Flashback A'kal / Tharos Silverlane - The Sword of Ages

[Wolf Rawrrr]

Lower Temple of Time, North Svardenvyrd, year 3111


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Dawn was breaking as the young boy finally entered the naturally protected glade at the foot of Khronos - the sacred Mountain of Time. He knew that, someday, he would have to climb all the way to the snowy peaks to reach the Upper Temple of Time. For now though, the boy's initiation into training was about to begin in the Lower Temple.


The temple itself was a medium sized building with two wings located in a forest clearing and surrounded by pine trees. In the middle was a small lake. There was an old wooden dock on the side closest to the temple with a single rowboat tied to it. A path of stones as old as the temple led from the forest's edge to the entrance. And of course the mountains loomed impossibly tall above, threateningly beautiful.


Aside from a figure in front of the entrance to the temple, there was no one else in sight.

 

[Zatheron]

Thunder clapped towards the top of the intimidating mountain. A'kal felt a hand on his back that eased him forward as if signaling him on. It was his uncle. The pepper haired man behind the young A'kal nodded to the boy as if to assure him it was safe. Reluctant, he stepped forward along the dirt road towards the temple. The green trees around him that created tbe grove emitted a pleasant aroma in the vacinity. The ground was shaded crom the thunderheads above.


He wore a cloth robe of a light brown shades. On his hands and wrists were white cloths that would appear to be bandages though they were just for his own comfort. In his right hand was a six feet long oak walking stick that he brought with him to help support the extra weight from his pack.


This is my rising. As i was told.

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

It was not as cold as it usually was up north. The grove was quiet, serene. Nothing but a few birds disturbed the silence while young A'kal walked the stone path. At its end he reached the figure he saw from afar, now able to make out its entire presence.


It was a man, fairly tall and probably old because he had a long silver beard, but he stood erect wearing what looked like a simple heavy grey robe. It was hard to guess his real age, given the incredibly long lifespan of the Varden. With a neutral expression but an approving tone he asked: "Who comes to this sacred grove, and the Temple of Time within?"


By the old ways, A'kal remembered, this was one of the keepers of the temple, a Chrono Elder, to whom he was simply meant to give his name. There would be no going back once he set foot inside. If he looked back he could still see his uncle waiting at the forest's edge.

 

[Zatheron]

A'kal stood at the bottom of the steps before looking back briefly to see his uncle. He was too far away to see the expression on his father's brother's face. He turned and faced the Elder. "My name is A'kal."

​

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

Lower Temple of Time, North Svardenvyrd, year 3112


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It's been exactly a year since young A'kal arrived at the Temple of Time to begin the training that would tap into his deepest natural abilities. The main gates of the temple were wide open as usual, despite the weather that seemed to get colder every day. It was only mid Autumn, but this far up north it wouldn't be long before the first lowland snows. The boy steps out under the cloudy skies, alone with no one else in sight. It was early afternoon, but already the world looked just a bit darker than it was supposed to.

 

[Zatheron]

A'kal looked up into the sky. Something definitely wasn't right. No natural storm was due in the immediate phase of time. The first snows were supposed to arrive two to three weeks from now as he was told by one of the Elders. He didn't feel right as well. An odd sensation in the back of his mind that was telling him something was amiss. But he couldn't figure it out, he was too young and inexperienced - untrained. What could cause this disturbance?

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

Perhaps something was amiss. Why was he out here anyway?


He sees the path he took when his uncle delivered him here a year ago. It seemed like only yesterday. A second path leads along the other side of the small lake, ending in the outdoors training ground. Yet a third path goes away from the lake and the forest both, heading straight uphill where it starts winding up into the mountain. He had never taken that path before, but he was told where it leads. On a clear day, he would be able to see the Higher Temple of Time, making it out near one of the peaks. But today it was all clouded.


It's quiet. Save from a few birds calling out now and then, there are no sounds.