Slender, tall and white-skinned, with eyes that burn with curiosity Kronos is master of the Black Arts. He wears black satin robes and carries a staff of twisted oak wood


“The fool! The blasted old fool!” Kronos mumbled as he left Seprtach’s tower, his home for the last 11 years. He clenched his fists so hard that the knucklebones turned white. “I should bash his head in the wall until his brains litter the damn floor!” he continued to speak to himself as he strolled on a paved street of Fallcrest, starting a journey that could take years to complete. Thinking again, he knew he could not lay a hand on Nimozaran the Green, his master and teacher in the art of wizardry, for he was a powerful wizard and Kronos was just starting to build his own myth. Or so he wished. By the look of things, he would not go very far.
“It is not fair! Not fair! After completing a mission that anyone else would perish!” he said and an old dwarf turned his look upon him, startled. When he noticed that Kronos wasn’t addressing him, he sighed, thinking the young half-elf a madman. Well, he was not far from the target. The anger that kept growing inside Kronos was making him to see illusions in the street, illusions of the “my master dies in a horrible way” type. It was just a week ago that Nimozaran asked him to go to a distant place and touch a draconic shard upon a rune. He used a powerful teleportation spell to instantly transport him there, never telling him about the dangers. And, by Corellon, there were many. He was teleported next to the greatest battle of all. It was the last day of the Last War and he emerged near a devastated tower, in the fringes of a forest. He faced a huge goliath, a terrifying warforged and two humans that looked like veteran soldiers. He almost wet his pants when the warforged neared him and started asking questions with a steel gaze. It would be the least of his problems. Suddenly they were all attacked by a couple of four-handed goblinoids that came straight from his worst nightmares and some small bone critters that seemed dead to him. United under a common enemy they fought as a group and managed to kill the creatures. And then the thunder smashed his brain.
He thought his skull would explode. A voice was talking to him… to all of them. “They will come for your king”… “The children of darkness”…and other meaningless phrases. They were all disoriented. What was happening? Whose voice was that? They fought their way inside a collapsed building and witnessed two humans inside what seemed like a dragonmark. One was unconscious and the other was screaming in agony. Kronos cast a spell against a goblinoid and felt his palms burst with energy. The power!!! He felt stronger than ever! Was that a whisper inside his mind? He couldn’t know, must have been the thrill of the battle, his first battle! With another spell he rained acid against the enemy and the battle was soon over. He run at the dragonmark and placed the crystal inside. This seemed to deactivate the force that caused pain to the human and in the same time, the rune started to unfold and be stored inside the crystal. It all made sense now. It was a dragon prophecy! He was able to recover the prophecy inside the crystal but as soon as it finished, another battle started to take place. Seemed like someone else wanted the crystal, a distorted elven female that used undead creatures as her army. Battle soon commenced and the sky turned red with flame. Things looked dire but with the help of his newfound comrades he was close to victory. And then an explosion…and sweet, sweet oblivion.
He was the first to awake. The enemy was missing, so did the warforged and one of the humans. Something terrible had happened. He checked his pockets and sighed in relief when he felt the crystal. His mission was a success after all. A magic circle appearing from nowhere came to establish the success. Before he left he learned the name of the goliath. Gorbir, a strong name. He passed through the circle and was instantly transported back to Seprtach’s tower. He smiled in pride, handling the crystal to Nimozaran. He collected it without saying a word. Next day Kronos would learn about the devastation that happened to Cyre. An entire nation was blasted to ruins, death claiming thousands of lives… but he lived. He felt powerful right then, a feeling his master was quick to vanquish. “I have another task for you, Kronos” he said. “You need to fetch four books for me. The books are ancient and of great importance. Do no fail me, my pupil”. “Wait, what???” he answered. “You have to be joking master, I just succeeded in a suicidal mission, I am ready to learn more, you promised!”. “I did not promise such a thing. You have great potential Kronos, but you lack in discipline. This mission will take you to the four corners of the world, you are going to learn all that is needed to achieve greatness in wizardry”. He pleaded, he argued, he shouted… but he already knew he could not do a thing. And a few days after, he started on the journey of his life.
4 years passed. Almost a single year to aquire each book. He managed to steal one, beg for another, pay for a third one and seduce for the last. All these years, most of his adventures were in the form of beautiful ladies, usually married and the hot pursuit afterwards. He came close to death a couple of times, but it was like a mystic voice whispering into his mind, advising him of the right path. The same voice he heard back then in the ruined tower, the same voice he could hear in his most vivid dreams. What the hell was that? Well, it was of no matter right now. He was back in Fallcrest, victorious. He would give his master the books and in return, he would receive the teaching he craved for. More powerful spells! One day, he knew, he would command great arcane power and not even Nimozaran could stand in his way. Steeled with confidence, he knocked on his master’s door…


Eberron The Chronicle Of The Last Prophecy tas_103