[Idea] Usara, the Master Wizard - Biography

So i can write a fan one about ritic

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yes i guess but not about the “death” theory

All trademarks and brands and characters (including their names and appearance) and things like that belongs to their copyright holders)

And I don’t see the problem. The first post tell us the story of URsara, and the other one is narration about Usara. (It reminds me a bit about funfics of LOTR universe where the names often are differs a little from what they are in “The Professor”'s stories:) )
We can look at this heroes as if they are one wizard from parallel universes that differs a bit, or twins from one universe, or even twins from different universes etc. ))


Chapter 2: Nalfar Cryptor

“Ah I see you’re awake young Padawan,” said a voice.
“Well of course I am unless you have some scientific theory that explains how I can’t be awake,” replied Ursara, rubbing the tiredness that fought to stay inside her eyes.
“Actually there is and it is called quantum mechanics. Imagine a cat in a box with a radioactive substance. Now you can assume that, until the box is opened, the cat is either alive or dead–” began the voice but it was interrupted abruptly by Ursara.
“Alright, I get the idea mom. Let’s go make breakfast…”
“I am not your mom and your mom is not here in this moment of time. Your mom pushed you into a portal transporting you here to a parallel universe where you instantly fell into a coma. You have been out for precisely three days in five minutes time. Now if you would like to come with me and then we can show you around.”
Ursara immediately stopped rubbing her eyes and blinked. Above her, a little blue face with silvery white hair, pointed ears and eyes that seemed to bore into you was gazing intently down at her. Wait a minute - blue face? Ursara drew a long hunting knife from its sheath and made an instant lunge for the thing’s chest, but was met by a long, silver staff with a skull on the top of it. “No, I am certainly not a munchkin but I am the revered Nalfar Cryptor, the greatest necromancer of the dark arts!” Thunder boomed in the distance. Ravens cawed and flew away. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky above.
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of you,” was the best Ursara could think of to say. A wicked gleam twinkled in Nalfar’s eye.
“Of course you’ve heard of me. Everyone has heard of me, either through word of mouth or, the hard way.”
“No, I didn’t mean that, I mean my mother told me about you, said that I had to find you if I wanted help.” Nalfar paused and stared at Ursara, as if she had just told him that he wasn’t the best necromancer and that a junior warlock was. “What? It’s not like I said a junior warlock is better than you.” But Nalfar still had the same astonished look.
“What is your father’s name?” he asked, a curious grin spreading across his face.
“Arysara,” she answered simply. Nalfar sunk his chin into his chest and started pacing up and down the room, muttering to himself. After a couple of minutes he dashed out of the room at top speed, leaving Ursara sitting up on her bed, just as flummoxed as she had arrived.

Tripping over the hem of his long robes that marked him as a distinguished necromancer, Nalfar swiftly made his way towards the Den: a cave meticulously protected by charms and wards, hidden away in and amongst several large oak trees and some sizeable boulders. Only certain people - heroes, in fact - were allowed in, otherwise, someone, a peasant for example, would just see a a sheer rock face. Nalfar just had to slide in sideways to get in through the boulder. Racing down the wide corridor, Nalfar’s mind raced. It couldn’t be, could it? Where the ogres originated? A huge oak door now loomed up against him. Two Cs were engraved in a seal comprising of a staff, a crossbow and a sword. Laughter rang out from within as Nalfar steadied his racing heart, which took him quite a considerable amount of time. At last, he burst through the great oak doors. The laughter that had been ringing out was no replaced with a deafening silence.
“I have found her, and the answer as well!” he puffed.
“Well, what is it and her?” called a voice. It was Senick.
“Ursara, she is the Master Wizard. And the ogres? They come from a parallel universe. And I know what is at the root of it all. Arysara, Ursara’s father.”


It is good except one thing the Padawan thing that word is copywriter so you can’t use it but for now it is okay

can I help you do chapter 3 @FalconX11_312 I’ll PM if you want to

I think that I might write biographies for a bunch of the heroes.

Yes, I know he is correct. But I didn’t say that someone can’t write the biography.
I can’t delete that part though.


Peter, let it slide, please. It’s also rather the fact about claiming a single biography as “official”, not that someone else can’t write it.


Before we plunge back into the CodeCombat multiverse, I would really appreciate if someone with a leader or regular status could change everywhere where I have spelled ‘Usara’ as ‘Ursara’ please, especially in the topic title (as I can’t do that myself anymore, or unless editing access could be granted) - this would clear up any confusion concerning whether I am writing about Usara or Ursara. Thanks!

