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The Ebon Watch pt.1

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The Ebon Watch

(Part 1): A Prophet’s Request




A man known only as, “The Prophet,” had called out to any willing to assist him at the Cloud Temple square.  A startling earthquake in the Southern Region of the Yatl caused harsh winds to rip and bellow once more northward.  He offered those assembled a solution.. A chance to stop the cold.


Prophet:  “It will be no easy task.. The enemy you face has gathered and will march soon on Haense.  Rivia and Halsworthy.. They have both fallen.”


The crowd would nod, listening as this man explained the situation.  Many were skeptical of his whereabouts or who he may even be.. But some chose to trust what he said.


Prophet: Your Wall.. part of it has cracked, and from this opening, the Ebongate has thrived.  The Sundering of the Yatl has taken place.. Large cracks in the earth bring forth beings of damnation and chaos.  From this battlefield to come, we can only do so much as individuals. In an old hamlet.. I have hidden three treasures from my past life.  I will take us back to that place, past their barricade and into an old barn I had once inhabited.


Auriel:  “What is the Ebongate?”


Prophet:  “This is a gateway into the Void, a channel of energy for those who choose to wield it against you.  It partly along with the Vaeyl influence, has fueled the continued rampage of this cold weather into your realms, churning the storms and ice forthward.


The crowd continues to listen.


Prophet:  “Should you aide me in this task.. I will need what is sealed in this hamlet.  Three of my old trunks all remain untouched. Tethered to a dimension unknown to the monstrosities that lurk within.   I have heard of vile beast-men inhabiting the village, using it as an outpost as they move forward to Haense, their next target.”


A majority of the group would be concluded to help this strange man, some would turn and leave his stories too tall a tale to take down.


Prophet:  “To those who remain… sit with me.  Cross your legs like so, and place your hands outward.”


As the group of twenty-two sat down, they all raised their palms as a small orb would leave the baggage of the Prophet, humming louder and louder as the air would suddenly pop and burst, transporting them a short distance away.




The group would find themselves tucked away inside an aging barn, the sound of a soft rain pouring down upon the creaking roof.


Gabriel:  “What is this place?  Where are we?”

Prophet:  “An old abandoned village.. From where I came from, right behind the barricade forming before Haense, just up the path.”


The group slowly peeks out the barn, looking about for any sign of movement or commotion.


“I hear something in the watch-tower,” remarked one of the soldiers.


“I also heard something.. Back by the tavern,” an elf would state.


“This is not good, the Prophet said aloud,” he would urge them all back within the barn, closing the door as the sound of movement became apparent, loud crashes and hustled feet outside.


The two beast-men would walk forth, their appearances twisted and malformed into barbarous cretins.

Darius: “Do you smell that, Gallen?” The dog-like snout of the man would flare as he let his claws scrape the side of the wooden barn, peering around the corner, leaping back onto a tree afterward.


Gallen: “It's a stench I haven’t smelled for a bit of time, Darius.. Warm Meat.”  The chops of the latter creature would lick, himself following the motion of Darius, leaping about the barn.


The Prophet: “Stay quiet and hushed.. We must fight them from a position of superiority.”


Suddenly at the conclusion of this sentence, a projectile strikes the side of the barn, light beginning to pelt the sides of the old wooden structure..


Leon:  “What was that!?”

Prophet: “Fire.”


The two beast-men began slinging a fiery material against the walls of the barn, slowly catching the walls ablaze, the hay roof especially burning quickly.




Some time passes as they plan out what to do, one of them had been wounded by an arrow shot by Darius.


As they decide to move locations, the roof suddenly collapses due to the extended period of time taken to come to a decision.  Ten of those within the group are now trapped under a burning roof as the others tried to wrestle them loose. The two beast-men stood watching from afar at the watch-tower, firing arrows at the wounded as they’re pulled from the rubbage.  At this point in time a blue orc arrives by the name of Grukku, having heard of their departure he rode his war-boar as fast as he could to the settlement.


With the wounded all freed, some had indeed died due to the collapse.  The Prophet urged a small force of their weakened and wounded to the tavern nearby while the orcish Rex and the Elven leader engaged the two archers who continued to pelt them with black arrows, the orc taking one in the shoulder-blade as he fell in the heated conflict.  The Prophet had finally gotten all of their wounded safely up the cliffside into an abandoned tavern, having the old man who accompanied them watch-over and treat the likes of Gabriel, and the other wounded.


The Prophet then left, taking four of those who could still fight back around into the collapse barn-structure to try and pincer the two beasts who had been engaged with their remaining forces at the barn’s entrance.


At the departure of the Prophet’s detachment back to the barn, a loud crash is heard atop the roof of the tavern, walking slowly toward the entrance.  Those within hushed their frantic voices and prepared themselves for something to happen.. A beast with white eyes gazed at the battle by the barn.


“Seems Darius and Gallen are having their fun with these toys…” A wicked laugh would emerge from the throat of the creature.  “My young pups, perhaps I shall join you… after..” he would cock his head below, jumping down from the top and turning his back to the dark entrance of the tavern.   He would slowly tilt his snout upward, smelling the air, a grin across his face as he began walking inside.


