Tharos The eternal: Volume 1 The fallen City

It was a clear night. The moon and stars shone in the dark sky above, illuminating the sand-covered ruins below. The ruins were of a mighty civilization from an age that most people referred to as myth—a time of gods, monsters, and mighty sorcerer-kings. No one knows what caused the downfall of this mighty civilization, aside from half-baked rumors and speculation. The mists of time obscuring the most concrete of details, who they were, what they were, and what put the final death nails into this civilization, is the mystery for the ages. But is it not the fate of all Civilizations, no of all peoples to one day to end. To be swept aside and be at the mercy of the times or is just the nature of a world that is forever transient and fleeting, nothing truly lasts forever. However, in the center of the ruin stood a young man, a man so youthful that he showed no signs of blemish on his guise. He was Tall & Lean, though his physique looked as if it was carved from marble. his skin though of a tanned complexion, had a pale alabaster sheen which gave him an ethereal quality. his face was studious and hawk-like, in contrast to his messy black hair, which blended into the darkness. His amber-coloured eyes were faded and had a faint luminous glow to them, however his eyes reflected a level of fatigue That betrayed his youthful looks. he wore a tatted hooded cloak which flowed and fluttered in the cool night breeze, as it lightly covered his rusting bronze breastplate Armor, it’s once ornate embroidery now faded and lacking luster. and by his side was a curved bronze sword, that was glistening in the moonlight as it fainty reflected the moons blue hue.
If anyone astute was watching this young man they would be hit with and simultaneously puzzled by the contraction that was his existence, he was youthful almost timeless in appearance. Yet he wore and was surrounded by Death and Decay, his Clothing, his Armor, his Weapons, where all signs of a bygone era, an era that was long gone. The city around him was weathered and decrepit, the once stolid and sturdy stonework that formed the many buildings, and other structures that littered throughout the city, who once upon a time. stood as a testament to the Greatness and achievements of the age, now stand as relics of a bygone era. An era who greatness and splendor were lost forever, and the only one who knew of such things, let alone remember as such was the young man, brooding in the corpse of it.

It was a quiet night, and he enjoyed these monuments of seclusion. It gave him time to swim in the sea of memories, it was like swimming in the deeps of the ocean. on the surface everything was clear and lit before you.
However, the deeper you go the more you press forward to reach those depths, those insights. You quickly realize that the path now before you. is a path that is now cloudy & murky, filled with a myriad of contradictions. What you once thought of as inalienable truths was now being brought into question, by your own biases or presumptions of things. tonight was such a night for the young man. This city was his home once, a place whose name has been forgotten by the sands of time. Even though all before him is sand and ruins. in his memories, the city lives on. As he walks through the city, he sees the light of sun shining its radiance upon the city, the great plains outside the city walls, and the pure clean water that flowed past the city, would shine and sparkle. Such a sight would bring a tear to your eye. The sounds of people play in his mind in an endless loop. He sees the smiles of children as they play in the street, kicking a ball around or fighting one another with sticks. he sees the leathery faces of laborer’s transporting stone, and other goods such as wood or metals, some of them even being from the elves or dwarfs. he hears the voices of merchants applying their trade, with one heated conversation between merchants being about inferior copper. How long had it truly been since this city was full of life, ten years? hundred years? Even a thousand years? He had once used the passing of the stars to keep track of time, however, he had seen so many stars pass over the night sky that he had lost track. It was a Thousand years? at least last time he checked, but when was that exactly? A question that ate away at his mind as he swam in his own memory.

As he continued to walk down the street heading towards the south gate of the city, he noticed the flickering of a small light in the far distance. Like a moth to a distant flame, he walked closer towards the light. His movement became slow and methodical as to not give himself away. as he got closer, he spotted the embers of a once small campfire. his guard was up now as he moved closer towards the campsite. There weren’t supposed to be people in this city unless they were squatters trying to eke out a meagre existence in the corpse of this once-great city. As he investigated the campsite, he noticed that this campsite was vacant, and for squatters, they were well-equipped. weapons made in a style that was unfamiliar to him laid about the campsite, tents and a makeshift shelter made of solid construction, and looking through the tents & makeshift shelter, in the makeshift shelter he noticed a solid wooden table and on the table were piles of maps and books written in a language unfamiliar to him. it all looked crude to him, simply crude to the point it was insulting to him. Looking at the map, he noticed it was a poorly sketched-out map of the city. He thought to himself, “seems like another group of treasure hunters”. He thought to himself. you would figure they would get the message after all the other treasure hunters they sent all went missing, but danger is an ever-alluring prospect for the foolhardy & adventurous. It was a feeling that he himself was all too familiar with. As he left the campsite, now searching for his latest quarry. It didn’t take him too long to find them even with his sharp senses. the touches they used to light their way, the sound of their foreign tongue, made them easy to find. there were twenty of them, armed to the teeth. it seemed like they were investigating the old temple of the city. “Too many to take on at once.” he thought to himself even for someone of his abilities and skills. So, for the next few hours, he partook in this new pastime. he would watch them from the shadows, watching their every move and when the time was right, he would strike from the shadows picking them off one by one. While it would be a lie to say he didn’t get some small amount of pleasure from doing this, these feelings were tempered by an even stronger feeling. A feeling of duty and responsibility. Because what these treasure hunters did not understand, is that some things are best left untouched, and if this city only held riches from ages past there would have been no issue, as Tharos held no sentimentality for the various trinkets & knickknacks that laid about the city. however, in the depths of the city laid something dangerous, far more dangerous than the ghost of a youth that now stalks the hallowed halls of this once great city. A monster would be a correct description if you were to put it in simple terms. What it is truly is unknown aside from the fact it’s highly dangerous, so dangerous that not even the most arrogant or prideful sorcerers would even attempt to control it. He then stood atop the roof of the temple overseeing the effect of his labors, his cloak was stained with a thick layer of red, and his Armor and sword had several new dents and scratches. This was the 11th group he had dealt with within the last few years. Normally it would be another few decades before another group of treasure hunters showed up, but this time was different, and the encounters were increasing with an alarming regularity.

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

As he stared up to the night sky above Tharos felt he had work cut out for him.