Written by Storm Skychaser:
Almost a week had passed since the meeting in the Cantina took place, almost a week since Rutilus and some of The Grim entrusted him with finding out how to send a group into the world of shadow… the shadowlands to rescue Khorvis, and yet Stormsky was no closer to finding out the information required to successfully do the ritual.
His memories betrayed him; “three crystals… gems, one filled with the essence of frost, one with the essence of blood and one with the essence of undeath” was all he remembered. Two of the gems had already been obtained, Baal’themar had the blood one, “Earth Mother only knows what he killed to fill it” Storm thought, and he had filled the frost gem which was filled with the assistance of Northrend elementals. As he placed the object on his desk he angrily muttered “At least the trip to Northrend was not a complete waste of time… those Knights of the Ebon Blade could not be more secretive if they wanted to”. He took a long breath and proceeded to read his mail, he hoped that maybe his former mentor Doomcrusher, a shaman turned death knight, might have answered his request for information.
Soon enough his hopes were rewarded, there it was, a letter with a compendium of runes and protection spells attached to it, he slowly read over it.
“Greetings Storm.
I apologize for the late response; I hope that by the time this letter reaches you, you had already changed your mind about performing this ritual, but after knowing your stubborn being for so many years, I highly doubt it. Therefore I will give you all the instructions you need to do this as safe as it can possibly be.
Even though this ritual has the same bases as the one you mention, it is different than the one you and so many adventurers went through on Northrend, Koltira phased you into the shadowlands just enough for you to be able to kill his tormentors, for you to actually rescue someone from there you will need to physically enter that realm using a portal.
The ingredients are the same, gems filled with every aspect of a death knight’s power... that you already know; you will also need the help of a death knight to perform the ritual.
When you select the members of the party that will go into the shadowlands, do NOT include anyone who wields or has wielded dark magic, this includes death knights, warlocks, shadow priests, necromancers… since their soul has already been touched by the darkness, they will act as a magnet when you go in, attracting every twisted being of that realm to your party. Also do not bring any one who wields fel magic… the investigations after the being Xhul'horac was destroyed, showed that the shadow beings can absorb the fel and become stronger and more chaotic. It’s safe if the party is made of users of elemental energy, nature, arcane, and holy based magic, these beings are not affected by physical attacks so make sure you enchant the weapons of those who cannot wield magic.
Once the party has been selected, have the death knight link you all first to the blood gem, this will act as your safety net, a link to the mortal world, this will allow the death knight to quickly extract you out of the shadowlands if the need arises, it will also help each of the party members sense one another… remember in the shadowlands nothing is as it seems, you may be one feet away from someone and not even realize that person is there.
Afterwards, have the death knight attune you to the frost gem; this will give you a protective aura that will hide you from the shadow beings.
The third step is to cast protection and containment runes all around the place where the portal is going to be located, because this portal can also be used by the shadow to enter the physical world, I attached some spells that will help you keep them contained.
The next and final step is the opening of the portal, the death knight will channel the energy of the undeath filled gem to open it, once opened it can only be closed AFTER the party has returned, if it closes with people inside, their links to the to the other crystals will be shattered, and they will be as lost as the person you are trying to rescue.
Once you are inside, do not stray too far away from the portal, the benefits the crystals give you will diminish the farther away you are from them, so make sure you cast the portal close to where you think your friend is being captive. If you go too far, the protections will be gone. Also remember the protections and the portal will not last forever, and the larger the party that goes in, the less time you will have for the search.
Try to avoid any kind of confrontation or interaction with the shadow beings, you cannot win and if by any chance the protections fail… run, you will be in their world and they will overwhelm and consume you if you do not escape.
This is all the information I can give you… again… I hope that you change your mind, but in the case that you do not, I wish you the best of luck, you are going to need it.
May the Earth Mother be with you son.
Doomcrusher.”
A chill went down Stormsky’s spine, even if he was just phased into that realm, he was able to feel the sickly cold of the darkness crawling ever closer to him… waiting just an opportunity to grab him, But Khorvis was a friend of the people close to him, and if they wanted to try the rescue he would help them. With a renewed resolve Stormsky stood up heading out to relay this information to Rutilus Luna.
Dark Star Rising
Re: Dark Star Rising
Mai’kull followed the void caller into the depths of the forests outside of Tirisfal Glades. It had been acting really strange, especially around the Guild Hall as of late. As where his understanding of Shadow and Void Magic were growing, he was still unable to communicate with his minion. However, his Water elemental was also lacking in the vocal department, so he had grown accustom to the point-and-gurgle communications the blobs produced.
“Are we there yet?!” he annoyingly asked. And yet again, the Void Caller turned to give a nod, and beckoned him forth. They had been walking for almost an hour now, had he REAL directions he could have flown or teleported to wherever this damn thing was leading him. “I swear by all that is unholy, if your leading me into some fel-ridden trap, I will bind you underneath a Naaru for the rest of your existance!” the Archmage growled.
In his studies, he had heard of some more skilled demonic minions attempting to turn on their masters. He was warned not to give his full trust onto these creatures as Mages do to towards their Water Elementals. He was greatly considering summoning his own to back him up, but the damn Void Caller would not sit still long enough.
After what seemed like an eternity, they finally came upon a clearing in the forest. The starlit sky above them illuminated a ring of fungus that was oddly positioned in the clearing. The Void Caller had stopped at this ring, and was motioning for Mai’kull to enter. There was a queer magical force in the air, not shadow, or arcane, but something different, yet oddly familiar. Feeling this could not be a demonic coup, the Maleficar followed the Void Being into the ring.
There was nothing special as he crossed the threshold. He took notice of several plagued doe looking at him, which was odd they were stationary, but he could see no reason why he was brought here. “Is your damn brain addled!? Why am I here?!” he barked. The Void Caller only sighed, shaking its head in frustration before firing a Void Bolt at the center of the ring, then turning back to its bewildered master.
“Is there something there?” Mai’kull asked hesitantly, still feeling no sense of any but the queer magic around him. The Void Caller raised his hands in defeat before beginning a looping ceremony. It raised its hands in a large circle formation and began summoning a mists of Torment around itself as if attempting to start its own ritual, unleashing bursts of shadow-magic as it continued to loop its hands in a circular motion.
Catching the Demons drift, Mai’kull prepared himself for what was to come next. “I swear…Chained to a Naaru…” he repeated as he focused his magic.
The focusing magic at his feet, the Forsaken fired a torrent of Arcane and Shadow energy at the Void-Caller, shattering its corporal form and leaving behind a pocket portal. To call it an ACTUAL portal would be incorrect as it was not accessible, least not that he could sense. It was more like a window, but to what he was unsure. Was this what his void caller was trying to show him!? He had a good hold on the magical flow, but he was un-sure how long he could maintain it. He was fine to see this little charade through to the end as long as he was confident he could slam the door shut should things go south.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Down the final set of stairs fled the orc. Chiseled into the very bedrock itself, the floor was slick with a musty condensation, like a glass that fogged from the breath of some rancid beast. Khorvis could hear his pursuers not too far behind, perhaps some two hundred yards. They would find his tracks shortly - there could be no rest here. He arrived at the bottom of the descent and came to an ancient well. Though simple in design, it yawned hugely, spanning some twelve feet in diameter with a kneehigh lip of stone.
Khorvis peered over the edge. Blackness. There was no bottom to see, and even the walls seemed to widen into the abyss. No - wait, there was something. The aperture of his mechanical eye dilated to its fullest extent. Khorvis a caught minor twinkling in the depths, and a shimmer. He leaned over futher, and without warning, the crumbling nature of the Shadowlands struck his purchase upon the stone lip. With a choked howl, Khorvis plummeted down... down... down...
...
A hole wreathed in shadow opened some few feet above the cavern floor. No, it would be more accurately described as a window pane pivoting from two dimensions into three. Long-stalked mushrooms sprouting from cracks in the earth brushed their caps harmlessly against the window's dressing, passing through it as if it never existed. But the view was certainly very real to Mai'kull.
A massive cavern stretched on in every direction as far as the hazy mists of the Shadowlands permitted. Ancient rock formations that challenged reason sprouted from every surface. Some even hung down from a tenebrous ceiling, many scraping the crowns of their mirror images. Lichen clung to stone surfaces and emitted a dull glow that cast an eerie pallor upon the entire scene which centered about a wide lake. The surface of the water was mirror-smooth, reinforcing the feeling that this world had lain untouched by time out of mind.
The notion was abruptly shattered with a howl as the figure of a leather-clad orc tumbled from a crack in the cavern ceiling and slammed into the lake's surface like a green meteorite. There was a splashing with no shortage of cursing, but shortly the orc had swam his way to the water's edge and dragged himself sputtering on the dry land near the window of shadow.
Re: Dark Star Rising
There was several minutes of silence as Mai’kull examined the portal before him. It looked like his own surroundings, but slightly skew and off colored. He squinted to try and make out the details, to see if anything was moving around but at first could make out nothing. Then there was a distinctive splashing sound, as if something hit the lake. His initial reaction was to look off from the portal to the lake behind it off in the horizon, but could see no calamity.
Then there was the off sound of cursing and growling, of the likes he had not heard in a long time. His eyes tracing back to the portal before him, he wondered if the sounds were instead coming from it. “Khorvis?!” he shouted out. The former High Inquisitor had been missing since their run in with a pack of shade spiders in the great hall some months back. They had all concluded that in that fray, the orc must have lost his mind and ran off, thinking he would slink back in a drunken stupor at some point once he regained his sanity, as apparently happens often amongst their ranks.
