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====( Scrolls of Serenia : The First Issue )==============================

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====( Editorial by Warlock )==============================================

	Whelp, here it is, what MARCH?!? Hmph. Well, even though I said 
	Serenia #1 would be out by mid-Feb, this is close enough. The main
	problem concearning the delay has been my failure to find writers.

	Yes, it sucks, but this is _MY_ first `zine as an editor, even 
	though I have written shorts and poems for Belial from Klunk a
	couple of times, as I have done some ascii's and courier-ing and
	the like as well.

	Just to let all of you in on a little secret, this is _completely_
	made up of stories from a common reality, and if you find your-
	self thinking of ways to make SoS a better `zine, or if you would
	like to submit writing, (even to become a full-time writer) any and
	all are encouraged.	

	Enough outta me, get to tha damn zine...


====( creation.part.one )===================================================

                  ::A reading from the book of T?lk::

                                ?????

        There was nothing. Not Earth, not sky, nor space. Not even was
        there void, it was and can only be described as nothing. The
        nothing was infinite in all directions and angles, yet somewhere
        unknowest to _all_ in this nothing dwelt something. Something,
        someone, which was the only someone/thing in the nothing.

        This something, someone, at no time and no-where, created that
        which is the reality, and this someone has been called Ll?n in
        and throughout the Serenia. She is not _the_ Maker, but she who
        has set great things in motion and the forth-bringer of those
        who are the makers.

        The Makers are those who brought-forth the Earth, the Great
        Wonders and are the weavers of the many realities which shape
        all life in and without Ll?nrion which, on Earth is now Serenia.
        Ll?nrion, now Serenia, is all that is, all that was made by the
        Makers.

        The Makers are Geldrion, weaver of the Realities and wielder of
        the Balance; Ll?rren, daughter of Ll?n and molder of all that is
        filled with light; Jor, master of time and space, who exists at
        all times and all places simultaneously; T?lk, the new father
        of this Earth and protecter of our reality, and last Neim,
        former father of Earth.

        After the creation of the makers, Geldrion turned and faced the
        nothing, and, with Ll?rren, and Jor thus was weeved reality and
        the protecters, who, for Earth and life there was Neim.

        Neim looked down upon the thriving and living Earth, and he was
        filled with envy for he too wished to live in grandeur as a king
        among these beings, and thus he descended from the heavens to
        rule all as master.

        Geldrion, preoccupied throughout Ll?nrion with other matters,
        failed to stop Neim in his mad conquest. Yet when he returned
        to the heavens, he was filled with rage over Neim's descent. And
        when he himself began a descent after him, he found that Neim
        had barred all entry to Earth and none could enter. Neim had
        left only the paths of eyes open to the Makers, so that his
        conquest should be adorned and taken as a spit in the face.
        Geldrion also found that he could only affect the world of Earth
        through others, and by helping the worldly beings that dwelt
        there.

        And thus Geldrion sent down a cheurgion to seek out a wielder,
        one worthy enough to recieve the power of the makers so that
        Neim would be banished, destroyed if need be, and sent from
        Earth for all time.

                -Part II and the Conclusion in SoS #2-

====( natural wonders.part.one )============================================

	Somehow, may it have been through a dream, I found myself stand-
	ing before a small farmhouse in a place not at all familiar to
	myself. From inside I hear a voice. A voice of an old man beckon-
	ing me inside. I enter only to see the source of the beckoning,
	a man not old to the point of decrepintcy, but old seemingly to
	only the lightening of his hair. 

	The old man sat in an old chair next to	a bed, and their seemed 
	to be no striking details about the farmhouse. A small table next
	to the doorway I had entered, a wood-stove near the far wall, the
	house was adequate for living, if you cared to live here. The old
	man motioned to me to come and sit at a chair that  faced him.  I
	did so, as if I had known the man, and he, in turn, seemed to
	genuinely  know me. At the time it failed to occur odd to me, and
	without thinking, I heard myself wisper, "Who are you?"

	And with those three meager words I muttered may have gotten me
	an answer I hadn't been prepared to listen to in one, even two
	sittings. Never before had I heard a man of ANY age talk start to
	finish this long without getting interrupted by a drunk and 
	thrown out of a	bar along with him.

