All things change; the world, in its inevitable turning mass of rock and churning inner fire, shifts, grows, and burns—is shaped by those who seek to destroy, build, and mold things as suited to their own tastes. Empires rise, flourish, and then inevitably fall; all eventually die, and those who do not have the misfortune of watching the passing of these drastic differences from one generation onto the next. What doesn’t change, truly, is time itself—its ability to never stop recreating all around it into something new, or old, with its own measured pace.
All the while, there are places forgotten; teetering brinks of darkness and light that have been left behind in the extinction of one era in order to begin anew. Tombs hidden under desert sands, crumbling keeps lost between two steeples of mountainous rock, and underwater tunnels that have remained untouched by human and meta alike for centuries simply because they have outlived their usefulness—because all have either outlived their usefulness or better things arose.
One such place was never meant to be found, to be visited; so unlike the others, one could not reach it without some previous knowledge and acquired skill for the journey. Few would likely care to, given the danger—the promise of an death without suitable preparation. Beyond that, a lengthy warning regarding the release of a dark tome—a tome that could bring ruin and darkness with any promised power—was enough to dissuade even the darkest of mages.
Light dancing along a stone carved bridge, reflecting off the falls beside it and the squared entrance across from it, belies what is within: a labyrinth of molding, dripping, moss-covered, bone-ridden tunnels engraved with runic warnings laden with dying magic. Traps of the magical and physical sense pervade—some riddles, illusions, and others merely a rolling ball of stone down a hall or a series of spikes shooting up from the stone floor.
However, if one makes it to the room holding the promised prize—the imprisoned prize—the first thing one will note is the rounded stone platform that takes up the bulk of the center. Steps lead up to it, and at the top there is book. The color of which is red and deeply so; if one does not look close enough it would appear to more black than anything else—almost abyssal tar; while it might appear to be leather, one with a keen arcane sense would know the binding is anything but human skin despite the color. The closer one gets to it the easier it is to feel the faint tug of dark magic; though it has been asleep long enough to be unnoticed by those not gifted with such a sense. The only symbol on the front face of the medium-sized text is that of a white snake biting its own tail.
It one tries to remove the book, or open it, one will not be able to. Rites, after all, must be performed.
All the while, there are places forgotten; teetering brinks of darkness and light that have been left behind in the extinction of one era in order to begin anew. Tombs hidden under desert sands, crumbling keeps lost between two steeples of mountainous rock, and underwater tunnels that have remained untouched by human and meta alike for centuries simply because they have outlived their usefulness—because all have either outlived their usefulness or better things arose.
One such place was never meant to be found, to be visited; so unlike the others, one could not reach it without some previous knowledge and acquired skill for the journey. Few would likely care to, given the danger—the promise of an death without suitable preparation. Beyond that, a lengthy warning regarding the release of a dark tome—a tome that could bring ruin and darkness with any promised power—was enough to dissuade even the darkest of mages.
Light dancing along a stone carved bridge, reflecting off the falls beside it and the squared entrance across from it, belies what is within: a labyrinth of molding, dripping, moss-covered, bone-ridden tunnels engraved with runic warnings laden with dying magic. Traps of the magical and physical sense pervade—some riddles, illusions, and others merely a rolling ball of stone down a hall or a series of spikes shooting up from the stone floor.
However, if one makes it to the room holding the promised prize—the imprisoned prize—the first thing one will note is the rounded stone platform that takes up the bulk of the center. Steps lead up to it, and at the top there is book. The color of which is red and deeply so; if one does not look close enough it would appear to more black than anything else—almost abyssal tar; while it might appear to be leather, one with a keen arcane sense would know the binding is anything but human skin despite the color. The closer one gets to it the easier it is to feel the faint tug of dark magic; though it has been asleep long enough to be unnoticed by those not gifted with such a sense. The only symbol on the front face of the medium-sized text is that of a white snake biting its own tail.
It one tries to remove the book, or open it, one will not be able to. Rites, after all, must be performed.
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 08-24-2015, 03:05 PM
Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 08-24-2015, 04:11 PM
Blood Rites [Closed] - by megs - 08-26-2015, 12:01 PM
Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 08-26-2015, 03:12 PM
Blood Rites [Closed] - by megs - 09-13-2015, 02:46 PM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 11-21-2015, 02:52 PM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by megs - 01-02-2016, 07:06 PM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 01-16-2016, 05:30 PM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by megs - 08-10-2016, 11:33 AM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 09-14-2016, 03:37 PM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by megs - 09-29-2016, 04:18 PM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 09-30-2016, 01:04 AM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by megs - 11-01-2016, 10:15 AM
RE: Blood Rites [Closed] - by Blade - 03-15-2017, 09:40 PM