Welcome to Gaia! ::

(Bit of a time jump)


Since the last dark of the moon had shielded light from the night, the shadow brought forth from the realm of the dead had infected the landscape. The very face of Larovia had been drastically changed, warped into a nightmarish world that no mortal should ever witness. As the remaining strength of the shattered Veil waned; the darkness had stretched further into the borderlands of Keirdon, bringing with it an endless twilight of muted starlight and twisted horizons.
It was only deep into this broken kingdom that the storm faded into the distance, though still it inched along like rain on a leaf…always pushing forward to trap all in its shadow….


~A small agile form darted through the tangled edges of the clouds that edged Larovia’s borders. For a moment the creature faded back to the north but after only a few moments a sterling hawk common to the distant mountains broke through into the sunlight that graced the rolling plains of Keirdon.
It was an uncommon sight to see this sort of white feathered predator so far from it’s home, but in such times as these, it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Below the bird’s winged form the grasslands soon turned to a desert that stretched far into the south. After many hours of seemingly tireless flight the chill blue eyes of the creature rested upon a claw like tower of ebony stone in the distance.

Ryera…~


~~The Azerian people had not expected to be spared of the immediate destruction of the Veil, so it was a reluctant but welcome sight to Kyrion to see the unnatural darkness clinging only to the edges of Keirdon, far from their forest home. For the moment his people were safe, and as distasteful as he found it, he needed to investigate the happenings in the outside world.
A matter of days after Luin had betrayed the very laws of the Beginning, in breaking the power of the Veil, Kyrion had made his way to their necromancer’s desert home only to find it vacant and deserted.
The camps were empty and the Tower silent, little remained of the land’s former master it seemed.
The Azerian lord nearly turned to leave, but suddenly the subtle flicker of shadow was traced across his features. Immediately he glanced to the sky to catch sight of a white, gray banded hawk disappearing into the open balcony of the Tower.
Suspecting that the creature was hardly as it appeared Kyrion searched for any sign of another’s essence but could sense only the faintest waver of life. Though before he dismissed his curiosity the temperature within the desert region plummeted drastically, to the point that he could see his own breath before his face…~~



~The obsidian wrought tower seemed unchanged by time Kyrion noted as he cautiously ascended the stairs that led to it’s summit. In little to no time the azerian prince began fearing the worse, that perhaps the Ryera had returned to their homelands…their victory now secure. But trailing threads of the Veil still held, slowing the advance of the breach the necromancers had torn in the realm of the dead; perhaps Luin or his brother had returned to seek a way to hasten the pace of their plans. These thoughts and scenarios sped through his mind, but he noted them with little regard. Whatever or whoever had sought this place would be dealt with.

Finally after some time of climbing the steep stairs Kyrion came upon the open threshold that led out onto the vast open balcony. Standing to the side he could already sight the scattered remains of dust covered scrolls and moth ridden tombs covering a large angular stone table at the room’s center. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed in the Ryera’s absence, but still curiosity and the unusual chill that permeated the air drove him to silently enter the room with his blade drawn.
The floor was etched with archaic symbols that held no meaning to the azerian, so he moved immediately to the table that dominated the room. Once again the lettering that the various literature held was completely foreign to him, though what was interesting that there was an area devoid of dust…as if only recently a small book had rested there… Almost as soon as the thought touched his mind he made move to sweep around, suspecting ambush. Sadly he had realized this far too late.


A cool blade laced with fine veins of frost, flicked to his neck from behind.


“In such times, why would an azerian dare to step in Ryeran lands?”

The voice was obviously female; calm, but with a sharp edge that dredged up a memory that summoned immediate doubt for Kyrion.

“It was said death had taken you, it was no surprise considering your father’s fate.” He answered flatly, apparently ignoring his assailant’s question.
“Perhaps I was mistaken.”


There was a tense pause before the subtle ring of metal signaled the sword being sheathed.

