. The wagons carrying the cages were packed with slaves of every age. Sweat, the smell of excrement, nausea from eating spoiled food, and fear were the only things in which these poor souls were now united. Chained up and in pain, they were being taken to the other side of the world. And what would await the captives there? The slaves’ grayish-green skin spoke of their Ashlur origin. For a decade by now, this small tribe had been suffering at the hands of raiders and slavers, without being able to stand up to them in any way. Fear was bred into their very blood and bones. And so, during this nighttime passage, they sat sleepless, peering into the dark with terror-filled eyes.

Yet look at the lad over there, clutching a trinket in the shape of a bird! A little tense, a little cross, but without the smallest sign of fear. A moment later, a bluish-black feather appears out of nowhere on his neck! He clutches the bird tighter. His fingers run along the polished wood, touching its feet, its beak... another feather! Without letting go of his talisman, the young man slowly rises to speak:

– My fellow sufferers, hear me when I tell you this, fear ye nothing! Put your trust in me, and you will be saved!

Yet another feather, and now long talons on his right hand! The stranger gripped the wooden bird so hard that his knuckles went white. It was then, that, unbeknownst to the slaves, every lamp went out at once at the head of the caravan. “Forg, you son of a... Light those goddamn lamps!” yelled the drunken caravan driver, frightened by the sudden darkness. Meanwhile, the feathered man went on:

– Fear causes weakness, and we must be strong! It is time to stop thinking like slaves and trembling cravenly as we endure humiliation!

As he delivered his speech, he grew still more feathers, as well as talons on his other hand and, it seemed, also on his shoulders. A blue shimmer emanated from his eyes, and suddenly his nose seemed so very like a real bird’s beak. Besides, a provocative-looking top hat appeared on his head.

– I will help our people, but I will be merciless. I demand that you forget your fear of death, or die!

There was a commotion at the head of the caravan. One of the guards seemed to have glimpsed something that scared him. He screamed wildly, drew his sword and charged at one of his fellow guards. Blood spilled, and panic erupted. Some of the slavers tried to chase “the beast lurking in the forest”, only to kill each other off in the darkness. Those who stayed close to the caravan were terrified by the black shadow flying about in the sky. The driver gasped and clutched his heart. A minute later, he was already dead. Those slaves that felt fear as well were unable to calm the tremors wracking their bodies, draining strength and life, and perished as well. Others sat, and watched in silence. The man, if one could call him that, continued:

– My name is Phobos. Remember it, and cast off your fears!

Phobos opened the cage in a single movement and got out. All that remained of the band of slave traders was a handful of people crawling about helplessly. Fear had turned their hearts into so many frantic butterflies, trapped in a jar. And the thick, dark substance of their life force was pouring out of them and towards the human bird. Now free, the surviving slaves opened the rest of the cages, finished off their tormentors, and no longer had fear of anything.

Mysterious Phobos left the Ashlurs to help other people in distress, but the memory of him has been handed down through generations. The Ashlurs no longer knew fear, and no-one has since managed to force them to anything against their will. If you wish to find out who Phobos is, and how he got into the slave cage, you can ask him yourself if you find him in his Guardian squad. But do not even think of approaching him if there is fear lurking inside your soul.