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The Shadow Plane...
Yami was no expert, she had read some of the more interesting tomes that Asgwrn owned but she'd never expected the oppressing, suffocating feeling she found here. However she rode tall and lept her eyes in front of her. Yami Shadowblade was a creature of the night. It would not do to show fear in this place.
We will reach the mountain in half-a-day, Yami.
"I understand," Yami reached up to grasp Marwolaeth's hilt, "Dante... I'll be there soon."
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Dante huddled in the corner of his apartments. This room was luxerious and spacious. A couch was against one wall and the bed was covered in luxurious pelts. A wide table sat in the centre of the room, with drawers filled with parchment and ink.
The roar of the voices in his ears was lost on him. Purple smears ringed his eyes and he shivered violently.
He could not eat. He could not sleep.
The couch was made out of the carcasses of devils, spikes lancing out of it, waiting to rend his flesh. Beneath his bedding insects and worms crawled and the table was made of human bones. The ink was blood and the parchment made from the skin of elven children.
He had to get out of here.
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Asgwrn rolled the parchment map carefully, the location memorized. He placed the map into a bag of holding tied onto his belt and began to arm himself. From the many coffers and chest about his study he took rings, amulets and various other magical items.
Finally he stood in the centre of the room. With magical tokens hidden about his person and his most potent spells memorized he felt ready.
He knelt and pulled the carpet aside, brushing a rune casually with his finger. A section of the floor slid away and, from the hole it left, he plucked a tiny box.
The elven archmage opened it, lifting a delicate model of an egg out of the velvet-wrapped insides. He replaced everything and stepped out onto his balcony.
Asgwrn's long fingers broke the egg and from it sailed a tiny bird, formed of pure, white light. Much faster than a bird could ever move, it flew off to the west.
The arch mage settled down, awaiting his steed.
The Shadow Plane...
Yami was no expert, she had read some of the more interesting tomes that Asgwrn owned but she'd never expected the oppressing, suffocating feeling she found here. However she rode tall and lept her eyes in front of her. Yami Shadowblade was a creature of the night. It would not do to show fear in this place.
We will reach the mountain in half-a-day, Yami.
"I understand," Yami reached up to grasp Marwolaeth's hilt, "Dante... I'll be there soon."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------
Dante huddled in the corner of his apartments. This room was luxerious and spacious. A couch was against one wall and the bed was covered in luxurious pelts. A wide table sat in the centre of the room, with drawers filled with parchment and ink.
The roar of the voices in his ears was lost on him. Purple smears ringed his eyes and he shivered violently.
He could not eat. He could not sleep.
The couch was made out of the carcasses of devils, spikes lancing out of it, waiting to rend his flesh. Beneath his bedding insects and worms crawled and the table was made of human bones. The ink was blood and the parchment made from the skin of elven children.
He had to get out of here.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------
Asgwrn rolled the parchment map carefully, the location memorized. He placed the map into a bag of holding tied onto his belt and began to arm himself. From the many coffers and chest about his study he took rings, amulets and various other magical items.
Finally he stood in the centre of the room. With magical tokens hidden about his person and his most potent spells memorized he felt ready.
He knelt and pulled the carpet aside, brushing a rune casually with his finger. A section of the floor slid away and, from the hole it left, he plucked a tiny box.
The elven archmage opened it, lifting a delicate model of an egg out of the velvet-wrapped insides. He replaced everything and stepped out onto his balcony.
Asgwrn's long fingers broke the egg and from it sailed a tiny bird, formed of pure, white light. Much faster than a bird could ever move, it flew off to the west.
The arch mage settled down, awaiting his steed.