"I just wanna get outta here and head back to civilization. If these beings of great psionic power can't do that then I'm gonna just head on down the trail and leave them to their own devices" Azerwal says as she turns to their guides.
"Which way do we need to go? I would like to be down with these creatures" Azerwal says not paying too much attention to the being of psionic might.
In response to Azerwal's brusque statement, the unsettling psionic presence releases a keening shriek into the minds of all present
Efti sucks in her breath,
"Master Azerwal -- whoever's consciousness now resides within his body -- I highly recommend that you avoid antagonizing this entity, as I have already mentioned, it is immune to most common attacks because of its incorporeal nature, and also capable of dominating the minds of its victims."
"What more, as I have already mentioned, there is no nearby 'civilization' to reach; the Island of Rasoom, from whence we departed on this reconnaissance, holds only relatively small settlements, and is separated by thousands of miles of ocean from the continents of Seradina and Ibbasuron, which are the closest large land masses. If the entity permits you to depart from its presence without contest, which is a considerable assumption regarding its noninterference, you will only find yourself on the isolated, decertified island upon which we are currently moored."
An incorporeal creature moves silently and cannot be heard with Perception checks if it doesn’t wish to be. It has no Strength score, so its Dexterity modifier applies to its melee attacks, ranged attacks, and CMB. Nonvisual senses, such as scent and blindsight, are either ineffective or only partly effective with regard to incorporeal creatures. Incorporeal creatures have an innate sense of direction and can move at full speed even when they cannot see.
" Yes,yes I know, just frustrating is all" Azerwal days as he begins to cross his arm before stopping as she realized she was holding her Spear.
" So we can free you of your accused torture?" Azerwal says thinking.
An incorporeal creature moves silently and cannot be heard with Perception checks if it doesn’t wish to be. It has no Strength score, so its Dexterity modifier applies to its melee attacks, ranged attacks, and CMB. Nonvisual senses, such as scent and blindsight, are either ineffective or only partly effective with regard to incorporeal creatures. Incorporeal creatures have an innate sense of direction and can move at full speed even when they cannot see.
An incorporeal creature moves silently and cannot be heard with Perception checks if it doesn’t wish to be. It has no Strength score, so its Dexterity modifier applies to its melee attacks, ranged attacks, and CMB. Nonvisual senses, such as scent and blindsight, are either ineffective or only partly effective with regard to incorporeal creatures. Incorporeal creatures have an innate sense of direction and can move at full speed even when they cannot see.
" Yes,yes I know, just frustrating is all" Azerwal days as he begins to cross his arm before stopping as she realized she was holding her Spear.
" So we can free you of your accused torture?" Azerwal says thinking.
"The collected minds of the victims of the Lord of Cinders who compose our tormented whole could be freed if you brave the terrors of the Desert of Discheshu and retrieve the he cursed regalia of the High and Exalted Sacrificiant of the Tarragon Lord Cendis-Xirgit from the Temple of Coals and Cinders."
”You are caught by your nature, and bound together by your own will. You have been told a thing is true, and your belief now enforces it. In our land, we call this effect the placebo effect, and it is truly wondrous. I have no doubt destroying the regalia would free you, as you believe it. I merely wish to suggest that you might think upon the nature of doubt, and dwell upon the power of entropy, which grinds all things to nothingness, before they are reborn. Even bindings such as yours must erode, under the relentless wheel of time. Still, we shall seek this regalia. In the interim, as you abide, perhaps dwell also upon the stories of rebirth, reincarnation, and redemption. After all, the regalia is not here. Is it not therefor possible that it might already be destroyed? We shall seek it, but there is no reason you must believe it inviolate and whole, and your doubt is a weighty thing.”
She smiles, seeming a bit self depreciating, then walks after her companions.
”You are caught by your nature, and bound together by your own will. You have been told a thing is true, and your belief now enforces it. In our land, we call this effect the placebo effect, and it is truly wondrous. I have no doubt destroying the regalia would free you, as you believe it. I merely wish to suggest that you might think upon the nature of doubt, and dwell upon the power of entropy, which grinds all things to nothingness, before they are reborn. Even bindings such as yours must erode, under the relentless wheel of time. Still, we shall seek this regalia. In the interim, as you abide, perhaps dwell also upon the stories of rebirth, reincarnation, and redemption. After all, the regalia is not here. Is it not therefor possible that it might already be destroyed? We shall seek it, but there is no reason you must believe it inviolate and whole, and your doubt is a weighty thing.”