He could still hear the grumbling and cursing, but it was slightly echoed, confirming it was coming from his portal and not nearby. As his mind wandered on the possibilities, his focus waivered and the energy from his hand fluctuated for a moment causing the event horizon to quiver. “SHIT” he cursed as he exerted more energy into the beam to re-stabilize the connection. Before was a consistent flow, but now he was exerting himself to maintain it, and now was unsure how long he could keep it open. “KHORVIS!?” He shouted once again into the spectral looking-glass.
Re: Dark Star Rising
By Theira Oaksong:
Theira sat on a fur rug in front of a roaring fire hoping the heat would penetrate and sooth her aching muscles. The Matron had been working on her endurance and reusing the talents of Ursoc, blood soaked the right side of her face and arm. She adjusted a bandaged over her eye and sat gently breathing allowing all the aches and pains to settle. She was strongest now with restorative magic although felt it prudent not to heal so that she'd better dodge her enemies attacks the next time. No pain no gain thought the Arch Druid as she used her clawed fist weapons to delicately pick out scabbed and crusted blood from her fur. Some time passed as Theira relaxed before long she felt a twinge in her stomach as if someone or thing was watching her. She flicked her ears back as her animal instincts confirmed what she had been feeling.
He spoke is a low rumbly growl as he addressed her "Matron.." The Chaoseater from Blacktooth Grin stated with the utmost disdain. Theira closed her one remaining good eye a moment as a sarcastic smirk crossed her maw. She recognized his voice well - since their last argument. "Ah, Chaoseater - to what do I owe this pleasure? I wouldn't have imagined running into here in a inn. No, I'd have thought the comforts of a inn be far to delicate a pleasure for you and your kin to enjoy. More of a Rutilus Luna thing... " She remarked now turning to face the large hulking brute of a Tauren Death Knight. Chaoseater responded with a grunt and walked around her to properly face her. The Matron watched his hulking heavily armored mass as he moved her thoughts drifting towards hoping he'd not stand to closely to the fire so that she did not need to smell anymore of him than necessary. The druid sighed a bit looking at him now with a forced smile, as she did she saw some more of her order mates come through the door. She forced herself to stand in greeting of them, Nikkoma noticing her wounds walked by to heal Theira shooting Chaoseater a cold dark look as she did so. The Matron nodded in greeting and in thanks to Nikkoma and Nik and Iku headed towards the bar.
Now healed Theira started removing the eye patch and bandages. Chaos remarked "Red is a good color on you Matron - " Her rebuttal swift "I'd expect it should be Chaoseater, tis our guilds colors. We bleed often for Horde interests." He grunted again his stance tall and rigid "And what of - The DreadHorde, do you and would you bleed for them?" Here we go again Theira thought, he had been at her about honor and distrusting Rutilus Lunas place within the DreadHorde since she had made the choice not to join them in the assault of Alliance cities. The Matron narrowed her eyes at the Death Knight giving him a very dull tired expression. "When the DreadHorde NEEDS for us to bleed for it - we shall answer the call. When there is honor or defense in the matter yes. When it consists of murdering a bunch of defenseless women, children and orphans - sorry to disappoint you Chaoseater then NO. We won't, surely you can handle a toddler with a wooden sword on your own." Her responses never pleased him as he growled a bit but pleasing him couldn't be furthest from her interests. "What about when these orphans grow to become a real threat and they come for us. What then Matron when the bloodshed they could cause could have been avoided?" She crossed her hands together and state to Chaoseater as frank and bluntly as possible. "Then I will deal with them when they get there - with honor, the honor you've accused us of not having. As equals...as a challenge, as a fair and honest fight." She huffed dismissively of the conversation knowing well the both of them could lock horns for hours.
Theira sighed harshly before turning away from the brute to stare into the fire when suddenly their conversation reminded her of something still very prevalent in her mind. He was a Death Knight - recalling that Storm Skychaser had a ritual in mind to use them to aid Khorvis. She narrowed her eyes disgusted with the idea of asking Chaoseater for help and how. She turned to face Chaos having thought of a cunning angle on which to bait him to her cause. "Chaoseater... about those events prior, you do enjoy The Grim don't you, raiding with them must have been right up your ally." He huffed towards her "Their interests mirror my own quite a bit Matron... - " She continued "Then the prospect of helping The Grim, a Grim in need might sit well with you. To the point Chaos there is need of you to help this Grim, a friend of mine and I am asking for it." Chaos stood a moment considering before responding dryly. "I despise you Matron, but for the DreadHorde I am there." Theira regarded him honestly with a slow and accepting nod. "Well, since we're being sincere - know that I despise you too. You, the forsaken, undead and demons of any kind. You're outside of the natural balance of this world and the realm I am aligned with. Products or by products of the Legion and should all be exterminated for the abominations that you are. - Don't take that to personally Chaos, tis a Druid thing." She smiled sweetly at him as he returned her glance with a look of murder slow vapor leaving his maw as he exhaled.
She cleared her throat and paced around the fire "But, personal feelings aside - Khorvis needs help. Storm Skychaser spoke of a ritual he could perform to help extract him from the Shadowlands. The Shadowlands is a realm opposite to my own, which I suspect is where you come in. I am waiting to hear back from Lilli or some Grim about more details but for the time being Chaos I'd appreciate you speaking with Storm." She stopped short of the fireplace to turn and look at him. He considered her words leaving more questions than answers and agreed to seek out Storm Skychaser. Theira nodded and sat back down on the rug while searching for her pack of cigarettes. Chaos remarked "Is there anything more Matron?" She simply shook her head. "No Chaoseater, not unless you're interested in spending some quality time with me." She smirked as he turned to leave.
Theira sat on a fur rug in front of a roaring fire hoping the heat would penetrate and sooth her aching muscles. The Matron had been working on her endurance and reusing the talents of Ursoc, blood soaked the right side of her face and arm. She adjusted a bandaged over her eye and sat gently breathing allowing all the aches and pains to settle. She was strongest now with restorative magic although felt it prudent not to heal so that she'd better dodge her enemies attacks the next time. No pain no gain thought the Arch Druid as she used her clawed fist weapons to delicately pick out scabbed and crusted blood from her fur. Some time passed as Theira relaxed before long she felt a twinge in her stomach as if someone or thing was watching her. She flicked her ears back as her animal instincts confirmed what she had been feeling.
He spoke is a low rumbly growl as he addressed her "Matron.." The Chaoseater from Blacktooth Grin stated with the utmost disdain. Theira closed her one remaining good eye a moment as a sarcastic smirk crossed her maw. She recognized his voice well - since their last argument. "Ah, Chaoseater - to what do I owe this pleasure? I wouldn't have imagined running into here in a inn. No, I'd have thought the comforts of a inn be far to delicate a pleasure for you and your kin to enjoy. More of a Rutilus Luna thing... " She remarked now turning to face the large hulking brute of a Tauren Death Knight. Chaoseater responded with a grunt and walked around her to properly face her. The Matron watched his hulking heavily armored mass as he moved her thoughts drifting towards hoping he'd not stand to closely to the fire so that she did not need to smell anymore of him than necessary. The druid sighed a bit looking at him now with a forced smile, as she did she saw some more of her order mates come through the door. She forced herself to stand in greeting of them, Nikkoma noticing her wounds walked by to heal Theira shooting Chaoseater a cold dark look as she did so. The Matron nodded in greeting and in thanks to Nikkoma and Nik and Iku headed towards the bar.
Now healed Theira started removing the eye patch and bandages. Chaos remarked "Red is a good color on you Matron - " Her rebuttal swift "I'd expect it should be Chaoseater, tis our guilds colors. We bleed often for Horde interests." He grunted again his stance tall and rigid "And what of - The DreadHorde, do you and would you bleed for them?" Here we go again Theira thought, he had been at her about honor and distrusting Rutilus Lunas place within the DreadHorde since she had made the choice not to join them in the assault of Alliance cities. The Matron narrowed her eyes at the Death Knight giving him a very dull tired expression. "When the DreadHorde NEEDS for us to bleed for it - we shall answer the call. When there is honor or defense in the matter yes. When it consists of murdering a bunch of defenseless women, children and orphans - sorry to disappoint you Chaoseater then NO. We won't, surely you can handle a toddler with a wooden sword on your own." Her responses never pleased him as he growled a bit but pleasing him couldn't be furthest from her interests. "What about when these orphans grow to become a real threat and they come for us. What then Matron when the bloodshed they could cause could have been avoided?" She crossed her hands together and state to Chaoseater as frank and bluntly as possible. "Then I will deal with them when they get there - with honor, the honor you've accused us of not having. As equals...as a challenge, as a fair and honest fight." She huffed dismissively of the conversation knowing well the both of them could lock horns for hours.
Theira sighed harshly before turning away from the brute to stare into the fire when suddenly their conversation reminded her of something still very prevalent in her mind. He was a Death Knight - recalling that Storm Skychaser had a ritual in mind to use them to aid Khorvis. She narrowed her eyes disgusted with the idea of asking Chaoseater for help and how. She turned to face Chaos having thought of a cunning angle on which to bait him to her cause. "Chaoseater... about those events prior, you do enjoy The Grim don't you, raiding with them must have been right up your ally." He huffed towards her "Their interests mirror my own quite a bit Matron... - " She continued "Then the prospect of helping The Grim, a Grim in need might sit well with you. To the point Chaos there is need of you to help this Grim, a friend of mine and I am asking for it." Chaos stood a moment considering before responding dryly. "I despise you Matron, but for the DreadHorde I am there." Theira regarded him honestly with a slow and accepting nod. "Well, since we're being sincere - know that I despise you too. You, the forsaken, undead and demons of any kind. You're outside of the natural balance of this world and the realm I am aligned with. Products or by products of the Legion and should all be exterminated for the abominations that you are. - Don't take that to personally Chaos, tis a Druid thing." She smiled sweetly at him as he returned her glance with a look of murder slow vapor leaving his maw as he exhaled.