	"Now I am a man, mortal and all, but  there was a time when I was
	not. I live in a small farmhouse built amidst long, rolling hills
	just north of a great forest, far south and away from the nearest
	town. Everyday I wake  and I walk  out to the nearest  hill, that
	one, just  outside the  window, and I look out in all directions,
	contemplating this thing mortals like to call "life". Me, myself,
	I have the grasp of it like that of a bad theif's grasp on rings.
	Before I was forced into this ... this "disposition" as you might
	call it, the amount of times I contemplated  the value of life at
	all, in any respect could be counted easily on one hand with fin-
	gers  missing.  Hmm, but that  is a different  story in  it's own
	right,  and since you seem  new to this land,  it would only seem
	proper to show a brief  introduction as would be the  case, as to
	where you are, and what this place is.

	"First off, let me be  the first to welcome you to the wonder 
	that is Serenia. Although most others would call it a World, 
	although it is, in fact, much larger and substantial in magnitude
	than that of only this world that you and I are sitting on. 

	"But I tho..." I attempted to speak. The old man refused to be
	interrupted...

	"No no, Serenia is a myraid of realities and a carefully strowen 
	fabric of universes that are held in a perfect balance between 
	chaos and order." The old man's eyes begin to drift off as he sit, 
	mouth wide-gaped, as if he struggled silently with himself to 
	retrieve some distant and yet shockingly fresh memory of a long-
	past event. 

	And then, as if still staring into that memory, he said, "If life 
	ended now, never would there be such a sight as	that of a struggle 
	between the two lords of chaos and order. Lights of heaven, nature 
	and tranquility clashed against that of hell, fire and anarchy. 
	Entire worlds and realities submitted before them as battlefields,
	left as barren wastelands stripped of all identity. It is a sight
	not intended for mortals, and it is surely a sight I shall never 
	forget..." And with that the old man passed into a deep and loud 
	sleep. Reaching over to a pillow on the	old man's bed, I placed it 
	behind his head. 
	
	It seemed as though I had heard stories like this before, and now
	more than when I first arrived in this "dream" I seemed more 
	familiar with the old man. Possibly, it occurred to me, that this
	is like that of a dream you don't remember until something happens
	and the dream finally clicks in your head. And possibly, very quite
	possibly, I have been drinking too much ale lately. Yet this dream
	seemed quite possibly TOO real to push to the side like a leftover
	barrel of ale.

	Coming back to realization that this dream might end at any moment,
	and that the old man who had invited me into his home had passed out
	after straining his mental strength, I decided the most proper place
	to finish this dream would be, in all likelyhood, where I began. Yet
	as I leaned out of the squeaky chair, the old man sniffled and 
	snorted in subconscious protest. Then, as I stepped out through the
	doorway through which I entered, the old man half-awoke and turned
	just his head toward me and said in a low, hushed voice, "in that
	drawer, take the book." As he said this he motioned toward the small
	table that sat crouched in a shadow near the doorway, and then he
	sniffled and snorted once more, falling back into a loud slumber.

	I looked at the table, and slowly opened the drawer and retrieved
	the book. It had a strange insignia on the cover, and I payed little
	attention to it. The book was old, but somehow kept in reasonably
	good condition. 

	Once I was outside, and nothing immediately happened, I sat in the 
	shade of a nearby hill, the one which I recall had been	a favorite 
	of the old man's, and I opened the book. It seemed to be a book of 
	spells. `Spells?' I thought. Hmm, curious... And thus I began look-
	ing though the curious book until I came to a page that caught his
	eye, for what reason he did not know. It seemed as the others did,
	without titles on the top, only the reader could guess by the words
	what the spell might do.

	Soon enough I found myself attempting to cast this spell. I usually
	relied on sure things when it came time to fight and whatnot, things
	that require physical mechanics. Hardly ever on that of magic. I've
	seen to many a mage killed in street duels when a spell he cast had
	not come to him and the other destroyed him for his folly. Yet still
	I found myself following the instructions and chanting the spell...

				::From the book::

                           I raise a palm to the Mother,
                          grant me distance to the other,
			 no great Mother take no disgrace,
                            take me ere another place!

	And with that, I fealt a sharp pain in my hand, and a drop of blood
	fell to the page. The page absorbed the blood, and with a loud, yet
	dull buzzing noise, all of reality around me spun and rocked slowly
	back and forth, blurring all of the world around me. Shortly after
	it began, I passed out and awoke with a throbbing headache. 