And now, we shall pick up where we left off: Nalfar Cryptor, supreme necromancer of CodeCombat, has informed the Council of the Den of his somewhat baffling new theory - that Usara is from a parallel universe that houses the very roots of this ‘multiversal’ pandemic of ogres. But what happens next? Will the Council take him seriously? Or will they brush it off like that annoying speck of dust that never comes off…?

Chapter 3: Capture

“And we’re supposed to wait for Nalfar’s ‘Master Wizard’ to come and bust us out of this filthy dungeon?”, muttered Senick, distastefully.
“Apparently so. Some how. We shall live out the remainder of our days stuck here, 'til we rot to the bones!”, grunted Gordon the Stalwart. Their miserable attitude seemed to cling to the air, until none of them could even crack a smile. That was, until…

The silence that followed held for a surprisingly long time. Nine point four seconds, to be exact, which smashed the record for the longest silence ever held by the Den on a regular occasion. You can see a record of the records held by many a number of people in the library where Cougar got her PhD. But so much praise for that record compared to the pandemonium that broke out.
“What parallel universe?”
“Master Wizard? Impossible!”
“Whose father?”
“Absolute dung, to my ears!”
“SILENCE!!”, boomed Okar Stompfoot, submitting his colleagues to a baleful stare. “I will not stand by supposed role models making such a racket when one of our most revered comrades is delivering a table-turning discovery!”.
The effect was instantaneous. Many heroes sat down, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, guilt written al over their faces.
“Thank you Okar,” said Illia, “so Nalfar you were saying, if I recall correctly, that the root of this ‘plague’ of ogres is from distant and unreachable plane that we are virtually powerless to uproot? Then this war was for nothing! We shall be slaughtered one by one and let our world be overrun!” But Nalfar knew better than to shrink away at these piercing words. Instead, he grinned.

Usara counted to ten before chasing after Nalfar in hot pursuit. This turned out to be one of her biggest mistakes. Had she waited for Nalfar to return, then maybe things would have turned out better. She had now reached a vertical cliff face that towered over her. Maybe I should try and climb it, she thought. She was sure she had seen Nalfar come this way. She began to climb. Or rather she fell face forward through the rock. Brushing the dust off of herself, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom when she felt something whip past her head and bury itself in the cave wall. Her first instinct was to run straight forwards, where she barrelled right into the back of Nalfar and tumbled into the Den.
“Run! Ogres!” she shouted at them. But they just stared back at her blankly. “You know, ogres! Blue, scary things with weird swords and throwing spears and purple fireballs! Or I’ll just save myself then!” And she did. She hightailed it out of the cave and through the woods, but, thinking twice, she hid behind some bushes near the cave to watch the drama unfold, all the while berating herself for how pathetic she looked. In front of heroes!
The very Earth shook as she watched another blazing fireball hurtle towards the cliff.
Usara was sure this was the end of her life being able to hear life itself.
And now at this point, after another earth-shaking explosion, Usara began to get seriously concerned about her health, I mean, what would her mother say? But her worries about her wellbeing melted before her eyes when a gargantuan ogre division march past her and into the wreckage of the cave. No doubt about it, Nalfar’s hero friends stood as much chance of defeating the ogres as a snail beating Usain Bolt’s 100m world record. Usara was alone in this world, save for one dark elf who happens to be a supreme necromancer who claims to be on first-name terms with Usara’s mother. What choice did she have?
Usara resolved to follow after the division had left, which took two hours. Persistence pays, her mother always said, and when it does, don’t object. By dusk, the division reached the entrance to a dungeon hidden deep within the forest, and this was when Usara was presented with a big question - so I came all this way, but, do I have the tools to get in? Or out? Now it was time for Usara’s good old wit to show her true colours.
It took about 3 days for Usara to find an entrance into the dungeon other than the main gates; a portcullis hanging over the mouth of a river that rarely got lowered down. It was often used for waste management but this didn’t stop Usara. Scrambling through the gap, Usara made her way through the dungeon, narrowly avoiding passing munchkins, all the while, praying that no one discovered her presence.
After a few hours, she discovered an armoury tucked away down a dark corridor as she made a hasty escape away from some approaching guards. Or more that it was a room used to keep the weapons previous heroes had used but were unlucky enough to get thrown into the dungeons. A musty smell of old books hung in the room as Usara picked her way through the various cobwebs that seemed to bar her path. Maybe I could find some sort of weapon here, she thought. But a nagging thought that she had been fighting to suppress suddenly broke out. She came from a world of wizards; what if there were no staffs here? What if she couldn’t control her powers? After some time, she came across a rather large battle staff topped with what looked like a three dimensional emblem of Domini Omnipotentis:

usara (2)
(Credit: CodeCombat Cavern Survival)

