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View character profile for: Draken Darkward
View character profile for: Bathlazaar Gelt
A Dark Question
It was with all his careful planning that every choice he had made had led to this. His own agents were onto their duties and he himself fulfilling his greatest achievement. And so he readied himself, beginning the first steps of forever. He had once walked that path, now the entire land would. And it would start with one that none would have expected. A choice.
Oh how often, if one could and could indeed follow the strands of Fate, did great disaster and beautiful growth was brought with a choice.
It was to Dalen he went, knowing he for which he waited for would not resist the call of power in such an old place. Gelt did not give the place a thought, for such was the ruin he felt burned in so many minds. It was such ease that he pulled the strands of Weave. He walked through the veil of black and purple and unto the ethereal. That bridge stretched for eternity and brought him to now.
The old capital was overgrown when he parted the veil again. The once great magocracy was now crumbling ruins. Moss covered pitless stone, still smooth as the day it was placed in enchantment. Broken domiciles lay the debris into streets of the ancient battle sites, reminders of the demons and devils unleashed in an age back.
He could have stopped it. But the magocracy had become too stagnant. It had outgrown its ability to maintain its people and the same for safe magics. Too many minds reaching too far too quickly with never a mind as to the consequences. Its fall was a loss but removed such a potential ally. A loss to him more than a loss to the land.
Bathlazaar felt the taint of Abyssal permeate the air. He had been watching this one for some time, approvingly gazing at his gathering. The swell of power was impressive for one of great blood. But the artefact that had Gelt's attention was the true nexus. The attunement of energy was amazing.
He came now, Gelt just out of sight amongst ruined houses. Burnt trees from a desecrated garden above lay upon the streets between them as he watched Draken plant the Black Staff into the ground.
"I heard your call, I have arrived. Speak now and reveal yourself!" He waited for his host of this meeting.
Gelt obliged his request and walked calmly, softly into view. He looked to Draken and spoke to him. "So... The Diablo himself walks the land freely once more. And carrying the Black Staff. Not a very minor gimmick to wield such object of Power. And not so much a coincidence that you gather followers in these dark days. Perhaps you sense the darkness that lies still ahead, an uncertain fate laying unwoven before not you but those yet to decide. Tell me, Draken Darkward. What do you decide?"
His whispering, deep double tones echoed with a power that spoke a measure of control beyond men, his golden mask a statue of nothing. The wind waited as the rain began to pelt them from the grey clouds.