Tales of the layers I: The Banshee King
Well you know who I am at this point...Perry Lakefield, Soldier of the great monk king and the immortal that had lived every aspect of life...It seems my cursed existence is no longer in it's final yard. They say the sins of the father don't get carried on but that...Well that would indicate the gods are forgiving. You may have noticed while reading just this that I am rambling...Why? Well the answer there is simple. The story I left in my family home should have given you all the information you needed on my trials and so...anyone who finds this is searching for me it would seem and for that I would commend you but heed you a fair warning. A reward as most would call it. You will not be the same coming after me through the world I must travel and the horrors I must see...That being said I should tell you a story of why my simple end was interrupted once more...But you will need to find my story about that one specifically. But to be fair I will give you a hint where that note is...Think of the fire that forged its local lands in smog...Good luck with that. Now since you are here I will give you a story from my early past. The story of the Banshee King...And his first fall from power.
A Banshee. Lost souls that when seen would indicate a loss of someone dear. The ghostly visage showed remorse and hatred at themselves for the work they did but no one ever cared for that. Why care for the creature when it can simply be culled? That is the minds of mortals...sad as the truth is. These poor souls wandered long across the lands of the people and made their presence known. Vigils and early graves were dug by the very men and women that were chosen by their eerie kisses. A sad reality indeed. Being there to see the mourning around you...or lack there off in some cases.
The Banshee. A creature that this world has always feared...But what if I was to tell you that they did not wish for this to be their cruel fate? What if they wished to save those chosen more than That soul wanted to save itself? What if? Well with many years in my mind and every corner of this dreary world touched I can tell this for certain...They are controlled by one who wishes to be a god but cannot even take the first step….A man who took refuge in a layer of hell known to all on the mortal plane. The Plane of the Banshee King...Well...to all it is simply the plane of Banshee but to those withered eyes that see past this world's façade faintly you can see what this really was.
Once the proudest and most beautiful forest in any plane of existence but now nothing more than dying wisps in their dried out husks, destroyed to make room for a castle the size of a country, High cascading walls that seemed to be formed from some angry child's imagination with jutting corners and flimsy lines. Three towers adorned both sides and one stood proudest of all as the centrepiece of this twisted artwork. Tall and seemingly swaying to and fro with the bricks of black pushing against each other. Sounds of each brick rubbing the layers away from another looking like a pack of starving Gnomes that will kill the one next to them for just another moment of life. The sounds of wails from the captured creatures were louder the closer to the ever stretching wall you got. Well built it was...Well designed however it was not. Well defended? Not in the slightest.
The start of the second era I made my way through his pretentious play to turn a gleaming landscape into another fortress of power with knowledge that I thought would assist my final goal but...That was not the case. I was cursed with the one I love but I lived a million lives...children were bore of me and many of the women of the world but none held my heart like she. This was the time my first child was born. The dying trees of this plane called to me at my very core. They did not wish for this to be their end and I wished to free this land while performing my duty. A Banshee appeared before me, skin paler than the far north's first snowfall and ice that matched the crystal like eyes she had. An elf still when I met her and the transformation had not started. The whole night we spent under the crimson stars of this plane's night and the mourning produced a child. A baby with the image of her mother down to the claws she had hidden away. The only remnant of me was the look of cold nothingness emanating from her blackened eyes. She was taken away when the girl turned fully in my absence but I will never forget the last words she spoke to me,
''Our daughter will be named...Yalhar.''
Yalhar my first born...I hope we meet one life in good times.
The castle was easy to penetrate and even more of a simple task to topple. The first of many great deeds I'd perform in the space of a brief lifetime. The king was a scrawny Elf, Timid and terrified by the world outside his throne room. Without much of a task his reign ended in unholy black fire. The land took its tie but was able to reform the beauty of the forests. Only time will tell if this will stay brimming with vibrant beauty but since time does not apply to me...I will try my best to preserve it throughout the eras to come.
So there is your story of a land you will most likely never see. If you believe you know the Banshee King will return then I have some very simple advice for that one. Threaten his face. A petty king always worries about his features. In case you were wondering how many little notes I have written well...Collect them all together and count. I don't know the answer myself I just hope you enjoy my stories enough to go through the hells you will need to to attain them.
-Signed Perry Lakefield.