Silver & Sapphire

[DISCOLIQUID 1963]

Spoiler

Music!

 

Silver & Sapphire

 

Dull midnight skies lurked above Urguan, with stars watching down upon Yemekar's chosen. Tireless work kept the forges hot, billowing with industry. Working Dwarves wore their hands down until the fires fell into a soft dimming. Clouds clamored in the night sky, with stiff & distant thunder heard over the mountain's muffling peaks.

 

When all yellow lanterns soften to orange glim, when crisp autumn's air cools after the cracking skies, when doors shut & locked, then… a few crept towards a well-earned rest. Darkness envelops the mind of the weary, providing a furtive respite against the day's trials. In this cloak of midnight storm, dreams left a soft sense trending weirder, and indict prophecy yet to come.

 

---

 

 

Yours is the hand that carries the torch, with a scholar to your left and a warrior to your right. The path of providence is laid before you in stone, for though one holds iron in his heart, the other holds wisdom in tomes of old. Both are faceless, without identity, though they follow, loyal to the unspoken truths that lay underneath forgotten rock.

 

Yours is the hand that carries the torch, cutting through cobwebs and distilling their terror with the purifying flame. Upon foul things that scuttle from crag-corners, you lay the fire without question. The wise-man dispenses lofty arcane trails, your zealous holy man dispatching that which blocks your path. Upon stone mysteries, you descend, though blue-black darkness casts no shadow into your fool's heart while…

 

Yours is the hand that carries the torch. Unraveling caves of old and new, traversing where flame has not wrought truth in centuries, you are steady in the stiff bleak underground. The weight of the world presses up… and down, and a sick sense of nausea beguiles your sense of direction, but onwards you press until no foes of the low halls hold the courage to rise up against you three.

 

Treasures earned are spoils only in name. Now, a proud flame leads onwards down stone's prophetic caverns, but the orange light burns off your weary brazier. Blue-black shadows drift ever closer, though your clandestine trio dwells not in fear nor folly. Upon holy things that glitter upon engraved stone doors, you lay the fire without question.

 

Scintillating light, pale ultramarine, cloud-silver, spirals up in veins found split into rocks. Wealth in the depths, fit for wisdom. By silver and sapphire, a mind could be wrought. As you touch stone engravings, old knowledge fills your mind. Sigils, runes, forlorn secrets, and well-deserved rests. Depictions of golems cut of sapphire and silver flicker in and out of torch bright clarity. A truth discovered in long-lost halls.

 

Yours is the hand that carries the torch, when the low halls sweep with alien winds. Wrought from a passage unseen, as stone doors shift below tombs of rock. Mundane fire flickers out, plunging you into blue-black shadow. Here, at the doorstep of providence, a trail of carved stone behind you. An opening, an unseen pathway before. Perhaps your treasures would never reach the surface, for the maze backward seemed lost to dreaming memory, as clarity flooded in.

 

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A flicker of lightning awakes each dreamer. None of the trio finds their room in order. They would awaken to their books opened, half-read, scribed with nonsense. Possessions half-packed, as if they had been preparing for some journey. And despite any rubbing at their noses, crinkling of the nostrils… The scent of a freshly blown-out torch would not leave their minds. Dawn broke, the night sleepless, and furtive stars shuffled off. The sun watches down upon Yemekar's chosen.

 

[ The dream is available to... @SharpString @searose143@AdamantFlames ]

 

 

 

[SharpString 323]

Tuzic awakes with a start, sitting up in his bed. "Hrm?" he grunts, crinkling his nose at the strange smell. - The forest dwarf sits there for some time... taking in the dream he had received in the night. "Silver ahnd Sapphire... curious..." he mutters to himself, standing and taking in the strange sights around his room "Bostone?" he wonders aloud as he dresses himself, rushing out of his stump to find he whom he had seen in his dream... and Auriel too.

[AdamantFlames 28]

Bostone stares up at his ceiling, staring at his arm as his non-existent hand pantomimes holding a torch. After some time, he looks around to see the mess and exclaims, "Ah, so thats 'ow dis es gonnae be." He cleaned up the mess, and began his way down to the workforce hall, thinking on the events as they played out, and prepping any items he may need in the upcoming future.