She cleared her throat and paced around the fire "But, personal feelings aside - Khorvis needs help. Storm Skychaser spoke of a ritual he could perform to help extract him from the Shadowlands. The Shadowlands is a realm opposite to my own, which I suspect is where you come in. I am waiting to hear back from Lilli or some Grim about more details but for the time being Chaos I'd appreciate you speaking with Storm." She stopped short of the fireplace to turn and look at him. He considered her words leaving more questions than answers and agreed to seek out Storm Skychaser. Theira nodded and sat back down on the rug while searching for her pack of cigarettes. Chaos remarked "Is there anything more Matron?" She simply shook her head. "No Chaoseater, not unless you're interested in spending some quality time with me." She smirked as he turned to leave.
Re: Dark Star Rising
By Fayleah:
Vanry moved aside a bookcase to reveal hidden stairs, she looked back at the two men that had asked her to create this stone.
Stormsky had asked her to aid him in the creation of a powerful artifact to open a portal to the shadow lands, then Baal’themar found her at the Ledgermain lounge and asked her the same. So the two had followed her home. Not that I need or want them here for this. She thought quietly before she asked them if they wanted to join her down in the study.
Unfortunately for Vanry the two had agreed to follow her into her study and witness the ritual, despite her offer of wine and food if they stayed in the manor.
Vanry knew of course that Baal’themar wouldn't have a problem watching what she was doing. He didn't seem so sentimental. She would need him later to help her with one of the components but she was terrified of him. Their first meeting had shaken her so much she would not put it past the man not to kill her on a whim.
The thought had made her bring Stormsky along. She hoped that he could be the buffer between her and that clawed demon. If there was another, harder to kill witnesses maybe she would not be his victim.
Stormsky seemed the gentle type. She did not know him long, but she saw that he valued life. Something that could prove to be a problem if he got upset in the middle of her ritual. Paranoia whirled around in her mind as she gave the men a little nervous laugh.
It will be alright after all, what can they do to me once I am in my circle of power? She thought as she took her first step down into the dark.
The three slowly made their way down the stone stairs toward Vanrys’ study. The smell of dust and burning candles hung in the air, tall bookshelves full of old tomes stretched to the ceiling.
The floor of the room was carved and etched with runes, the runes created a large ritual circle. This circle of power helped Vanry focus her necromancy and control the flow of magic within the study. The circle itself surrounded an alchemist table, thick dark wood coated in vanish and bound with fine elven smith work stood at the very center of the room.
The light from the candles cast shadows across the room. The slight flicker of the candles cause the shadows to dance over the stone walls and bookshelves, they moves across the room with a sickening shudder, like a corpse full of writhing maggots the sudden rapid movement followed by the still calm of the dead after they had eaten their fill.
Vanry and her guests got settled into the study, she asked Baal’themar to aid her in picking a suitable human sacrifice to begin the ritual. She showed him the cell that held her human cattle, a fundamental truth of necromancy. You need bodies to work with.
While Baal’themar selected a strong specimen for the ritual, Stormsky had picked up an old book, Vanry moved quickly to take the book away from him, taking the tome away from the large Tauren.
She ran her fingers over the tome, it was locked tight with thick iron locks and dark warding runes, and she carefully put it back into the bookshelf. “Don’t read magic you are not ready for. You could get really hurt.” Stormsky raised an eyebrow at her and simply nodded with a slight and knowing grin.
Baal’themar returned with his chosen human and held him aloft like a cat that caught a mouse.
Vanry looked at Baal and nodded at his pick. “Bind him to the rings here.” She pointed to an iron ring bolted into the stonework of the floor. Baal’themar pushed the human to his knees and bound his hands behind his back, the human grunted as the large elf pulled the bindings tight against his flesh.
Vanry closed her eyes and relaxed herself, she needed to focus on the ritual. It was simple to kill a man but the control needed to direct the flow of energy needed to create this artifact would take a great deal of her willpower.
Stromsky and Baal’themar interrupted her work with idle chatter, anger ran up her cheeks.
“You both will remain silent while I work, or you’ll leave.” She said in a stern voice, her eyes remained closed while she started to focus again.
Her focus was interrupted again by a solid thud as Stormsky stood up from his resting place. He announced that he needed to leave to heed the call of the Earthen Ring. With that the large Tauren walked out of the study and left the two elves in the dimly lit room.
Vanry hissed to herself, having to restart again made the back of her neck burn but she pushed down the annoyance and forced herself to calm down.
She felt the shadows coil around her their cold embrace was a welcome feeling after the heat of anger. She opened her eyes to the man bound to the floor, his eyes full of life.
Vanry moved to stand in front of him using the circles power to help her gather the powers she needed, slowly she reached out with her willpower, with care she drew out the humans’ life force. A faint pale blue glow leeched its’ way out from the man’s eyes. He screamed of course, they always did at first.
Baal’themar watched on, his hand rested on the hilt on his dagger and his eye alert despite his calm face and relaxed posture Vanry knew he was aware of her… and her power.
She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of this man being on edge because of her. And rightly so. She thought.
The humans’ screaming reached its fever pitch as they neared the peak of the ritual, his body was a withered husk of dry and broken flesh, his ribs and bones could be seen through his skin. A ball of pale blue floated above him, all that he was or could have been was floating above him.
It was beautiful in a strange way. What would hers’ look like? Would it be pale blue? She asked herself for a brief moment before she plucked the last thread of the humans’ life.
The man collapsed into an empty husk, his fleshed looked brittle and dry as if ravaged by countless eons.
Vanry slowly looked toward Baal’themar who stood at the side of the dead mans’ husk. “Move aside. I need to make a vessel to finish this.” Baal’themar stepped back and made room for whatever she was going to do.
With the swirling ball floating within the circle of power Vanry set about creating something to hold the raw necromantic energy. She waved a hand toward what was left of the humans’ body and the leathery flesh that was once healthy and pink boiled away in a thick black ooze that slithered away from his bones.
Vanry looked at Baal’themar as the room darkened around her, the candles closest to her dimed and died as if the air had been pulled out of them, an aura of malice surrounded her. Her elven guest watched on, his hand no longer resting on the hilt, his blade was gripped in his hand. Not yet drawn but ready. She smiled, and returned to her work.
The bones clattered toward each other, she worked the bone into new shapes, unnatural shapes. She settled on a cube. She took her time to make the surface smooth, the inside however was a labyrinth foul magic and necromantic runes.
Finally satisfied with her work she moved her hands and the two parts became one, the pale light seeped into the porous bone and deep into the grim cube. When the light faded she sighed and walked to the morbid artifact. The air of malice slowly faded and warm candle light returned to the room.
“Done.” She looked at Baal’themar, he had relaxed again. “This will work for your needs.” She pulled the cube from the air, she ran her thin fingers over the bone surface and felt the rough edges before handing it to Baal’themar.
He took the cube with a slight nod, and stashed it safely inside his pack. "I trust you can find your way out." She says heading to a chair with as much care as possible to mask the trembling in her hands. The rituals always took something from her, leaving her numb and cold. She crossed her arms as she sat down. “Thank you, Vanry.” He turned on his heel and walked up the stairs, leaving Vanry to her rest.
Vanry moved aside a bookcase to reveal hidden stairs, she looked back at the two men that had asked her to create this stone.
Stormsky had asked her to aid him in the creation of a powerful artifact to open a portal to the shadow lands, then Baal’themar found her at the Ledgermain lounge and asked her the same. So the two had followed her home. Not that I need or want them here for this. She thought quietly before she asked them if they wanted to join her down in the study.
Unfortunately for Vanry the two had agreed to follow her into her study and witness the ritual, despite her offer of wine and food if they stayed in the manor.
Vanry knew of course that Baal’themar wouldn't have a problem watching what she was doing. He didn't seem so sentimental. She would need him later to help her with one of the components but she was terrified of him. Their first meeting had shaken her so much she would not put it past the man not to kill her on a whim.
The thought had made her bring Stormsky along. She hoped that he could be the buffer between her and that clawed demon. If there was another, harder to kill witnesses maybe she would not be his victim.
Stormsky seemed the gentle type. She did not know him long, but she saw that he valued life. Something that could prove to be a problem if he got upset in the middle of her ritual. Paranoia whirled around in her mind as she gave the men a little nervous laugh.
It will be alright after all, what can they do to me once I am in my circle of power? She thought as she took her first step down into the dark.
The three slowly made their way down the stone stairs toward Vanrys’ study. The smell of dust and burning candles hung in the air, tall bookshelves full of old tomes stretched to the ceiling.
The floor of the room was carved and etched with runes, the runes created a large ritual circle. This circle of power helped Vanry focus her necromancy and control the flow of magic within the study. The circle itself surrounded an alchemist table, thick dark wood coated in vanish and bound with fine elven smith work stood at the very center of the room.
The light from the candles cast shadows across the room. The slight flicker of the candles cause the shadows to dance over the stone walls and bookshelves, they moves across the room with a sickening shudder, like a corpse full of writhing maggots the sudden rapid movement followed by the still calm of the dead after they had eaten their fill.
