Extras
Basically any extras I might write for the Ancient One, outside of the fics.
“In a remote mountain village, they venerate an unusual deity. What’s that deity’s name, what is unusual about them, and how do they interact with their followers?”
— World Building Prompt on Infinite Stories Discord
We call him the Broken One. If he has another name, it only existed when he was whole; before the world was created, and before one being was torn asunder into two.
The Broken One is only able to manifest to us, his followers, during emotional times that involve true submission and pure love. Unlike his counterpart, the Broken One cannot manifest a mortal form so easily. Outside of those times when the close bonds of submission and love allow him to form, he only appears to us as pure white light. His voice and his words can only be heard by a select few; those whose bonds with their loved ones are particularly strong.
Those who have seen the Broken One describe his features as beautiful and perfect, delicate as an elf's, with flowing black hair and glowing amber eyes. But there are open, bleeding wounds that cover his bare arms and that can be seen through the robe that covers his body. Our people have tried to render aid, but the wounds are impossible to heal.
There are whispers, and rumours, that what was ripped apart could perhaps some day be healed and made whole again. But until that day and until that time, we will protect the wounded spirit of the Broken One. We will protect the wounded spirit of our god.
“Legends often surround important figures in History, such as Kings and Folk Heroes. What's a mythical figure who held political power? Are they well-received or infamous? How do the Legends describe this powerful individual?”
— Worldbuilding Prompt on Infinite Stories
The Ancient One.
A being of immeasurable power, said to be as old as the world itself. For centuries, he has taken on the role of advisor for Kings, using the name Alaric Thorne.
As Headmaster of a prestigous boys' school, the Ancient One has long been able to exert his influence over those who eventually come to power. He pits students against each other, brutally punishing those deemed weaker than the rest. Those who survive their school years, if it can be called survival, look to their former Headmaster for advice and permission. Even as an advisor for Kings, it's apparent he's the power behind the throne...and won't hesitate to brutally punish his former students if they step out of line.
The Ancient One's magic is powerful and insiduous. He whispers inside the minds of people, making them believe that the terrible things they do are their own decisions and desires. Throughout the centuries, he has amassed a great deal of power and influence, feeding on the life force of those he controls and leaving them as lifeless, empty husks.
No one is really certain of the Ancient One's true motivations and ambitions. While he could easily take full control and crush the world in his fist, he appears content to exert his control and influence from the shadows. And under his influence, it's true that the kingdom prospers...but at what cost?
“Traveling up the coastline, there is a secluded town that makes its living with the export of fine wine and large fish, "or is it the other way around?!" the locals joke. They grow vines in the spring, summer, and fall. They harvest crab and other marinetine creatures in the winter. If the world every found out about this jewel, it could be a lovely tourist spot. The harsh winters that start "unnaturally" early in the year make travel out difficult.
Describe a festival or tradition of great significance that occurs here.”
— Worldbuilding Prompt on Infinite Stories
"Lord Elrond, will you join us for the festival?"
The soft, lilting voice broke into Elrond's deep reverie and he glanced down at the young girl, no more than ten summers, who stood beside him. She was clad in clothing made from the leaves of the vine, a circlet of greenery placed atop her thick, black, curly hair. Dark eyes, bright and holding far too much wisdom and knowledge for someone so young, gazed up into his own eyes.
Elrond swallowed and looked away, towards the winding path now white with snow. "I do not believe I would be great company for this festival, little one. My heart is too heavy to find enjoyment in these festivities."
"If nothing else, perhaps you could come and eat with us. Share wine...and with the wine, share what troubles and burdens lay heavy on your soul." A small, dark-skinned hand slipped into his own. "Come join us, Lord Elrond."
Her words, as her eyes, held the cadence of someone much older than her childlike appearance would have suggested. Not for the first time, Elrond wondered if the young girl chosen as the Vine Queen was a reincarnated soul. Certainly, she spoke far beyond her years. "Please," he whispered, his voice hitched with pain. "I am no longer a Lord."
"Then Elrond. Come and share our bounty with us." With a gentle, encouraging pull, she guided him back along the path he'd taken...towards the town and its festivities.
As Elrond and the Vine Queen approached the town, the dual scents of rich wine and cooked fish weaved its way through the air. All around them, through the streets, townspeople danced, wearing bright colours of red and green, and weaving rich cloths made of silver that flashed in the sunlight that shone down so brightly on them.
The Vine Queen, still holding Elrond's hand tight in her own small grip, led the elf towards a brazier that lay at the other end of the stone walkway. Next to the brazier stood another girl, identical in appearance to the Vine Queen...though her own clothing had been carved lovingly from the scales and bones of the large silvery fish caught by the townsfolk, who ensured that no part of their catch went to waste.
Standing in front of the brazier, the Princess carefully picked up a small, ornate dagger. She stabbed the sharp blade into the largest fish and raised it high above her head. "Behold!" Her voice rang out, as sharp and clear as a hunting horn. "Our tribute to the sea!" She bowed, deeply, at the waist...then turned and threw the fish into the glittering waves that crashed against the cliffs below.
Distantly, Elrond heard a roar that sent a chill down his spine and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
The sound was nearly inhuman...as if an old god had seen the tribute and was pleased with it.
As the faint roar faded away, the Vine Queen raised a wineskin and held it high above her head. "Behold!" Her own voice rang out as clearly as her twin's had. "Our offering to the sea!" As the Princess had, she turned to the crashing waves and tipped the wineskin upside down, sending a stream of vibrant crimson liquid into the water below.
"Such a waste of good wine," one of the townsfolk muttered.
As his fellows agreed with him, another roar sounded from the depths.
Elrond slowly moved towards the edge of the cliff as the sound died away and the townsfolk behind him erupted into singing and dancing. "Who do you honour, with this tribute?" he asked the Vine Queen, sensing rather than hearing her approach.
Her small shoulders moved delicately as she shrugged. "One of the old gods. His name, his true name, has been lost to the winds of time. But it is said that he is responsible for our great bounty, and for the protection offered to this town."
"Protection," Elrond repeated.
She nodded, her small face grave. "You must have noticed that very few strangers come here. In fact, you are only the second elf I have met in this life."
"Who was the first?" He turned fully to face her.
She didn't look at him, her eyes instead fixed on the crashing waves below them. Her response, when it came, seemed to whisper to him on the wind, rather than be uttered by a human voice.
"Rain."