Snippet #2535054

located in Finite Realm, a part of The Order of the Seven Seals, one of the many universes on RPG.

Finite Realm

This is the universe as we know it, bound by limits and rules that weren't meant to be broken. But that isn't to say they're not.

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Character Portrait: Azael Character Portrait: Auroriianos
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On the Planet Atrulyn, Outside the Capitol City of Ridic



"Some would say time is endless; the continuous flow of concurring events traversing through space, the convergence of past, present, and future. Combined with the vast breadth of space, it’s these fundamental laws that found the very fabric of our frail and meaningless existence. Without space, there can be no time. And with no sense of time, there can be no space. Together, they are what make life in the Finite Realm possible; but also, is the only thing that stands in the way of unraveling all of creation itself."



He stood, motionless, gazing at what looked like fireflies twinkling in the night sky. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here, hoping to find answers to the one lifelong question we must all ask ourselves: Who am I? Azael had traveled the seven worlds and back, having trekked to what felt like the very ends of time only to find nothing. It was a curious thing, struggling to find his place in the universe, failing to make his mark on the world(s).

Looking down into the canyon below, he dropped from the cliff above, descending onto the earth beneath the shadow of the mountain. Embracing the sudden rush of wind ruffling his feathers, he stretched out his wings, catching the air before he began to soar towards the gorge up ahead. Winding through the narrow chasm and coming out on the other side, he scaled up the mountainside, wings brushing up against the leaves of the trees. Crossing his shadow over the face of the water, he hovered above a wide-open field, wings beating against the grass as he slowly touched the ground.

It was everything but silent, the sound of the crickets chirping and the chorus of frogs singing in the nearby river. He simply laid there, sprawled out in the grass, a subtle sigh parting his lips. Atrulyn was the gem of the universe, Azael’s own little slice of paradise. The birds gliding overhead, it was only then he noticed everything had just stopped; time coming to a screeching halt. All the land had gone quiet in an instant except for the soft echo of footsteps that crept ever closer.

“That’s not going to work.” As if a thousand voices had whispered all at once, he drew his blade before a blinding light pierced the darkness, knocking him back. Peering through the halo, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a figure towering over him, and a hand reaching out. Resisting his hesitation, he grabbed it, pulling himself to his feet. “You’ve been waiting a long time, Azael.” It knew his name? Rubbing the corners of his eyes, he still couldn’t see passed the burning radiance that resonated before him. “Who… are you?”

“You know who I am, Azael. The Finite Realm is in peril. It is time the Archites return, and that you finally learn the truth behind your destiny.” Dissolving into fine grains of sand that shimmered in the moons reflection, his voice yet lingered, echoing in the stilled sound of silence. “…Time is running out.” A pillar of light splitting the sky in thunderous applause, Azael jolted from his reverie as if awaken from a dream. “Idros…!” If he hadn’t known better, the world was just the same as he’d left it, his vision nothing more than a fantasy.

Aesthetically, nothing had changed, other than the overwhelming surge of enlightenment that washed over him like a tidal wave. The Archites had been dead for more than a thousand years, and continued to live on only in memory, surviving in the people’s myths and legends. It was through their sacrifice(s) that Uldrik was imprisoned within the Infinite Spectrum, leaving The Order behind to guard the secrets of the Seven Seals. Prophecy spoke that in the Finite Realm’s finest hour, new heroes would be chosen to defend it. But was it even probable that Azael himself was to stand amongst these champions?

A great evil stirred on the horizon, and Azael only pondered further in wonderment of what could cause such impending calamity. Minutes slowly turned to hours as he sat there, his sword buried deep in the earth, his fingers curled around the hilt of his blade as he watched the sun start to rise up over the mountains. With the sun on his face, and a breeze at his back, he only smiled, wincing as he lay back only to find an all too familiar face staring back at him.

“So you found me after all boy…” Azael had regarded Auroriianos as a stranger for much of his life after having been taken in by The Order. Auro’s father, Elder Arteimos, had found Azael abandoned on the streets of Ridic when he was only nine years old. Arteimos had a fondness for Azael that he never had for Auroriianos; training Azael harder and pushing him further than he ever had anyone else before (teaching him the art of discipline and value of honor). While Arteimos was a great teacher, he was a poor father, and Azael only had himself to blame. Burdened by the sting of guilt, when Azael was only seventeen he began to grow protective over the boy, and they’d been inseparable ever since.



Meanwhile…

...in the Hall of Silence




There was an eerie silence that befell the sacred hall as the elders gathered, stirred by a great disturbance that had shook the Finite Realm. Great evil loomed, one that High Elder Erobus could neither sense nor foresee. All of their efforts in learning the identities of the Archites had failed, and he knew that the fateful day he hoped would never come was before them. Uldrik had been sealed within the bounds of the Infinite Spectrum for more than a millennia, but only now could the elders begin to feel his presence beginning to yet again make itself known across the seven worlds.

"The Archites have yet to reveal themselves, and I fear Uldrik's prophecy may be coming to pass." Erobus taking his seat at the head of all tables, only Elder Nicolai remained standing, fingers tracing the length of his staff as he began to pace. "Why now? You said it yourself, without the Archites... his prophecy is hollow; nothing more than words from a heathen tyrant who believes himself a god." As the elders looked to one another, Elder Shialla rolled her eyes, shoving back her chair as she snapped at Nicolai.

"For more than a thousand years Uldrik has rotted away in his lonely prison. But have you forgotten? His Generals are still out there, waiting for us to make only one wrong move so they can be the end to all of us. This is just what they want us to think. With no Archites, Uldrik is no more a threat today than he has been any other day for that matter in the last thousand years." Elder Arteimos was the only one who continued to sit calmly in his seat, fingers arced along his jaw as he listened on with utter disinterest.

"Who are we to say the Archites aren't out there? We think of ourselves so highly that we believe we'll be the ones to find them. There are powers to be that are greater than either of us; powers that are far beyond our grasp of understanding. If we are to-." Suddenly the walls began to crack, and the lights grew dim; time came to a crashing halt, and the building started to crumble around them. A shadow had cast itself beneath them, and the might of Idros towered over them with all the powers of creation at his back.

"Ancient prophecy will soon come to head, and in time, a vengeance unlike no other will be felt across every corner of the Finite Realm. The Seven Worlds will burn and be shrouded in darkness, and the very fabric of creation will begin to unravel. The Archites will yet suffer for their mistake, and be the true cause of unleashing your final judgment. A great battle nears, one that will decide the fate of all mankind."


Turning back the hands of time, the hall was left standing much like it had been before, but Idros words yet lingered in their hearts. The Archites return was now the inevitable, and all that stood between balance and chaos.