As a young boy, Connor roamed the world as a bounty hunter. He had no last name as his skylian parents disowned him after they found out that he had no gift for magic. Due to this, Connor was a bit of a loner. He did jobs on his own and rarely interacted with the Magic Council since he saw them as an annoyance. One day, Connor was tracking a notorious criminal when all of a sudden the ground dropped beneath him. He landed in some sort of ancient tomb that housed one singular coffin. As he was inspecting the coffin for any sign of riches within, a voice spoke out from behind him.
“Lootin’ my grave are ya son?” an old voice asked
Connor swung around, unsheathing his old and worn blade
“Who the hell are you?” Connor asked, his nerve starting to waver as the cold dank walls of the tomb seemed to close in.
“hmmm…” the old man said, “now thats a good question… I suppose I’ve been dead so long that I’ve forgotten my name”
Now that his adrenaline spike had calmed, Connor got a proper look at the man. The old man seemed to be a pale white and slightly transparent.
“AH HA!” the old man exclaimed, “I remember now!” the man held out his ghostly hand. “My name is Rorik! Leader… well, former leader of the Crimson Circle. You can’t really lead a clan while you’re dead now can you?” The old man chuckled.
“What’s the Crimson Circle? I haven’t heard of a guild like that before…” Connor said, confused. He had heard of ghosts before, but they mainly just lead lost travelers out of the woods or sometimes lead a lucky explorer to treasure. None of the stories included the ghost talking .
Rorik’s face sunk “ah… well I suppose it has been over a thousand years. Can’t really expect a clan to survive that long… Say lad. would you like to hear a story?” Rorik asked, grinning.
“well I kind of had this thing going on-”
“EXELLENT!” Rorik exclaimed, “Now, a long time ago. Before this continent you call “Magius” came to be, there were seven seas. These seas were home to all sorts: pirates, clans, kingdoms, and governments. The Crimson Circle was a clan that I started with my close friend and advisor Mikhail. Mikhail was supposed to lead the clan after I died but I suppose he is long gone, no one can live forever lad! Even powerful curse users or ancient wizards die one way or another. Anyways, the Crimson Circle was a clan that helped people reach their true potential, whether that be a wizard, warrior, sailor, or cook. The Crimson Circle helped each other achieve their goals.” Roriks gaze was lost in memory, “Say lad… It’s a real shame that a clan as good as mine fell so early to time… Do you think you could do me a huge favour?”
“well… sure, why not.” Connor said hesitantly
“Wonderful!” Rorik’s expression brightened, “I need you to become the new leader of the Crimson Circle! Fight for your friends, Oppose tyranny in all forms, and party the night away after a job well done! There’s nothing like it I’m telling you. If you choose to accept my offer, then before I pass to the great beyond (since I’ve finally found a way for my legacy to live on) I’ll awaken some of your hidden potential! Most wouldn’t be able to tell, but dying does stuff to your perception of reality, and I can see amazing potential within you young man!”
Not one to turn down power, Connor hastily agreed.
“Good! Now hold still.”
Connor felt… strange. Like he had just now opened his eyes after being blind his whole life. Like he had finally sucked in a breath of air after not breathing for so long. Then the pain hit. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It felt like he was growing new blood vessels next to his old ones, it felt like every nerve was dipped in freezing water and boiling magma at the same time. It felt like the rage of a thousand storms consuming him. He felt electricity running up and down his body at a nearly imperceptible speed. Most of all, he felt energy slowly building up inside his head. The energy grew larger and larger, causing a migraine that steadily got more painful with every heartbeat.
Connor opened his eyes. He was back in the tomb. Connor looked around the room but saw no sign of the old man, but he did feel something. He felt an energy coming from a chest that hadn’t been in the room before. With caution, Connor opened the chest. Inside was a cloak and dark leather armour, both of which were branded with the image of a red flaming circle. Connor tried the new clothing on, it fit perfectly. Unlike his old shoddy leather rags that he had gotten off the first bandit he defeated. Under the clothes, inside the chest was a note.
Well son, it seems that my time here is up. I really need to thank you. You have allowed me to pass on from this mortal plane. I hope you like your new clothing, I made it specifically for you. It has an enchantment on it that should increase the power of that fancy lightning magic you seem to have awakened. Now, let me give you some advice: the only time that you are truly defeated is when you give up, be loyal to your friends and they will be loyal back, and most importantly; don’t be a dick!
-cheers, Rorik
Lightning magic? Connor thought to himself. As if on cue, a crackle of purple electricity ran across his hands.
“I can use magic?” Connor muttered, “well, here goes nothing.” Connor focused, using the techniques that his private tutours had taught him, he focused his inner energy into the form of a magic circle. Before, when he had tried this, nothing happened. But this time a purple magic circle with the emblem of lightning in the middle crackled to life in his hands. As he released the energy, a blast of lightning shot out and slammed into the wall with a BANG .
Connor started laughing. FINALLY he thought to himself, I’ve made a magic circle!
“Now…” he said to himself, “I have a criminal to catch.”
And so begins the tale of Connor, the Crimson Storm
This story was originally posted as an off topic head canon for my WoM character. After receiving some good feedback, I decided to post it here. I’ll write the next installment when inspiration strikes me next.