Discord
Changelog
11-13-2023, 10:46 AM
Sometime during the first weeks of Tarsakh, 1374, before the Siege of Bezantur...
Day six. Six days since the Knight entered the depths of unknown alone. The words of his master, Regent Szass Tam, rang long like clockwork in his mind.
"Rest now, Aethon. Cherish this time and enjoy your life, for I fear even with my preparations in place, nothing may stop what is to come."
Step. Step. His boots hitting the ancient, decrepit floors echoed violently through the silence of the Citadel's halls. Much was on his mind. The Civil war drags on in his homeland, Thay slowly tearing each other in two bit-by-bit. Though, the Knight did not care. He was focused on the true evil that not only Thay, but all of Toril faces. Shothotugg, the World-Eater, has arrived. The beacon was not destroyed in time. The doom that the Herald of the Sarrukh worked so tirelessly to bring forth for the world is near. While it pained him to watch his country tear itself apart, it was of little consequence in comparison of the fate of all his world.
As such, he descended alone... into the only place he could think of that might produce some sort of answers. He wonders if he made the correct choice informing no-one of his departure. The Citadel has claimed the lives of many powerful individuals. What if he falls? In the cold depths of the unknown, his body lost to time and rot?
He'd shake his head vigorously, clearing his mind of such thoughts. Danger was at hand. He'd raise his torch, his sword in the other hand as he carefully treaded forward. He was in the depths of what appeared to be catacombs of some sort, the pitch black halls eerily silent. The Knight raised his torch, carefully peering over the walls as he walked. Pictures, images, depictions stretching for meters and meters. He'd look them over, but his vision blurred. He'd wipe his eyes, giving his cheek a light slap as if to wake himself from some grogginess. It was hard to sleep in such dangerous halls and feel at ease. He has gained little rest over the past six days. Nonetheless, he persists onwards...
An oddity stops him in his tracks. The Knight glued his gaze straight ahead, raising his torch as he tilted his head in intrigue. Light was there. Shining small but evident as ever around the nearest corner of the hall. It had been three or four days since the Knight had last seen light of any form. The torches had ceased, the brief glimpses of daylight had ceased. He was deep in the cold depths of the earth.
Hesitantly, he walked forward. He'd take in a rather hefty breathe, letting out a loud exhale as he cupped his hand near the torch. He'd extinguish it with every bit of air in his lungs, taking another deep breathe to finish the job before he'd stick the extinguished piece of wood in his pack for later use. He'd draw his shield, preparing himself for whatever. He'd pause just before the corner, the light growing brighter and brighter as he listened. The silence persisted. He'd steel himself, closing his eyes and sucking in some air into a deep inhale before he'd quickly jump around the corner, prepared to catch any possible enemies off-guard.
Instead, he was greeted by a bridge. A narrow bridge across a chasm, leading to a magnificent chamber. Four large dragon statues stand facing each other in this chamber, all four with a ball of fire in their mouths illuminating the room. The Knight carefully crossed the bridge, approaching the statues and the chamber with caution. He'd look the architecture of the statues over with curiosity evident. What were such immaculate works doing here? They seemed pristine. Clean. Void of the age and rot that festers in these halls. The Knight took a moment to inspect the walls of the room, squinting his eyes a bit to see in such dim light. He'd freeze, seeing images of the Herald. The Sarrukh. What was this doing down here?
PHWOOM!
The Knight jumped, turning around as a large sound erupted from the middle of the chamber. He'd ready his sword and shield, raising them both up as he stared ahead. A new source of light erupted in the room. A small ember formed in the center of the dragons and grew second by second into a circle, eventually growing and raising rings up and taking a color of yellow. A portal, clear as day. An invitation? Or a trap?
The Knight stepped forward. This place was unknown to him, as was this portal. He studied it, knowing full well he couldn't derive a source of any form. He peered up to the statues once more, looking around the chamber for the sign of any other life. He was not so sure he was alone now. Nonetheless, he re-focused his gaze on the portal and stepped forth into it, allowing the teleportation magic to swirl around him. He closed his eyes, though he knew he should not. For the first time in many, many years... He was afraid.
