Systole
First Post
Ben finds himself nodding along with Cythera's words. “Yes … there is corruption. Inside or outside, I'm not sure. I pray that it's outside … that this is merely desecration. But it certainly has nothing to do with the Architect of War's free will. You see, he's been dead for a thousand years or more.” He pauses. “I'm sorry, a short history lesson. Serroth has had dozens of prophets throughout history … Marion the Gold, Lok-Mollar of the Lance, Ulfgar the Strict … each of them contributed something to our scriptures and our understanding of combat. The Architect of War was one of the earliest and the greatest of them. And this was his symbol on the weapons of the wrathspawn,” he says, pointing to a simple mark on a sheet of parchment.
"At first, I couldn't understand why those vile beasts would bear the mark of the Architect. But I understand now.” He opens one of his books and reads from it. “'And lo, the legions of the Serroth were bereaved in their victory, and bearing the prophet's body to the mountains, carved a tomb befitting his teachings, so as to make it to be a test unto those that entered, and set within it prizes for the wise and the virtuous, and laid the mortal remains of the Architect therein.'
“Do you see? Whatever those creatures were, they somehow had access to his tomb. They looted the prizes. But the thing is, the Architect's tomb has been lost for hundreds of years. I was taught it was a myth. And even if it were real, we would have had no idea where it was.” His eyes gleam. “Until now.”
He unfurls a map you recognize as Landadel. “The Architect's final campaign was in the mountains, and his final battle was by a high lake, 'with waters of the deepest turquoise,' according to scriptures. Before that they'd marched along a great chasm running east to west and crossed a mountain with a forked peak. The myth-seekers always looked in Landadel, because that's where worship of Serroth is currently strongest. Around Lake Beship, here … or the Lake Martrigg, here,” he says pointing them out on the map. “Neither is a particularly good fit, though."
He grins, his doubt briefly set aside by the simple joy of having solved a puzzle. “Because neither of them is the right place. It was the color of the water that gave me the clue.” He unrolls a different map. “I started by thinking about chemistry and geology. The blue of copper solutions. And where to find mountains rich in copper, that might color an entire lake. After that, it was simple.” His finger points to three demarcations on the map, all very close to one another. “The Sapphire Loch. Daylight Canyon. Devilhorns Mountain.”
He looks up at Cythera. “I need to know, Lady e'Kiernan. I need to know, but I can't leave these people. So I'm asking for your aid, and I'll ask yours, too, Signor Furioso. Because I need to know. Perhaps you've always wanted to travel. Will you help me?” His finger traces the large letters written from one corner of the map to the other.
Seithr.
[sblock=The Mark of the Architect]
[/sblock]
. Benevolent Seeker .
"At first, I couldn't understand why those vile beasts would bear the mark of the Architect. But I understand now.” He opens one of his books and reads from it. “'And lo, the legions of the Serroth were bereaved in their victory, and bearing the prophet's body to the mountains, carved a tomb befitting his teachings, so as to make it to be a test unto those that entered, and set within it prizes for the wise and the virtuous, and laid the mortal remains of the Architect therein.'
“Do you see? Whatever those creatures were, they somehow had access to his tomb. They looted the prizes. But the thing is, the Architect's tomb has been lost for hundreds of years. I was taught it was a myth. And even if it were real, we would have had no idea where it was.” His eyes gleam. “Until now.”
He unfurls a map you recognize as Landadel. “The Architect's final campaign was in the mountains, and his final battle was by a high lake, 'with waters of the deepest turquoise,' according to scriptures. Before that they'd marched along a great chasm running east to west and crossed a mountain with a forked peak. The myth-seekers always looked in Landadel, because that's where worship of Serroth is currently strongest. Around Lake Beship, here … or the Lake Martrigg, here,” he says pointing them out on the map. “Neither is a particularly good fit, though."
He grins, his doubt briefly set aside by the simple joy of having solved a puzzle. “Because neither of them is the right place. It was the color of the water that gave me the clue.” He unrolls a different map. “I started by thinking about chemistry and geology. The blue of copper solutions. And where to find mountains rich in copper, that might color an entire lake. After that, it was simple.” His finger points to three demarcations on the map, all very close to one another. “The Sapphire Loch. Daylight Canyon. Devilhorns Mountain.”
He looks up at Cythera. “I need to know, Lady e'Kiernan. I need to know, but I can't leave these people. So I'm asking for your aid, and I'll ask yours, too, Signor Furioso. Because I need to know. Perhaps you've always wanted to travel. Will you help me?” His finger traces the large letters written from one corner of the map to the other.
Seithr.
[sblock=The Mark of the Architect]
. Benevolent Seeker .
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