A young Eric, a wounded soldier, attempted a thrust at the back of the head of the beast as it entered the darkened hall, he would feel his hand gripped tightly by a claw as he was now being held into the air.  A laugh would once more emerge from the creature, rearing back his left-claw about to slaughter the man when a crossbolt hit the back of his now turned skull.. Shot by the wounded Gabriel. Upon his persona would be a strange clock, acquired by Tikka.  A mental mage would be drawn to it..




As the group fought the two beasts, Darius was finally felled by the Rex, the wounded Goblin and another Uruk while Gallen suffered much longer at the hands of a larger force of the descendants, finally being felled by the now combined forces.  The Prophet however, had been shot with a black arrow, his color fading as he proclaimed:

“These arrows.. They are cursed!”


The shock would spread in the group.. Any who had casted magic now had their link severed, inability to further practice their art.  The Prophet it would seem, relied on mana to live as he felt his body fail in the arms of one of the descendants clutching him tight.


“I have seen.. A darkness coming here.  They know of our presence.. We must flee.”

The Prophet once more gripped his orb, calling everyone over to him as the adversaries had been defeated.  He held it up with his remaining strength, the air once more burst and popped.. This time however not powered by the Prophet’s own abilities.. But something else.  A bright yellow light erupted across the village as their personas faded.




With the touch of the orb held now within the hands of a descendant, the dying Prophet propelled those who surrounded him into a dimension of pure ecstasy.  As they slammed upon the ancient crystalline structure that fastened itself into the center of the room, the group stood up in amazement. Those who had been weakened felt their wounds slowly begin to take the process of healing, those who had fought felt their energy return to their personas..

Prophet: “It is here, that I came from descendants.  This is within the Great Crystal, floating just outside the reach of this land, high above the clouds.”


A particular descendant seemed quite worried at returning to such a place.


Leon:  “We must go quickly!  I have been here before!”


The alarm was quickly spread among the group, inquiring as to where they were in such a foreign place.


Leon:  “The defenses.. They will activate!  The Stone.. We should not be here!”


Prophet: “He is right.. This place is not kind to intruders.. But we had no option.  The Great Hungerer was coming.. And with our losses suffered.. I had no choice.”


The dying prophet, the cursed arrow still deeply embedded within him, began to walk to the center-most spire, a massive humming crystal of pure white hanging overhead.  He would place his hand upon its bottom, a stream of mana shooting up into the crystal as he felt his last breath take place.


Prophet: “Go now.. Ascend the Southern Spire.. And leave this accursed realm.. I am sorry.”


Leon would lead those gathered up the spire in a panic, observing as the other spires began to awaken, golden light shooting through their centers as small divots in their sides began to slowly open, the smell of brimstone filling the air.


As the group gathered atop the Southern Spire, they saw the bridge was slowly manifesting, piece by piece.


A voice would boom across the dimension as they all gathered upon the top platform.

“You were not invited here.. Ah, I see one of my younger children led you here.. For what purpose?”


Leon:  “We must hurry!  The portal is opening across the way, in the central spire!  As soon as the bridge opens, go forth!”




A blinding light would burst forward from the main spire, the portal opened.  Before them they could see the faint image of the Cloud Temple, a gathering of descendants peering back out of the other side.


A swarm of fire elementals of pure golden flame would begin bolting them with defensive projectiles as they attempted to make the jump from the failing bridge created by the last energies of the Prophet.  Some fell to their untimely end, one in particular, Tikka, fell unto a bridge below, wounding his leg.


Auriel:  “All of you through the portal!  Now! I will retrieve those who failed to make the jump!”

The Elf would descend, accompanied by another, down to the bottom platform.  Arrow after arrow as launched from his bow as he narrowly dodged flaming bolts of light propelled forth toward his location.   Finding Tikka at the bottom of the spire, he pulled him up over his shoulder, carrying him up the platform’s ascent and across the very narrow bridge now.  A particular bolt of golden light nearly struck, deflected off the back of his shield upon his shoulders. As he threw Tikka through the portal, Leon offered a hand for the Elf, and the portal closed.. With all but one making it out alive through the dimension.


The group stood gathered in the Cloud Temple, taking time to recollect what had just occured.  A particular Tikka felt a hole in his pant pocket.. The Golden Clock of Rivia.. He had dropped it back in that strange place.


Leon:  “The Entertainer’s Stone.  That is the only way back… and I know who has it.”


Event Close.

(Big thanks to @Bluee & @0000Gae_Frogs for their assistance in running this event.)

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(Can’t wait to see what’s next in this event line, it was a pleasure to help.)

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An Elf going by the name Ilharn Zanunder ignores the Prophet’s call at Cloud Temple. 

“September is our salvation” ‘Ilharn Zanunder’ says to himself.

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Tikka frowns, the memory of the elf’s sacrifice still fresh in his mind. “Tikka will not forget. Tikka will come back for clock-thing. This time Tikka will be ready.”

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