The Atlantic Mage Tower Presents
Ra, Mage of the Tower
Life of Ra
Ra only has a vague recollection of his own past, having parts of his
memory erased due to having been thrown into an unstable magical gate at a
young age without any magical training. The distorting journey rendered his
black hair fiery red... his body ruptured and reborn a hundred times as
energies and blazing heat propelled him to the other side at dizzying
speeds... memories were scattered into a myriad of incoherent fragments,
with each broken piece whispering to him about his seemingly glorious
past... visions of golden pillars... faithful servants... court counselors
with jeweled scepters... towering pyramids that hold the secrets of his
civilization... mages and high priests that guarded him as his family was
slaughtered... piercing screams and magical chanting... a forceful shove
into a shimmering doorway... faint words of eternal goodbye... a distant
prayer and blessing.... "farewell, Shining One..."
Life started anew for Ra as he worked as a teenage miner in various parts
of the new world he was delivered to, known as Britannia. With an
instinctive interest for the arcane arts, he watched the mages of the
Sorcerer's Guild in awe through the windows of their guildhouse when
traveling to Moonglow to deliver some ingots. With the money he received
for his deliveries, he decided to spend it on training himself up in the
arts and buying expensive reagents... In mere months, the powers of the
searing lightning and magical traveling were soon added to his repertoire
of survival skills. On a hot summer night, the young Ra decided to test his
magical abilities at the deadly arena of the Moonglow graveyard, where
undead were rumored to rise at night and walk in the land of the living...
Bushes rustled under the full moon as Ra approached the graveyard gates...
the absence of animals sounds was an eerie omen and the occasional dimming
of the moon sent waves of fear rippling through his heart, which already
raced in a wild beat no bard could manage... Peering over the fences and
looking for his first undead in half-fear, half-excitement, he was harshly
met with a horrific sight... It was not an undead, only far, far, worse -
a massacre... a massive bloodbath that created rivulets of blood trickling
around tombstones and seeping down into the domain of the dead.
Amidst the chaos, the horrific screams, continuous magical chanting, and
on top of a pile of dead bodies stood a fear inspiring mage in a dark grey
robe and hat... with a few magical words uttered, booming thunder ripped
across the skies, terrorizing the lands in a radius of perpetual fear as
the sorcerer unleashed snaking pillars of blinding lightning that lashed
from one victim to another, striking dead three warriors at once and
sending an archer flying across the cemetery, paralyzed and screaming like
a madman going through unspeakable horror. Heat and sparks flitted across
mid-air in a violent chain-reactive aftermath. Suddenly, a bolt of energy
spanned graveyard in mere seconds, snuffing out his remaining life.
Wide-eyed and fear-stricken, Ra was struck by a name... he suddenly
remembered the rumors about a reckless murderer in Moonglow... and his name
was The Dread Lord Spite. He never thought that first visit to the
graveyard would end up being his last, but a fact dawned on him - this was
also where he would get ripped to ribbons and join the bloody mess.
The Dread Lord glanced up the night sky, slowly descended his altar of
corpses and checked out the backpacks of his smoldering victims. Armor,
reagents, and weapons were swiftly swept into his own bags as if they were
his rightful belongings. The odor of charred flesh stung Ra's nose when he
caught a glimpse of what the sorcerer looked like... In the pale moonlight,
his dual colored hair and beard shimmered... a twist of silver in gold. It
was imminent death that loomed before Ra's eyes, but as his heart beat
uncontrollably, he marveled the true power of mage he had just
witnessed... unprecedented power in its full, unrestrained glory. Also
wielded by an indiscriminate man killer.
"Would you want some armor? Or would you rather have a limb or two to show
your friends how you fared tonight in this graveyard?" the Dread Lord
suddenly muttered in a raspy voice. Ra did not realize Lord Spite was
referring to him until the sorcerer whipped a dagger out, carved an arm off
a dead warrior, walked over to him with a bone chest in one hand, the dead
limb in the other, looking at him squarely. He had long discovered his
presence... Ra's body started shaking against his own will as death was
standing merely a few feet away. Unable to speak, he reached out and
pointed at the bone chest with a shaking finger.
"Why did you stay, aren't you afraid?" Spite asked with a smirk, gesturing
the dead bodies and looking at him again.
"I... I... I like... magic... but I... no... I... am... I am sorry..."
Spite broke out in a roaring laugh. For a second Ra thought he had managed
to amuse the killer and could possibly get out of this alive, then Spite
snapped back, his laughter abruptly stopped, his eyes glowing red and his
face devoid of all emotions.