	As I woke, the buzzing had just died away, and I shot up, eyes wide 
	open, scanning back and forth coming to a slow realization of my 
	surroundings. I was back at the bar! It would seem that the entire 
	ordeal with the old man was, in actuality, a dream. Comfortable with 
	the conclusion I had come to, I laid my head back down on the book 
	and began to drift off into a somewhat-uneasy sleep when I realized 
	what my head was resting on. Damn. Somehow, in the back of my head,
	I knew that, for once, I would not be getting out of another wierd
	event by blaming it on the ale, and what I was to do with this book,
	I did not know.

	Before I passed out for the last time that day, I remember noticing
        an odd emblem on the darkened cloth which was like two bent flames
        flames behind a gold "T". I made a fleeting attempt to note that for
        when I woke but at this stage in my subdual, I could highly doubt
        iiiiiittt......

                        -Continued next issue-

====( Reyhan.chapter.one )==================================================

          ____          --+> OnE ? pArt I <+--
        _/    \_
        |  %%  |
        |      |
        |__||__|s I stare into the depths of the night, I think back on the
        lives I've lived and how I started. Certain thoughts bring joy
        and an occasional smile, while others I look back on as mistakes
        though they have made me what I am and I am thankful for that
        atleast. I have regrets, many of them, and although I can't say
        that I have lived a prosperous nor glorious life, I can say that
        it has been long. Too long, in fact, because of a large favor I
        had done for a certain planeswalker who had proclaimed himself
        "The Enchanter".

        Ah, but I haven't introduced myself, now have I? I am Reyhan.
        Known by many names, assasin, warrior, defiler, savior, yet
        always Reyhan. Currently of the Liik Clan, if it still exists,
        formally of the scholars of the Ebon Tower, the Haven of Lark's
        Warrior's, and many large secret assasins and theives groups.
        For all I know, these groups have ceased to exist, and I have
        tried to stay away of this life. I have learned many things, and
        somehow remember all of my teachings.

        Now, this "Enchanter" as he chose to call himself, let me
        explain how I came to save him and destroy my mortality...

        First let me make this clear... Mages duels were the rarest of
        sights, and in all of my hundred years of existence on this
        plane, I had failed but once to see one. A great sight, given
        you keep your distance from the fray.

        Even though I helped this "Enchanter", I hadn't initially meant
        to. I had been told through a contact of mine and given a
        detailed description of someone I was to follow and, given the
        chance, eliminate. Kasimir, A somewhat large man, not fast nor
        agile in any sense, yet somehow dangerous. I was young at the
        time, eager and stuborn. I found this man staying at a fairly
        large inn in the military stronghold of Sheolton, of all the
        godforsaken places. Even the slightest hint of danger caused
        in this place and a man could find himself below the sharp side
        of a royal guard's scimitar.

        It was difficult making my way into the city, easy enough
        finding my way around until I found this Kasimir. I found him
        engaging an ale alone in a local tavern. Hm, he seemed smart
        enough not to make a big deal of his presence, especially here.
        He took little or no notice of myself as I entered the tavern
        and proceded to the bar.

        After years of experience in hunting, I found it easy to
        seemingly ignore Kasimir while I settled in with my ale. I had
        to be ready when he left, this was a big city, and it might cost
        me another two or so hours to find this man should I lose sight
        of him. I had noticed previously that due to Kasimir's over-
        weightedness, his chair squeeled whenever he got up to adjust
        his seat. I was depending on this to warn me when he left.

        Because of this damn city, however, I couldn't merely snap his
        neck, because I'd probably lose my head only a few hours
        afterwards. I loved the skill I held for hand-to-hand combat...

        Less than an hour later, Kasimir sqeezed out of his chair and
        stood up onto his two exhausted legs. I stayed hunched over my
        ale, and once the fat man departed, I slowly hobbled out the
        door after. Kasimir, who now seemed to me like more of a sweaty
        pig than just a fat man, had been carrying a large bag that
        seemed to be carrying clothes and the like. He made his way
        through the collections of peoples and market stands until he
        reached the gates.

        It was then that it occured to me that Kasimir's leaving Sheolton,
        along with my finding him so easily, had been two major conveniences
        that I stumbled on throughout this hunt and I wondered that
        maybe I was being set up. I soon abandoned this thought after I
        nearly forgot about following Kasimir out into the forest.
        ________
        |__  __|        --+> OnE ? pArt II <+--
        __|  |__
        |______| continued after the pig I had grown to hate. He had left
        Sheolton and headed south. It quickly became obvious that
        Kasimir was heading to Andrion, because the winter was falling
        early and unfortunately soon, and the winters here in Sheolton
        were harsh and hard to travel through. Kasimir had most likely
        planned only to make this short trip to Andrion and be done with
        whatever business he had arranged. Hmph, it would seem his
        associates in Andrion might be left waiting a long while.

