The Conflict
Prelude
Gorashos was a powerful wizard. In his journey to power, he traveled far. He lived as a monk; as simply and humbly as he could so as to commune with nature. He grew to great power, yet whenever he returned to the Haendorian cities, he became more and more disconcerted by the disruptions of nature humanity had created. He felt estranged from his kin, and spent more and more time in the wild. Yet his temper was ignited when after a long journey he came to his favorite forest clearing to find only that it had been cut down for hearthfire logs.
He calmed his temper far too soon to replace it with seething and contemplative revenge. In morbid irony, his mind divined a spell to level Haendorian civilization. Somehow, he came atop the The Great Dragon Pillars and marked upon them his spell. He then waited atop the tallest tower of the palace placed directly between the Pillars to wait.
He meditated in the cold drafts of the tower for many days, but at last he sensed what he was awaiting. The Dragons.
The massive beasts brought down gales of wind, yet the draft that found its ways through the cracks of the tower was not cold at all.
As the dragons' mighty talons alighted upon the nearly indistinguishable symbols drawn into the stone below them, Gorashos inhaled deeply. He was ready.
Fire rained from the skies; buildings, animals, Men all engulfed in flame.
Wings like vast sails took to the sky, their owners attempting to escape the horror of flame roaring from their jaws. Yet as they took flight, the spell drained their strength. One. Two. Colossal carcasses crushed stone, flesh, and wood alike. The dark column of smoke could be seen for miles around.
Gorashos inhaled the fumes of death without truimph. The task had not yet been finished.
A gust of flame-ridden wind broke down the gargantuan oak doors that had protected the city for centuries as if they were nothing more than twigs. The eager fire raced out, directed by Gorashos straight through the
Tarnase Archesthat lay before the gates. Immediately, towers of smoke sprung up at the edge of the horizon.
Gorashos knew all was complete. In the end, he felt remorse that it had come to such destruction, yet he knew that he had done the right thing.
He stepped up onto the windowsil. He looked beyond the ash and suffering into the depths of
Verinoth. The trees' leaves shimmered in a light breeze, as emerald green as ever. If only he could walk among them once more. But that was not to be. A single tear streaking his cheek, the man let his body tilt into the cold, liberating wind.
At last, Eainor was free.
I hope I didn't overdramatize it, but this was a world-shattering event that changed Eainor's history forever so... yeah. Tell me any parts that seem over- or under-emphasized. Thanks for reading :D!
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