Argentuarium

The first player to get to Level 100, Also has the first ever official lore for the game named after him

W.I.P Page, help appreciated.

Rumors within Exoria are not uncommon. From Port Blue to Camor, whispers of feats and fantastical experiences run rampant like a stampede through the most open fields.

*“Hey, have you heard of this newbie? He has the determination of a God -- it’s incredible.”*

The stories that carry on the winds, wandering from ear to ear, borne whole, yet become fractured towards the end of their lifeline. Tales that tell of dragon-slayers, or those unmatched in combat, and many, many more.

*“I wouldn’t let the priests hear you blaspheming the Gods like that… but yeah, I know. That ‘**Argen**’ kid, right? He’s the talk of that village nearby. Small town like that needs something exciting to feed off of, though.”*

Fairytales that are hummed to children to get them to sleep or behave, and ward against any fears or worries they might have growing up. Ultimately, they’re all fake. Ultimately, they’re nothing more than the conjuration of a particularly bored or crafty individual, eager to see change or that desires more than a simple life of little more than your average chores and daily hunts.

*“Oh, the Gods would love to be compared to someone like him, I bet. According to some of the patrons at the Blue Bay, he’s got an unwavering focus! No one’s ever seen him lose a fight against ANY monster! People say he’s going into Lorelai tomorrow.”*

*“Lorelai? Really? Whatever. You can listen to those drunken fools all you’d like, but not a single person from Exoria is sane enough to walk into Lorelai without an army behind their back. Are you telling me he’s strong enough to face off against the Guardian and make it back alive? That immortal beast?”*

This legend, however… couldn’t be anything closer to the truth.

Years have passed.

The bottom of Lorelai was still. The previously unexplored, tomb-like crypt that’s only accessible to the more practiced adventurers - or rascals and fools - was almost completely devoid of noise. The only thing that reached any living ears was the gentle rub of a dirtied cloth against speartip, an inefficient and half baked attempt at maintaining the integrity of the weapon. Who did this spear belong to?

Well, none other than **Argen** himself, the very subject of the rumors - the rumors that have lost their momentum and excitement in only the truly picky. True to his nature, his brow was furrowed in a focused frown, even whilst he did the most simplest of tasks. His ears were perked, listening for even the most dull sound of clothed footstep of a wayward ghoul against the cracked stone of the crypt.

It was always a lonely venture, to be truthful. He wouldn’t tell anyone, not that striking a simple conversation was too easy in the first place when he was so incredibly busy, but the fear surrounding Lorelai made his encounters with the oversized grave rather uninteresting and plain. Whenever his eyes fell on another being, they were either dead or accompanied by an army-like group following behind; usually, they were a brave sort of guildmates, aiming to take on the infamous Guardian of Lorelai themself.

They might scoff at him, or ignore him, but occasionally he’ll get questioned.

“Why do you come here alone?”

“Why do you risk your life so often?”

He’d simply don a wide smile and claim he loves the thrill, but to do the same thing for a whole year for a reason as flimsy as this… no one normally catches on. How could he tell them the surge of strength that he feels enter his being when the immortal protector is brought to its knees? He’d seem even more like a madman, unable to prove himself, considering that surge of power dilutes within every single present adventurer, spreading itself as thin as possible and yielding almost nothing.

He shrugs. That was the reason a year or so ago. To chase that power. Now? Well, he felt like he was nearing the end. There was a resolve in his heart… Something that made it feel like he *had* to reach the limit, whether that was the limit of himself or the limit of the people of Exoria itself.

…

It was tiring. Normally the excitement of facing the unknown fired him up, but he had been droning on for so long, the blaze in his heart was dwindling to a simmer. Even though he was certain he couldn’t betray his own determination, he was tired.

**Argen** rose from his position on the dirtied floor and dusted off his pants. His spear was clean, and now was about time for Godwyn to awaken from that slumber it was put in and face the spearman once more. He walked down the steps, ignoring the atmosphere that crushed most newcomers. He sidestepped the ghouls, shoving aside the particularly wild ones, and disarmed the armored one.

He no longer needed a light to travel the labyrinth, as a gentle touch sliding along the decaying walls told him all he needed. After all, the torches that lit the entrance to Godwyn’s chamber was all he needed. With a deep breath and a stretch of his body, he walked in to face his immortal opponent for what he didn’t know would be the last time.

**Argen** tightened his grip around the shaft of his weapon, taking confident steps in. The rustic, stone wall practically slammed behind him, and tired eyes rose to meet the Guardian. The two took only seconds before they ran at one another, prepared to strike the other and chip at the immeasurable defense the two had at their disposal.

Yet, despite the form of the protector being perfect, **Argen** evaded it without even the slightest worry. As if it was a practiced occurrence that happened every. Single. Fight. The whole duration of the duel, **Argen** parried and sideswept the towering defender of Lorelai whenever his flaming sword struck down onto the smaller warrior. He kept his distance whenever the balled fist of the angered immortal slammed into the ground and sundered the floor with a bone-shattering shockwave.

He jammed the tip of his shadowsteel spear into the heart of the immortal time and time again, capitalizing on every single opening as if that accursed spearman could see into the future itself! The poor eternal fighter was practically doomed from the start, and there wasn’t a hint of surprise in either warrior’s eyes when Godwyn fell to the ground for the thousandth time, waiting to fade away into the nothingness and ultimately return once more.

**Argen**, on the other hand, waited for the feeling of improvement. It came, as expected. And, as expected, nothing more. The exhausted spearman heaved a sigh of disappointment and began his practiced walk from the now-open chambers of Godwyn. Yet, he only took one step before his eyes shot open.

Almost a total revitalization! Instantly! Was there a healer nearby? No, he wasn’t followed, he was sure of it! His -- his strength? Was it his ability? Had he finally reached the limit? Was this the starting gift? Was he finally done?

A huge smile spread over the face of the Hero as he realized that year-long journey was complete. Elated almost too much to move, he took a shaky sigh… and rested. No sane person would rest within the walls of Lorelai without a dedicated search party wandering the perimeter, but **Argen**? Well, it’s safe to say that he wasn’t particularly sane.

And so, the storybook closes on yet another tale.

A tale told for ages, recorded, and written as much as possible.

**Argen** was said to earn his title as Hero, as his quests never really ended with becoming the strongest, instead opting to assist others in their own endeavors, eventually becoming immortalized in stone as an inspiring statue.

As for the people of Exoria? Well… how often can a generation say they bore witness to the birth of a Legend?

Notes:

1. Talk about Argetuarium getting a statue erected in honor of his achievement in game went around at the time of his success.