“It would not have been the first time…” She answered as Kyrion turned….


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(A short while later.)
“The infection has yet to spread deep into Keirdon, but its pace is beginning to quicken as the Veil weakens. So I fail to see why you are here instead of Larovia where the problem lies….if the Veil dies, you will as well Issildia.” Kyrion stated icily from where he stood at the edge of the balcony with his arms stiffly crossed.

“Do not lecture me as if I were a child prince, much has changed since we last met.” Issildia warned from across the obsidian table.
“Nonetheless, the brothers of Baledon Sukio are searching Larovia and Trenius Sekia as we speak. But the locations of the pieces of the crystal is still a mystery. We had hoped that Luin would have kept a clear history of where they had disappeared to, but so far I have seen, there is little evidence of our suspicions.”

Both fell silent for a long, rather uncomfortable moment before Kyrion spoke, his attention turning to other matters.
“So what is the fate of your companions? After your capture and return, I see that you have yet to seek them out.” He noted coolly.


“Far better for them if we never meet again.” Replied Issildia, her voice carrying barely delectable threads of doubt.


“So you left them to the nightmare that has descended upon your homeland…how gracious of you.” The azerian said with a subtle sneer.
Though Kyrion had expected immediate retort from her, Issildia seemed focused on the desert horizon. He failed to note that as she moved to the edge of the railing her hand flicked her sword free of its sheath, if only by a few inches.

For a moment it seemed that she was listening to some distant sound, but suddenly she turned a dark gaze to him.
“Return to your people, the storm is upon us…”


~Little did Kyrion know, that at the edge of the Ryera encampment a matter of miles from the tower, the tattered edges of the looming clouds drawn from Larovia brushed the border of the desert. And with it came all manner of creatures and haunts, brought forth from the realm of the dead.

Without waiting for a reply Issildia moved to the edge of the balcony and stepped off, landing several feet below with more ease that seemed possible. Her blade in hand, waiting to face all that the Ryera dared.

Decayed humanoid forms; composed of little more than bone and sinew crested the rise that led down to the heart of the former Ryera encampment. Their weapons were crusted over with rust marking them as elder dead from an age past. Among them hellish beasts in wolfen form, with insubstantial bodies of gray fog and ice; followed behind, like carrion birds waiting for their next meal. For a moment the hundreds of Dead hung as the edge of the camp motionless, for the heavy clouds behind them had yet to consume the encampment fully, apparently sunlight deterred them.
Issildia hoped that the storm would advance no further but a burst of wind suddenly drove the darkness further, and with it the Dead advanced, cascading down towards the great tower.
Still she remained motionless at its base upon their advance. Perhaps there was indeed something Luin did not wish for her to discover here…
Though Issildia’s thoughts came to a halt as the undead suddenly turned their attention elsewhere…to prey that was far closer. The overgrown frost hounds at the back, standing taller than any man were the first to catch the scent. As they turned back to the north the rest of the dead did so as well…as if united by a common intelligence.
It was then that the harsh wind brought a familiar scent, one that brought great dread as to what Luin’s minions would do if they came upon their prey.
Without considering the situation further, or bothering to see that Kyrion had departed, Issildia’s form dissolved into the wind like the sand that blanketed the desert, her mission now drastically changed.

Sylph had grown rather adept at her marksmanship and quickly took aim at the wolves in pursuit of Khastur. Her arrows flew true but when they impacted the frost crusted flesh of the beasts, little was achieved. At the most it was an irritance to the creatures. This became evident as two of the wolves slipped from the main force that was quickly surrounding Khastur and turned on Sylph. The valtera's arrows flew from the bow faster than seemed possible, but in little to no time her quiver was nearly depleted, with no evident damage done to the beasts that were now slowly circling her.
"Khastur..." she said lowly as the nearest crouched to pounce, fangs bared.

