…Violently Lhoran was pushed against the alter, the winds from the explosion striking with such force that he had to struggle for breath.  Far across the temple sanctuary he could barely make out through the fire the figure of Angima pressed against a pillar.  Struggling for breath he shifted his focus to the object in the middle of the room, the source of the chaos around him and the heart of his desire.  Fire whipped out from it in long tendrils and destroyed everything in their path, wind like he had never felt before pulsed outward from the object with force that would rival any Blacksmiths hammer, crushing pillars and pews while there, in the middle of it all, floating with a disturbing peacefulness that defied the chaos around it sat a small rune in the shape of a whirlpool.

It had been the object of Angima’s obsession, the object that took so simple an alchemist and turned him into a murderous fiend.  Consumed with lust for the Dimensional Rune as he called it he had done everything in his power to have it.  Once a teacher he was now as dark an individual as could be imagined.  He had butchered Lhoran’s tribe of Enki, imprisoned or killed countless students that had protected or helped Lhoran to escape him and eventually, having found his prey, resorted to mutilation in an attempt to remove the object from Lhoran’s body…its home from his birth.  But it had been his undoing.  As Lhoran lay bleeding to death on the stones of the temple Angima had channeled magical energy into the stone, and it had leapt to life.
How Lhoran and the stone had escaped that day were beyond his understanding.  Somehow he thought that the stone its self had saved him.  He knew only that he had awaked with a talisman that perfectly mimicked the rune, on a world completely foreign.  Ten times that would be his lot.  To awake in a new world, with a new form and new powers surging through him.  Each time pursued by a darkness that he could not escape which consumed all that he worked to accomplish.
Then it happened.  Awaking one morning by a clear stream with the soft grass under him he rolled over and remembered.  A light so clear and warm, a place so green and peaceful, a country where there was peace.  Back in Yliakum Lhoran committed himself to perfecting the skills he could only recall as scant visions of dreams.  Everything that he had seen or experienced in the other worlds he struggled to recover and purposed to use on Angima.  Vengeance would be his.
It was by chance that he found Angima in a temple.  Lhoran was just passing through, but what more perfect place to destroy the man.  He pulled the hood of his cloak over his face and approached.
“Angima, teacher of Alchemy and Red magic?” he questioned in a low and rasping voice.
“Yes.” He was answered curtly. “And whom might you be?”
Turning to face the priest that was approaching Lhoran answered, a wicked smile coming to his face.  “I am, a student of many things, that once had the pleasure, or misfortune of studying under you.”
“Really!” he said turning to face him. “who by chance, since I have had few students that displayed your aura of dark power.  Certainly you learned no Dark Way from me.”
“No, none from you Angima.” Lhoran answered laughing roughly. “All that I have learned of that has been in my own study. And though I am by no means a master of it I would dare to say that anyone in this world would be troubled to live half the lives it has taken me to acquire it.  No Angima I am that student who you butchered for your greed.  That student who you tortured with death and loss until the overwhelming desire to reap vengeance from my own hand became so powerful that I played into yours.  But I should thank you I am sure.  Had you not channeled the energy into the Glyph I would never have learned the dark magic and assassins secrets that brought me back to you and sealed your demise.”  At that moment the room grew dark as the lamps seemed to be stifled and even the bright glow from the alter was suppressed.  The vanishing of Lhoran’s cloak was accompanied by screams and the sounds of running laymen and clergy.  Angima had stood paralyzed with fear at first but Lhoran continued.  “I am Lhoran fool man.  My tribe you slaughtered in your lust for the glyph that entered this world with my birth.  Countless of your students you butchered and tortured to get to me and in the end you made me more powerful than any magician before me could have been.”  At this he channeled a small amount of power into the talisman which began to glow a putrid green. “World after world this thing took me to in a search for the powers that would be your undoing.  The magic and skills that would give enough pain to you to be a recounting of all that you have done.”
Now lightly floating above the temple stones Lhoran released a flash of light through the room and the lamps now blazed with magical fire.  The talisman surged with energy and seemed to float around Lhorans neck.
Shifting his weight and seeming unimpressed Angima spoke calmly but would not meet Lhoran’e eyes. “You claim that the Talisman moved you into these other worlds and that you are Lhoran the Enki whom I once pursued. I see no reason to believe you.  A child could not have contrived a worse story for what has happened to you.  Lhoran is dead!  His body lays buried in the wilderness and I have the talisman.”
