About the Author

Author MesmerGod

Stories : Mesmerizing You

GuildWars tale by MesmerGod, 2010-05-24T12:11:00.0000000. Reads: 1914
Average Rating: 3 Rate it: 1 2 3 4 5


From humble begginings, the self made roylalty of the Mesmer has risen. Tragedy had befallen her on more than one occasion, but from the ashes rose one of the most powerful mentalists that the world has ever seen. This is the story of Yssma The Wise.

Chapter 1

        Their heavy footsteps pounded the earthen trail that lay before them. Quickly through the warm night air they ran, one man and one woman. The others in their group had already made it to the Haven and were warning the local guards of the upcoming attack. The woman's short, piercing breaths shattered the calm of the otherwise still night. The moon cast eerie shadows around the foliage as the two tried to escape. 
        Not too far behind them, the dull roar of hooves could be heard above the crickets. The man checked behind his shoulder. They were easily gaining on them. "Only 100 meters more, my love!", he shouted to her. They would never make it, the woman thought. Someone would have to help, something had to be done. The dull roar grew louder as they approached the Haven. The man turned, and tried to stop short. The loose soil made him slide a few inches before he could stop and withdraw his knife, an eight inch blade that his father had given him a few years back. The edge of the blade curved upward near the tip, and part of the middle had a diamond shaped area taken out it. The hilt of the dagger had a large amethyst gem encrusted on it. The dagger gave him a little more courage to stand up to the oncoming horde.
        He said nothing to his wife in the hopes that she would simply go on without him. After all, she was pregnant with his child, a child he hoped that he would see very soon. He stood facing the oncoming aggressors. As they approached, more of their features became visible in the strong lunar light. They were a positively terrifying sight; four strong hooved legs supporting the body of a horse and the torso of man. Their chests were protected by bronze breastplates, and they wielded sharpened scimitars or spears. Their massive legs, made strong by carrying a nearly 400 pound frame, could easily destroy a man with a well-placed kick. As they drew closer, he could see the terrible look of rage that was instilled in each of their hairy, scarred faces. The worst part, however, was simply the fact that they were thirty of them. 
        The man fully knew that he could not handle the horde single handed, but he would have to slow them down somehow. He checked to see that his wife was still running as fast as her swollen belly would allow. She was making progress, but time would have to be bought. He faced the horde one last time, said a quick prayer to Balthazar, and picked his target. A tall, burly centaur was galloping straight for him with his blade raised. He approached at a blistering twenty-seven miles per hour - four hundred pounds of angry muscle - and the man still only stood in his stance, blade raised. The centaur came within 3 three meters of him and made the last mistake of its ignorant life.
        With a mighty leap, the man jumped onto the torso of the centaur and used his momentum to fling himself onto it's back. The bewildered centaur had no time to react, it had never encountered anything like this before. The man grabbed hold of the centaur's ears and pulled violently to the left. The centaur followed this physical command and careened into another centaur, toppling them both to the ground. Before the earth-shattering fall, the man picked a target, and in the last possible instant, leaped onto the back of another centaur. The herd of centaur seemed unphased by this new development, even though two had already fallen at the hands on this jumping man. 
        This centaur, which had seen the previous events occur, tried desperately to grab the man on his back while still galloping at full speed. The last thing it felt was the eight inch blade penetrating the base of his neck. The legs of this centaur locked up mid gallop and dropped to the ground, rigid as a befallen tree. The other centaurs simply leapt over this obstacle, hellbent on destroying the Haven. This time, the man had no time to jump to a new target, and was instead grabbed by another centaur in the herd. The man's plan had worked, however. The centaur were realizing his threat and started to slow. In the arms of the half bewildered centaur, the man glanced at his wife, running with all her might to the Haven. He recalled the day that they had first met at a festival in Kamadan. 
