First Posted by Thror HammerSong, the Barbaric Warlord of Rage on December 06, 1999.

Let your hatred rise and your foes know the rage your thirst!

Fire raced through my blood and red hazed my vision, I could not tell if it was
blood from my lip that I could taste, or the blood of my foes. Still, my heart
raced twice as fast, my senses became clearer and my only purpose in life was
defined. Destroy these robed, black-skinned elves before me, or die trying.

The first of the sorcerers hovered before my craft, laughing slightly as I
crouched in the boat, covered with crusted blood. Within his eyes I could see
an intense focus that is lost among many men. His velvet robes seemed to dance
about his wiry frame, yet a dark-skinned finger pointed from beneath his robes
in my direction.

'HammerSong, you should know by now that your running is pointless. The
barbarians wanted this war, and now the burden of pain will fall atop your
shoulders. Ironic how our races still conflict, yet from a different vantage is
it not?" Serafim was as deceiving as all drow were, yet his way with words did
intrigue me. Both he and I were young, appointed leaders, yet our differences
ranged like those of day and night. From his waist hung a variety of pouches,
vials and parchments. Within his grasp was a slightly gnarled staff, arched at
the end with the head of a dragon at the tip.

I leapt to the edge of the canoe, grasping for the robes of the tower leader, a
bloody haze glossing my eyes. My goal was the tower walls, either I would fall
dead at the base of the tower, or bring it down with me. The drow murmured a
number of incoherent words, and I found myself reacting far slower then I
usually would. Still, my barrage of attacks left him unable to finish his
spells. A fiery rage consumed me, racing through my every limb. Everything
appeared to mock me, to banter me and call me a coward! I would prove them
wrong. Through my continued barrage the drow managed to utter a few words that
brought him away from me in an instant.

Cursing, I reached for an oar, turning just in time to see an onslaught of
water rushing toward me. Fear gripped my heart, my throat constricted as I was
utterly drowned by the waves that rolled over me. I tried to open my eyes, yet
the murk of the river washed over me filling my throat, eyes and lungs with
putrid waters. My craft was overturned, yet somehow I managed to reach the
shores of the river. My strength was slowly ebbing, and my bloody-thirsty haze
was gone. It was a wonder I did not drown in the murks of the river. Glancing
about I noticed a number of travelers and wild animals along the shore of these
banks. A fox darted away from me, as I trampled through the brush, then a
silence fell over the trail.

Standing at the edge of the shore was the second drow, leaner and taller than
most of his race. The tips of his fingers crackled with energy and his every
step wilted the grass beneath his feet. Midnight black robes covered him from
head to toe and a dark cowl covered the features of his face. The air about his
frame seemed to dance about him, as if he were manipulating the elements merely
with his presence. Upon instinct I leapt from the path, tumbling within the
nearby brush.

Always move, never let prediction become your newest foe.

Fire arched along the path, searing the vegetation that surrounded me. My
clothing was singed yet the fires barely missed my stocky frame. I darted
behind a young oak, only to be thrown back as it shattered before me from the
pillars of lightning that streaked from the cloudless skies above. Turning for
an instant I noticed a frosty mist coming from my lips. The air about me had
suddenly become chill. The sorcerer smirked in the distance, enjoying the
display before him. His fingers moved like the legs of a spider, weaving in
motions I could not follow. Thin lips murmured unrecognizable words, and the
air about me shattered, thousands of needles pricking my skin.

A numbness overcame my legs and with what little strength I could muster, I
raced toward the black-robed drow.

Charging like a boar, I ducked my head, and leaned forward with my shoulder,
only to be greeted by a solid wall of stone. A void of stars danced across my
vision, yet above me I could make out the form of a single laughing drow.
Grabbing his leg I pulled with all my might. His expression quickly changed as
he tumbled to the ground, struck in every possible place, kicked from every
possible angle.

Extend the fingers, striking the temple swiftly.

Another mage lay sprawled before my feet, eyes rolled back as blood trickled
down his chin. I remember to this day that battle with Vizzagoth.

Leaping over the slumbering form, I darted through the brush, along a small
trail the lofty giant, Arkaine had taught me as a youth. Rising from the
withering trees was an enormous tower, which spiraled deep into the sky. Making
my way about the outer edges I came before a dark, unguarded set of gates. A
path continued forward, ending at the feet of a grotesque looking golem of
carved from solid granite. As I stepped forward along the mystical path, the
golem took a step before me, barring my entrance into the Tower. With a deep
breath, I bellowed forth the name of the one I would destroy.

"Serafim, bring yer War!!!"




Author's note:

My hope is that everyone that reads this is getting another perspective of
Thera. Very few of us take the time to look at descriptions or the hours upon
hours of time immortals put into creating their areas. Please let me know what
you think of this. I have one more part to go and it will be the end of it, but
if you enjoy it I will write more about other characters and about different
parts of Thera. Also, positive feedback gives me that warm feeling inside
so feel free to throw it at me. Regardless, I am hoping I am entertaining few
of you "Bloody fools" out there.

Thror HammerSong