Vanry and her guests got settled into the study, she asked Baal’themar to aid her in picking a suitable human sacrifice to begin the ritual. She showed him the cell that held her human cattle, a fundamental truth of necromancy. You need bodies to work with.
While Baal’themar selected a strong specimen for the ritual, Stormsky had picked up an old book, Vanry moved quickly to take the book away from him, taking the tome away from the large Tauren.
She ran her fingers over the tome, it was locked tight with thick iron locks and dark warding runes, and she carefully put it back into the bookshelf. “Don’t read magic you are not ready for. You could get really hurt.” Stormsky raised an eyebrow at her and simply nodded with a slight and knowing grin.
Baal’themar returned with his chosen human and held him aloft like a cat that caught a mouse.
Vanry looked at Baal and nodded at his pick. “Bind him to the rings here.” She pointed to an iron ring bolted into the stonework of the floor. Baal’themar pushed the human to his knees and bound his hands behind his back, the human grunted as the large elf pulled the bindings tight against his flesh.
Vanry closed her eyes and relaxed herself, she needed to focus on the ritual. It was simple to kill a man but the control needed to direct the flow of energy needed to create this artifact would take a great deal of her willpower.
Stromsky and Baal’themar interrupted her work with idle chatter, anger ran up her cheeks.
“You both will remain silent while I work, or you’ll leave.” She said in a stern voice, her eyes remained closed while she started to focus again.
Her focus was interrupted again by a solid thud as Stormsky stood up from his resting place. He announced that he needed to leave to heed the call of the Earthen Ring. With that the large Tauren walked out of the study and left the two elves in the dimly lit room.
Vanry hissed to herself, having to restart again made the back of her neck burn but she pushed down the annoyance and forced herself to calm down.
She felt the shadows coil around her their cold embrace was a welcome feeling after the heat of anger. She opened her eyes to the man bound to the floor, his eyes full of life.
Vanry moved to stand in front of him using the circles power to help her gather the powers she needed, slowly she reached out with her willpower, with care she drew out the humans’ life force. A faint pale blue glow leeched its’ way out from the man’s eyes. He screamed of course, they always did at first.
Baal’themar watched on, his hand rested on the hilt on his dagger and his eye alert despite his calm face and relaxed posture Vanry knew he was aware of her… and her power.
She couldn’t help but grin at the thought of this man being on edge because of her. And rightly so. She thought.
The humans’ screaming reached its fever pitch as they neared the peak of the ritual, his body was a withered husk of dry and broken flesh, his ribs and bones could be seen through his skin. A ball of pale blue floated above him, all that he was or could have been was floating above him.
It was beautiful in a strange way. What would hers’ look like? Would it be pale blue? She asked herself for a brief moment before she plucked the last thread of the humans’ life.
The man collapsed into an empty husk, his fleshed looked brittle and dry as if ravaged by countless eons.
Vanry slowly looked toward Baal’themar who stood at the side of the dead mans’ husk. “Move aside. I need to make a vessel to finish this.” Baal’themar stepped back and made room for whatever she was going to do.
With the swirling ball floating within the circle of power Vanry set about creating something to hold the raw necromantic energy. She waved a hand toward what was left of the humans’ body and the leathery flesh that was once healthy and pink boiled away in a thick black ooze that slithered away from his bones.
Vanry looked at Baal’themar as the room darkened around her, the candles closest to her dimed and died as if the air had been pulled out of them, an aura of malice surrounded her. Her elven guest watched on, his hand no longer resting on the hilt, his blade was gripped in his hand. Not yet drawn but ready. She smiled, and returned to her work.
The bones clattered toward each other, she worked the bone into new shapes, unnatural shapes. She settled on a cube. She took her time to make the surface smooth, the inside however was a labyrinth foul magic and necromantic runes.
Finally satisfied with her work she moved her hands and the two parts became one, the pale light seeped into the porous bone and deep into the grim cube. When the light faded she sighed and walked to the morbid artifact. The air of malice slowly faded and warm candle light returned to the room.
“Done.” She looked at Baal’themar, he had relaxed again. “This will work for your needs.” She pulled the cube from the air, she ran her thin fingers over the bone surface and felt the rough edges before handing it to Baal’themar.
He took the cube with a slight nod, and stashed it safely inside his pack. "I trust you can find your way out." She says heading to a chair with as much care as possible to mask the trembling in her hands. The rituals always took something from her, leaving her numb and cold. She crossed her arms as she sat down. “Thank you, Vanry.” He turned on his heel and walked up the stairs, leaving Vanry to her rest.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Meanwhile, as the intrepid cadre prepared their ritual to pass through the veil into the Shadowlands...
...
Bedraggled and breathless, Khorvis slugged his way from the underground lake with the squish and schlomp of soaked boots. The smooth cavern floor gave tenuous purchase to his slippery soles and more than once did he lose his footing and fall to hands and knees. It was during one such of of these abasements that the orc jerked his head upwards at a familiar sound. A voice!
"KHORVIS?!" shouted Mai'kull again from the window to Tirisfal. The target of the mage's incredulity crawled some few feet forward to come face-to-face with the porthole. Khorvis, too, could scarcely credit his senses with the sight of one of his Supplicants. Wiping stagnant water and sweat from his eye and prosthetic, and double confirming Mai'kull's connection, the Lasher launched into what alternated between a blistering tirade and a fervent plea:
"Supplicant Mai'kull, you arcane-addled fool! Do this be your doing?! Trapping your High Inquisitor within this queer land of shadow and torment?! I will have your bloody hide! Scraps knitted into feedbags for my kodos! No! No, ancestors do bless your finger-wiggling heart! Quickly! You must use your magicks! Teleport me away from this prison!"
Khorvis worriedly cast a glare behind him and towards the cavern's ceiling, to the crevice from which he had fallen. Turning back to the window, he reached out to clutch its sides, but his meaty paws merely passed through the shadows with futility. He released a primal wail, shaking his head, and barked again at his voyeur:
"NOW! THEY DO BE COMING!"
...
Bedraggled and breathless, Khorvis slugged his way from the underground lake with the squish and schlomp of soaked boots. The smooth cavern floor gave tenuous purchase to his slippery soles and more than once did he lose his footing and fall to hands and knees. It was during one such of of these abasements that the orc jerked his head upwards at a familiar sound. A voice!
"KHORVIS?!" shouted Mai'kull again from the window to Tirisfal. The target of the mage's incredulity crawled some few feet forward to come face-to-face with the porthole. Khorvis, too, could scarcely credit his senses with the sight of one of his Supplicants. Wiping stagnant water and sweat from his eye and prosthetic, and double confirming Mai'kull's connection, the Lasher launched into what alternated between a blistering tirade and a fervent plea:
"Supplicant Mai'kull, you arcane-addled fool! Do this be your doing?! Trapping your High Inquisitor within this queer land of shadow and torment?! I will have your bloody hide! Scraps knitted into feedbags for my kodos! No! No, ancestors do bless your finger-wiggling heart! Quickly! You must use your magicks! Teleport me away from this prison!"
Khorvis worriedly cast a glare behind him and towards the cavern's ceiling, to the crevice from which he had fallen. Turning back to the window, he reached out to clutch its sides, but his meaty paws merely passed through the shadows with futility. He released a primal wail, shaking his head, and barked again at his voyeur:
"NOW! THEY DO BE COMING!"
Re: Dark Star Rising
Mai’kull was pleased to see and hear the cursing of Khrovis. But as the Orc drew closer and closer spewing his slurs and insults, the Mage could feel the power consumption from the portal begin to grow.
“Ancestors do bless your finger-wiggling heart! Quickly! You must use your magicks! Teleport me away from this prison!" He heard his mentor cry out. He could see Khorvis desperately grasping for the portal, but he just phased through it. At his disturbance of the event horizon, the gateway began to waver and grow opaque.
The power draw was becoming too great for the Mage to maintain, and he was forced to cut the connection. As the portal closed before him, he could hear one final plea: "NOW! THEY DO BE COMING!"
He wasn’t sure what was more disheartening. The feeling of complete uselessness being unable to assist his mentor, or the sound of actual fear and terror from an Orc. Both were quite unsettling as the mage knelt in the clearing, looking dumbstruck.
Finally it struck him, The Voidcaller! Reaching into his pack, he pulled the ‘Darkened Tomb’ from its leather pouch and snapped it open. Shade magic crept from the volume as the mage instilled the text with his own energy as he was instructed, and once again, the Voidcaller stood before him, calm and now content.
“You can go to him…” the Mage stated plainly, still holding the text open in his hands.
The Void Caller nodded slowly.
“Can you bring him back?”
The Void Caller shook his head, holding out his hands as if showing nothing to offer.
The Mages mind flashed with calculations before looking up at the creature.
“Protect him…From whatever is chasing him, until I can find a way to get him out!” he ordered.
The Void Caller sighed deeply, as if a child was just reminded to do their chores.
“DO IT…” the Mage barked, snapping the book closed violently. “…And I set you free.”
No matter what race, class, or creature; Mai’kull knew that when given a personal stake in an objective one would become more devout. The plan seemed to work as the Void-Caller perked up at these words and began to spin around on the spot, muttering in its native language as it slowly faded from his view.
Hopefully that would help buy Khorvis some time until the Mage could figure out how to set him free. Feeling magically fatigued, the Maleficar summoned his Flaming Charger and rode off at a wild pace for the Guild Hall.
“Ancestors do bless your finger-wiggling heart! Quickly! You must use your magicks! Teleport me away from this prison!" He heard his mentor cry out. He could see Khorvis desperately grasping for the portal, but he just phased through it. At his disturbance of the event horizon, the gateway began to waver and grow opaque.
