====( Scrolls of Serenia : The First Issue )============================== a&$$$$$$&a. Scrolls of Serenia ... An Ongoing Anthology $$$$'^`"$$$ a&$^$&a .a&$$$$$$$$$&a. .a&$$$$$a. .a&$$$a. $$$$. """ !$$$ $$$! `"$$$$$' a&$^$&a `$$$$$!$$$$$a. `$$$$$'.a&$$$$$$$&a `$$$$$$$$$a.$$$$ $$$' `$$$$ !$$$ $$$! `$$$$$" "$$$$! `$$$$ $$$$"'`$$$$$! .aa $$$'$$$$^"" , ,$$$$ $$$$ $$$' $$$$' $$$$$' $$$$' a&$$$^$$$$$$ `$$$$$$$$$' `$$$ $$$!.a&$$$' $$$$^"" , $$$$' $$$$$' $$$$' !$$$$$ $$$$$$ `^^^^^^' `$$$!$$$!.a$$$' .a$$$$'.a$$$' `$$$$$ $$$$$' ====( Editorial by Warlock )============================================== Whelp, here it is, what MARCH?!? Hmph. Well, even though I said Serenia #1 would be out by mid-Feb, this is close enough. The main problem concearning the delay has been my failure to find writers. Yes, it sucks, but this is _MY_ first `zine as an editor, even though I have written shorts and poems for Belial from Klunk a couple of times, as I have done some ascii's and courier-ing and the like as well. Just to let all of you in on a little secret, this is _completely_ made up of stories from a common reality, and if you find your- self thinking of ways to make SoS a better `zine, or if you would like to submit writing, (even to become a full-time writer) any and all are encouraged. Enough outta me, get to tha damn zine... ====( creation.part.one )=================================================== ::A reading from the book of T‰lk:: ùùùùù There was nothing. Not Earth, not sky, nor space. Not even was there void, it was and can only be described as nothing. The nothing was infinite in all directions and angles, yet somewhere unknowest to _all_ in this nothing dwelt something. Something, someone, which was the only someone/thing in the nothing. This something, someone, at no time and no-where, created that which is the reality, and this someone has been called Ll„n in and throughout the Serenia. She is not _the_ Maker, but she who has set great things in motion and the forth-bringer of those who are the makers. The Makers are those who brought-forth the Earth, the Great Wonders and are the weavers of the many realities which shape all life in and without Ll„nrion which, on Earth is now Serenia. Ll„nrion, now Serenia, is all that is, all that was made by the Makers. The Makers are Geldrion, weaver of the Realities and wielder of the Balance; Ll„rren, daughter of Ll„n and molder of all that is filled with light; Jor, master of time and space, who exists at all times and all places simultaneously; T‰lk, the new father of this Earth and protecter of our reality, and last Neim, former father of Earth. After the creation of the makers, Geldrion turned and faced the nothing, and, with Ll„rren, and Jor thus was weeved reality and the protecters, who, for Earth and life there was Neim. Neim looked down upon the thriving and living Earth, and he was filled with envy for he too wished to live in grandeur as a king among these beings, and thus he descended from the heavens to rule all as master. Geldrion, preoccupied throughout Ll„nrion with other matters, failed to stop Neim in his mad conquest. Yet when he returned to the heavens, he was filled with rage over Neim's descent. And when he himself began a descent after him, he found that Neim had barred all entry to Earth and none could enter. Neim had left only the paths of eyes open to the Makers, so that his conquest should be adorned and taken as a spit in the face. Geldrion also found that he could only affect the world of Earth through others, and by helping the worldly beings that dwelt there. And thus Geldrion sent down a cheurgion to seek out a wielder, one worthy enough to recieve the power of the makers so that Neim would be banished, destroyed if need be, and sent from Earth for all time. -Part II and the Conclusion in SoS #2- ====( natural wonders.part.one )============================================ Somehow, may it have been through a dream, I found myself stand- ing before a small farmhouse in a place not at all familiar to myself. From inside I hear a voice. A voice of an old man beckon- ing me inside. I enter only to see the source of the beckoning, a man not old to the point of decrepintcy, but old seemingly to only the lightening of his hair. The old man sat in an old chair next to a bed, and their seemed to be no striking details about the farmhouse. A small table next to the doorway I had entered, a wood-stove near the far wall, the house was adequate for living, if you cared to live here. The old man motioned to me to come and sit at a chair that faced him. I did so, as if I had known the man, and he, in turn, seemed to genuinely know me. At the time it failed to occur odd to me, and without thinking, I heard myself wisper, "Who are you?" And with those three meager words I muttered may have gotten me an answer I hadn't been prepared to listen to in one, even two sittings. Never before had I heard a man of ANY age talk start to finish this long without getting