Basten - The Underhand of Illburg

[Laemor]

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Let me tell you the tale of kid who grew up on the wrong side of the island...

W.I.P

[Laemor]

He came to the Rhoynish, or did the Rhoynish find him first? Whatever the origin. Let us praise, Njorun.

The Beginning:

Within the caverns of hallowed corridors. A brave and courageous group of Rhoynish ventured deep below the earth of illburg. In an attempt to learn of their history, the depths were the only sight to be-hold. Their venture brought to an immediate halt as they realized the dire situation they already bumped into.

The cave entrance was that of a deep drop, fifty feet at least from what they examined it to be after sometime. And yet? This wouldn't be enough to stop them as they were wrangled together by the courage of a lone woman. One who settled the score with death so many years ago. 

With a witty mind, they levitated off the use of a potion. Descending down while leaving, but a bloody trail behind for the others to climb down with. One by one did they soon follow behind. Eventually once all were feet planted on the ground? They found themselves presented with a mural unlike any. 

The image of a Giant, he who did battle against hordes of enemies for what looked to be; an eternity. It's only after his descension onto man that they began building in his honor. Subject to nothing, but the pleasures of his brillances resonated over them. A rare and possibly only chance to be in the prescense of a deity oh so powerful and wise. Couragous enough to fear what lies beneath the settlement of Illburg. 

An evil... A darkness... Some whispered that the likes of witches themselves could never come to understand the true horrors of what lies beneath. An unyielding force of nature that seeks only death and decay. Much like Saekanis, the beings that would come from this could only seek the pleasures of mortal flesh torn to shreds.

Such terrible thoughts however wouldn't stop this group. Rather, still standing before the giant wall claimed to be a door. They put all their muscle heads together and figured out a means of opening it. A puzzle... One possible far too tricky for the group at first glance. Almost nobody made it through the front door unhurt. 

"Those who seek to conquer these depths,

Must know this path and all its steps,
Were sealed with purpose, blood, and mind.
Time within was closed to bind.

But if this age is meant to be,
An age where darkness be set free,
Then undo this magic, break this spell,
And prepare yourself with this chant from Hel:

Seasons pass and years go by,
To freeze in place is a matter of time.
You wind back the clock and awaken their slumber,
Snows rise to the sky, twinkling in number,
And the flower’s blossom curls back to a bud,
And the trees remain the color of blood."
The Summer sun sets in east, rises to west,
To curse the temporal suffers this test."


They entered and escaped, but what horrors of the past did they unravel in the process? Can only be told, in the next chapter.

[Laemor]

We were never meant to open this book, to look through its pages...

Several layers of Hel':

"Come closer... Enter into the oblivion." 

They were words the likes of any soul would've felt themselves whispering in tandem to the arrival of such enigma. Branded with vermilion eyes and skin dark as chard ash. Ethereal, in the manner of presence. It was something of a first sight for most. Brought to chills, to the very core of their beings.

"Miles... Hundreds... Lost, Lives."

For such horrific creatures always left a trail behind, sights as these however to those young and old meant so little. When driven to their limits, a lack of thought overcame them. A lack of acknowledgement in the difference in strength. For what might be superior than all, couldn't match the might of unyielding wills. A single cry for battled, tied together by the vocals of the Rhoynish group. 

So they fought and the battle between what could be considered Black & White. Good & Evil.

With it came the sacrifice of, one. One unable to match the trails to-which the others braved. 

And yet with fear driving him forward, courage kept him in place. A sight of light amidst the darkness, it came the shape of a individual. One who continued to lead the group forward, the same who'd endured the weight of the world while the tales of truth were revealed.

Beneath the sands, enslaved to the nobles. Enslaved within their own lands. Enslaved to battle, work and continue to pour out their efforts against the laborious breathes that piled on them each day. A once proud clan to the Rhoynish were reduced, but a few. Those who'd fought against were quickly ridden of. The group had learned as the trails pressed on. What occurred in such a scared temple. 

Death... And plenty of it. But to what awaited them at the end?

Was beyond their imagination.