But as the frost hound became airborne, a lancing flare of silver fire drove into it's exposed chest and flung it backwards before crumpling to the ground.
As Sylph drew her attention to this the second beast took a hapless chance at catching it's prey off guard and darted towards he, ignoring the fate of it's brethren.
Just as before it to was stopped in it's path before delivering it's attack, but this time a long slender blade intercepted it with a swift shower of colorless sparks. Holding the blade was a form cowled in an ebon cloak with the hood drawn low to hide his or her face.
There was a heavy hiss of metal as the figure drew it's sword from the ice ridged body of the wolfen corpse.
Sylph stood gaping for only a portion of a second before she immediately drew one of her remaining arrows and leveled it at the shadowed face of the attacker.
"Who, in the nine hells are you...?" The valtera demanded with fury.

There was a slight gesture of recognition from the figure as a female voice answered.

"You have changed little Zitara."

..........

"Nevar?" Sylph uttered in disbelief.


There was no reply as the cowled woman's form seemed to transform into visible traces of shadow and fog that fled in an instant towards the hoards of undead that were surrounding Khastur.


The corpses of many hundred already lay at his feet, destroyed by some divine force that they had yet to encounter, still hundreds more forged ahead to destroy the one that blocked their path.
For a short lived moment the area dimmed as a dark wind it seemed, traced by outlines of shadow slipped down from above and dropped lower, condensing like an evening rain into a humanoid form draped in black. In a matter of moments Issildia stood before the dead, her back to Khastur, still seeking to avoid a meeting between them. As soon as the enemy was dealt with, she would depart back to Larovia, her companions need not be brought back into danger by her hand once more.


In a gloved hand rested the Ilithri blade, re-forged into a new form with the shards of her former weapon Nyth, as to be brought back into the living realm. Here it would be certain to carry out the will of the power that granted both its master and its self, strength.
For so long as the Veil stood...
..."The Dead shalt not walk the path of the Living." Issildia spoke, with chilling conviction in a low voice, that though little more than a whisper, all of the undead in the area would have heard.
In response a silence echoed within the span of a sliver of a second, eerie and undiluted, as the enemy gave pause.
"I am the Keeper." she finished calmly.

Time suddenly slid back into it's rapid pace, and a wave of cold deeper than the makings of the frost wolves rushed at the Dead with a sweep of her blade. Instantaneously the closest in the front line were leveled by the sword, and a wave of ice that seemed to carry it's own subtle light crystallized the forms of any that had dared to close to her.
Issildia relaxed her stance for a moment; and as though by some invisible force the frozen bodies of her opponents began to fracture and shatter, before all that remained of them were splinters of ice and frost that scattered across the ground.

"Khastur..." She answered in a soft voice before her gaze hardened slighty. Issildia seemed to briefly contemplate his words, knowing that some prices would go beyond even death...but his words rang true, it was his world as well.

Finally in unspoken reply; as the remaining undead and what remained of the frost wolves rounded on them, she calmly lowered her gaze slightly as she drew away the cowl of her cloak, seeing no use to conceal her identy.

Stoically she eyes the creatures, but her gaze streched back to the Ryera desert; the memory of how it had all begun here in this place, surfacing. Fate certainly did have a sense of irony.
Still a familiar shadow of a smirk crossed her lips as her eyes flickered to Khastur briefly.

"Then let us send a message to the Ryera."

A swift ring of metal meeting flesh quickly followed her words....

Quickly with the two working together once again, and Sylph providing cover fire the undead numbers began to dwindle. Colorless flames of silver struck out in a full circle of a life draining cold that the fire seemed to produce. Though it seemed not to affect either of her companions, but covered the ground with frost and leveled wave after wave of Dead.
Ash from remains of the creatures Khastur slew and the bitter chill of the remaining power of Issildia's attacks, circled about in the air in the form of an icy fleeting wind, flecked with dying embers of a golden hue.
For a moment the three stood motionless, silhouetted by the sullen rays of the dieing sun, now beginning to be cloaked by the clouds bleeding out from the Larovian border.
Ash still clinging to the wind and whipping high above them before, scattering across the distance.