She smiles, seeming a bit self depreciating, then walks after her companions.
The only answer in reply is the skull-rattling shrieking resumes,
Efti nudges Lasciel slightly,
"Mistress di Marat, I think we had better concentrate on finding a means of extricating ourselves from these premises as soon as possible -- I concur with the intention to seek the release of these poor victims of the Tarragon Lord, and that we should try to locate the temple mentioned by the entity in the morning. However, nightfall will soon be upon us, and, as I have mentioned, we will find ourselves in dreadful peril if we have not gained the protection of the everlantern aboard our vessel by that time."
Efti then addresses the entity,
"We thank you for your indulgence upon our persons -- I was, before the time of the Great Struggle, an oracle of Swift-Footed Mercury, one of whose divine auspices was the caretaking of the dead. Though my divine patron has passed beyond the ken of mortals, pouring out in an act of final sacrifice his immortal life for the imposition of the Veil between our lands and the power of the ravenous Tarragon Lords of the Sanguine Storm, yet I still maintain the memory and charge of his errand of mercy, and would be honored to assist in any fashion I may in conducting your persons to their rightful and well-deserved end, freed of the dreadful enchantments of this blood-soaked, and murder-tainted prison."
Alice, Lasciel, speaks softly almost to herself.
”What blessings of the trinity might offer I am unsure, but if they are mine to grant they are yours. We must seek shelter from the long night.”
She then follows Efti towards the next chamber.
Alice, Lasciel, speaks softly almost to herself.
”What blessings of the trinity might offer I am unsure, but if they are mine to grant they are yours. We must seek shelter from the long night.”
She then follows Efti towards the next chamber.
The elf lord retreats from the chamber, willing to follow others out.
Lasciel, Alice, walks confidently back the way they came, then takes one of the other exits.
"Here, let's keep moving."
She proceeds to make several turns, and stops when she arrives at another room. Finally, she takes a deep breath.
"That, was strange. That was strange right? They were talking in our heads?"
'With a bit of practice it's not that hard' Azerwal says her mind using the reservoir of power, just a bit to send a missive as he walked behind them using the spear as a walking stick.
A short hallway made of the same strange stone -- rugged floor and smoothed walls -- terminates in another domed chamber. Four hallways, two leading to the left, and two to the right, intersect this tunnel at a perpendicular angle, but the low light emitted from the room up ahead naturally leads the group to a domed room that in many respects resembles the Offering Chamber, but in miniature dimensions. The entrance to the room through which the party enters is one of four doors, one at each of the cardinal directions, that provides access. The center of the room contains another pool of lava, its light casting eerie shadows upon the walls of the domed chamber.
Efti looks around, and then beams with satisfaction,
"Oh, excellent -- I think I know where we are now, and we're almost out of the complex."
She points at the lava pool
"This basin is ornamental -- you'll notice its smaller dimensions and the lack of statues around the edges -- I'm not sure I pointed that out in the Offering Chamber in the midst of all the... other excitement. In any event, the pools in the Offering Chambers are surrounded by enchanted statues that are somehow related to the ability of the basin to trap the minds of those offered to the Tarragon Lord."
"However," she continues, "this one is merely ornamental, intended to remind the faithful of the power of the heart of the fire mountain streaming below them -- a visible sign of the malign patron's dead power."
The walls of this chamber are completely filled with thousands of rows of elaborate hieroglyphics. Efti points at them as she says,
"These writings recount the coming of the Tarragon Lords to the Lands of Surta'ra, as well as their victories during the Typhoon Struggle. They also contain promises of rewards for their servants when they complete their conquest of our world. However, I think many will be surprised by the emptiness of these claims"
Efti then nods her chin towards the far side of the chamber -- directly opposite the portal through which they had just entered,
"Master Urstin, do you concur? I believe we have only a short journey through yonder lintel to the foyer of the shrine. Of course, once we've exited, we'll have to get back to the ship quickly. Otherwise... we might be stuck outside after the sun goes down..."