With that he reached into his collar and pulled out a talisman exactly the same as Lhoran’s but made of metal.  “So you see I am the master of this stone.” Diving he released a firebolt at Lhoran and vanished.  Dodging effortlessly Lhoran scanned the room for where the man may have gone. “Really, do you expect me to be phased by that?”
Lhoran released a bolt of blue energy in an expanding aura from himself. “Ha.”  He yelled as Angima’s figure was revealed by the energy and he released a dagger of Dark energy at the man.  It struck with ferocity and drove Angima to the wall, pinning him there.  Lhoran levitated slowly up to the man and gripping Angima’s talisman said “indeed…master of this. Fool it is only a dream of the power that you awoke that day.” Then he ripped the talisman from Angima and threw it behind him.  Taking his own talisman in hand he forced it into Angima’s face and hissed “This Angima, this is the true power.  The real Rune of Dimensions.” Angima moaned and opened his eyes to look at it.  “Indeed…” he said hoarsely and with a sudden lunge he grabbed the Talisman.
Lhoran crashed to the stones and his head reeled.  Looking up he realized that Angima had head butted him. He channeled more energy into the talisman but nothing happened.  Shaking his head he looked up and realized that Angima had pulled it from him completely.
It glowed with a deep red in Angima’s left hand. “So that’s what it feels like.”  He said, amassment running the length of his voice.  “I would never have dreamed…” Turning his attention to Lhoran he summoned a ring of fire around them.  “So you thought you would destroy me with this and all would be well did you.  You don’t even understand a tenth of the power that you can wield from this Rune.  Everything was possible with it Lhoran.  You could have vaporized me in a moment.  You could have destroyed the Stalagtite…even the gods if you had wanted.  The Fires of Chaos you could have quenched but you have failed now.  I will rise now and you will fall.”
A deep black orb began to grow above the circle and streaks of fire surged around the outside of it.  “Anything was possible for you and now you will die rightly.” Angima rasped with hatred in his eyes.  But Angima turned his eyes to the orb for a moment and Lhoran leaped at the talisman. His hands firmly around it he channeled everything he had for magical energy into it to destroy Angima.  There was a feeling of resistance for a moment and then a blast of fire and darkness…Violently Lhoran was pushed against the alter, the winds from the explosion striking with such force that he had to struggle for breath.  Far across the temple sanctuary he could barely make out through the fire the figure of Angima pressed against a pillar.  Struggling for breath he shifted his focus to the object in the middle of the room, the source of the chaos around him and the heart of his desire.  Fire whipped out from it in long tendrils and destroyed everything in their path, wind like he had never felt before pulsed outward from the object with force that would rival any Blacksmiths hammer, crushing pillars and pews while there, in the middle of it all, floating with a disturbing peacefulness that defied the chaos around it sat a small rune in the shape of a whirlpool.
Lhoran focused all that was left within him on the talisman.  He had to stop it.  He had seen it before in one of his lives the sickening darkness that was beginning to leach from the talisman had consumed the entire planet perhaps even the universe it’s self.
He had to stop it he had to…all thought ceased, emptiness invaded his entire being and he seemed to be looking at himself from without.  Energy that he could feel was pulled though him like a conduit and fed directly into the talisman in a long stream like wisps of clouds rushing through him. With each moment the cloud of energy that swirled around the talisman grew thicker and more turbulent a hole into the void beyond every dimension.  He had to stop it.  The talisman had entered the world with him and had corrupted not just him but everything that it had touched.  In each world the darkness that followed him, he could now clearly see was the chaos that followed the talisman.  He had to end it.  And he knew, in this place beyond his reason and the corruption that fed the talisman through his body that it would end with him.  Why he and the rune had entered the world he did not know nor did he care there was only the saving of this world…his world.  Yliakum that he had been born in first would be where he would be ended.  Rushing toward his body he reawaked.  The wind and the fire coursing towards him he could no longer see the figure of Angima, there was only a burn where the Alchemist had been.  Lhoran stepped forward against the wind and towards the talisman; it gave way with surprising ease.  Step after step Lhoran fought the overwhelming urge to save himself and the talisman but that was not the way.  There was a world to save and he had once dreamed of that goal; to save the world.  Closer and closer until…

Beyond this is the story of Lhoran.  A monk of Laanx, born in the city of Hydlla, in the world of Yliakum.  It is a simple story without wonder or fame.  Nothing necessarily set him apart from his piers but the peace at who and what he was spoke volumes to the power that others sought.