Then the moment was broken as Issildia sheathed her blade.

"You should not have come back to this place.." She uttered plainly before she looked back with an expression that held claim to little emotion. Issildia doubted highly that anything she said would turn them aside, Khastur especially would probably have little patience for her caution. Not that she cared in any way for Sylph's opinion. Quite honestly she was impressed that the valtera had managed to survive for so long.

-Issildia had dropped to a knee as he spoke, facing away from them and looking towards the borderlands. She ran her hand through the desert sands before brining it up slightly to let the sand run through her fingers and cascade back to the ground. As Khastur noted his final question, her hand closed with evident regret.
She stood with marked effort, her eyes lowered.
"If you knew what we stood against; you would be less willing to do as you suggest. This is not the same as before Khastur. For , even should we defeat Ryera, the world will fall to darkness...The Veil is failing, its power broken by Luin's magery, and its strength being drained away, now that the Reaper has crossed over...."


(memory)
"If the Veil is destroyed completely, not only will Luin's work come to fruition......the Keepers would be dealt a final death, never to return to the living... The chain of ancestry broken...and any chance of resurrecting the Veil...would be no more." Caaro said calmly.
"So we would cross the final gate." Issildia replied flatly, already understanding this notion.

"I am afraid not, we would not be granted the luxury of a final rest if Meridious is involved. We would merely cease to exist."

~

The images fades from Issildia's memory as she spoke to Khastur and Sylph. Remembering the fate that would await she and Caaro should they fail.

"Only a source of power great enough to restore the Veil can hope to set back the balance that Luin has broken. If we can re-forge the Veil, it will become far easier to deal with any Dead that have crossed over. We will trap them here, and repay them in kind."


"A fool's errand" said Sylph in her familiar scathing manner.
"There is no such power."

Issildia's expression hardened slightly, apparently unphased by the valtera's words.
"Perhaps no power gathered by mortals, but one does exist that is all we could hope for. Yet it is also one that Luin has already suspected." She answered coolly.
"The Entula tuulo' i'ba as called by the children of the Avariera. An ancient power housed in the form of crystals. Their strength is drawn from the very cycle of life and death that commands this world. Making them ideal for what we require. Though it is both regrettable and fortunate that the Ryera found an interest in them."

"If they know of this then how is it good news that they are expecting us to go after these things?!" Sylph interrupted.

"Because Luin has already gathered a number of the crystal shards himself..."

Sylph's face contorted into a subtle smirk, " So, we merely have to...reclaim them from Luin."


"Precisely."

873: Year of Anu

The towers Vestain and Dalken have continued to haunt my thoughts, something links them beyond the two kingdoms that they stand upon. My two sons have not a father while the excavations continue, thankfully Lord Derisai of Larovia has his own need for similar haste. Though Nicholas Remos continues to have his men constantly watching our work here in the desert. Unlike Larovia, it seems that Keirdon sees no value in what we could discover here, what strength lies buried beneath this earth.
My youngest Damien resents my time away from him, though Luin remains entrenched in old family lore. The boy has never understood that only the fanatics of our blood deal in those dark arts, yet he continues to cling to any scrap of Ryera history he can find. I fear that it is my own fault that he has drifted so far from the rest of us.....”

The brittle page in the thickly bound journal crackled dryly as Issildia carefully turned the page. Nearly an hour had passed since they had begun to search the massive structure that was the Tower of Vestain. Issildia stood in silence within the once locked storage like room they had located down a stairwell that led beneath the tower. This record spoke of the late Elric Ryera, Luin and Damien’s father. It also mentioned Issildia’s own grandfather Derisai, who would two years later be slain by his own son Reinsen.

