Rise of a Lich, Fall of Gods

Thalador Doomspeaker

Frost Gate Guardian

Join Date: Dec 2008

The Ruins of Rin

Incarnation of the Reaper [GRIM]

W/

“What is this place?” Jadoth was astonished at the sight before him. A lone island in the center of the Crystal Sea, cracked open and filled with golden statues of the Six and of winged females. The water of the sea refused to come within a mile of the island itself, creating an oasis with waterfalls on all sides. The two remained at the bottom of a staircase that led to the opening of the island, but the view to inside was still plain to see.

“This is the Hall of Ascension, one of the many entrances to the Gates of Heaven.” Abaddon replied. “You will need to complete the trial presented here if you wish to survive where we are to go.”

Unquestioning, Jadoth walked up a sole staircase leading to the opening of the hall. Before Jadoth entered, Abaddon shouted to him and tossed him a single spear that was made of pure black metal with a spiked collar around the tip of the spear.

The hall led to a circular room, the sides having a ramp that joined on the other end of the hall. In the circle of the room stood a man in armor as black as Jadoth’s new spear, which it also held, that looked as though it may be stronger than diamond. His head was lit afire and the skin looked like embers. The man saluted Jadoth then immediately charged at him. Instinctively, Jadoth dodged to the right and ran up the ramp, hoping to gain the advantage of height.

So the trial is to fight? Simple enough! At the top of the ramp, Jadoth swung around, swiping the spear at the waist-leveled head of the burning man. Just as Jadoth did before, the man dodged to the right, then followed up with a swipe of the spear at Jadoth’s shins.

Caught off guard, Jadoth just barely managed to jump over the spear and attempted to slam his feet on top of it but missed. In turn, he jabbed the spear at an opening of the man’s armor at the neck. Just like before, he dodged to the right – straight into the wall. Once more, Jadoth jabbed at the man, this time aiming to go through his armor.

The man jumped in the air and over Jadoth, down into the center of the room. He recovered as soon as Jadoth turned around.

Gritting his teeth, Jadoth followed the man, jumping straight at him. The man outstretched his own spear as Jadoth fell down. Kicking the spear out of the way, Jadoth then thrust his own into the man’s skull, down into the body. The body fell apart as the embers of the flame disappeared into ash. A faint sensation flowed through Jadoth’s body as the last of the ash was blown away in the wind, leaving an empty suit of armor.

“Congratulations, Jadoth.” Abaddon said at the entrance to the hall. Now, let us go to the Gates of Heaven.”

Abaddon led Jadoth back up the ramp, into a niche where during the battle Jadoth saw a flat wall. There was neither an exit nor anything else in the niche, but the two walked into it and came out in another room. It was created out of the same golden materials, but mixed in with sandstone, and the air felt differently – Jadoth could still smell the sea, and even heard waves in the distance, but the air itself was far more humid.

Abaddon turned to look at Jadoth, whose face was filled with curiosity and confusion. The god gave a soft chuckle. “We are now on the southern edge of the Crystal Sea, Jadoth, at a temple dedicated to all six of us, the innermost chamber of which also serves as the true entrance to the Gates of Heaven.”

“I’ve been to the Temple of the Six Gods before, but I never had to defeat a shadow of myself. What was the purpose of that test?”

“The temple is safe, except for the inner sanctum. The air there will suffocate those who have weak souls, effectively separating it from the body – passing the test of Ascension strengthens one soul so that it can endure exposure to the Mists.”

The Mists, the essence and origin of the universe, true home of the gods and of the afterlife; Jadoth knew of the Mists, and he recalled tales that no living being had ever entered them and returned alive – save for King Doric, who only had done such with the aid of Dwayna. Those that did survive without the aid of the gods replaced them, such as Grenth had done to Dhuum only a couple decades ago.

The two continued through the surprisingly emptied temple. Jadoth assumed that Abaddon had taken them to an isolated portion of the building – after all, if the inner chamber wasn’t isolated, innocents could wander in and die. The walls of the temple remained flat, save for some intricately twisted thin poles that looked like they were frozen during a dance.

Abaddon paused in front of two larch arched doors before pushing them open. Jadoth noted the brief hesitation in the god, and only became more baffled. A wonder which he quickly dismissed as he knew no mortal should attempt to understand a god’s thoughts – especially Abaddon’s whose mind contains knowledge that sends beings mad.

Beyond the walls was a tall circular room with seven niches – one holding the door, the other six each holding a beautiful golden statue of a winged female. The wings were stained glasses that remained in place by the golden frame. In the center, possibly twelve feet high, lied six lights, dancing around in loops, each with their own path that nearly created a spherical trail of the light. It was near impossible to see that the lights were circling something due to their brightness, but Jadoth managed to get a glimpse of some sort of object – an object which moved on its own accord.

“What’s in there?” Jadoth asked without thought.

“A relic. A mere reminder to us of the true origin of our current power, though now only Dwayna and Melandru know what it is. The statues are of the original gods – I, Lyssa, Balthazar, and of course Grenth are merely successors to them.” Abaddon replied, no emotion flowed from his voice. He stared at the center of the room, beneath the circling lights, as if waiting for something to appear.

And something did appear.

A pillar of mist formed within seconds and just as quickly disappeared, revealing a small shrouded man. Jadoth felt the man was familiar but could not place it.

“You’re late.” Abaddon said. “Are the preparations ready?”

“I am your elder, Abaddon. Do not order me around.” The cloaked man said, his voice cracked and dry, speaking as if it was the desert wind. He walked forward towards the two but his face was kept in shadows, and despite the movement, his cloak seemed to drag on as if he was being pulled.

“You gave up your godhood to survive as a mere specter Dhuum, I may order you around if I wish.”

Jadoth stood there in astonishment. He had to avert his eyes constantly from Abaddon to prevent going blind, but he was capable of staring at this god with ease.

“He is not part of the plan.” Dhuum said

“He is now.”

“My lord, what is this plan?” Once more, Jadoth asked before he could keep his mouth closed.

“First, to grant magic to all beings; second….” Abaddon reached up to the circling lights overhead and ripped two of them apart, pushing one into himself and tossing another to Dhuum, who did the same. “To fix the folly of the other gods.” Once more, Abaddon ripped the lights from their loops, forcing the remaining four together into a single light.

Jadoth’s eyes widened as the object the lights shielded – a pulsating coalescence of flesh and thorn – was revealed.

With one more thrust, Abaddon had shoved the now combined light into the eldritch flesh. It pulsed harder and faster for only a matter of seconds until it exploded, sending out a shockwave which went through the walls. As Jadoth lowered his arms that shielded his eyes, he saw nothing left of the mass of flesh. And though he could not see it, Jadoth felt Dhuum smile beneath his cloak.