interrupted by a drunk and thrown out of a bar along with him. "Now I am a man, mortal and all, but there was a time when I was not. I live in a small farmhouse built amidst long, rolling hills just north of a great forest, far south and away from the nearest town. Everyday I wake and I walk out to the nearest hill, that one, just outside the window, and I look out in all directions, contemplating this thing mortals like to call "life". Me, myself, I have the grasp of it like that of a bad theif's grasp on rings. Before I was forced into this ... this "disposition" as you might call it, the amount of times I contemplated the value of life at all, in any respect could be counted easily on one hand with fin- gers missing. Hmm, but that is a different story in it's own right, and since you seem new to this land, it would only seem proper to show a brief introduction as would be the case, as to where you are, and what this place is. "First off, let me be the first to welcome you to the wonder that is Serenia. Although most others would call it a World, although it is, in fact, much larger and substantial in magnitude than that of only this world that you and I are sitting on. "But I tho..." I attempted to speak. The old man refused to be interrupted... "No no, Serenia is a myraid of realities and a carefully strowen fabric of universes that are held in a perfect balance between chaos and order." The old man's eyes begin to drift off as he sit, mouth wide-gaped, as if he struggled silently with himself to retrieve some distant and yet shockingly fresh memory of a long- past event. And then, as if still staring into that memory, he said, "If life ended now, never would there be such a sight as that of a struggle between the two lords of chaos and order. Lights of heaven, nature and tranquility clashed against that of hell, fire and anarchy. Entire worlds and realities submitted before them as battlefields, left as barren wastelands stripped of all identity. It is a sight not intended for mortals, and it is surely a sight I shall never forget..." And with that the old man passed into a deep and loud sleep. Reaching over to a pillow on the old man's bed, I placed it behind his head. It seemed as though I had heard stories like this before, and now more than when I first arrived in this "dream" I seemed more familiar with the old man. Possibly, it occurred to me, that this is like that of a dream you don't remember until something happens and the dream finally clicks in your head. And possibly, very quite possibly, I have been drinking too much ale lately. Yet this dream seemed quite possibly TOO real to push to the side like a leftover barrel of ale. Coming back to realization that this dream might end at any moment, and that the old man who had invited me into his home had passed out after straining his mental strength, I decided the most proper place to finish this dream would be, in all likelyhood, where I began. Yet as I leaned out of the squeaky chair, the old man sniffled and snorted in subconscious protest. Then, as I stepped out through the doorway through which I entered, the old man half-awoke and turned just his head toward me and said in a low, hushed voice, "in that drawer, take the book." As he said this he motioned toward the small table that sat crouched in a shadow near the doorway, and then he sniffled and snorted once more, falling back into a loud slumber. I looked at the table, and slowly opened the drawer and retrieved the book. It had a strange insignia on the cover, and I payed little attention to it. The book was old, but somehow kept in reasonably good condition. Once I was outside, and nothing immediately happened, I sat in the shade of a nearby hill, the one which I recall had been a favorite of the old man's, and I opened the book. It seemed to be a book of spells. `Spells?' I thought. Hmm, curious... And thus I began look- ing though the curious book until I came to a page that caught his eye, for what reason he did not know. It seemed as the others did, without titles on the top, only the reader could guess by the words what the spell might do. Soon enough I found myself attempting to cast this spell. I usually relied on sure things when it came time to fight and whatnot, things that require physical mechanics. Hardly ever on that of magic. I've seen to many a mage killed in street duels when a spell he cast had not come to him and the other destroyed him for his folly. Yet still I found myself following the instructions and chanting the spell... ::From the book:: I raise a palm to the Mother, grant me distance to the other, no great Mother take no disgrace, take me ere another place! And with that, I fealt a sharp pain in my hand, and a drop of blood fell to the page. The page absorbed the blood, and with a loud, yet dull buzzing noise, all of reality around me spun and rocked slowly back and forth, blurring all of the world around me. Shortly after it began, I passed out and