The power draw was becoming too great for the Mage to maintain, and he was forced to cut the connection. As the portal closed before him, he could hear one final plea: "NOW! THEY DO BE COMING!"
He wasn’t sure what was more disheartening. The feeling of complete uselessness being unable to assist his mentor, or the sound of actual fear and terror from an Orc. Both were quite unsettling as the mage knelt in the clearing, looking dumbstruck.
Finally it struck him, The Voidcaller! Reaching into his pack, he pulled the ‘Darkened Tomb’ from its leather pouch and snapped it open. Shade magic crept from the volume as the mage instilled the text with his own energy as he was instructed, and once again, the Voidcaller stood before him, calm and now content.
“You can go to him…” the Mage stated plainly, still holding the text open in his hands.
The Void Caller nodded slowly.
“Can you bring him back?”
The Void Caller shook his head, holding out his hands as if showing nothing to offer.
The Mages mind flashed with calculations before looking up at the creature.
“Protect him…From whatever is chasing him, until I can find a way to get him out!” he ordered.
The Void Caller sighed deeply, as if a child was just reminded to do their chores.
“DO IT…” the Mage barked, snapping the book closed violently. “…And I set you free.”
No matter what race, class, or creature; Mai’kull knew that when given a personal stake in an objective one would become more devout. The plan seemed to work as the Void-Caller perked up at these words and began to spin around on the spot, muttering in its native language as it slowly faded from his view.
Hopefully that would help buy Khorvis some time until the Mage could figure out how to set him free. Feeling magically fatigued, the Maleficar summoned his Flaming Charger and rode off at a wild pace for the Guild Hall.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Chaoseater:
Bager choked and quivered, body tensing with barely restrained laughter. He hung like a spider from the rafters of the Knight Commander’s chambers, as he had for a day a night and a day. The beads and bones of his ceremonial garb shifted lazily in any stir of breeze through the arched windows of the tower room but made no more sound than the well oiled chain that secured him to the musty ceiling. The carved bone of his face did not turn away from his prize as the fit passed. The Knight below sat at his desk putting quill to parchment, and both attendants and soldiers came and went with never a passing glance at the shadows above where the Laughing Skull priest hung suspended and motionless.
The pink Orcs of this land were an endless source of amusement for Bager. He fought back another spasm of laughter as he considered how much the gods must hate them. They had not even been blessed with thicker hides or tusks, their claws were dull short things, even their eyes were all but blind as his very presence showed.
Finally, the Knight below drained his cup, and shortly thereafter his bladder, before sweeping on his blue cloak with its golden cat embroidery and striding purposefully from the chamber. The Laughing Skull released the grip he’d held for days and chain slithered through his palm as he plummeted towards the stone floor, with a fluid motion he grabbed the pink orc chief’s chamber pot and flexed with arm and leg drawing himself smoothly back into the rafters. From there, he swung from post to post, out one of the arched windows, and across the slate rooftops of the pink orc castle.
Bager had just delivered his prize to the kitchens, an ingredient to the Knight’s dinner even now bubbling in a cauldron, when a lance of frozen pain shot through him. Thoughts filled his mind, words from tongues the he did not know, ideas and terrors that were not his own, but below them all was a single thread of understanding “COME TO ME.”
He shook himself, bone charms and beads clattering as he slipped out a doorway into the evening’s gathering shadows. Mere moments had him over the pink orc’s stone walls and out into the forest where he began running, bare feet leaving no mark of his passing as he made for the Swamp of Sorrows and the only one to whom the Laughing Skull could be so summoned.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Steelborn was leaning over his maps when Bager found him in the war room of Stonard. He took a moment to admire the massive form that had become his anchor to this world. The blackened plates, glowing blue lines of energy pulsing through the eye sockets of rough skulls carved into their surface. A long black cloak hung obscuring him from this angle, pooling at the giant Death Knight’s hooves, but he knew there was no part of the Steelborn’s form that was not shrouded in metal and machinery.
Though he moved as quietly as ever, he had progressed no more than a few steps into the warroom when the deep rumble of stone on metal of the Chaoseater’s voice rolled out “Report.”
Bager grinned, though the bone of his face always bore a sharp fanged smile “Bager has been quite busy Warchief. He spreads the word of the gods to the pink orcs far and wide, yet they do not see. He servers them orc water soup…” His words caught in his throat as a cold knife twisted in his chest, pain wracking his body. The sensations passed after a moment and the Warchief of the Blacktooth Grin turned to face him.
“I care not for what dishes you serve to whom, Grot. The Rutilans, were your objective….” glowing blue eyes narrowed behind the clear crystal of the Steelborn’s visor.
“Ah…. *heh* yes Well. I have befriended Feathered orc who walks like cat, she is quite the…” an arm of purple lightning crackled from a massive steel fist and Bager felt himself jerked bodily across the room. Metal fingers wrapped around his throat and pulled him close to the Warchief’s visor.
Chaoseater grunted, compressed mist blowing from vents in his helmet. “I did not send you to make friends Grot. You were sent to watch, to report on their movements. You have failed me… but will not do so again” Every inch of Bager’s body exploded in wracking pain. Ravagers tore out his entrails, spreading them steaming to the ground. Ants tore through the eye sockets of his face and ate away the flesh beneath. Fire engulfed him to quickly be subsumed by a cold so intense he thought to shatter as he fell to the ground.
The pain seemed to go on and on, but after a timeless expanse that from the burning of the candles could not have been more than a few minutes, the pain ebbed. Bager pulled himself to a kneeling position before the Steelborn and he noticed it had begun snowing. Inside. He cackled, and turned the carved bone of his face to the imposing form “Thank you for your gift most terrible of gods. Bager shall do your will, speak it and it will be so.”
Those cold burning eyes watched him for another moment, only the slow ripple of the greatcloak where the Warchief’s tail swished betrayed any trace of animation. At last he turned gesturing to a blank space on the floor. The snow intensified, swirling into a tiny blizzard which settled in places, grew in others, until the flakes resolved themselves into several forms. There, in miniature were the Warchief himself and several of the members of Rutilus Luna, though all was in shades of white, the detail was exquisite and it was no trouble to read the emotions in their faces or the setting of their tiny frozen diorama, The Filthy Animal tavern.
The figures began moving, he heard a click and a whirr, and as if from far away Bager heard the words of the figures emanating from the Warchief’s chest. They bickered and spat words at each other, circling with talk of honor and orphans, he stifled a laugh. But then there was talk of shadowlands and allies lost or found and he leaned forward interest piqued. There was to be a ritual, a journey to a place of darkness and ghosts. As the tiny white vision of the Warchief turned and left, his massive black form dropped his hand and the snow lost it’s form, collapsing into a quickly melting mound on the floor of the warroom.
“I shall lead the ritual to open a portal to these Shadowlands into which this Grim has been drawn. But I trust not these Rutilans….” the Death Knight growled deep in his chest and Bager’s beads clacked together with the subtle rumbling in the air. “The Ritual will leave me weakened and with the depleted numbers of Blackteeth in the field…..”
The Steelborn turned back to his maps grunting “You will follow…. At a distance and unseen. Should any of these Rutilans draw blade or spell against me when the Ritual is concluded, you will disrupt them, then join me as we slaughter the traitors and any they hold dear.” He drew a sheaf of paper sealed with his glowing sigil and cast it at the floor between Bager’s knees “Your orders”
The Laughing Skull priest cackled and scooped up the paper, a single snakelike ripple through his body brought him into a backward spring and to his feet. Bager bowed low “Bager listens, and Bager obeys Steelborn.” He bowed deeply, bones and beads scraping the floor as he backed away, not turning until he was already back in the muddy expanse of the yard in Stonard.
Bager chuckled to himself as he turned and broke the seal on the paper, reading the details of the ritual assembled by someone called Skychaser.
He had seen the Steelborn take the field in countless contests, his very presence in battle could shatter pink orc lines that seemed insurmountable. But the metal and contraptions of his shell were only physical barriers. Bager had not seen the Warchief’s true power stir since that day in the Black Iron gorge when he was reunited with his face.
A tremor of laughter shuddered through him as he thought of the upcoming ritual. Bager was certain he would find it hilarious.
Bager choked and quivered, body tensing with barely restrained laughter. He hung like a spider from the rafters of the Knight Commander’s chambers, as he had for a day a night and a day. The beads and bones of his ceremonial garb shifted lazily in any stir of breeze through the arched windows of the tower room but made no more sound than the well oiled chain that secured him to the musty ceiling. The carved bone of his face did not turn away from his prize as the fit passed. The Knight below sat at his desk putting quill to parchment, and both attendants and soldiers came and went with never a passing glance at the shadows above where the Laughing Skull priest hung suspended and motionless.
The pink Orcs of this land were an endless source of amusement for Bager. He fought back another spasm of laughter as he considered how much the gods must hate them. They had not even been blessed with thicker hides or tusks, their claws were dull short things, even their eyes were all but blind as his very presence showed.
Finally, the Knight below drained his cup, and shortly thereafter his bladder, before sweeping on his blue cloak with its golden cat embroidery and striding purposefully from the chamber. The Laughing Skull released the grip he’d held for days and chain slithered through his palm as he plummeted towards the stone floor, with a fluid motion he grabbed the pink orc chief’s chamber pot and flexed with arm and leg drawing himself smoothly back into the rafters. From there, he swung from post to post, out one of the arched windows, and across the slate rooftops of the pink orc castle.
