KLANG...KLANG...KLANG...
The sound was rhythmic, constant, and annoying. However the workers didn't mind, in fact they were singing a tune to the beat as it went on by. Normally they would use machines or that dwarven blasting jelly but they had run out earlier that day and the drill was in for maintenance. The foreman, ever the work horse, made the men continue on without them. All in all it wasn't that bad, just a little more laborious than they would have liked. As the men continued to smash away at the rock, a large piece collapsed and unveiled a cavern. After clearing it out the entrance the miners decided to send in some guys to check it out, there hadn't been any reports of caves in this side of the mountain.
Sending in their biggest guy, an orc, along with several men, an elderly elf, and a dwarf to scope out the cave and see if anything of value was inside. However if there was not then they had at least found a break from using the pick axes, so that was a plus. As the group traveled the cave they found pretty much nothing. There were rocks, boulders, and more rocks. Nothing they could really turn a profit on, however that idea was changed when they found a skeleton clad in armor of the old kingdom. Curious, the group continued down the path and was perplexed by the growing amount of skeletons.
The elf was uneasy, shakily he said "This is an evil place...we should leave." as he grasped his amulet and began to pray to whatever god would listen. The others just laughed and continued forward. Soon the amount and frequency of skeletons grew until they made it too the end of the tunnel, what they saw gave them pause. There was a great many skeletons, all equipped with the highest quality arms and armor. However what shocked them most was the large crystal that dominated the center of the cavern opening. As the other minders whistled, scratched their heads, or just swore, the elderly elf bent down at a skeleton unlike the others.
While the others were knights and most definitely men, this one was clad in long rotten robes meant for a great sorcerer. Studying the body, the elf quickly deduced that the remains were elven and the staff was ornate. A mage himself, the elf picked up the staff and was surprised at the power that still resided within even after all these years. After a quick once over, it was easy to see that this staff was made by one of the masters back in the old country. Now the only question was, what was it doing here?
With the elf preoccupied, the other miners inspected what was around them. The dwarf had found the remains of one of his kin and gave him last rights before moving onto the dwarven runes surrounding the crystal. Most of the men were turning the bodies over onto their backs, due to the dead was always a give in. Afterwards they pilfered anything golden that they could weasel out of this cave. That left the orc. He didn't have any kin dead in this hole and as such was uninterested in the corpses. Moving up to the crystal, the orc put his hand against the dusty surface and wiped away the grime.
What lay behind the dirt caused the large orc to stand still with shock as the form of a great man came to vision. Quickly taking his flask of water, he doused the crystal and then took his shirt to wipe away all the dust that had accumulated for probably hundreds of years. When he was done the orc took a step back and gazed marvelously at the complete picture. Stuck behind the crystal was the preserved body of a great...man? However that's impossible, he had to bee at least a full head and shoulders taller than him and twice as wide. This creature was monstrous in size and clad in armor that would most likely haunt his dreams forever.
The others took notice of this and gathered around the imprisoned man, letting out murmurs of excitement. Tentativly, the old elf reached out and touched the surface of the crystal...imediatly drying up into dust as energy crackled around his body.
Cracks soon fallowed.
Ba bump...ba bump...ba bump..ba bump, ba bump, ba bump
His heartbeat rocketed pain through his body as it worked into overdrive. Opening his eyes in what felt like years, Archaeon was assaulted by brightness and an ugly face. With a snarl he pushed his fist forward and grabbed the offending skull, disappointed to see it crumble into dust inside his fingers. However what surprised him more was the sound of shattering glass. Pushing through the odd sound and his prison, Archaeon was again attacked by the sound of breaking glass. With his eyes now adjusted to the lights that his adversaries carried, Archaeon went into full battle mode and flung out a fist that shattered the face of the man in front of him then threw a chunk of his crystal prison at another which both shattered and pierced his form.
With some breathing room, Archaeon took a battle stance and said in a voice both gruff and velvet, "You have chosen a poor day to attack me south men." With a flourish of his hands, both sword and shield came to his hands in a flare of hell fire. Malice filling his voice, Archaeon barked "Pray to your weakling gods, for I shall surely send you to them."
Hours had come to pass and Archaeon was unsatisfied. The battle had been boring, the only being that posed a challenge was the orc but he was smaller and greener than the ones he had seen before. There was also the odd metal beasts that covered the opening to the cave. Curious, there had been no such creatures last he remembered. Spitting onto the ground Archaeon cursed the sorcerer, "Nathu'el, your gods have failed you as I knew they would." Looking up into the sky, Archaeon sneered and said "How does it feel to know that your attempt to trap me fell apart? How your meticulous planning left you nothing but a corpse on the floor?"
Giving a little chuckle, Archaeon was slightly disappointed that he wasn't the one to give the final blow to the sorcerer. The war god hated them and while Archaeon himself didn't much care, they were still an annoyance. Leaning onto a great tree next to a river, Archaeon banished his armor into the chaos realms which left him in the traditional warrior clothes of his war band. Using a knife he took from one of the dead, Archaeon began to carve the flesh off the ork's head. With his trophy belt gone, Archaeon had to start over. What better way to start if off with the first being that posed some sort of threat since his awakening.