Chapter 2
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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/Saarebas\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/The Book of the Ancient One\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
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Appearances can deceive. This we must remember.
Those who appear weak can present far greater danger than any that appear strong. We learned this lesson long ago.
Evil seeps into the world unbidden, unwanted and by most unchecked. It seeks out the weakest amongst us and tempts them, appeals to them, seduces them, then destroys them. Basra Vashedan of all races have proven this, as have we of the Qun.
More than any other it is the Ancient One who proves it.
In appearance he is human in form, adolescent, thin and scrawny, weak. To look upon him one could not see the true danger that lurks there. He is Saarebas by necessity but not by choice.
He came into this world through the forbidden realm of the dead, and brought with him the demons that dwell in that place. Such carnage and ruin was wrought in its wake that words alone could not describe it.
Many perished in the struggle against this abomination. Even the Arishok would fall. It was then the Ancient One revealed himself, and all was laid bare before him. The power of his magic was incomparable, irresistible. He alone succeeded where our greatest warriors and mightiest armies had failed. Yet in the effort he had exhausted himself.
Though he had saved our people he was corrupted by the evils of magic, he was a creature of the forbidden land, he could not be suffered to dwell in our own unchecked. Such was the verdict of the Arisqun.
He would be put to death, but death would not come.
No matter what the wound, how grievous or mortal it would have been to any being of flesh, it made little difference. He would heal and restore himself within hours and live again. The more serious the wound the longer it would take him to recover but not even dismemberment was permanent.
If he could not be killed, then he must be bound. To make this creature a Saarebas was the only choice.
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The Ancient One is unique to even the Saarebas. Such is the danger he represents.
Alone of all Saarebas does he require multiple Arvaarad. Four permanently guard him; three more watch him when he is moved. The Arisqun granted the utmost importance upon him. He is bound, shackled not just by the chains he bares around his neck and limb but by others which hold him in place in his chamber. Eight, thick, heavy chains hold him immobile.
Never should he be released. Never should our need be so great as to summon him.
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Our order is without name. We are Arvaarad, the same but more. We are charged with the greatest curse of our people.
The Ancient One has no need for sustenance.
He does not eat, he does not drink, he does not grow weary.
These traits betray him.
Ever we stand vigilant. Ever we guard. Should we falter in our role all will be lost.
Years are without measure in this task.
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By will of the Arishok the Saarebas march. The Ariqun is not in agreement, but the will of the Arishok must be followed.
We march against the Imprium. It is believed that the Saarebas will prove most useful in battle against Bas Saarebas who rule that land.
So too will march the Ancient one.
Such power should not be squandered, but even so it must be controlled.
The Arvaraad will be ready.
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We are the Arvaard of Seheron.
This land we claimed in battle from Bas Saarebas.
In this place we guard our greatest curse.
The tomb of the Ancient One.
Our numbers dwindle with every year that passes.
Many forget the importance of our role, of our task.
But we remember.
Ever we stand vigilant, ever we guard.
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There is a strange feeling in the air. It is at the same time as full of anticipation as of fear, as full of awe as of terror. There is only one who can inspire such emotion amongst our people.
The Ancient One has come.
This spells doom for our enemies. None has stood before the might of the Ancient One and lived. Armies have fallen before him like leaves in the wind. Fortresses have crumbled at his slightest touch.
He is the Arvaarad's greatest weapon, but also their greatest curse.
The Vashedan fight well but they fall in numbers uncounted. Their defences break, their leaders fall, and the city is taken in one night of battle and bloodshed.
Little more than a glimpse of him is seen but all know he was here.
Greatest of the Saarebas.
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Betrayal.
By an Arvaarad, such an act performed is most detestable, its enactor the lowest of all trash.
It was foreseen.
He was not suited to the role. He had doubts, too many questions, too much pride. He was never a true Arvaarad. He was too susceptible, he was corrupted.
He had to die
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Our people have forgotten.
They do not remember how the Ancient One came into our world, nor how he came to be Saarebas. They look upon him as one of their own, a true follower of the Qun who has embraced his role.
They are fools.
Once we were an order, once our numbers were uncounted, now we have to a handful, the few Arvaarad, those who remained faithful to our task.
Soon we too shall be gone and none shall remember.
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The Ancient One has been summoned. The Arishok calls him to his aide in recovery of the stolen tome of the Prophet. We do not question his judgement, we do not question his orders, we must follow, we must obey, such is our fate.
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