I
imported_Daan Mor
Guest
“There.” Daan Mor pointed to a slab of stone which had become visible in the Wintermoor snow. “It looks to be the same stone as the temple, and seems to go down quite a way.”
Vanwarya had always been interested in archaeology, it was the original reason he had joined his brother on the icy plateau known as Wintermoor. He had been intrigued by the tales Py Lethius had recounted of ancient gods and temples buried far beneath the snow; perhaps there was more to be found, perhaps this would be it, the find he had been searching for. “Aye brother, it certainly looks promising, that’s for sure.”
Daan shrugged, he had never shared his brother’s interests, but had always supported and indulged them, more out of curiosity than anything else. “I’ll be indoors, tell me if you find anything.”
Gathering his tools, Vanwarya set about digging, Daan had been correct, the structure, a pillar it seemed, went far down into the ice.
‘Amazing what you can gather poking a sword around’ Vanwarya thought, smiling to himself. He needed help, but from where? The Knights wouldn’t put aside time for this sort of project, he knew that, and his brother was no where to be seen, most likely he had gone to fight, as was his usual wont.
It was then the thought hit him, the older knights had spoken of the spirits of fallen knights and how they were embodied in the Wolves of Wintermoor. They would not be much help in that form, but perhaps they could be convinced to help him in another…
Vanwarya smiled and nodded as he saw them work, gripping his Grimoire tightly to his chest. Abominations one and all, but the digging was proceeding with exceptional speed, and for that he thanked them, their lifeless canine skulls and lumbering polar bear paws were well suited to the work.
Days past, the pack ice had meant slower going further down, but this was it, the patchwork monstrosities he had created had hit what appeared to be a stone floor. Peering down into the pit, his eye came to rest on a metallic surface, pushing its way through what remained of the ice. Jumping into the hole and waving the undead away, he started digging himself, clearing the ice and snow from his find.
“So, do you have any idea what could be inside?” Daan asked, peering at the golden box, his hand twitching such was his curiosity.
“I know what is in it.” Vanwarya replied “You think I would not have opened such a thing?”
“Hmmm, very well, enlighten me then.”
Vanwarya lifted the ornately filigreed lid of the box, inside lay a scroll, one etched on gold itself…
“Looks valuable” Daan pointed out, rather redundantly.
“It most likely is brother, but that is not what interests me. You see, the scroll is incomplete, ‘tis but a fragment of a greater work.” Vanwarya paused, “I have however managed to translate some of it.”
Daan stared at his sibling “You never cease to amaze me”
“It mentions something of a curse, a great curse, one placed before the time of the Avatar, before Mondain, before this world of Malas was connected to Sosaria. A malediction, if you will.”
“I think I have found my true calling brother, and would ask for your help in this, we must find the rest of this text; a massive undertaking, I will admit, but a worthy one.” Vanwarya shifted uneasily in his seat, “Plus, I doubt the knights would be too pleased at my use of the white wolves… I must leave this place, will you join me?”
<center>**********************************************************</center>
Daan Mor stood and stared at the golden box in front of him, the rebuilding of the temple was almost complete, the scroll fragment as it’s centre piece. It had devoured their lives. He could feel the scroll, willing him to complete it, stronger everyday. The search had carried them away from the Knights of Wintermoor, to this, an ancient ruined temple in the Dry Highlands of Malas.
The scroll had already taken Vanwarya, he was obsessed, setting up the scroll as a quasi-religious relic, his search was incessant. He had started delving deeper into the dark arts, shunning the company of others, summoning revenants and other undead to aid him in his work.
“May Mithras protect us…” muttered Daan.
The Cult of the Malediction had been born…
Vanwarya had always been interested in archaeology, it was the original reason he had joined his brother on the icy plateau known as Wintermoor. He had been intrigued by the tales Py Lethius had recounted of ancient gods and temples buried far beneath the snow; perhaps there was more to be found, perhaps this would be it, the find he had been searching for. “Aye brother, it certainly looks promising, that’s for sure.”
Daan shrugged, he had never shared his brother’s interests, but had always supported and indulged them, more out of curiosity than anything else. “I’ll be indoors, tell me if you find anything.”
Gathering his tools, Vanwarya set about digging, Daan had been correct, the structure, a pillar it seemed, went far down into the ice.
‘Amazing what you can gather poking a sword around’ Vanwarya thought, smiling to himself. He needed help, but from where? The Knights wouldn’t put aside time for this sort of project, he knew that, and his brother was no where to be seen, most likely he had gone to fight, as was his usual wont.
It was then the thought hit him, the older knights had spoken of the spirits of fallen knights and how they were embodied in the Wolves of Wintermoor. They would not be much help in that form, but perhaps they could be convinced to help him in another…
Vanwarya smiled and nodded as he saw them work, gripping his Grimoire tightly to his chest. Abominations one and all, but the digging was proceeding with exceptional speed, and for that he thanked them, their lifeless canine skulls and lumbering polar bear paws were well suited to the work.
Days past, the pack ice had meant slower going further down, but this was it, the patchwork monstrosities he had created had hit what appeared to be a stone floor. Peering down into the pit, his eye came to rest on a metallic surface, pushing its way through what remained of the ice. Jumping into the hole and waving the undead away, he started digging himself, clearing the ice and snow from his find.
“So, do you have any idea what could be inside?” Daan asked, peering at the golden box, his hand twitching such was his curiosity.
“I know what is in it.” Vanwarya replied “You think I would not have opened such a thing?”
“Hmmm, very well, enlighten me then.”
Vanwarya lifted the ornately filigreed lid of the box, inside lay a scroll, one etched on gold itself…
“Looks valuable” Daan pointed out, rather redundantly.
“It most likely is brother, but that is not what interests me. You see, the scroll is incomplete, ‘tis but a fragment of a greater work.” Vanwarya paused, “I have however managed to translate some of it.”
Daan stared at his sibling “You never cease to amaze me”
“It mentions something of a curse, a great curse, one placed before the time of the Avatar, before Mondain, before this world of Malas was connected to Sosaria. A malediction, if you will.”
“I think I have found my true calling brother, and would ask for your help in this, we must find the rest of this text; a massive undertaking, I will admit, but a worthy one.” Vanwarya shifted uneasily in his seat, “Plus, I doubt the knights would be too pleased at my use of the white wolves… I must leave this place, will you join me?”
<center>**********************************************************</center>
Daan Mor stood and stared at the golden box in front of him, the rebuilding of the temple was almost complete, the scroll fragment as it’s centre piece. It had devoured their lives. He could feel the scroll, willing him to complete it, stronger everyday. The search had carried them away from the Knights of Wintermoor, to this, an ancient ruined temple in the Dry Highlands of Malas.
The scroll had already taken Vanwarya, he was obsessed, setting up the scroll as a quasi-religious relic, his search was incessant. He had started delving deeper into the dark arts, shunning the company of others, summoning revenants and other undead to aid him in his work.
“May Mithras protect us…” muttered Daan.
The Cult of the Malediction had been born…