Bager had just delivered his prize to the kitchens, an ingredient to the Knight’s dinner even now bubbling in a cauldron, when a lance of frozen pain shot through him. Thoughts filled his mind, words from tongues the he did not know, ideas and terrors that were not his own, but below them all was a single thread of understanding “COME TO ME.”
He shook himself, bone charms and beads clattering as he slipped out a doorway into the evening’s gathering shadows. Mere moments had him over the pink orc’s stone walls and out into the forest where he began running, bare feet leaving no mark of his passing as he made for the Swamp of Sorrows and the only one to whom the Laughing Skull could be so summoned.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Steelborn was leaning over his maps when Bager found him in the war room of Stonard. He took a moment to admire the massive form that had become his anchor to this world. The blackened plates, glowing blue lines of energy pulsing through the eye sockets of rough skulls carved into their surface. A long black cloak hung obscuring him from this angle, pooling at the giant Death Knight’s hooves, but he knew there was no part of the Steelborn’s form that was not shrouded in metal and machinery.
Though he moved as quietly as ever, he had progressed no more than a few steps into the warroom when the deep rumble of stone on metal of the Chaoseater’s voice rolled out “Report.”
Bager grinned, though the bone of his face always bore a sharp fanged smile “Bager has been quite busy Warchief. He spreads the word of the gods to the pink orcs far and wide, yet they do not see. He servers them orc water soup…” His words caught in his throat as a cold knife twisted in his chest, pain wracking his body. The sensations passed after a moment and the Warchief of the Blacktooth Grin turned to face him.
“I care not for what dishes you serve to whom, Grot. The Rutilans, were your objective….” glowing blue eyes narrowed behind the clear crystal of the Steelborn’s visor.
“Ah…. *heh* yes Well. I have befriended Feathered orc who walks like cat, she is quite the…” an arm of purple lightning crackled from a massive steel fist and Bager felt himself jerked bodily across the room. Metal fingers wrapped around his throat and pulled him close to the Warchief’s visor.
Chaoseater grunted, compressed mist blowing from vents in his helmet. “I did not send you to make friends Grot. You were sent to watch, to report on their movements. You have failed me… but will not do so again” Every inch of Bager’s body exploded in wracking pain. Ravagers tore out his entrails, spreading them steaming to the ground. Ants tore through the eye sockets of his face and ate away the flesh beneath. Fire engulfed him to quickly be subsumed by a cold so intense he thought to shatter as he fell to the ground.
The pain seemed to go on and on, but after a timeless expanse that from the burning of the candles could not have been more than a few minutes, the pain ebbed. Bager pulled himself to a kneeling position before the Steelborn and he noticed it had begun snowing. Inside. He cackled, and turned the carved bone of his face to the imposing form “Thank you for your gift most terrible of gods. Bager shall do your will, speak it and it will be so.”
Those cold burning eyes watched him for another moment, only the slow ripple of the greatcloak where the Warchief’s tail swished betrayed any trace of animation. At last he turned gesturing to a blank space on the floor. The snow intensified, swirling into a tiny blizzard which settled in places, grew in others, until the flakes resolved themselves into several forms. There, in miniature were the Warchief himself and several of the members of Rutilus Luna, though all was in shades of white, the detail was exquisite and it was no trouble to read the emotions in their faces or the setting of their tiny frozen diorama, The Filthy Animal tavern.
The figures began moving, he heard a click and a whirr, and as if from far away Bager heard the words of the figures emanating from the Warchief’s chest. They bickered and spat words at each other, circling with talk of honor and orphans, he stifled a laugh. But then there was talk of shadowlands and allies lost or found and he leaned forward interest piqued. There was to be a ritual, a journey to a place of darkness and ghosts. As the tiny white vision of the Warchief turned and left, his massive black form dropped his hand and the snow lost it’s form, collapsing into a quickly melting mound on the floor of the warroom.
“I shall lead the ritual to open a portal to these Shadowlands into which this Grim has been drawn. But I trust not these Rutilans….” the Death Knight growled deep in his chest and Bager’s beads clacked together with the subtle rumbling in the air. “The Ritual will leave me weakened and with the depleted numbers of Blackteeth in the field…..”
The Steelborn turned back to his maps grunting “You will follow…. At a distance and unseen. Should any of these Rutilans draw blade or spell against me when the Ritual is concluded, you will disrupt them, then join me as we slaughter the traitors and any they hold dear.” He drew a sheaf of paper sealed with his glowing sigil and cast it at the floor between Bager’s knees “Your orders”
The Laughing Skull priest cackled and scooped up the paper, a single snakelike ripple through his body brought him into a backward spring and to his feet. Bager bowed low “Bager listens, and Bager obeys Steelborn.” He bowed deeply, bones and beads scraping the floor as he backed away, not turning until he was already back in the muddy expanse of the yard in Stonard.
Bager chuckled to himself as he turned and broke the seal on the paper, reading the details of the ritual assembled by someone called Skychaser.
He had seen the Steelborn take the field in countless contests, his very presence in battle could shatter pink orc lines that seemed insurmountable. But the metal and contraptions of his shell were only physical barriers. Bager had not seen the Warchief’s true power stir since that day in the Black Iron gorge when he was reunited with his face.
A tremor of laughter shuddered through him as he thought of the upcoming ritual. Bager was certain he would find it hilarious.
Re: Dark Star Rising
The window slammed shut once Mai’kull’s concentration failed. Khorvis stood there in panting agony, both physically and emotionally. A brief glimpse at freedom only to be snatched away without so much as a farewell; it nearly broke the old orc’s spirit. He almost despaired, back upon his hands and knees, vomiting whatever lakewater he had inhaled after his fall. Gazing into the slimy reflection of his offal, he caught the glimmer of a candle-light.
Khorvis lifted his head and found himself staring up at a hooded creature of the void. Twin lanterns swung from the hulk’s shoulders, framing a face of stars that bore an unsettlingly familiar visage to that of the living. Expressive and cunning, the face seemed to call to the orc to follow, as a flame beckons the moth.
“Back, demon!” Khorvis growled as he jumped to his feet. Though he was without blades, the old orc was far from defenseless, between the Hand of Ashran and his tusks. Yet rather than assault the warrior, the Voidcaller drifted away, still beckoning with its wispy arms. Khorvis could only spare a momentarily confused look, as a swarm of clicks sounded from above.
The crevasse from which the orc had fallen was writhing in shadow. No, it was not a discrete mass. A horde of spindly spectres were pouring from the catacomb’s well, streaming over the cavern ceiling and racing towards the stalactites. Dozens of multi-legged wraiths with horrid, twisting mouths, intent upon their fleshy prey skittered down the walls and began their circle of the lake.
Khorvis stumbled backwards, knowing this was a force too large and far beyond his martial skills. He spun and saw the Voidcaller drifting down the slope of the cavern floor towards a passage in the wall, its frame wrought with odd runes. He was unsure, but it appeared that the bedrock here was set in blocks by masons, as impossible as that should be.
In the end, it mattered little. Khorvis fled the army of wraiths and followed the Voidcaller into this unknown tomb.
Khorvis lifted his head and found himself staring up at a hooded creature of the void. Twin lanterns swung from the hulk’s shoulders, framing a face of stars that bore an unsettlingly familiar visage to that of the living. Expressive and cunning, the face seemed to call to the orc to follow, as a flame beckons the moth.
“Back, demon!” Khorvis growled as he jumped to his feet. Though he was without blades, the old orc was far from defenseless, between the Hand of Ashran and his tusks. Yet rather than assault the warrior, the Voidcaller drifted away, still beckoning with its wispy arms. Khorvis could only spare a momentarily confused look, as a swarm of clicks sounded from above.
The crevasse from which the orc had fallen was writhing in shadow. No, it was not a discrete mass. A horde of spindly spectres were pouring from the catacomb’s well, streaming over the cavern ceiling and racing towards the stalactites. Dozens of multi-legged wraiths with horrid, twisting mouths, intent upon their fleshy prey skittered down the walls and began their circle of the lake.
Khorvis stumbled backwards, knowing this was a force too large and far beyond his martial skills. He spun and saw the Voidcaller drifting down the slope of the cavern floor towards a passage in the wall, its frame wrought with odd runes. He was unsure, but it appeared that the bedrock here was set in blocks by masons, as impossible as that should be.
In the end, it mattered little. Khorvis fled the army of wraiths and followed the Voidcaller into this unknown tomb.
Re: Dark Star Rising
The squall crashed against the northern coast of Tirisfal. It was unusual for a front to surge southeast from Northrend to Lordaeron, as the Maelstrom often pulled the warm waters from Stranglethorn and Vash’jir to temper the northern kingdoms’ clime, but as An’she set over the far islands of Tol Barad, the North Sea raged against the rocky shoals of the Banshee Queen’s demesne. Pitiless and full of spite, the freezing rains pelted the ancient pines of the Whispering Forest. Salt spray burst over the sentinel cliffs, which had stood as a bulwark to the distant icebergs since the Sundering itself, and misted into the woodlands, leaving behind a thick fog.
A skittering penetrated the murk and gloom, like a beast scrambling through the brush. Edgar “Boneslave” Hornridge, servant and minion to the late High Inquisitor Bloodstar, came to a halt, travelling upon all fours, and sniffed the night air through fleshless nostrils. The mists curled inside of the Forsaken knight’s skull like incense within the seer’s tent.
“Quickly! This…ugh… way…!” The unassuming corpse moaned over his shoulder, his head turning upon his spine a full 180 degrees. Twin pinpricks of light glowed within his eyesockets, distant lanterns to guide his charge through the fog. Locating the remainder of the party, Edgar forged ahead, racing between the pines that lead to a queer ring of toadstools.
