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The Call

He was running. His feet pounding the dusty roads of the Diessa Lowlands but the warband was catching up. His sword drawn in one hand and a warhorn in the other, he couldn’t even look over his shoulder for fear of wasting precious time. The malicious growls of the Charr were drawing closer. His grip on the warhorn tightened. He knew he could not let it fall into their hands.

That brief moment of distraction cost him dearly. An overzealous Charr Blade Storm had approached him from the side and made a move for the horn. The man, unable to react in time, put his body in the way of the strike to protect the artifact. Blood drenched the dusty road as a gruesome gash blossomed on the man’s arm. He dropped his sword and staggered, then raised the horn to his lips but quickly reconsidered. The Charr warrior lunged for another strike but a massive volley of arrows pinned him in place. A second followed, tearing through the charr ranks. Then a third, a fourth and they kept coming until the last growls were drowned in deathly silence. Soldiers came out of cover as one and their leader hurried to the wounded man.
"You are safe now, friend. We will treat your wounds."
Yet the man did not seemed relieved.
"Thank you" – he muttered as he walked away.
"We must tend to those wounds. Besides, going that way will put you in charr territory. It’s suicide."
"I’ll manage. I am grateful for the help. Farewell."
"Look, in these times we humans must stick together. Who knows maybe you can even join the…" - The captain’s eyes widened – "Is that…the mouthpiece!" "Can this really be the lost mouthpiece of the legendary Stormcaller? There’s no mistaking it! It’s our lucky day lads!"
"You cannot have it."
"You will deny us after we saved your life from those beasts? Explain yourself! Where did you find it?"
"This artifact does not belong to you. It must be preserved until its time comes."
"Its time is now! It is a weapon that will send the Charr fleeing in terror and Ascalon will be victorious!"
"This is no weapon."
"Are you mad? Have you not seen Stormcaller? It summons the heavens themselves and extinguishes the wretched flames of the Charr gods! So speak the legends!"
"Ha! The heavens? Why do you not just use it to drizzle on your crops or summon some clouds to provide shade for your festivals! You insolent curs have not the slightest idea what power this truly holds. The rain you so desperately cling your hopes to is but a side effect!"
"Tell me then" – the captain’s voice had become much colder. – "what do you believe it is, traveler?"
"Stormcaller is an artifact from before the time of the gods! It first sounded at a time when the elder dragons did battle with each other. Within it is sealed the last breath of the Lord of Storms. When his brethren slew him he thrust his very essence into the horn and with it, his oath of vengeance as well. It must be kept undisturbed until the elder dragons walk the world again, for its sound shall awaken the heroes to do battle with the dragons. Such is the last will of the Storm Lord."
"Your wound is clouding your reason. Tell me. What is your name?"
"They call me Nick. "
"In that case, Nicholas, I am confiscating the Stormcaller’s mouthpiece in the name of King Adelbern and all of Ascalon!"
"I have made my oath to protect this long ago…"
"You will not condemn So many ascalonian lives just because you believe in a fairy tale. I will not ask nicely again!"
Blades left their sheaths in an instant. Steel plunged at a wounded man’s heart. The horn sounded and the world went black.

When he came to, the soldiers were no more, but he had broken his oath. He had used the mouthpiece and in doing so, desecrated it. Wounded and guilt-ridden he set out once again for Nolani Academy, where he hoped the scholars would understand the importance of the artifact and would safeguard it. With his oath broken, he no longer felt worthy of the task and he knew he would travel a long way to atonement…


The Charr historian opened his eyes and waved his hand as he released the divination spell. Then fell deep in thought. He had spent years studying Stormcaller and researching the stories and legends behind it, but since he began to use the divination spell to witness the events of the past as they occurred, he learned so much more.
He walked out of the library and gazed up at the now broken horn itself. Taken as a trophy it now lay broken on a pedestal as if to symbolize the fall of Ascalon. The scholar ran his clawed hand over the horn
"… Stormcallers…"
There was no doubt in the historical text that Stormcaller had sounded after the traveler had left it at Nolani. There was also no doubt that shortly after that, ancient races were defeated, a demon betrayer was brought to his knees and a god was killed. Could these heroes of legend truly have awakened to answer the call of the horn? But that was over 250 years ago. Now the elder dragons were stirring and the heroes of the past are no more.
However…ever since he had embarked upon his vision quest he began to notice something. As he walked out into the streets of the Black Citadel he gazed upon the crowd. It was a thing that once seen it could not be unseen. He began to notice them. Their heads held high with pride; their stride longer than the rest; their eyes ablaze showing souls defiant and unbreakable. They stood out amongst the many and walked the streets perhaps unaware of their own destinies. But there was no mistaking it: although Stormcaller’s roar had long faded into the echoes of ages past, the descendants of these heroes were among us.

- Guild Archivist

Valea Rageborn