The yellow-skinned man nods,
"Indeed, Graceful Oracle of the Fleet-Winged Savior of Mortals, I believe you have the right of it," he gestures at the company, "Shall we continue?"
Efti, I wish to journey to where those souls said we might go to break them free, how should that be done, and is it on our way to do it? T'karra says knowing she herself would not wish her soul to be trapped for all eternity.
Efti nods, "I well understand your concern, and share it -- as I have mentioned already, by divine patron gave up his divinity to shield the souls of mortals from the power of the Tarragon Lords, and this was only his last and greatest act in his capacity as the Shepherd of Souls -- however, we will have to preserve our own lives before we are able to render assistance to the severed consciousnesses that have been combined in the entity with which we have just conversed -- this means attaining the safety of the everlantern that can be found at our beached vessel. Once the dangers of the night have passed, we will be able to prepare to cross the desert and seek the regalia in the great temple."
"Another small clarification -- it is not the souls, exactly, of these pitiable creatures that we will be delivering. Every mortal wordbearer and songsinger species possesses three immaterial elements -- a mind, a spirit, and a soul. The minds of these creatures have been riven from their bodies, spirits, and souls, and that is the source of their torment. In the absence of the ability to travel to the Outer Strongholds of the gods and goddesses, such as the Halls of Duat, in the wake of the imposition of the Veil, their spirits and souls have doubtless taken malignant form wherever they have wandered. In any event, it does not change our essential charge."
Alice nods at the elf, then continues. At efti’s gesture she looks over the hieroglyphs before picking up the pace. ”Lead on Efti. If you recognize the way. I wish I had my phone.”
As she walks, briskly now, her eyes take in all of the chamber. She has so many questions, but if the safety their hosts have promised is nearly here. Questions can wait, for now.
The elflord continues to follow the others until his headf stops hurting.
Alice nods at the elf, then continues. At efti’s gesture she looks over the hieroglyphs before picking up the pace. ”Lead on Efti. If you recognize the way. I wish I had my phone.”
As she walks, briskly now, her eyes take in all of the chamber. She has so many questions, but if the safety their hosts have promised is nearly here. Questions can wait, for now.
Efti waves the rest of the party on -- another short tunnel of similar construction -- rugged floors with curiously-smoothed walls, terminates in a meeting place of three corridors. The the center of this junction is a tripartite fork of lava pools, each headed by a leering statue similar to those previously observed in the unsettling premises of the Chamber of Offerings. The oracle leads the group around the pools to a large set of double doors. The portals are made of metal, and are inscribed with hundreds of thousands of small pin points, as if they were the carapace of a sea urchin or a porcupine. The residue of what is presumably age-crusted blood on some of the tips suggest that, at some time, the spikes were not merely ornamental, but were used to impale some unlucky victim.
The yellow-skinned man called Urstin pushes on the door with his mace to avoid the spikes -- there are no evident handles. The heavy panes of the doors open, revealing a desolate, mountainous landscape, and a zig-zagging path that winds down a mountain of black rock down to the sea shore. A wide vessel whose hull appears to be made of black metal plates rivetted together in overlapping patterns is moored on a splinth of rock that thrust violently from surging sea tide.
Looking to the right, the roots of the dark mountain are gradually consumed by sand. The horizon ripples with intense heat, even as the sun descends in the late afternoon sky.
"Here," Efti points at the ship, "you see before you the Intrepid, the redoubtable seacraft that bore us hence to this benighted corner of the world."
She looks up at the decreasing light, and the gathering clouds of what may be a thunderstorm
"Come, let us quickly regain the safety of our craft, lest we be caught outside, unprotected, after nightfall"
Lord Azanoril runs after the drow maiden. The elf both delights in the dry desert hair and regrets the heat of the day still present. The heir apparent is enjoying the run in his new fit body.
Azerwal stops. She takes a moment to summon forth the font of Psionic power. AS she does, it begins to make a noise of vibration.