Seconds go by, seconds turn into minutes... Eventually, the sounds of silence became sounds of flapping. The Knight tilted his head and ripped his eyes open, prepared for whatever magical beast with wings or dragon would be there. Except, what he would see would astonish him.
He looked up first, only to be greeted with pitch black... There was no sky. No ceiling.
Then, a book flew into his view. A book? He'd squint his eyes looking again, before his gaze finally leveled and he took in the area around him. He was surrounded by a circle of bookshelves that dwarfed him in height, spying ladders propped onto them that seemed to stretch up into the pitch black above. Books and tomes flew in the air like birds in flight, seemingly brought to life by some form of animation magic. His jaw dropped as he turned around, realizing he was on an elevated platform as his gaze finally averted downwards. Miles upon miles of bookshelves. Farther than the eye can see. There must be hundreds of thousands, if not millions of books here.
The Knight slowly slid his blade into its respective scabbard, bringing his hands up to his head and removing his helm to tuck it underneath his armpit to carry. He wished to view this place un-obstructed, his eyes flitting about him in wonder and awe. Never in his life had he seen anything like this. His mind mixed with confusion, awe, and unease. He felt immediately... unworthy. Not fit to be here.
"A visitor!"
A sudden warm and kind voice erupted from behind the Knight. Aethon jumped in clear surprise, whipping his head around with his shield brought up into a combat-ready stance. Standing behind him would be a woman, a half-dragoness to be precise. She stands within but a foot or two of the Knight, seeming to have gotten to his rearguard quite handedly and with ease. She had a magic stave, brimming with magical energy in one hand. Her other hand was holding a tome that seemed far too big and heavy to be held one-handed. She wears robes of Red, and sports a large pair of red-dragon wings from her shoulder blade area, each wing stretching at least five feet long. Small red scales span up and down both of her arms.
"Greetings! We've been expecting you!"
((This is Part 1 of the finale to this thread. To be continued...))
Day six. Six days since the Knight entered the depths of unknown alone. The words of his master, Regent Szass Tam, rang long like clockwork in his mind.
"Rest now, Aethon. Cherish this time and enjoy your life, for I fear even with my preparations in place, nothing may stop what is to come."
Step. Step. His boots hitting the ancient, decrepit floors echoed violently through the silence of the Citadel's halls. Much was on his mind. The Civil war drags on in his homeland, Thay slowly tearing each other in two bit-by-bit. Though, the Knight did not care. He was focused on the true evil that not only Thay, but all of Toril faces. Shothotugg, the World-Eater, has arrived. The beacon was not destroyed in time. The doom that the Herald of the Sarrukh worked so tirelessly to bring forth for the world is near. While it pained him to watch his country tear itself apart, it was of little consequence in comparison of the fate of all his world.
As such, he descended alone... into the only place he could think of that might produce some sort of answers. He wonders if he made the correct choice informing no-one of his departure. The Citadel has claimed the lives of many powerful individuals. What if he falls? In the cold depths of the unknown, his body lost to time and rot?
He'd shake his head vigorously, clearing his mind of such thoughts. Danger was at hand. He'd raise his torch, his sword in the other hand as he carefully treaded forward. He was in the depths of what appeared to be catacombs of some sort, the pitch black halls eerily silent. The Knight raised his torch, carefully peering over the walls as he walked. Pictures, images, depictions stretching for meters and meters. He'd look them over, but his vision blurred. He'd wipe his eyes, giving his cheek a light slap as if to wake himself from some grogginess. It was hard to sleep in such dangerous halls and feel at ease. He has gained little rest over the past six days. Nonetheless, he persists onwards...
An oddity stops him in his tracks. The Knight glued his gaze straight ahead, raising his torch as he tilted his head in intrigue. Light was there. Shining small but evident as ever around the nearest corner of the hall. It had been three or four days since the Knight had last seen light of any form. The torches had ceased, the brief glimpses of daylight had ceased. He was deep in the cold depths of the earth.
