Book One: Journey to the Black Widow

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07 Oct 2010 at 06:45 - 1
Chapter one-Cold Rain

When the swirling mass of color stopped, the young cultist stepped forward into the black threshold. Coughing from the cold air, the heavy, almost oily atmosphere was stifling. The air itself seemed to abhor his presence, the very fabric of his environment sought his repulse. He could feel his strongest tether to the point was at his front, and his back seemed to draw backward towards the spot the portal dropped him, as if he was being projected. His spiked boots saw give in the moist soil, black as coal. Looking down, he noted the ground was saturated. As his boot heels sunk into the murk, he could see that it was blood, not water, that muddied the terrain. And the world was bereft of a place in which this interesting anomaly was absent.

His tough leathery leggings, tucked into the pointed tops of the boots, met the hard leather curiass upon his beltline, and all was gently collecting perspiration from the thick surrounding air. A thought crossed his mind, that this was likely blood as well, but he quickly dismissed the idea. He couldn't tell by looking, as all the detail of his armor was red, whilst the bulk was black as night. Luckily, the mask upon his face, laced with bone, covering only the lower half, was keeping the moisture greatly out of his mouth. Still, clenching his hands, the squelch that was heard came more from the moisture, than from the leather of his tough gloves.
He hardly flinched as a low growl came from behind. It was friend, not foe.

The necromancer came with a companion, that being a rare Black Wolf, long sought for its particular ferocity in the far northern reaches, home to Norn and Charr alike, the most fierce of predators. to see this creature under the tame hand of a human, was a unique sight. The wolf shook his head, distributing a deal of the moisture around him. He seemed displeased with the air, used to the dry cold of the vast shiverpeaks. Though, the necromancer thought, the darkness ought to be to his liking.
The pair were unwelcome guests, indeed plunderers and thieves, in a place one dare not trespass. The world of the dead, the Underworld. And they were most certainly not alone.


~The trials and proving grounds of Kage der Mond.




Chapter 2-Arcane Dissent


A blast of light consumed the area, and the beautiful mistress was cast to her knees in the middle of a desolate field. The air was so thick and stagnant, she choked as she rose to her feet. Spitting the foreign substance out, she found it to be red and iron in taste. She quickly inspected the inside of her mouth with her fingers. She found no wound, so from where came the blood? But upon finishing her inspection, she spit more of the fluid, this time it came from her fingers. She looked at her hands in horror, for they were covered in blood. Trying to remain in composure, she took a grimacing look around.
The world she had entered was dark, lit only by a faint moonight. But the moon could not be found, indeed it was more like the inside of a cave, lit by a moon that was not there at all. This came as little surprise to her. When she agreed to mark the scroll with her blood, she knew the world she would be entering, was indeed that of the dead. The underworld holds many secrets, many of which she did not mean to know, some of which she did already, and many she was thirsty to discover.

Around her were houses, destroyed, but still intact. The structures were clearly off balance, but left suspended by some unknown force. Thats when she noticed the pale blue figures moving around in the murk. She stifled a gasp when one turned her way. "He", it appeared that way at least, stood roughly six feet tall, and had the figure of a swimmer. Thin and spry, with long arms and legs, and a short torso. the only unusual thing about him, was that indeed, he was transparent, with a cool blue tint. His face was frozen in a single expression. Eyes shut, and mouth slightly open, and drawn to the side. His "skin", though it was pure ectoplasm now, she could tell, was wrinkled and loose. His "hair", tangled and hanging loosely, was missing in places, and rotten on the ends. It became clear to her then, this man had drowned.
This "town" or death she stood in, was crawling with these specters, milling about, as if they didnt know where they were, but had some purpose, still unknown to them. She looked off in the direction of some stairs that led up into an enclave structure. She didnt know why, but she knew her husband was there. He would be there, she was positive. Him and that wolf that was so protective over her. Hell, she thought, he is probably already creating minions of his own to combat the legions of grenth that sought their immediate ejection from his world.
With this thought, she stepped forward towards the enclave. Her movements stopped quickly as the ground in front of here was split, and a bony hand extended forth, pulling behind it a full skeleton with a faint glow of enchantment about it. A maddening expression upon its face, it pulled its bow out of the dirt, and raised a hand to the young mesmer. It shook its head slowly, and Mystic Stargazer let her breath out slowly, and slipped a hand to the weapon pouch on her hip. Just as the clasp was undone, the Skeleton of Dhuum screeched, and cast a bony spike from his own ribcage, directly to the breast of the beautiful mesmer.

~The discoveries and matronly stewardship of Mystic Stargazer~



Chapter 3- Old Land