"You want to learn magic? You LIKE magic?" he hissed his question.
"Ye... yes I do sir... I learned a bit from the local magician's guild and I -- "
"And you are as lame as they are I bet !!! BAH !! Mere tricks !! What do
they know about sorcery? What do they know about wielding powers beyond
your physical body can hold?!!! What do they know about bending nature to
your own will and twisting it around your fingers???" he boomed, walking
closer and closer to Ra, curling his snarled fingers into a forceful grip
and shaking the fist in his face.
Ra thought he was about either going to pass out in fear or throw up after
an earth-shattering nervous breakdown... when Spite gripped him by his arms
and shook him violently. Then stopped. The Dread Lord locked him in an
unshakable glare, and frowned without saying a word.
"Very good. You seem to have survived my tempers quite well." he finally
announced. Ra was utterly confused.
"Which reminds me I need a messenger, or rather, a spy, for it is not
convenient for me to go into town myself. Good. Very good. You are from
Moonglow? Where is your family?"
"I have no family, my... my lord..."
"Good then I don't have to orphan you. Reagents are expensive."
"Why me? I just saw you kill... "
"Why NOT? I can do the same to you if you don't do WELL."
At a wave of his hand, a magical gate appeared and he gestured me to step
in... we found ourselves outside a huge mansion along the west coast of the
Moonglow Isle. Waves crashed against the rock shore over which Spite's
house stood. Ra never thought this was going to be his home for the years
to come... He became the Dread Lord's assistant and messenger boy as he had
promised (or rather, forced to promise), performing daily tasks such as
collecting bounty information about Spite from town, buying him reagents
and food, and selling armor and weapons that he did not need. But that was
not the reason why Ra stayed and continued on with this job... He seemed to
have earned the Dread Lord's trust over time by not running away with his
gold and plentiful reagents, and was eventually shown bits and pieces of
how to delve into deeper and more advanced spell work, that is, whenever
Spite's temper was good... Ra would feign ignorance and just admire his
masters work, not asking any questions and leaving him alone whenever the
slightest sense of uneasiness was in the air. That worked well, and Ra was
able to pick up some key tricks that would help him advance to higher
Time passed quickly as the routine of bringing Spite his information,
mining, smithing, selling, and magical training continued... and an
obsession somehow weaved out the path of a destiny. After a few years, Lord
Spite decided to leave Britannia for good, and simply told Ra to leave,
giving him a suit of magical silver plate as payment and telling him to
just pack up and leave his house... Ra was once again on his own upon very
short notice... but now equipped with much greater knowledge in the arts...
22 years have passed while energies were relentlessly poured into the
obsessive mastery of his Magery skills. Ra's world revolved around magic,
his body sustained by the food he created at the wave of his hands and his
mind feasted upon every morsel of understanding in the arts. Time slipped
by as spidery theories of magic built upon a firm foundation in Ra's mind
laid down by Spite's teachings... Today, as mage with the strength of a
veteran miner, Ra has transformed himself into what he has always wanted to
be... and perhaps what he was originally destined to be - 'the Shining
One', marked by fiery hair and named after the lost god of the sun.
Perhaps it was fate... or perhaps the Goddess known as Pele has extended
her wondrous blessings to those who were destined to aid her beloved son,
Tiffric... Ra had the most unexpected meeting with the wise Keeper of the
Stone of the Atlantic Mage Tower on a grassy field south of Moonglow on a
mid-autumn night, coincidentally just a few days before he would reach
Grandmaster status in the arts. A brief and friendly chat led to a visit to
the Moonglow Mage Tower, and as the building came into view, Ra was shocked
to find out that it was built on where Spite's house originally had
been... what had happened to the Dread Lord? Like himself, everyone just
knew he had left Britannia... Tiffric had bought the land from him and the
mansion was demolished to make space for the Tower. Ra looked at the Tower,
lost in deep thought... perhaps it was time to follow a greater cause, and
this was an indication of what was to come... the same spot in Moonglow,
now with a different meaning under the leadership of someone extremely
different from Spite... it probably meant magic was meant for something
greater and virtuous... or perhaps he simply thought he belonged to a group
of people that shared the same love for magic...
Perhaps this was just
another guild that we would resign from and resort to mining afterward...
perhaps he would be criticized for joining a guild and not having
'the heart' to go with it... Perhaps it was a divine call to Ra, for
the time has come for him to help make the Flame of the Atlantic Mage Tower
shine brighter by giving all he has, to give like all the others... but only
time can open the next chapter...
No Llamas were injured during the creation of this webpage. They did however learn of a mage named Ra.