        Time had seemed to stop when he first saw her, much like time was seeming to stop for him at this instant. Her long, red hair seemed to glisten in the sunlight, her soft features accentuated by her Vabbian attire, and her striking eyes which seemed to melt away every thought. The people were of no importance, the fireworks were dull in comparison to her beauty. Her eyes were more vibrant, her hair was more lustrous, and nothing in the world mattered. A swift jostle had knocked him back into reality, a split second had passed. He looked at her, looked at the centaur, and a new found rage had welled up within him. 
        With his right hand, he plunged the blade with all his might into the breastplate of the centaur. To the centaur's final surprise, it had penetrated the armor and stuck directly below it's heart. Death came swiftly. This particular centaur careened into three others and stirred up a large could of dust, obscuring the centaurs behind it. The man had accomplished his mission. They had been slowed sufficiently and his wife now entered the gates of Yohlon Haven. He proceeded to continue running towards the gates himself - the centaur were all now massing on him. 
        A swing of a scimitar slashed to his right. He dodged pretty easily, twenty plus years of acrobatic training made him a difficult target. But soon, the remaining would be on him, and no amount of agility could save him. But still, he ran. He dodged left, was slashed on the back, and fell on the ground. Dirt obscured his vision as he landed face down in the soil. With a heavy breath, he tilted his head toward the Haven. Tears flooded his eyes with the thought that he would never see his darling wife or his child. 
        "She will need you" he heard a voice said. And with that, a ghostly foot appeared planted in the ground before him. A warrior with ancient armor stood before him. He had no face, only a towering shield and massive sword. All around it, the ghost had a glowing purple aura. The apparition stepped over the man and raised his shield. A centaur collided with the shield at full speed. The beast was knocked back, the ghost hadn't moved even a centimeter. "What... is this?" the man said. He looked across the landscape. More warriors of this type had appeared before the centaurs, making the valley glow with a purple hue.
        The resulting slaughter would forever be burned into the man's memory. Nothing was left living, the runners had been cut down with a speed that the man had ever seen. After the valley had been drenched with blood of the attackers, the apparitions vanished just as they had came. "Lyssa will guide you..." the voice had said. With that, the man picked himself up and proceeded to the Haven. He experienced uncontrollable spasms and shakes as he walked. Not only was this a miracle, but he had witnessed firsthand the strength of a God.
        He first walked due to his wound, but the more he thought, the quicker his pace. Eventually, he forgot he even had a giant gash across his back and full on sprinted toward the Haven. He arrived just in time to witness his wife giving birth in the middle of the street. She had gone onto labor after the rescue, the excitement was too much. He knelt beside his wife, took her hand, and waited for the town doctor to deliver the baby. He closed his eyes, and prayed. He prayed to Lyssa for the next half-hour while the baby was born. 
        When it finally came out, he already knew what to do. He took the baby in his arms, gazed upon her purple hair, and whispered "You are not mine, but Lyssa's. You are the child of a God." With that, he took the baby to his wife, handed it to her, and had his wounds treated. After the night's events, it was apparent to both of them that this child would be something marvelous, something unique. The woman turned to her husband and said, "I have a name for her." The man said nothing, but nodded. "We'll call her Yssma, after the Goddess that saved us, and her." He smiled softly to himself as he gazed on his creation. She slept soundly in her mother's arms, in the middle of the street. He continued to smile, for she was just as much his child as she was the Daughter of Lyssa.

