This is a story that I am writing. It will probably be a live long quest.
Mine is not a story of legend. It is not a story of prophecy. It does
not pit good verse evil. This story, my story, is of passion. I seek
not to enlighten, entertain, or move you. I wish to warn you, to
desire that what you can not have will always cause anguish. This is
a telling of my heart. I am Doran. I am a flame elemental. Passion
is my life, and the destruction of it. The fierce desire to burn
brightly, to understand wholely, and to love with complete
I was not born to Aler, although she rules me now in the wanning of my days. She called to me in my middle age, as only a diety can. Often I see her in my dreams, always I see her in my nightmares. Her eyes, ever shifting color, burn my thoughts and leave me with sense of dread. Her seductive shape dances as her heat licks the surroundings of my mind. She is angry, hungry for my soul. Aler granted me the power of an elemntal of fire, in exchange for the taste of my soul. A taste I allowed her, but my spark, my soul, was already given. The pact was made, and can never be broken. I decieved her in this, and she takes her vengence every moment.
The world was formed by the four gods. Fierce beings. Each being an omnipitant manifestation of their element. The blocks of our tangible surroundings, earth, air, water, and fire. How do you even describe a god? Most would praise their exsistance with flattery. “The gods are good.” “The gods are just.” “The gods have a plan.” Few would dare whisper disent. They have a plan alright. They are selfish, cunning, commanding, purpose driven. Their plan is to sate their individual desire. Each god yearns for their purpose. They savor their element, like a predator licking its lips, stalking their prey.