        The farther from Sheolton I followed Kasimir, the farther I drew
        back and began to hide. Darkness began to fall over the forest,
        and Kasimir ended his travel for the day. He began to set up
        camp in a small clearing, and I found my way into the top of a
        nearby tree.

        Throughout all of my killing and hunting years previous to this,
        I had somehow learned, more as grown, the ability to sleep and
        maneuver my way through the canopies of trees. This became
        clockwork in my work, as it was for all who enjoyed the skillful
        position of a hunter.

        I had been watching Kasimir and studying his ways throughout the
        entirety of this trip, and not even twice had I thought of why
        he might have been considered so dangerous. Then, as I sat up in
        the top of this tree watching him waddle around gathering small
        sticks and the like for his fire, I noticed as his coat opened,
        a satchel. It wasn't any normal travelers' satchel, either. To
        tell you the truth, until then and the events that followed
        after, I hadn't realized what he used the satchel for.

        Once Kasimir had finished his gathering of firewood, he stood
        himself several paces from the base of the stick gathering and
        spread his arms wide and, for that moment, time stood still and
        all was quiet. Then the fat man reached with his left hand down
        into his satchel and then pulled it out, something clutched in it.

        Kasimir extended his clutching hand toward the gathering of
        sticks and wispered some words, and in short moments a spark
        caught the sticks, which escalated into a fire.

        Realize that I had been sitting up in this tree on the edge of
        the clearing, watching intently, and wondering what the hell he
        was doing. As I said before, these displays of magic were so
        very rare that I, even at the age of twenty-two years, which
        had fought and lived through too many battles to count, had
        never seen one.

        I was amazed, to say the least. I wonder still how I maintained
        my balance in this tree, because although I was in the tree, my
        mouth had surely hit the ground.

        The events that followed came and went as a blur, occurring
        almost within seconds, and yet I acted as I never had before. It
        had quickly become a tight situation in which I found myself
        almost dead, and then living like I had never felt life
        before...

        ______         
       /      \         --+> OnE ? pArt III <+--
       |  %%  |
       |      |
       \______/n a normally quiet and peaceful night in the Grayland
       Forest, I began to notice a slight, no make that immense change
       in the weather. First came the winds, which after several minutes
       of shaking the trees (including the one I was resting in, thus
       waking me from a short-lived dream) almost made me lose my
       balance. Next, and more importantly, came the clouds and thunder.
       This was the curious part, because throughout all my previous
       years of traveling through this forest and the surrounding areas
       of Grayland, Sheolton and Andrion, it was well known that the
       weather was never all that unpredictable. After the clouds and
       thunder came the lightning. No rain, no sticky air, just
       lightning. It struck only random areas in the clearing, and it
       boomed loudly every time, fully waking both Kasimir and myself.

       My eyes first fixed on Kasimir as he startled back to reality,
       looking frantically for his satchel and then clutching it, acting
       as if he knew what was coming next. He looked straight up into
       the clouds, shivering in the warm winds like a scared child.

       Following his train of sight, I then fixed my eyes on the sight
       that Kasimir was so intent on learning the purpose of. The clouds
       were parting, and a ball of light descended down through them.

        This is where things became a blur, and a whole entire reality
	became shockingly real...

                      -Find out what happens next issue-

====( Waddayoo want on yer toombs-tone? - Last words )======================

	Whelp, that was issue number one. I can't really say that there'll
	be another issue next week, month, or even year. I don't know how
	other people'll take SoS, hate it/like it, who knows. I don't even
	know how long I can keep up all this writing and self-support. I
	know this first issue was kinda slow, but just bear with me here
	folks, my first zine, and all the intro's are gonna be slow. The
	action starts next issue (as long as there is one). If you liked
	this first release of SoS, tell _sombody_, or email somebody who
	knows me. I don't currently have an inet email address because it
	got shut off, but find a way to email my friend Belial, or reach
	me on Avalon [9o8.739.4274] : Warlock...

	Much thanks out to Belial (whose ideas started this entire thing)...

        "Those who think they know it all are especially annoying to
                             those of us who do..."
                                        -Anonymous-

================================( eof )=====================================