The party in question steadily trod beneath the spindly boughs of the Whispering Forest. It had been a somber and guarded march from the Gallow’s End Tavern, where in Brill they had gathered over the course of the stormy day. Some could claim to be comrades of Bloodstar. Some simply wore the same colors. Others knew his reputation and saw it as their duty to the Horde to see this ritual to the end, the Nether take their chance of success. Their torchlight pressed out against the forest’s darkness with a willful futility, a carriage for their unbent intent.
In the wake of Boneslave, they arrived at the clearing in the hills above Deathknell and the Grim Halls. Here was the last known contact with the missing High Inquisitor. Here was where they would breach the veil between Azeroth and the Shadowlands.
A skittering penetrated the murk and gloom, like a beast scrambling through the brush. Edgar “Boneslave” Hornridge, servant and minion to the late High Inquisitor Bloodstar, came to a halt, travelling upon all fours, and sniffed the night air through fleshless nostrils. The mists curled inside of the Forsaken knight’s skull like incense within the seer’s tent.
“Quickly! This…ugh… way…!” The unassuming corpse moaned over his shoulder, his head turning upon his spine a full 180 degrees. Twin pinpricks of light glowed within his eyesockets, distant lanterns to guide his charge through the fog. Locating the remainder of the party, Edgar forged ahead, racing between the pines that lead to a queer ring of toadstools.
The party in question steadily trod beneath the spindly boughs of the Whispering Forest. It had been a somber and guarded march from the Gallow’s End Tavern, where in Brill they had gathered over the course of the stormy day. Some could claim to be comrades of Bloodstar. Some simply wore the same colors. Others knew his reputation and saw it as their duty to the Horde to see this ritual to the end, the Nether take their chance of success. Their torchlight pressed out against the forest’s darkness with a willful futility, a carriage for their unbent intent.
In the wake of Boneslave, they arrived at the clearing in the hills above Deathknell and the Grim Halls. Here was the last known contact with the missing High Inquisitor. Here was where they would breach the veil between Azeroth and the Shadowlands.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Baalthemar:
Baal’themar stalked in the shadows on the outside edge of the marching party. They headed to the Grim Halls, he wondered if the Grim might try to capture him after this mission was over and they had Khorvis safe. He scanned the people that had joined, so far he couldn’t see anyone that would go out of their way to stop him. He made a plan to escape if things started to look like they were going to turn on him.
His pack was heavy with the ritual components. Stones, gems and cubes made of bone… He remembered the creation of the unholy and blood icons, Stromsky had given him the Ice icon and he had the blade needed to focus the ritual from Lilliana.
Just get the old orc and leave. He thought to himself, he repeated his mission. Get him out and safe, then you’re done… don’t push your luck. He sighed and emerged from the shadows to join the main party as they formed up outside the Grim Halls.
He walked to Edgar without looking at the others, he slowly pulled each component out of his pack. The Bonecube, Bloodstone Crystal and the Elemental Ice stone. Emerged from his pack, followed finally by the Dagger that Edgar had asked for, Kiannis had kept the blade safe before he handed it to Lilliana for the ritual. Baal’themar remembered the man handing it over to her rather than him… distrust ran deep between the two elves but none of that mattered.
They would need to work together to save their brother… save him from his hellish prison.
Baal’themar stalked in the shadows on the outside edge of the marching party. They headed to the Grim Halls, he wondered if the Grim might try to capture him after this mission was over and they had Khorvis safe. He scanned the people that had joined, so far he couldn’t see anyone that would go out of their way to stop him. He made a plan to escape if things started to look like they were going to turn on him.
His pack was heavy with the ritual components. Stones, gems and cubes made of bone… He remembered the creation of the unholy and blood icons, Stromsky had given him the Ice icon and he had the blade needed to focus the ritual from Lilliana.
Just get the old orc and leave. He thought to himself, he repeated his mission. Get him out and safe, then you’re done… don’t push your luck. He sighed and emerged from the shadows to join the main party as they formed up outside the Grim Halls.
He walked to Edgar without looking at the others, he slowly pulled each component out of his pack. The Bonecube, Bloodstone Crystal and the Elemental Ice stone. Emerged from his pack, followed finally by the Dagger that Edgar had asked for, Kiannis had kept the blade safe before he handed it to Lilliana for the ritual. Baal’themar remembered the man handing it over to her rather than him… distrust ran deep between the two elves but none of that mattered.
They would need to work together to save their brother… save him from his hellish prison.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Chaoseater:
The sky blood fell running in rivulets down Bager's bone face. It collected in droplets on the bones and beads of his harness and dripped down to mingle with all the rest from his perch, unseen in a tree near the clearing. He remained motionless, empty eyesockets turned towards the party as they gathered. The massive black form of the Chaoseater was easy to spot, head and shoulders taller than the others, dotted here and there with the glowing eyes of skulls.
Bager watched as he swung down from the saddle of an equally massive worg to survey the site of the coming ritual. There was a glint of light off crystal as the Death Knight turned partially toward his mount, something seemed to pass unsaid between them, then the great beast leapt into the foliage and was gone. Finally he strode forward, eyeing something the biggest pink orc Bager had ever seen was pulling from a pack. He choked back a laugh as he waited, watching.
The sky blood fell running in rivulets down Bager's bone face. It collected in droplets on the bones and beads of his harness and dripped down to mingle with all the rest from his perch, unseen in a tree near the clearing. He remained motionless, empty eyesockets turned towards the party as they gathered. The massive black form of the Chaoseater was easy to spot, head and shoulders taller than the others, dotted here and there with the glowing eyes of skulls.
Bager watched as he swung down from the saddle of an equally massive worg to survey the site of the coming ritual. There was a glint of light off crystal as the Death Knight turned partially toward his mount, something seemed to pass unsaid between them, then the great beast leapt into the foliage and was gone. Finally he strode forward, eyeing something the biggest pink orc Bager had ever seen was pulling from a pack. He choked back a laugh as he waited, watching.
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Storm Skychaser:
In the maelstrom, the heart of Azeroth, Stormsky stood still just a few steps away from the portal that would take him to Dalaran, a portal he needed to use to make his way to the location where the ritual to rescue Khorvis was going to take place.
In the eyes of others, it would have seemed like he had spent hours in the exact same spot, taking a few steps back every once in a while before moving forward towards the portal again, but always stopping in the same place, close enough to actually see the other side but far enough to prevent him to use the portal.
“Just let me go… I proposed this ritual… I should be there... I must help!” he muttered angrily to himself.
For as long as he remembered he could hear and interact with the elements, first through dreams and whispers, later he could feel their presence and speak to them through meditation, now he was able to communicate directly with them, sometimes even when he didn’t want to, it only took a thought, that was the downside of choosing his path as an elemental shaman, he thought sometimes, to never be alone in his mind.
Out of all the elemental spirits he had contact with, five always stood out, the first ones he befriended, and the ones who had been with him every moment of his life, good or bad times they were there, in one way or another, each representing a different element, Brazion of fire, Hialaq of water, Venthesh of air, Petrik of earth, and last Vitalon representing the element of life.
All of them had fought alongside Stormsky more times he could count, sometimes giving him advice, some others manifesting directly in the physical realm to aid him in combat, or just providing him the power he needed to defeat his enemies or help his allies. These elementals became a second family to Stormsky, a very dysfunctional one due to the conflicting nature of their personalities and elements, but a family nevertheless, and not once they had acted against him until now.
“Please release me… I must go” He said, now having an inner conversation with this second family, A resounding answer echoed in his mind “NO!”, out of all the times he wished that the elementals would work together in perfect harmony, this was not one of them. He had been stuck in a combat for control of his body for hours now, and even though the elementals weren’t powerful enough to control him without his permission, they were strong enough to stop him from taking any action.
He had tried dozens of times now, always with the same result, every time he approached the portal, the elements stopped him from using it, “It is not easy to move when you have the weight of a mountain in each of your hooves, is it?” Petrik said, laughing at Stormsky, “And even if you could …” Venthesh started saying as Hialaq finished the sentence “Your muscles won’t work at subzero temperatures either”, Brazion spoke next “Try as you might Storm, even you cannot concentrate enough to free yourself without breathing correctly, and tell me how does it feel having an inferno in your lungs?”.
Stormsky glared at the four “You…. Cannot do this….let me go help them, I already told you I am willing to take the risks and live with the consequences! I am a Shu’halo... I am part of the Horde… I don’t leave people behind!”
Vitalon, who until now had been silent, finally spoke “You have no idea of the mistake you would be making and of the true consequences it would bring, even if you could rescue Khorvis… his soul along with the souls of anyone who goes into that place will be tainted by the shadow, they will NEVER be the same, There is no protection, no spells… NOTHING! That will prevent that from happening… After that… each of them will carry that shadow for the rest of their lives… growing, some… the stronger ones… or the lucky ones will die before it takes control…. The rest… will eventually succumb to it”.
Stormsky took a few steps back from the portal, stopping his struggle for a moment, he had done this before to recover his strength in order to try using the portal again, this time was different, Vitalon had spoken… the most common and yet the most difficult spirit to commune with, very few shamans have had the honor of sensing an elemental… a spirit of life, even less have had the opportunity to communicate with one. Stormsky had listened to him before… but only in whispers… or visions, watching Vitalon speak to him so clearly and in such a direct way shocked the shaman to the core.