awoke with a throbbing headache. As I woke, the buzzing had just died away, and I shot up, eyes wide open, scanning back and forth coming to a slow realization of my surroundings. I was back at the bar! It would seem that the entire ordeal with the old man was, in actuality, a dream. Comfortable with the conclusion I had come to, I laid my head back down on the book and began to drift off into a somewhat-uneasy sleep when I realized what my head was resting on. Damn. Somehow, in the back of my head, I knew that, for once, I would not be getting out of another wierd event by blaming it on the ale, and what I was to do with this book, I did not know. Before I passed out for the last time that day, I remember noticing an odd emblem on the darkened cloth which was like two bent flames flames behind a gold "T". I made a fleeting attempt to note that for when I woke but at this stage in my subdual, I could highly doubt iiiiiittt...... -Continued next issue- ====( Reyhan.chapter.one )================================================== ____ --+> OnE è pArt I <+-- _/ \_ | %% | | | |__||__|s I stare into the depths of the night, I think back on the lives I've lived and how I started. Certain thoughts bring joy and an occasional smile, while others I look back on as mistakes though they have made me what I am and I am thankful for that atleast. I have regrets, many of them, and although I can't say that I have lived a prosperous nor glorious life, I can say that it has been long. Too long, in fact, because of a large favor I had done for a certain planeswalker who had proclaimed himself "The Enchanter". Ah, but I haven't introduced myself, now have I? I am Reyhan. Known by many names, assasin, warrior, defiler, savior, yet always Reyhan. Currently of the Liik Clan, if it still exists, formally of the scholars of the Ebon Tower, the Haven of Lark's Warrior's, and many large secret assasins and theives groups. For all I know, these groups have ceased to exist, and I have tried to stay away of this life. I have learned many things, and somehow remember all of my teachings. Now, this "Enchanter" as he chose to call himself, let me explain how I came to save him and destroy my mortality... First let me make this clear... Mages duels were the rarest of sights, and in all of my hundred years of existence on this plane, I had failed but once to see one. A great sight, given you keep your distance from the fray. Even though I helped this "Enchanter", I hadn't initially meant to. I had been told through a contact of mine and given a detailed description of someone I was to follow and, given the chance, eliminate. Kasimir, A somewhat large man, not fast nor agile in any sense, yet somehow dangerous. I was young at the time, eager and stuborn. I found this man staying at a fairly large inn in the military stronghold of Sheolton, of all the godforsaken places. Even the slightest hint of danger caused in this place and a man could find himself below the sharp side of a royal guard's scimitar. It was difficult making my way into the city, easy enough finding my way around until I found this Kasimir. I found him engaging an ale alone in a local tavern. Hm, he seemed smart enough not to make a big deal of his presence, especially here. He took little or no notice of myself as I entered the tavern and proceded to the bar. After years of experience in hunting, I found it easy to seemingly ignore Kasimir while I settled in with my ale. I had to be ready when he left, this was a big city, and it might cost me another two or so hours to find this man should I lose sight of him. I had noticed previously that due to Kasimir's over- weightedness, his chair squeeled whenever he got up to adjust his seat. I was depending on this to warn me when he left. Because of this damn city, however, I couldn't merely snap his neck, because I'd probably lose my head only a few hours afterwards. I loved the skill I held for hand-to-hand combat... Less than an hour later, Kasimir sqeezed out of his chair and stood up onto his two exhausted legs. I stayed hunched over my ale, and once the fat man departed, I slowly hobbled out the door after. Kasimir, who now seemed to me like more of a sweaty pig than just a fat man, had been carrying a large bag that seemed to be carrying clothes and the like. He made his way through the collections of peoples and market stands until he reached the gates. It was then that it occured to me that Kasimir's leaving Sheolton, along with my finding him so easily, had been two major conveniences that I stumbled on throughout this hunt and I wondered that maybe I was being set up. I soon abandoned this thought after I nearly forgot about following Kasimir out into the forest. ________ |__ __| --+> OnE è pArt II <+-- __| |__ |______| continued after the pig I had grown to hate. He had left Sheolton and headed south. It quickly became obvious that Kasimir was heading to Andrion, because the winter was falling early and unfortunately