The Words of Judgement

[Sorcerio 4712]

* Please do not metagame any information from the following post. *

 

 

 

The Words of Judgement

 

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It was but a dull autumn eve, the heavens brought low as the clouds cast above the Kaedreni Mountains in dismal shadow, alike some despaired shroud which might have instilled sorrow within those downcast below. A single man stood atop the hill overlooking the vale below, his eyes set in contemplation as he thought of all that had yet been and would be to come; for the wretched hordes of Moz Strimoza grew closer each passing day, and while their eyes set upon a goal, it were but folly for one to act alone against them. It was then that this man, one known by the name of Dresden, so besought aid amidst those who may hear his plea -- ones who could govern the very Fates themselves.

 

The alchemist would descend deep within his vault, resolve dwindling as fear remained ever-present in his mind; for greater things than demons haunted the annals of the cosmos. Alas, he chose to set himself to work, preparing for himself the rite which had been passed down to him by his mentor -- salt set in circuit, and etched with enigmatic letters of the material. The man then brought himself to stand amidst the circle, cryptic utterances which preceded the rite, the circle upon the ground coming to illuminate with a spectrum of colors, before rush sapphire emerged for an instant -- the room left naught but empty save for smoldering ash and charred runes which lie motionless upon the stone.
 

To traverse the planes themselves was always a mystifying experience, the stars themselves passing by in a rush as the man was tugged through the cosmos. Such stunning beauty, nigh beguiling; yet nonetheless a perilous endeavor, for even the slightest misstep may render one, not merely killed, but their very soul torn asunder by the Void’s wrath. Dresden prayed that such fate did not befall him, and it seemed his intercession was heeded, for only a moment passed before the man was torn from the cosmos and set once more within that of the material, his destination now reached. 

 

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Waves crashed dully against the shore, the sun flickering dimly as if a dying ember amidst the veil of grey, the clouds overhead a looming curtain which seemed to enshroud the coast in despair and gloom. Dresden stood staring before the rising tide, the waves gently pushing against the soles of his boots -- before pulling back at them in a feeble tug. Still, despite the easiness of the sands, waves crashed against the rocks upon the outer shores in furious displays of strength, wearing away at the rigid stone like a hammer against softened clay. The alchemist took in a breath, a brief ephemeral glimmer of gold rising about his lower form as he looked to the uneased waves before him. It was then that he took a step forward upon the rushing waters.  

 

Dresden’s foot came upon the water as if it were rigid land, a gentle ripple seeming to depart from around the sole of the man’s boot. He continued forward amidst the waters, his breathing still collected as he tread forward upon the waters, a dull, golden aftershadow trailing behind him as he moved. As he did, a dark congregation of clouds seemed to roll in from the far east, blanketing the shifting sea as the alchemist came to stop before the veil. The water at his fee then came to recede, the land beneath him then rising as the glow about his form faded -- eyes pressed forward towards the shroud. 

Then, from amidst the great shroud, a figure emerged, one draped in tanned garbs of foreign nature, wielding in its hand what seemed as a rod with four ends -- north, east, and west -- the southernmost part forming what seemed as the handle of the rod. It looked towards the man atop the waters, offering to him a nod of acknowledgement, to which the alchemist returned in a similar fashion, their gazes locked upon the other, naught but silence filling the atmosphere saved for the gentle crash of the waves against the distant shores.

 

The man then proceeded forward atop the dry land, the figure waiting still upon the other side, a distant ringing present in the air, as though some deep and heavy bell resounded in the distance. It was then that the figure spoke, its voice ringing from within the armor which it donned. “Why have you sought me, Student of Gereon?”

 

Dresden took a moment to pause, collecting himself as he replied to the Tarot’s inquiry. “I seek a means of overcoming the hordes which threaten my plane and those that are bound to it.”

 

An ocean breeze swept against the two figures, chilling and otherworldly, ominous, though by no means a threatening presence. Judgement uttered a dull hum as it pondered, coming to pace slowly, gaze set upon the shores, slowly raising its hand in dismissal. “We already have agents dealing with that particular incident. That is not your assigned task.“

 

The alchemist paused once again, his fingers curling slightly in his thought. “I must protest. This is a matter of my own plane, my home. Surely I may be granted means to act against it.”

 

“Do not think that we allocate our agents mindlessly.” The figure would declare, their tone echoing across the waters akin to some deep bell. “We are aware of the forces at play, make no mistake, but there are things far greater afoot. The Infernal Hordes are but a single piece upon the board.”

 

“Then you must tell me—” The man was cut off.

 

“No.” Judgement spoke, raising its hand again, its tone firm and unyielding as the very waters about would recede from its might. ”You are still but an initiate; a novice. Your standing is not made among those of the Wyrd and its Tarots, and therefore, such things are not to be known by you.” Dresden remained unspoken, reddened and tense from that which had occurred; his head held low in shame. All seemed silent, save for the hush rush of the waves up against the rocky shores. “What transpires is but a delicate event which cannot be disturbed. Can a pawn know its true role within the game? No, for it would then make its own call and disturb the delicate order. Do not forget this.”

 

Such a thought would reflect within the back of his mind, not knowing whatever for those words might mean, but would eventually come to understand in time. Finally, after what seemed as uncountable moments, Judgement once more spoke in their voice collected, unraised by rage or emotion. “Now, I can offer you one thing. Go to The Star and inquire of him regarding your plight.” Dresden took in another breath, offering a nod, though no uttered words, the figure continuing. “I know full well the risks that one as you take when present among the others of your realm. Though the Tarots cannot grant you their direct aid, they may be able to guide you, should he be willing.”

 

“I understand.” Dresden spoke after some hiestance, the ocean breeze once more brushing against him as the fog would begin to roll from the north, slowly enveloping the feet of the figure before him.

 

“Good.” Replied Judgement, offering another nod as the fog once more began to blanket his form, engulfing him within its cold embrace -- the shroud pulling away as the voice of the Tarot came to fade with it. “Do not lose hope, Dresden de Wees. Not all is made lost, for Fate has dictated it...” And with the passing of the fog and tide, Judgement, the Tarot had vanished.