He took a large breath, as the other elementals stopped their attacks, “What am I supposed to do then? Nothing?! That is unacceptable!” Brazion took his turn to speak “You have always fought with the rage and passion of a fire elemental, but you cannot win this fight”, “You are still a mortal… we are eternal… ” said Petrik, “Calm down, breathe... allow yourself to see, to think” Venthesh remarked before Hialaq spoke “Like water… change your ways… adapt… figure out a way to help them without leaving this place, without going into the shadows”.
Stormsky finally realized what the elementals were trying to do, they weren’t against rescuing Khorvis, they were just trying to protect the young shaman from going into the Shadowlands and they weren’t going to stop. After a brief moment Stormsky grinned at them “So you do care for this mortal piece of flesh after all”. The elementals awkwardly stared at Stormsky then at each other without responding, always too prideful to admit such a thing.
The shaman proceeded to find a place where he could think and after some time he proposed a plan “Alright… since you will not allow me to leave the maelstrom, then I need us all to help the party from here… together… Petrik, nature is born out of the earth, out of your element, empower their nature spells, whatever form they take, either for healing or damage, just empower them with your might. Brazion use your fire as a guiding light for them and bless their blades with your flames. Finally Venthesh and Hialaq, you two are going to work together, merge your elements, air and water to power up the ice crystal even more, do not let it be depleted and strengthen the protective aura it provides. I will be your anchor, so that all of you can manifest in this realm at the same time, do you all agree to this?” and without hesitation all the elementals responded at once with a resounding “Yes, we do”.
Stormsky sat down using all of his focus to empower the elementals and project them to the place the ritual is going to be performed “There… I see them… Baal’themar, Edgar, Chaoseater, the others…even that orc hunter… Bager, they're all gathered, it’s time… Brazion, Petrik, Venthesh, Hialaq go now, may the Earth Mother be with us all”
In the maelstrom, the heart of Azeroth, Stormsky stood still just a few steps away from the portal that would take him to Dalaran, a portal he needed to use to make his way to the location where the ritual to rescue Khorvis was going to take place.
In the eyes of others, it would have seemed like he had spent hours in the exact same spot, taking a few steps back every once in a while before moving forward towards the portal again, but always stopping in the same place, close enough to actually see the other side but far enough to prevent him to use the portal.
“Just let me go… I proposed this ritual… I should be there... I must help!” he muttered angrily to himself.
For as long as he remembered he could hear and interact with the elements, first through dreams and whispers, later he could feel their presence and speak to them through meditation, now he was able to communicate directly with them, sometimes even when he didn’t want to, it only took a thought, that was the downside of choosing his path as an elemental shaman, he thought sometimes, to never be alone in his mind.
Out of all the elemental spirits he had contact with, five always stood out, the first ones he befriended, and the ones who had been with him every moment of his life, good or bad times they were there, in one way or another, each representing a different element, Brazion of fire, Hialaq of water, Venthesh of air, Petrik of earth, and last Vitalon representing the element of life.
All of them had fought alongside Stormsky more times he could count, sometimes giving him advice, some others manifesting directly in the physical realm to aid him in combat, or just providing him the power he needed to defeat his enemies or help his allies. These elementals became a second family to Stormsky, a very dysfunctional one due to the conflicting nature of their personalities and elements, but a family nevertheless, and not once they had acted against him until now.
“Please release me… I must go” He said, now having an inner conversation with this second family, A resounding answer echoed in his mind “NO!”, out of all the times he wished that the elementals would work together in perfect harmony, this was not one of them. He had been stuck in a combat for control of his body for hours now, and even though the elementals weren’t powerful enough to control him without his permission, they were strong enough to stop him from taking any action.
He had tried dozens of times now, always with the same result, every time he approached the portal, the elements stopped him from using it, “It is not easy to move when you have the weight of a mountain in each of your hooves, is it?” Petrik said, laughing at Stormsky, “And even if you could …” Venthesh started saying as Hialaq finished the sentence “Your muscles won’t work at subzero temperatures either”, Brazion spoke next “Try as you might Storm, even you cannot concentrate enough to free yourself without breathing correctly, and tell me how does it feel having an inferno in your lungs?”.
Stormsky glared at the four “You…. Cannot do this….let me go help them, I already told you I am willing to take the risks and live with the consequences! I am a Shu’halo... I am part of the Horde… I don’t leave people behind!”
Vitalon, who until now had been silent, finally spoke “You have no idea of the mistake you would be making and of the true consequences it would bring, even if you could rescue Khorvis… his soul along with the souls of anyone who goes into that place will be tainted by the shadow, they will NEVER be the same, There is no protection, no spells… NOTHING! That will prevent that from happening… After that… each of them will carry that shadow for the rest of their lives… growing, some… the stronger ones… or the lucky ones will die before it takes control…. The rest… will eventually succumb to it”.
Stormsky took a few steps back from the portal, stopping his struggle for a moment, he had done this before to recover his strength in order to try using the portal again, this time was different, Vitalon had spoken… the most common and yet the most difficult spirit to commune with, very few shamans have had the honor of sensing an elemental… a spirit of life, even less have had the opportunity to communicate with one. Stormsky had listened to him before… but only in whispers… or visions, watching Vitalon speak to him so clearly and in such a direct way shocked the shaman to the core.
He took a large breath, as the other elementals stopped their attacks, “What am I supposed to do then? Nothing?! That is unacceptable!” Brazion took his turn to speak “You have always fought with the rage and passion of a fire elemental, but you cannot win this fight”, “You are still a mortal… we are eternal… ” said Petrik, “Calm down, breathe... allow yourself to see, to think” Venthesh remarked before Hialaq spoke “Like water… change your ways… adapt… figure out a way to help them without leaving this place, without going into the shadows”.
Stormsky finally realized what the elementals were trying to do, they weren’t against rescuing Khorvis, they were just trying to protect the young shaman from going into the Shadowlands and they weren’t going to stop. After a brief moment Stormsky grinned at them “So you do care for this mortal piece of flesh after all”. The elementals awkwardly stared at Stormsky then at each other without responding, always too prideful to admit such a thing.
The shaman proceeded to find a place where he could think and after some time he proposed a plan “Alright… since you will not allow me to leave the maelstrom, then I need us all to help the party from here… together… Petrik, nature is born out of the earth, out of your element, empower their nature spells, whatever form they take, either for healing or damage, just empower them with your might. Brazion use your fire as a guiding light for them and bless their blades with your flames. Finally Venthesh and Hialaq, you two are going to work together, merge your elements, air and water to power up the ice crystal even more, do not let it be depleted and strengthen the protective aura it provides. I will be your anchor, so that all of you can manifest in this realm at the same time, do you all agree to this?” and without hesitation all the elementals responded at once with a resounding “Yes, we do”.
Stormsky sat down using all of his focus to empower the elementals and project them to the place the ritual is going to be performed “There… I see them… Baal’themar, Edgar, Chaoseater, the others…even that orc hunter… Bager, they're all gathered, it’s time… Brazion, Petrik, Venthesh, Hialaq go now, may the Earth Mother be with us all”
Re: Dark Star Rising
Written by Maikull:
The roar of his Mechano-Hog died down as Mai’kull parked nearby the Ring of Mushrooms. He had left the Guild Hall shortly after everyone else as he packed extra supplies in his side car. It was a pleasure to be working with Chaoseater once more. Though they did not talk, he admired and respected the Tauren’s presence on the battlefield during their joint venture across Azeroth. Baalthemar seemed a bit on edge back in the hall, but he was sure there was enough bad blood there to warrant it, not that he knew or cared of the particulars.
He began to unload some of the machines he brought to aid in the ritual. Knowing the troubles, he had encountered simply opening a window, he had brought several items to aid them in their venture. Several Failure detection pylons were reconstructed with a Void Crystal core to provide energy for the ritual and limit the strain on the summonses. The Mage’s Manual of Void-Calling tomb sat in the seat, with several separate slips of Dark Parchment sticking out in random pages.
The mage collected the volume and opened it trying to conceal the pages quickly as he shoved the book inside his robes. He turned to the growing crowd and those already in attendance and waved towards the circle. “That’s it…something about that spot in particular, but there you can reach out to other worlds. I was able to open a window to the Shadowlands from there, but could not reproduce the same results anywhere else. These damn Fairy Dragonflies come by ever so often and use this to syphon energy from the Emerald Dream.”
The roar of his Mechano-Hog died down as Mai’kull parked nearby the Ring of Mushrooms. He had left the Guild Hall shortly after everyone else as he packed extra supplies in his side car. It was a pleasure to be working with Chaoseater once more. Though they did not talk, he admired and respected the Tauren’s presence on the battlefield during their joint venture across Azeroth. Baalthemar seemed a bit on edge back in the hall, but he was sure there was enough bad blood there to warrant it, not that he knew or cared of the particulars.
He began to unload some of the machines he brought to aid in the ritual. Knowing the troubles, he had encountered simply opening a window, he had brought several items to aid them in their venture. Several Failure detection pylons were reconstructed with a Void Crystal core to provide energy for the ritual and limit the strain on the summonses. The Mage’s Manual of Void-Calling tomb sat in the seat, with several separate slips of Dark Parchment sticking out in random pages.
The mage collected the volume and opened it trying to conceal the pages quickly as he shoved the book inside his robes. He turned to the growing crowd and those already in attendance and waved towards the circle. “That’s it…something about that spot in particular, but there you can reach out to other worlds. I was able to open a window to the Shadowlands from there, but could not reproduce the same results anywhere else. These damn Fairy Dragonflies come by ever so often and use this to syphon energy from the Emerald Dream.”