The small party quickly cover the torturously zig-zagging pathway which leads down the jagged tiers of the smoking caldera. The volcanic rock on either side of the path is frequently marred by cracks and other breaks far in excess of any natural disruption -- the effect is as if they mountainside had been deliberately bombed by a heavy artillery unit.
The path is a stark contrast -- an unnaturally smooth surface created from microscopic grains of bone white sand -- the sides of the path are formed from hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions or tens of millions, of skulls of small and great dimensions that have been stacked, one on top of another, to form a barrier between the smooth walking surface and the rough exterior of the volcano.
At regular intervals, leering statues of vaguely draconic creatures, similar to those that surrounded the offering pools within the shrine, rise from the wall of skulls and bones. Their nostrils steam with superheated smoke, and the air shimmers in a noticable perimeter around the stony watchers. Their ostensibly unseeing eyes nevertheless give the impression to those that pass below them that they are being watched by the unmoving monstrosities.
The initial exit from the immense spine-covered doors of the shrine is a perilous bridge of black stone that fords a deep well of magma, but then joins the twisting path which descends to the vessel identified by Efti as the Intrepid.
The twisting course of the downward path, which has considerably more coils than necessitated by the landscape, eventually terminates in a rocky shore near the strange company's vessel. The steep cliffs drop off from a height of several stories into turbulent waters, split at regular intervals by sheer, rock plinths.
Luckily, the task of deducing a method of crossing to the ship has already been resolved by its other occupants. Another member of Efti's otterlike race, this one apparently a male, and dressed in armor that would befit a Spartan hoplite, rises to the perilous cliffs on a barge made of the same dark metal as the large vessel.
"Mistress Efti, we were beginning to grow concerned -- I am so grateful to see you returned to us, apparently little worse for wear, though I am sure you will shortly apprise me of any significant findings that may have been uncovered within the Shrine of Cendis-Xirgit, especially the rumors that it rests atop one of the mysterious pyramids we have long referred to as the 'Ebon citadels'."
Efti nods, "It is, indeed, good to see you as well Telemachus -- and I have much to report, but let us quickly attain the safety of the Everlantern before we pursue our conversation any further" she quickly steps upon the floating barge, and Urstin directs, with unmistakable gestures, for the rest of the party to do likewise.
The elflord quickly runs up the plank and out of the ways as others follow. Lord Azanoril takers a place next to the railing and grips it tightly with both hands.
The elflord quickly runs up the plank and out of the ways as others follow. Lord Azanoril takers a place next to the railing and grips it tightly with both hands.
The rails of the barge are made of several dozen intertwined lengths of twisted chain, each shaped into the form a miniature serpents swallowing the tail, and in turn being devoured by, their fellows. The curious intertwined chord is wrapped through the eyelets of several curved hooks whose threatening profiles terminate the ends of large, black plinths that extrude from the deck of the barge. As Azanoril grips the chains, he detects a dull vibration, like a magnetic resonance, which appears to emanate from the vessel. The sensation increases noticeably as platform begins to move back towards the larger vessel -- which Efti has identified as named either the Dawnlight's Last Glistening or the Intrepid -- it must have more than one form of identification, or the language of these curious creatures somehow encompasses both meanings -- the matter is mysterious.
Azerwal stops. She takes a moment to summon forth the font of Psionic power. AS she does, it begins to make a noise of vibration.
Efti clucks appreciatively at Lord Azanoril's demonstration of his fleet-footedness.
As the group approach the vessel which the oracle Efti had related were party had navigated from their settlement on the nearby Island of Rasoom, the horizon begins to grow dark.
Aboard the Dawnlight's Last Glistening, a large object, the size of a tower, a pillar made of thousands of small orbs, perhaps of diamond, or some other many-faceted geode, begins to pulse with an almost organic inner-light.
Efti speaks, "We have regained the protection of our vessel's everlantern just in time."
Lord Azanoril sighs as he looks up at the pillar of orbs. "I feel this new world is overwhelming me. Where are we off to?"
|
T'karra looks at the wonder of such a thin as the lantern and listens to it's thrum as it begins to light and says what a wonderful thing after seeing and feeling such desolation as that of a soul rendered from its mind sperated from its body. I am sure I ignored many awful things daily in my other life and many beautiful things as well. It seems I am in school all over again
The elf nobleman smiled to hear such beautiful sentiment from the drow.