Several questions raced through her mind, but the ones at the forefront were: who could have this belonged to, and where were they now? As she reached for the staff, a spark of electricity shot from her fingers and lit up the staff in the gloomy darkness, which hovered into the air, crackling and trembling, until it came to rest in Usara’s trembling hand. Running her hands along the staff, a new question presented itself to Usara as she noticed a piece of half-burnt paper fastened around it with some string, which she untied. On it the following passage was scrawled on:

The storm is stirring, worlds shall wither;
In spite of darkness, omnipotent those hither
Who take control over thy own mind
And be the cause of thy own sanity to grind;

Out of the darkness, into the truth,
Master of Masters shall wield the One staff,
The One Staff to conquer them, reason them, vanquish them,
But at the Pinnacle of Fire,
Shall realise their foe, the spy, the cheat,
And duel them in the cold arms of Death.

The storm is stirring, worlds shall crumble;
Master of Masters shall wield the One staff,
The One Staff to conquer them, reason them, vanquish them,
And duel them in the cold arms of Death.

As bemused as she was, Usara still had the mental capacity to understand the sheer significance of what she had just read. She turned the parchment over to find more writing:

P.S to N.C

What could this be? But then she felt a hand touch her neck…


Drop a :hearts: if you liked it!


Oh, and I hope my poetry is good - it isn’t my strongest topic in English.


This prophecy:

is the prophecy of the Fallen Race. I’d you to share your ideas about who they could be!

Also, Usara discovered this on the back of the prophecy:

What could this possibly mean? Again, share your ideas!


Guessing that N.C. is Nalfar Cryptor and P.S. is Pender Spellbane

Hmmm, interesting thoughts :thinking: … but who could the Fallen Race be? Clever thinking though!

