A Trip Into The Damned Realm

[Malaise 1570]

All shoulder enter, beneath the blackened sun,

 

All did peer thusly, into the abyssal depths below,

-

The conglomerate gathered here, at the rim of oblivion, peering far into the horizon as the damned realm before them lie waiting; eager for their entry. Valens and Sylandrian, the Mali’aheral. Archibald, the Southeron. Lawrence and Basil II, the Savoyard ordermen of Amyas. These were the gathered, ready to delve into the lands before them, driven only by wanderlust and a deep seeded desire to discover what foul presence haunted the realm.

 

 

The wayward group, led by the silver sentinel Valens Ith’ael, took caution in their procession, first crossing bridges of withered stone, stained long ago by the blackening touch of flame. Flame. It was all they saw, littering the tormented earth. Stepping past it, it offered no warmth, as illumine embers oft’ do. No, it offered naught but suffering and torment. They were wise to step past it. Shadows danced across the landscape, birthed from the flames surrounding them. As each party member took their individual moments of rest, the shadows grew nearer, forcing them onward; it was a frightening thought, to be taken away without a sound, by limbs cast only from the terror of the travelers’ minds. They stuck together, in a tight mass of armor and paranoia.

 

 

The conglomerate approached a lake soon enough. Staring deep into the pitch waters, only darkness welcomed them. Shapes stirred in the waters below; drowners, beings long lost to the cold clutch of the cruel bite of the water. Choosing instead to cross the lake by way of boat, the travelers sailed over the legion of monsters beneath. Landing upon the shore, the gathered souls set their sights upon an altar, wretched and forgotten.

 

It was here that madness ensued. A voice, spoken in an echoed and foul tone, reached out to the wayward group, demanding that a life be taken for the remaining souls to flee the isle. It was Basil II, who amongst the infighting stood tall and willingly put himself to death, that allowed his fellowship to flee for their lives. But Basil’s sacrifice was for naught; the group drove deeper into the damned realm, pursuing the very voice that had condemned their fallen comrade.

 

 

Maddening whispers drowned the thoughts of each man, turning friend to foe and comrade to villain. Each traveler drew their blade as the delved ever deeper into the hellish landscape, ready to turn on one another. Sylandrian suffered the greatest of fears, and ran from his kin. He fled, screaming in troves of madness, led by the voice that tormented them all.

 

Atop a desolate mountain peak, an altar was reached. It detailed events to come, a prophecy of sorts. Sylandrian fell here, his blood drenching the scene, as Valen’s finally caught his Mali’aheral kin, sticking a cold, ferrum blade into his throat. The mountain groaned. A gate clicked open. Abyssal depths, revealed to the crowd. A descent unlocked.

 

They were sure to return and make a second journey.

 

-

All would depart, but one,

 

All did flee thusly, horror and doom in tow.

 

((I'll be doing events for anybody who wishes to have one hosted in the ugly netherrack/soulsand region. If you or your group wish to have one done, PM me on the forums or IG. Thanks for playing along, daelaris, Caelria, Flurgh, Speedillion, and Lunarmyth, in this event. I had fun.))

[Heero 4092]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.