"The first question I have is can we safely ask questions or is there more we must do, other than bathe?"
Alice seems unbothered by the short sprint, but deeply torn between the prospect of cleanliness and answers.
"Until your bath, dear lady." Lord Azanoril casts prestidigitation on Lasciel, leaving her clothes freshened and smelling of orchids.
Looking at his hands, the elf lord comments, "I'm really starting to get the hang of this. Magic and nobility."
"The first question I have is can we safely ask questions or is there more we must do, other than bathe?"
Alice seems unbothered by the short sprint, but deeply torn between the prospect of cleanliness and answers.
The curious monolithic structure of the Everlantern begins to pulse with a kaleidoscopic luminescence, a visual display which is gradually accompanied by a soothing hum. An aura of warm light begins to extend in a pulsing halo from the curious pillar of faceted glass orbs which extends for several dozens of meters beyond the hull of the Dawnlight's Last Glistening. The light is so strong that the surface of the dark waters below is pierced and illuminated by its strength -- revealing schools of curious fish and amphibians, as well as the occasional glimpse of a larger sea animal -- creatures that resemble sharks, whales, or some kind of crustacean. The effect is slightly unnerving to be able to clearly see a large sea predator some dozen meters beneath the water, and at least as long -- the size of a school bus. The creature looks like a shark with a bony carapace covering its head and back, and parts of this spine-laden exoskeleton extend to its back and row of dorsal fins.
Efti appears to relax as the halo stabilizes around the vessel, and breaths out a noticeable sigh of relief. She turns to Lasciel,
"Indeed, Mistress di Marat, we are now safely ensconced within the protective barrier afforded by the everlantern, and have leisure to speak on what, I imagine, must be many matters of great curiosity and puzzlement to you."
"From what I have gathered from the descriptions of your homeworld -- Earth? -- that I have gleaned from the other travelers, it is very different from Surta'ra -- there is no magic, and the gods do not intervene directly in the lives of their children -- at least they do not do so in the time period from which most of the travelers originate. I met one who claimed to be the mind or soul of a citizen of a territory known as the Fatimid Empire, which I understood to be a time more ancient than that from which you hale. Their understanding of some of these matters was quite different -- they were a court philosopher in their earthly life, and we uncovered, after a lengthy discussion, that our respective religions shared many similar cosmological beliefs -- a discovery which, of course, we both found quite striking."
"In any event, I would never claim to be the wisest of the mortal races -- the Wordbearers, Firemakers, Namegivers, and Songsingers of the Young Gods of the Lands before the Break, but the gnostic cabal to which I have devoted myself, as well as the Mysteries of Mercury of which I was previously an adherent, are both societies in our lands distinguished by their cultivation and preservation of knowledge of our world. I am the chief representative of the Gnostic Cabal of the Mask and the Veil in the islands of domains of the Sea of Singing Swords which lies between the deserts of Ibassuron and the dark arboreal reaches of Seradina. I will attempt to answer all of your questions to the best of my ability."
"So others have come through and are well, pretty much in the same boat. So you've had people from different time periods from our world show up as well!! Interesting." Awerzal says as she seems to take it in looking at the sky and closing her eyes.
"So these mortal races? What are they?"
Efti begins to hum slightly to herself as she begins to answer Azerwal's query, her voice assuming a sign song melody as she takes up her story
"The species who are the children of the younger gods, the race of immortals born to the elder choirs of dragon deities and Phoenix goddesses. These children of the younger gods, including my own species, are divided into several families - the wordbearers, the firemakers, the songsingers, the namegivers, and others built upon the gifts bestowed upon the founding races by their most ancient gods, eventually ascending to the heights of the Golden Age of Technology."
The history of each of these races varies considerably. For example, the families of elves are believed to have been entered Surta'ra when their divine patrons sought their spirits in the outermost reaches of the kingdoms of dreams, and fashioned bodies for these spirits in immigration of the ancient founding race who were the choice creations of the Phoenix goddesses and known as the 'unelven', fey shape changers whose bipedal forms resemble devilish elves, and whose animal forms are many tailed candies and fields.