soon, and the winters here in Sheolton were harsh and hard to travel through. Kasimir had most likely planned only to make this short trip to Andrion and be done with whatever business he had arranged. Hmph, it would seem his associates in Andrion might be left waiting a long while. The farther from Sheolton I followed Kasimir, the farther I drew back and began to hide. Darkness began to fall over the forest, and Kasimir ended his travel for the day. He began to set up camp in a small clearing, and I found my way into the top of a nearby tree. Throughout all of my killing and hunting years previous to this, I had somehow learned, more as grown, the ability to sleep and maneuver my way through the canopies of trees. This became clockwork in my work, as it was for all who enjoyed the skillful position of a hunter. I had been watching Kasimir and studying his ways throughout the entirety of this trip, and not even twice had I thought of why he might have been considered so dangerous. Then, as I sat up in the top of this tree watching him waddle around gathering small sticks and the like for his fire, I noticed as his coat opened, a satchel. It wasn't any normal travelers' satchel, either. To tell you the truth, until then and the events that followed after, I hadn't realized what he used the satchel for. Once Kasimir had finished his gathering of firewood, he stood himself several paces from the base of the stick gathering and spread his arms wide and, for that moment, time stood still and all was quiet. Then the fat man reached with his left hand down into his satchel and then pulled it out, something clutched in it. Kasimir extended his clutching hand toward the gathering of sticks and wispered some words, and in short moments a spark caught the sticks, which escalated into a fire. Realize that I had been sitting up in this tree on the edge of the clearing, watching intently, and wondering what the hell he was doing. As I said before, these displays of magic were so very rare that I, even at the age of twenty-two years, which had fought and lived through too many battles to count, had never seen one. I was amazed, to say the least. I wonder still how I maintained my balance in this tree, because although I was in the tree, my mouth had surely hit the ground. The events that followed came and went as a blur, occurring almost within seconds, and yet I acted as I never had before. It had quickly become a tight situation in which I found myself almost dead, and then living like I had never felt life before... ______ / \ --+> OnE è pArt III <+-- | %% | | | \______/n a normally quiet and peaceful night in the Grayland Forest, I began to notice a slight, no make that immense change in the weather. First came the winds, which after several minutes of shaking the trees (including the one I was resting in, thus waking me from a short-lived dream) almost made me lose my balance. Next, and more importantly, came the clouds and thunder. This was the curious part, because throughout all my previous years of traveling through this forest and the surrounding areas of Grayland, Sheolton and Andrion, it was well known that the weather was never all that unpredictable. After the clouds and thunder came the lightning. No rain, no sticky air, just lightning. It struck only random areas in the clearing, and it boomed loudly every time, fully waking both Kasimir and myself. My eyes first fixed on Kasimir as he startled back to reality, looking frantically for his satchel and then clutching it, acting as if he knew what was coming next. He looked straight up into the clouds, shivering in the warm winds like a scared child. Following his train of sight, I then fixed my eyes on the sight that Kasimir was so intent on learning the purpose of. The clouds were parting, and a ball of light descended down through them. This is where things became a blur, and a whole entire reality became shockingly real... -Find out what happens next issue- ====( Waddayoo want on yer toombs-tone? - Last words )====================== Whelp, that was issue number one. I can't really say that there'll be another issue next week, month, or even year. I don't know how other people'll take SoS, hate it/like it, who knows. I don't even know how long I can keep up all this writing and self-support. I know this first issue was kinda slow, but just bear with me here folks, my first zine, and all the intro's are gonna be slow. The action starts next issue (as long as there is one). If you liked this first release of SoS, tell _sombody_, or email somebody who knows me. I don't currently have an inet email address because it got shut off, but find a way to email my friend Belial, or reach me on Avalon [9o8.739.4274] : Warlock... Much thanks out to Belial (whose ideas started this entire thing)... "Those who think they know it all are especially annoying to those of us who do..." -Anonymous- ================================( eof )=====================================