Hesitantly, he walked forward. He'd take in a rather hefty breathe, letting out a loud exhale as he cupped his hand near the torch. He'd extinguish it with every bit of air in his lungs, taking another deep breathe to finish the job before he'd stick the extinguished piece of wood in his pack for later use. He'd draw his shield, preparing himself for whatever. He'd pause just before the corner, the light growing brighter and brighter as he listened. The silence persisted. He'd steel himself, closing his eyes and sucking in some air into a deep inhale before he'd quickly jump around the corner, prepared to catch any possible enemies off-guard.
Instead, he was greeted by a bridge. A narrow bridge across a chasm, leading to a magnificent chamber. Four large dragon statues stand facing each other in this chamber, all four with a ball of fire in their mouths illuminating the room. The Knight carefully crossed the bridge, approaching the statues and the chamber with caution. He'd look the architecture of the statues over with curiosity evident. What were such immaculate works doing here? They seemed pristine. Clean. Void of the age and rot that festers in these halls. The Knight took a moment to inspect the walls of the room, squinting his eyes a bit to see in such dim light. He'd freeze, seeing images of the Herald. The Sarrukh. What was this doing down here?
PHWOOM!
The Knight jumped, turning around as a large sound erupted from the middle of the chamber. He'd ready his sword and shield, raising them both up as he stared ahead. A new source of light erupted in the room. A small ember formed in the center of the dragons and grew second by second into a circle, eventually growing and raising rings up and taking a color of yellow. A portal, clear as day. An invitation? Or a trap?
The Knight stepped forward. This place was unknown to him, as was this portal. He studied it, knowing full well he couldn't derive a source of any form. He peered up to the statues once more, looking around the chamber for the sign of any other life. He was not so sure he was alone now. Nonetheless, he re-focused his gaze on the portal and stepped forth into it, allowing the teleportation magic to swirl around him. He closed his eyes, though he knew he should not. For the first time in many, many years... He was afraid.
Seconds go by, seconds turn into minutes... Eventually, the sounds of silence became sounds of flapping. The Knight tilted his head and ripped his eyes open, prepared for whatever magical beast with wings or dragon would be there. Except, what he would see would astonish him.
He looked up first, only to be greeted with pitch black... There was no sky. No ceiling.
Then, a book flew into his view. A book? He'd squint his eyes looking again, before his gaze finally leveled and he took in the area around him. He was surrounded by a circle of bookshelves that dwarfed him in height, spying ladders propped onto them that seemed to stretch up into the pitch black above. Books and tomes flew in the air like birds in flight, seemingly brought to life by some form of animation magic. His jaw dropped as he turned around, realizing he was on an elevated platform as his gaze finally averted downwards. Miles upon miles of bookshelves. Farther than the eye can see. There must be hundreds of thousands, if not millions of books here.
The Knight slowly slid his blade into its respective scabbard, bringing his hands up to his head and removing his helm to tuck it underneath his armpit to carry. He wished to view this place un-obstructed, his eyes flitting about him in wonder and awe. Never in his life had he seen anything like this. His mind mixed with confusion, awe, and unease. He felt immediately... unworthy. Not fit to be here.
"A visitor!"
A sudden warm and kind voice erupted from behind the Knight. Aethon jumped in clear surprise, whipping his head around with his shield brought up into a combat-ready stance. Standing behind him would be a woman, a half-dragoness to be precise. She stands within but a foot or two of the Knight, seeming to have gotten to his rearguard quite handedly and with ease. She had a magic stave, brimming with magical energy in one hand. Her other hand was holding a tome that seemed far too big and heavy to be held one-handed. She wears robes of Red, and sports a large pair of red-dragon wings from her shoulder blade area, each wing stretching at least five feet long. Small red scales span up and down both of her arms.
"Greetings! We've been expecting you!"
((This is Part 1 of the finale to this thread. To be continued...))