The history of each of these races varies considerably. For example, the families of elves are believed to have been entered Surta'ra when their divine patrons sought their spirits in the outermost reaches of the kingdoms of dreams, and fashioned bodies for these spirits in immigration of the ancient founding race who were the choice creations of the Phoenix goddesses and known as the 'unelven', fey shape changers whose bipedal forms resemble devilish elves, and whose animal forms are many tailed candies and fields.
"The sapients - the species you know as humans on Earth - are of many sorts -- the red, yellow, and green men of the desert sands of Ibasurron, the dragon-worshipping Taguseri, the orange-skinned raiders and traders known as the Illumayan, there are hundreds of these cultures. They were the first to fall to the influence of the inhabitants of the Pits of the Inferno, an event which gradually corrupted and brought and end to the Golden Age of Technology"
such a tragedy. So you lost so much here, do you think there is a way to recover it? T'karra says.
Efti's tone assumes a more somber tone as the course of her narration shifts to address T'Karra's query -- "So much... indeed, the very thought of it can stiffen one's soul. It is said that in the Golden Age of Technology that the population of the families of the Firemakers, Songsingers, Wordbearers, Namegivers, Glassbreathers, Waterfinders and many other such who have perished in the wars with the lords of the Inferno and the subsequent depredations of the Tarragon Lords of the False Elements was more than one hundred fold that which now populates the mortal realms."
"The wasted reaches of the Lower World -- the planet that lies below the suspended lands and seas in which we now travel -- were once lush habitations, gardens of abundance, where now there is naught but death and despair."
"It is said that our distant ancestors once voyaged to distant stars in remarkable vessels of glass and gold, and that virtually every inhabitant of that age had a mind opened to such a profound ability that any two could speak to one another with thoughts from any place as if they sat side by side. The names of many lost schools of arcane ability and gods whose temples now all lie in ruins have also come down to us."
"What more -- in the days of the Golden Age of Technology, the people were served and protected by the Aureusians - automatons of gold whose spirits, at first, were bright and noble. Half their number were corrupted by the incursions of the maleficent masters of the Inferno, and the greater part destroyed in the successive conflicts of the Daemons Wars and the Typhoon Struggle with the endless elemental legions of the Tarragon Lords. Yet, a small number remain, a dim reminder of their former glory and depleted legacy."
"The names and numbers of the elven peoples were once great in the vast lands of Seradina to the north -- the books of history speak of 100 kingdoms of the dark elves and the light elves, and of the great wonders which they perfected in their time of greatest triumph, after they had, with difficulty, thrown off the yoke of the unelven incanter kings and malifex queens whose cabals had enslaved their majority when they were first delivered by the aegis of the young gods during the Elf's Age of the First Blossoming of the Distant Star."
such a tragedy. So you lost so much here, do you think there is a way to recover it? T'karra says.Efti's tone assumes a more somber tone as the course of her narration shifts to address T'Karra's query -- "So much... indeed, the very thought of it can stiffen one's soul. It is said that in the Golden Age of Technology that the population of the families of the Firemakers, Songsingers, Wordbearers, Namegivers, Glassbreathers, Waterfinders and many other such who have perished in the wars with the lords of the Inferno and the subsequent depredations of the Tarragon Lords of the False Elements was more than one hundred fold that which now populates the mortal realms."
"The wasted reaches of the Lower World -- the planet that lies below the suspended lands and seas in which we now travel -- were once lush habitations, gardens of abundance, where now there is naught but death and despair."
"It is said that our distant ancestors once voyaged to distant stars in remarkable vessels of glass and gold, and that virtually every inhabitant of that age had a mind opened to such a profound ability that any two could speak to one another with thoughts from any place as if they sat side by side. The names of many lost schools of arcane ability and gods whose temples now all lie in ruins have also come down to us."
"What more -- in the days of the Golden Age of Technology, the people were served and protected by the Aureusians - automatons of gold whose spirits, at first, were bright and noble. Half their number were corrupted by the incursions of the maleficent masters of the Inferno, and the greater part destroyed in the successive conflicts of the Daemons Wars and the Typhoon Struggle with the endless elemental legions of the Tarragon Lords. Yet, a small number remain, a dim reminder of their former glory and depleted legacy."