Chapter 4: Prophecy

Instinct grabbed hold of Usara as she spun round and jabbed the end of her newly acquired staff straight at the newcomer, who toppled backwards and fell with a sickening crash on a stack of wooden boxes. Even though Usara realised he was a human, she did not hasten into apologies. “How dare you sneak up on me! What are you doing here?” she hissed. The man, however, hid his face and mumbled his apologies. He wore a tattered deerskin overcoat over a brown shirt and trousers. But his face was almost completely obscured by his long, untidy brown hair, which made him look like someone who had not seen civilisation for three decades and had lived in a cave.
“My apologies, but I suggest you keep quiet! Do you know what becomes of me if I don’t keep my silence? And then you come in start jabbing people with the One Staff? Good heavens!” he hissed, red in face and thunderous. Usara, on the other hand, was more intrigued by this man’s knowledge of her staff.
“How did you come to know about the staff?” she enquired. This was the perfect question, she reasoned: not only did it ask about the One Staff, but it also forced the man to tell her more about himself without Usara looking too curious.
“What do you go by?”
“Funny name that, vaguely familiar, familiar, hmm, familiar… well, I guess I haven’t introduced myself. My name? Hector Shieldsmith, a humble metalworker, who until thirty years ago, worked in a metalshop with my niece…” he trailed off abruptly, his face sombre in the candlelit room.
“What happened to your niece?” Usara asked softly. She knew where this was heading. Hector continued staring up into the ceiling behind Usara, his mouth slightly open as if reminiscing a long and forgotten Golden Age.
“I had to abandon her. After the promise I had made to my dying brother, I had to abandon her. They came, a huge massive army, larger than the eye could see… I knew they would come at some point. Out of all modesty, there were no better metal workers than the Shieldsmiths and they knew it. They needed me to help them. Whispers from the west came months, months before they had even set foot in Backwoods Forest. And yet, I stayed. Naive as I was, I stayed, knowing full well that they would come for me. I should have fled… so when they did come, eventually, I shouted to my sweet Illia, to take the Deflector, one of my last projects, and run. I never saw her again. I never saw her grow up as she was only nine at the time. I never watched as she forged her own armour and sword. I never saw the outside world again…” and he broke into small, stifled sobs. At this point, Usara had figured that the only way she was going to get help was to try and console him and reveal the truth of why she was there. There was certainly no path round it.
“Well, Hector, the reason why I’m here is really because I’m trying to save some heroes who I think may be able to help us find Illia if they know her, so if you could-”
“Seriously? Heroes in this dungeon? No wonder those blasted ogres were so keen on keeping me in here for these last few days! Where are they?”
“Oh, well, the thing is, I have only been here about three days and I figured that I wouldn’t try getting down to the prison until I had a good idea of where everything else is, especially the surface. I mean, what’s the point of knowing where to free your friends and not being able to get out?” she said. It took all of her self discipline to stop herself asking about the prophecy but to ease Hector into telling her.
“Well, it seems that you have sense, young girl. How many heroes did they capture?”
“I’d say, about fifteen?”
“Fifteen? That’s nearly all of them!” Hector exclaimed. Usara could hold on no longer.
“Er, Mr. Shieldsmith, if we are to get them out of here, then could you at least explain this prophecy to me that would be nice-”
“The prophecy is incomplete.” he said abruptly, his face indifferent.
“What do you mean it is incomplete? It looks fine to me.” Usara replied, but she knew even as she said it that she was terribly mistaken. After all, it was slightly burnt.
“The prophecy of the Fallen Race is incomplete. The rest of it was destroyed during the last Crusades of Kelvintaph Glacier about two hundred and thirty years ago. The last records have been lost to history forever. To retrieve the final verses would be an act of the utmost recklessness as the Glacier is the final gateway to Eldfjall Volcano, a forbidden and forever cursed island rumoured to be the largest stronghold of the ogres. No one has dared to set foot there for two hundred and thirty years as signs of dark magic - antigravity spells and life draining curses - have been the latest new development for the ogres. The Gate of the Summit is now the only way to reach the Glacier, but it is heavily guarded with only the toughest of ogres protecting the fabled Inner Sanctum. Do you not understand, young girl? Two hundred and thirty years since the last known human has gone and come back alive, but even so, barely. Two hundred and thirty years since the ogres had last been seen, until only three decades ago. Two hundred and thirty years of peace, while we lived our miserable lives with that same nagging thought in the back of our very minds - what if they came back? What would we do then? The numbers of heroes have decreased since; many of the faint-hearted did not feel that the rumours whispered from ear to ear about the perils of the glacier should be paid attention to. You said it yourself, fifteen of the many hundreds of heros of two hundred and thirty years ago remain. So, Usara, tell me, what chance do we stand, if any, of defeating them? Don’t get me wrong, as much as I want to get out of here with the other heroes, that’s the end of the line. Answer me!” His face was wrinkled with lines of sorrow, and Usara had believed him, so she answered.
“If we stand united in the face of this darkness, then we may have a chance. Do you want these ogres gone? Do you want peace restored to the many worlds they have infiltrated? Because listen when I say this: if you do, then you will explain to me how to get out of this dungeon, how to free the only people we have to rely on, and ultimately, how to eradicate them once and for all. Not locking them up in a shadow vortex, not closing them up in an empty world. I mean removing every single last one of them. Don’t you understand how valuable you would be to us? You have thirty years worth of inside information. You have heard and seen everything. We can do this. So, do you stand by me, or will you cower away in here to rot to death like a coward?” she asked. Hector Shieldsmith looked up into her fierce dark eyes, the lines on his face even more pronounced than ever in the candlelight.
“If it means that I will be able to reunited with my beloved Illia, then listen to me very closely, 'cos here’s the plan,” he said, beckoning her towards him.
Usara grinned widely.


And there’s chapter 4! I hope you enjoyed it and drop a like!


I really like the story so far, can’t wait till chapter 5

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Me too! The next one will be based primarily around the escapade of the remaining fifteen heroes, especially the reunion of Hector and Illia Shieldsmith. It’s been too long!

Some might say that this biography may also be the story of CodeCombat as it ties in many other theories, biographies and descriptions of CoCo heroes together into one huge story that is centered around Usara. However, expect heavy losses, betrayals and cliffhangers from this! Also, the might be another gap in when I release some of the chapters, especially when this something:

gets released. Whatever it is, I’d like to include it in the story. However, when the Volcano campaign gets released, the finale of the story will be complete - in style! Keep watching :eyes: :wink:!

This was meant to be the prologue but think of it as a sort of Easter Egg:


Two hundred and thirty years it has been. Two hundred and thirty years since my birth in these cold, dark, depths. Two hundred and thirty years in which I have bided my time, waiting, waiting. Two hundred and thirty years in which I have changed and switched allegiance, countless times, before settling myself with those who fight my Creator. Creator? Death cannot be created; Death exists as one formless, intangible entity. But now, two hundred and thirty years later, my allegiance is clear, my motives firm: assassinate was my order, and the assassination must be fulfilled.

But who? Creepy, don’t you think?


Ohhhh I know. I like that its written from a 1st person perspective.

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This is Ritic the Cold

I thought it was a bit obvious that it was Ritic but who is he going to assassinate?