The journal continued a few weeks later…

“We had not expected to find anything but an unspoken branch of history, but what we have discovered is near beyond words. The language that covers the walls of the two towers is foreign, yet an anierian brought from their distant city of white has made an attempt at translation, and for the most part we have riddled out some meaning.
At first the tower of Dalken seemed to be nothing more than a record of a people preceding the Anierian race, though this in itself is impressive deep below the tower a great cavern was found, sealed away from the rest of the world. Inside we found a small lake that filled the chamber, though we could locate no source for it’s creation. It can only be assumed that it was artificially created by those that built the towers. Again we brought forth another anierian to investigate the cavern, and the only markings In the cave, a set of six runes etched carefully into a set of stones that ringed the lake. Though to our surprise the man could not find a pattern in the runes, he could only tell me that the language was far older and archaic than that which his people used. Yet as we were finally making progress lord Derisai ordered us to cease the excavation, when news of the latest discovery was brought to his attention….”

Issildia frowned slightly as she looked at the base of the stained page where Elric had roughly noted the six runes. Unbidden memories not of her own making but of another time and place, escaped to the surface.
’The forge’

She visibly relaxed slightly, at this, expecting some dark meaning to be tied to the writing. It seemed innocent enough.

“Luin has finally taken over our study of Vestain while I was in Larovia. Though while nothing of the scale of the lake cavern was found, a vivid history still being translated, concerning a people that seem to no longer grace the face of this land was found…the Avariera they were called. Also there was one other find, an artifact we believe that belonged to this civilization. A small shard of crystal, found in one of the lowest rooms of the tower, placed openly on a column of stone….”

Issildia froze, the book falling out of her hands as she instantly reached out with her consciousness into Trenius Sekia with a sense of urgency.

“Azure.”

They had finally found evidence of what they sought.



Without pause she moved past Sylph who was shuffling with a flat bored expression through scrolls.

As soon as the heavy door closed behind her Issildia suddenly hastened her pace as she found the only stair that led lower into the complex. Her speed quickened the farther she ventured, and the stair began to turn tighter into a winding spiral until it finally opened up to a small narrow corridor that led to a threshold sealed off with a door of glasslike obsidian stone.
Absently Issildia attempted to open it by normal means already expecting it to be locked, she was not surprised when it would not budge. Though a thought struck her as she began to remove the glove from her left hand. Without a hint of discomfort she flicked the edge of her blade against her finger tip. A bead of crimson blood slowly emerged from the cut, at this she reached forward and touched the ebon stone of the gate, slowly drawing her fingertip down and leaving thin line of blood. As her hand left the stone, without note the cut healed over and she replaced the glove. A moment passed and nothing happened but still she waited as though expecting something. Minutes rolled by until the temperature within the corridor began to drop substantially, the chill rolling up the stair well into the upper parts of the tower to the point that she could see her breath condense before her eyes. Still she waited. Then as tracery of frost was seen curling along the edges of the walls and floor the blood was drawn into the stone as though absorbed. There was little wait before the obsidian fractured down the center, and crumbled away to a pile of dust at her feet. This all happened in a matter of seconds and in a matter of moments she passed through the threshold into a room that appeared to be a small enclosed tomb. Lettering ran along the walls, floor and ceiling that she silently translated with little interest. Taking up the majority of the tomb was a large stone sarcophagus of made crude sandstone. The inscription along its face cut crudly into the surface was that of Eldric Ryera. Apparently he had been entombed within his greatest find. Still, Issildia dismissed this as she surveyed the room quickly looking for any sort of stone column, but for nothing but a jumble of jagged rocks scattered across the floor.
It did not take her long to put the evidence together, the pedestal has been removed, or more aptly ; demolished to place the tomb within. Immediately her eyes flickered to the ground, thinking that none of the builders would have been so careless to lose the artifact of crystal…still in the journal it seems that Eldic had not thought to greatly of it.

Then there was a faint spark of light in a corner trodden with sand and dust. In moment Issildia had dropped to a knee and reached for the glint. Her fingers closed on what felt like a glass fragment that seemed to radiate with a chill all its own…