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Journal of Tobran R'vndark
High Mage of Nothren
Even now as I write these hastily formed words, They come. You wish to know why technology will never overthrow magic? Why magic will never completely conquer? The answer lies in Them. They are the force, the driving will. It took me too long to see it. I thought our magics and technologies combined would be enough to save us from the fates of the other kingdoms...I was wrong...terribly wrong. Death and destruction come...
woe to the world.
--Tobran, High Mage
Chapter 1: Ruins of Nothren
The Summoner stood on a rubbled pedestal of stone in the center of the ruins of Nothren. His eyes scanned the seas quietly, watching for how They would arrive....while he waited he mused Nothren. Once the most powerful kingdom to have ever flown flags upon battlements...it now lies in ruins about me. To these ruins I have Summoned them in a dream. I have bid them to make haste...and..haste they havemade.. for here was the first, already arrived.
Adria quietly and quickly crept through the ruins. She was saddened by the carnage that had been rought. She looked to be in her midteen years and had remarkably survived on her own throughout the Draconic Wars. Her hair had once been long, brown, and beautiful. She had cropped it off at the shoulders, and not very well, for the hair had jagged edges on it, as if the cut had been performed with a knife. Adria's eyes were dark brown, to the point of blackness, contrasting against the fine tan that was cast over her stretched skin. The teenage girl didn't seem to be in the best of conditions: dirty, underfed--so much so that her ribs (if they could be seen) would be countable. She skirted the wreckeage, looking for the one who had called to her in her dreams.
