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Anka Seth - The Rise of the Hydra (New Update April 19, 2007)
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<blockquote data-quote="Fiasco" data-source="post: 2840737" data-attributes="member: 15187"><p><strong><p style="text-align: center">Chapter 4</p><p></strong>The companions stepped forth into the cryptic tangle of Port Warlock’s streets. They had paid scant attention to the architecture when they had arrived, preoccupied as they were by Stravarius’ sensational revelation. On their second encounter with the streets, they were more receptive to the remarkable nature of the town. </p><p></p><p>Sorcerer’s Isle, as its name suggested, was famous for its numerous spell workers. What had drawn the wise to the island over the centuries was Novorod’s Tower. This eldritch monument was said to have been constructed by its namesake to shelter the arcane arts from the storm of the Convocation’s hatred. The arch mage Novorod had crafted well, indeed his tower had now outlasted the Gerechian’s empire by quite some time. Throughout its long existence, those gifted with the spark of magic had sought safety and the nurture of their talent within its walls. </p><p></p><p>Long after Novorod had passed into legend, his successors had by and large kept faith with his legacy, resulting in a large community of mages making their home on the isle. Those who commanded magical power, even on a small scale, were notoriously wilful. Firm and wise governance from the keepers of the tower was required to keep magic duels to a minimum. Perhaps as a consequence, the architecture of the town had been allowed to bloom with no restraints on its design. Rivals sought to out do each other with the splendour of their creations, often incorporating outlandish themes as well as their magic into the buildings. </p><p></p><p>It was into this kaleidoscope of bizarre shapes and unlikely colours that the companions stepped into with their imaginations already given free play by the startling disclosures made earlier that day. Overcome by the unique surroundings, they lost track of each other and fragmented into small groups, each pursuing its own agenda.</p><p></p><p>Mortec’s first thought was of the Tower of Novorod, unquestioned bastion of magical knowledge for all of Anka Seth. As a priest of the divinity which venerated magic, he felt compelled to visit this edifice and learn what he could. Stravarius and Morgan also showed interest in the tower. For the Black Elf this was not surprising, for his very blood sang with eldritch power, corrupted though it might be. Morgan’s reasons were far more prosaic. He still didn’t trust Stravarius and didn’t intend on letting him out of his sight. Also, he had head of the legendary tower and wanted to see it for himself. It would be a fine story to share with comrades on some dreary graveyard watch once he returned to Avinal. There was no need for them to ask for directions for the tower was plainly visible from almost any point in the town. Indeed, a prominent road led from the heart of the community to the base of the structure. </p><p></p><p>Despite being slowed by the gnome’s abbreviated stride, the trio reached their destination in a comfortable half hour’s walk. The journey gave them plenty of time to admire the unique nature of the tower. Constructed of a black, glossy material that was not quite stone, nor yet metal, but something sharing characteristics of both. The structure was imposing, its fearful symmetry ascending one hundred feet into the sky. Despite the polish of its walls, it reflected no light, seeming to drink the sun’s radiance deep into its ebon being. Strange sigils drifted across its face at seemingly random intervals. Though Mortec managed to decipher a lone character here or there, their greater meaning was quite beyond him. </p><p></p><p>A simple doorway, outlined in silver at the tower’s base was the only other discernable feature. Despite the lack of apertures, the gnome had the uncomfortable sensation that their approach was being watched. As they closed the final hundred yards to their destination, other sensations began to manifest. Both Mortec and Stravarius felt a tingle at the base of their necks, their follicles sensitive to the puissance of the tower’s enchantments. Though sheathed, the Black Elf’s sword was emitting such a powerful aura that the leather scabbard glowed first orange, then green and finally blue as it fed on and reflected back the mystic radiance. Trailing a little behind, Morgan strained his neck as he looked the tower all over, blissfully ignorant of what his companions were sensing.</p><p></p><p>They arrived at the door and spent a good five minutes nerving themselves to take the next step. Looking up, the obsidian tower loomed far above them, and through some trick of the eyes, or possibly magic, the longer they looked up, the more the tower seemed to lean over them, to the point where it appeared that the entire sky was filled with the looming dark of its substance. The only way to end this uncomfortable sensation was to close one’s eyes or look away. Within its silver frame the door was made of the same material as the walls. It lacked any obvious means of opening it. The gnome and Black Elf exchanged glances, clearly it was up to one of them to make their presence known. </p><p></p><p>Reluctantly, Mortec stretched his small hand upwards and brought the flat of his palm towards the portal. Before contact was made, the colour and texture of the door changed to rough granite. Four feet above the ground, three sets of depressions appeared, prompting Mortec to snatch his hand back. Each was a circle which encompassed the shape of a hand. Two of them were rendered in perfect detail, the impressions in the rock exactly matching the contours of a hand. The third circle contained merely an outline traced finely onto the door’s surface. </p><p></p><p>On viewing the surfaces, Mortec immediately surmised their significance. In an awed whisper, he explained to Morgan that since the day Novorod himself handed the tower over to his followers, access to the wealth of knowledge inside had been successively controlled by three people. Whenever a vacancy appeared amongst the trio, magically gifted beings from across the breadth of the world came to Novorod’s Tower. Each nurtured the burning hope that they were the one destined to take up the vacated wardship and therefore have influence over the magic wielders of the world. </p><p></p><p>Even in his distant homeland, the gnome had heard that only two of the three positions were filled. Gorgonath the wizard and Kvaeth the bard ruled, but without a third member, their access to the tower’s secrets was heavily curtailed. The gnome, felt a thrill of excitement pass through him. Was he fated to become the third? He reached a trembling hand towards the circle with the plain outline of the hand. Without warning, a spectral creature emerged from the enchanted material of the door itself! Mortec emitted an undignified squeal and snatched his hand back before it contacted the creature.