"The names and numbers of the elven peoples were once great in the vast lands of Seradina to the north -- the...
The armored otterling who had recently directed the levitating barge to deliver the party of escapees from the dreadful shrine of the Tarragon Lord Cendis-Xirgit, and who Efti the seeress had referred to as "Telemachus" now interjects in the reminisces of the once priestess of the dead god Mercury, "Aye, but a few of the noble Aureusians remain," here Telemachus points his furry chin at a man-sized golem made of solid gold that is currently performing some kind of inspection of the curious vessel, "we have lost much, but not all, and there is hope that we may yet regain it. Already, our expeditions from the Island of Rasoom have established that the wider world, which we have for many years feared was completely under the power of the Tarragon Lords of the Sanguine Storm, has in fact, though not without scars, survived the Typhoon Struggle, and the Veil imposed by the lost gods has, for the moment, held, preventing the final assault of our enemies."
"Yes, indeed," Efti agrees, "these were welcome discoveries -- some decade ago, but you cannot but feel that the recent absence of communication from even the port of many-towered Siatyr, greatest harbor of the Island of Rasoom, is not troubling. It feels that for every small victory we have perceived, another defeat is dealt. I feel deeply that the fate of our world lies yet very much on the precarious balance of a needle's head. Within the shrine of the Tarragon Lord, we conversed with the unified minds of one of its many victims, a strange kind of tormented poltergeist and possessing spirit, and these claimed that the Sanguine Storm have not in any wise left off their assault, but probe and seek weaknesses relentlessly in the Veil, and that their hunger is unslaked, and that once they complete the consummation of the their unholy gluttony by devouring this world, they will turn their attention to a thousand others, including this Earth from which we have encountered so many unmoored souls as of late."
"Could you explain what happened during Elf's Age of the First Blossoming of the Distant Star?" Lord Silkenleaf asked.
"Could you explain what happened during Elf's Age of the First Blossoming of the Distant Star?" Lord Silkenleaf asked.
"The spirits of the elves were gathered from the furthest reaches of the realm of dreams and placed in bodies in the image of the bipedal forms of the ancient race known as the unelven, the shape changing children of the most ancient Phoenix goddesses. The young gods wished only to imitate the beautiful handiwork of their winged progenitors, but the unelven took umbrage at the appearance of this new family of races made in their image. For the first age of their life in what the dream spirits who became the elves called the garden of material sensation, the young gods blessed their creations with abundant life and led them on fantastic sojourns throughout many worlds to gather the deepest mysteries of magic."
"But the jealous eyes of the unelven turned scornfully upon the fey children of the young gods, the first born of the realm of dreams -- they established the hideous monuments known as the Shrike Trees throughout their domains -- pillars of metal studded with long spikes on which they impaled the bodies of their elven slaves and seized their spirits. The races of elves are divided from the other families of Surta'ra for they have only many spirits, not souls, for their original animating essence was drawn by the young gods from the realm of dreams. Their spirits reincarnate, life after life, or within the spirit trees or ghost rocks of their domains, and pass endless rounds of mortal existence. The unelven looked upon them with envy because of they were creatures fashioned in their image, but without their frailty -- the unelven are non-spirited creatures, made merely of minds that animate the raw elemental substance on the edge of the Strongholds of the True Elements from which the phoenix goddesses drew their bodies at the beginning of time. When they die, their mind has no future, and they disperse and pass back into the primordial chaos. Thus, they guard their lives jealously, and hate the children of the young gods for their length of days and endless cycles of lives."
Suddenly, Efti cries out, interrupting her the reverie of her narrations of the peoples, places, and events of the many previous ages of this strange world known as Surta'ra. In a moment, it is clear that the source of her distress is the collapse of another crew member of the Dawnlight's Last Glistening, this one a diminutive gnome.
The yellow-skinned man, Urstin, interjects,
"Mother of Endless Mercies, another one -- I can't but fear that it is the proximity of the pyramid that is causing this manifestation of the transferences. Mistress Efti, I advise we move from offshore, and to the far side of the island to put some distance between ourselves and whatever energy field the monolith is emitting -- it is hard to know what it's range or further effects might be."