Tharos The eternal The fallen City 1

The moon and stars illuminated the sand-covered ruins on a clear night, revealing a city that was once part of a powerful civilization from a mythical age of gods, monsters, and sorcerer-kings.
The downfall of this powerful civilization remains a mystery, with only vague rumours and speculation to provide clues. The passage of time has obscured many details about who they were, what they achieved, and what ultimately led to their demise. It is a puzzle that has confounded even the most skilled historians, making it a mystery that may never be fully solved.

Isn’t it the destiny of all civilizations, and all peoples, to eventually meet their end? To be surpassed and subject to the whims of time in a world where nothing is permanent. But what if you had the ability to defy this fate? To possess an eternal life, untouched by the march of time. Would such a life be appealing, or would it simply be a postponement of the inevitable?

In the Centre of the ruins, under the full moon’s light, stood a young man who appeared ageless, with a tall and lean physique resembling carved marble. His tanned skin had a pale alabaster sheen, giving him an otherworldly aura. His face was sharp and focused, contrasting with his messy black hair blending into the darkness. His amber eyes had a faint luminous glow yet showed signs of weariness that belied his youthful appearance. He wore a tattered hooded cloak that fluttered in the night breeze, partially covering his faded and dull bronze breastplate. At his side, a curved bronze sword gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting a blue hue.
If anyone observant were to watch this young man, they would be struck by the contradiction that defined his existence. He appeared youthful and almost timeless in his appearance, yet he was surrounded by signs of Death and Decay. His clothing, Armor, and weapons all belonged to a bygone era, a time long past. The city around him was worn and dilapidated, with the once sturdy stonework of the buildings now standing as relics of a once great age. The greatness and achievements of that era were now lost, and the only one who remembered them was the brooding young man, surrounded by the remnants of a forgotten past.

It was a peaceful night, and he relished these moments of solitude. It allowed him to delve into his memories, akin to exploring the depths of the ocean. On the surface, everything was crystal clear and illuminated. Every little detail was vividly remembered – the sights, the sounds, the smells, and if fortunate, even the slightest touch or taste.

Yet, as he delved deeper, striving to uncover profound insights, the path ahead became shrouded in darkness and uncertainty. What he once believed to be undeniable truths now seemed clouded by personal biases and perspectives.
Tonight was a memorable night for the young man. This city was his former home, a place whose name has been lost to history. Despite the surrounding sand and ruins, the city remains vivid in his memories. As he strolls through the city, he is struck by the sunlight illuminating the city, the vast plains beyond its walls, and the pristine water flowing nearby, glistening and sparkling.
Such a scene would evoke strong emotions. The sounds of people engaging in various activities replay in his mind continuously. He observes the joy on children’s faces as they engage in playful activities on the street, whether it’s kicking a ball or playfully sparring with sticks. He also notices the weathered faces of laborer’s carrying heavy loads of stone, wood, or metal, some of whom may even be elves or dwarfs.
He listens to the merchants engaging in their trade, with one particularly intense discussion revolving around subpar copper. How long had it been since this city was bustling with activity? Ten years? A hundred years? Maybe even a thousand years? He used to count time by the movement of the stars, but he had seen so many passed by that he had lost track. Was it truly a thousand years ago when he last checked? The uncertainty gnawed at his thoughts as he delved into his memories.

As he strolled down the street towards the south gate of the city, he caught sight of a faint flicker of light in the distance. Intrigued, he made his way towards it like a moth drawn to a flame. He approached the light cautiously, moving slowly and quietly to avoid detection. As he neared, he saw the dying embers of a campfire. Alert and wary, he cautiously approached the campsite. In this city, there shouldn’t have been any inhabitants apart from squatters struggling to survive in the ruins of the once-thriving metropolis.
As he explored the campsite, he observed that it was empty but surprisingly well-equipped for squatters. Unfamiliar weapons were scattered around, along with sturdy tents and a makeshift shelter. Inside the shelter, he found a solid wooden table covered with stacks of maps and books written in a language he didn’t recognize. Everything seemed rudimentary and almost insulting in its simplicity. Examining the map, he realized it was a poorly drawn city map. Thoughts raced through his mind as he took it all in.

“Seems like another group of treasure hunters.”

He thought to himself that you would think they would understand after all the other treasure hunters they sent disappeared, but danger is always tempting for the reckless and adventurous. It was a sensation he knew well.
Leaving the campsite, he set out to find his latest target. With his keen senses, it didn’t take him long to locate them. The torches they carried and the unfamiliar language they spoke made them easy to spot. There were twenty of them, heavily armed, seemingly exploring the ancient temple in the city.

“Too many to take on at once.”

He pondered to himself, acknowledging his own abilities and skills. For the next few hours, he engaged in this new activity. He observed them from the shadows, monitoring their every move, and when the opportunity arose, he would stealthily eliminate them one by one. While he derived some satisfaction from this, it was overshadowed by a sense of duty and responsibility. These treasure hunters failed to realize that some things should remain undisturbed. If the city only contained riches from the past, Tharos had no attachment to the trinkets scattered around.
However, lurking in the depths of the city was something far more perilous than the ghost of a young man haunting its once majestic halls. To simplify, one could call it a monster. Its true nature remained a mystery, but its extreme danger was undeniable. Even the most arrogant sorcerers would not dare to try and control it. Standing on the temple roof, he surveyed the aftermath of his efforts. His cloak was stained with a thick layer of red, and his Armor and sword bore new dents and scratches. This marked the 11th group he had confronted in recent years. Typically, it would be decades before another band of treasure hunters appeared, but the frequency of encounters was now escalating at an alarming rate.

“These treasure hunters seem to be more organized than I first thought.“

Looking up at the night sky, Tharos knew he had a lot of work ahead of him.