Chapter 2

        "You know, I once made a guy's head explode" recalled Yssma fondly. She smiled to herself as she thought of how the event happened. She was talking to an interviewer from Cantha so that news of her victory over Abbadon could spread. She sat in a small alcove in her guild hall, Order of the Silver Prophets. Two comfortable chairs had been set up near a grey brick fireplace, with a small rug between them. Why anyone would choose to make a guild hall in a well-lit crypt was beyond her, but it had come to be home to her. She didn't complain. 
        The air was fresh, fresher than it should have been for a place like this. The alcove that they were in seemingly had no ceiling, just towering gray brick. The floor outside the sitting area was dusty, but had been cleaned for the occasion. The interviewer, a foreign man by the name of Zytka, sat opposite her, half his face illuminated by the firelight. He spoke softly with a light accent, his words echoing through the vast hall. "Do go on," he said, his sentence reverberating for a short second.
        "Some people can conjure fire, others can shoot an arrow through the heart of a lion from 100 yards away. Some people can animate corpses, and others still can revive a man from the brink of death. But I made some person's head literally explode by looking at him and flicking my wrist. How many people do you know that can do that? Have you ever even heard of something like that?" Of course he hadn't, no one had ever made someone's head explode in recorded history. Zytka continued to look forward and took a sip of his tea. "I don't even know how I did it. I might be able to recreate it given the right circumstances, but it was just chance, I suppose. I think Lyssa gave me a small boost that day.."
        Her voice was firm and commanded respect. It did not echo like his, even though it was clearly louder. Half of her face was obscured by darkness, half illuminated by the fire. She was dressed in a red and black flowing set of cloth armor. Faintly glowing on it were magical runes that augmented her power, and added to the beauty of the dress. Propped up against the side of the armchair that she sat in were her favorite weapons, something that Zytka had never seen before. The wand and focus were both black like onyx, yet the top of each glowed like lava. It gave off radiant energy and he was humbled as he glanced at them. The stories he had heard about Yssma were true - she was beautiful. She had soft yet firm features, piercing yellow-brown eyes, and shoulder length purple hair. Again, he counted himself lucky to be in her presence.
        "Like those?" Yssma asked as he looked upon her wands. "You have no idea what I had to do to get them. I had to find this fabled weapons crafter underground, lug very expensive and heavy crafting materials with me, and paid a hefty sum to get them made. Absolutely worth it, though. Anyway, do you have some questions for me, or should I just talk?" Zytka thought for a moment. If the stories he had heard were any sorts of true, then this woman had some remarkable talents. "Well..." he began, "What do you actually do? Besides make people's heads explode, I mean." He took a sip a tea while she gathered her thoughts.
        "Basically, I mess with people's minds" she said after a moments consideration. "I manipulate the mind with the use of magic. The brain is an incredible organ, it can do just about anything if you put enough energy into doing it. It can make you see things, for example. You know that tea that you've been sipping on for the past five minutes?" Zytka looked at the fine china he had be drinking from and said "Yes, it's quite delicious. Thank you." She looked him firmly in the eye and said "Yeah, that's not real." Shocked, Zytka looked at his hand and watched as the cup he had been holding disappeared. He had actually tasted the liquid, felt the warmth in his gut. He had no idea that it was fake, it seemed as real as the chair he was sitting in...  if he was actually sitting in a chair. He started to poke and prod around him. "That was a small trick of the mind that required almost no energy for me to do. Amplify that and imagine the possibilities." she said to him with a small smile on the corner of her lips.  Some things never got old.
        "I can also shut down your senses." And with a wave of her hand, everything went black. Zytka was now blind: his heartbeat quickened. He did not panic, however, he was sure he regain it soon. Sure enough, all the colors and images appeared before him as though nothing had happened. "Lets see... what else." Yssma said to herself. "I can conjure things, make you weak, make a small force field to protect myself, make you hit yourself... tons of things. What would you like to see?" Zytka hastily replied, "Nothing, its fine. So you use your magic to turn a person against himself." 
        "Precisely. You are your own worst enemy." She smiled at the thought of it. "I love what I do. But that's only half of my power. The other half comes from speed. Elementalists can call down a meteor from the heavens if they so choose... in about the time it takes me to lay down 5 hexes on them. Not to mention that I can stop their flow of magic, convert to my own, and use it against them. Again, they have sown the seeds of their own destruction." She smiled again, the veteran of many duels had many fond memories of besting many people.
        "Okay, you're a pretty powerful individual, I suppose you didn't get the moniker Champion of Elona by doing nothing. But how did you get here? Where did you come from?" Zytka inquired. The smile disappeared from her face. Yssma's amiable quality left her. She didn't frown, and didn't look angry... she was just serious. She said nothing for a few moments and gazed into the fire. "I'm here because Lyssa willed it to be so." she almost whispered. With a deep breath, she began to speak. "It all started with the theater..."

Add a Comment