[Bounty] The Memory Of Atlas [Hard]

[TheIchorDruid 1986]

The Ceru Mid-North East (where the north merges with the east) is very well known for the furious and energetic snowstorms, followed by chaotic thunderstorms, a geographical phenomenon caused by cold air masses coming down from the north meeting with the slightly warmer breeze from the east, cast down from the Dominion of Malin, resulting in squall lines, severe thunderstorms, and blizzards. The ferocity of such storms is therefore a result of the mixing of opposite forces from opposite directions, and leaves a certain strange energy in the air.

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When the winter winds blow and the fires are lit, it is best to stay indoors, safely shut away from the dark paths and the wild heaths. Those who wander out by themselves during the nights may hear a sudden rustling through the tops of the trees - a rustling that might be the wind, though the rest of the wood is still. But then the barking of dogs fills the air, and the host of wild souls sweeps down, fury flashing from the eyes of the black hounds and the hooves of the black horses beneath the vicious strikes of the thunder.

 

But one man failed to heed the warning of the locals, his perception on such folk tales caused his rather ambiguous interpretation, for he longed to understand what such tragedies caused the commoners of Ceru to keep a candle lit at night; for they were all truly struck with fear.

 

Pushing forth through the ripples of merciless winds, the flakes of devilish snow clung upon the gruff stubble that lined his jaw, the man’s skin had dropped in color and threaten to almost shatter at the intensity; but of course his stupidity over ruled his common sense - if any.  

 

His orbs flickered over his shoulder, though his line of vision was merely a blur through the thickness of the blizzard, only allowing him to make out the mere silhouettes of the mountains that loomed over him, his tracks rapidly filling in and leaving him no  breadcrumbs or traces to find his way back - thus he had little choice but to continue where the locals had directed him.

 

And thus came what the commoners had promised him.

 

A wicked storm brewed once he had met the border to cross from the Federation Of Sutica upon the lands of Ceru, the clouds huddled closely together and cracks of lightning illuminating the midnight sky. The man was here, in the eye of the storm but this was not the stories his ears had caught, there were whispers of ghostly figures, mounted upon decaying steeds that descended from the sky..

 

Though, how wrong could such a fool be - for shortly after such a conclusion a grisly winnie passed through the breeze, though he failed to source the owner of such noise; his build flickered about helplessly - completely vulnerable to what he was soon going to become subject to.

 

Burly hooves thundered across the skies, or perhaps it was just the thunder? The weary and weakening man shook his head violently in hopes to rid such hallucinations, but the sound was never ceasing, only drawing closer. With what little energy the man could muster he quickly fought through the deepening snow that clawed at his boots, never once wishing to look backwards - only wanting to create distance between himself and whatever was dawning closer.  

 

But the riders were quicker, knew the typical reaction that the man would take and thus he was very much surrounded, bony decaying hooves scraped against the snow - one singular ghastly armed raised and soon the riders claimed their first victim..

 

 

 

 

Shortly after his disappearance, concerned family members and friends nail missing posters for their beloved friend and family member upon any available notice board.

 

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Wanted: Marcus Thistle, found alive and returned to his family

 

Threat level: Harmless, though may grow hostile due to the weeks of his isolation. 

 

Suggested party number: Maximum of ten

 

Difficulty of bounty: Hard

 

Reward: 500 Mina

 

((Pm Torkoal_Tom for more details))

 

((This marks the first installment of, the memory of Atlas.))

[Braehn Elendil An'Hiraeth 474]

Uriah an'Ceru turns to Sighard, holding the bounty letter in his hand. "You in?"

[Joltastik 506]

Sighard ponders, old tales of ghostly riders swooping in from the skies now flooding his mind for no particular reason. For sure, these were but folk tales, aimed to scare the little nippers that refused to heed to their parent's words. . . Right?

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.