</p><p></p><p>The apparition was a partially translucent figure of a man dressed in tattered grey robes. Through his body, the impressions in the door were clearly visible. A face that was heavily lined with age regarded the companions glumly. With a sepulchre groan, it uttered its message. “You have come to speak to the masters. Return at midday tomorrow”. It melded back into the door and out of sight before any of them could think to ask a question. Gnome, human and Black Elf regarded each other for a long moment, then turned and began the walk back to the Port of Warlock. Mistrusting and fearful of the eldritch display he had just witnessed, Morgan vowed not to return to the tower even if all the Dominions hoards were at his heels.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">*****</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Fiasco, post: 2840737, member: 15187"] [B][CENTER]Chapter 4[/CENTER][/B] The companions stepped forth into the cryptic tangle of Port Warlock’s streets. They had paid scant attention to the architecture when they had arrived, preoccupied as they were by Stravarius’ sensational revelation. On their second encounter with the streets, they were more receptive to the remarkable nature of the town. Sorcerer’s Isle, as its name suggested, was famous for its numerous spell workers. What had drawn the wise to the island over the centuries was Novorod’s Tower. This eldritch monument was said to have been constructed by its namesake to shelter the arcane arts from the storm of the Convocation’s hatred. The arch mage Novorod had crafted well, indeed his tower had now outlasted the Gerechian’s empire by quite some time. Throughout its long existence, those gifted with the spark of magic had sought safety and the nurture of their talent within its walls. Long after Novorod had passed into legend, his successors had by and large kept faith with his legacy, resulting in a large community of mages making their home on the isle. Those who commanded magical power, even on a small scale, were notoriously wilful. Firm and wise governance from the keepers of the tower was required to keep magic duels to a minimum. Perhaps as a consequence, the architecture of the town had been allowed to bloom with no restraints on its design. Rivals sought to out do each other with the splendour of their creations, often incorporating outlandish themes as well as their magic into the buildings. It was into this kaleidoscope of bizarre shapes and unlikely colours that the companions stepped into with their imaginations already given free play by the startling disclosures made earlier that day. Overcome by the unique surroundings, they lost track of each other and fragmented into small groups, each pursuing its own agenda. Mortec’s first thought was of the Tower of Novorod, unquestioned bastion of magical knowledge for all of Anka Seth. As a priest of the divinity which venerated magic, he felt compelled to visit this edifice and learn what he could. Stravarius and Morgan also showed interest in the tower. For the Black Elf this was not surprising, for his very blood sang with eldritch power, corrupted though it might be. Morgan’s reasons were far more prosaic. He still didn’t trust Stravarius and didn’t intend on letting him out of his sight. Also, he had head of the legendary tower and wanted to see it for himself. It would be a fine story to share with comrades on some dreary graveyard watch once he returned to Avinal. There was no need for them to ask for directions for the tower was plainly visible from almost any point in the town. Indeed, a prominent road led from the heart of the community to the base of the structure. Despite being slowed by the gnome’s abbreviated stride, the trio reached their destination in a comfortable half hour’s walk. The journey gave them plenty of time to admire the unique nature of the tower. Constructed of a black, glossy material that was not quite stone, nor yet metal, but something sharing characteristics of both. The structure was imposing, its fearful symmetry ascending one hundred feet into the sky. Despite the polish of its walls, it reflected no light, seeming to drink the sun’s radiance deep into its ebon being. Strange sigils drifted across its face at seemingly random intervals. Though Mortec managed to decipher a lone character here or there, their greater meaning was quite beyond him. A simple doorway, outlined in silver at the tower’s base was the only other discernable feature. Despite the lack of apertures, the gnome had the uncomfortable sensation that their approach was being watched. As they closed the final hundred yards to their destination, other sensations began to manifest. Both Mortec and Stravarius felt a tingle at the base of their necks, their follicles sensitive to the puissance of the tower’s enchantments. Though sheathed, the Black Elf’s sword was emitting such a powerful aura that the leather scabbard glowed first orange, then green and finally blue as it fed on and reflected back the mystic radiance. Trailing a little behind, Morgan strained his neck as he looked the tower all over, blissfully ignorant of what his companions were sensing. They arrived at the door and spent a good five minutes nerving themselves to take the next step. Looking up, the obsidian tower loomed far above them, and through some trick of the eyes, or possibly magic, the longer they looked up, the more the tower seemed to lean over them, to the point where it appeared that the entire sky was filled with the looming dark of its substance. The only way to end this uncomfortable sensation was to close one’s eyes or look away. Within its silver frame the door was made of the same material as the walls. It lacked any obvious means of opening it. The gnome and Black Elf exchanged glances, clearly it was up to one of them to make their presence known. Reluctantly, Mortec stretched his small hand upwards and brought the flat of his palm towards the portal. Before contact was made, the colour and texture of the door changed to rough granite. Four feet above the ground, three sets of depressions appeared, prompting Mortec to snatch his hand back. Each was a circle which encompassed the shape of a hand. Two of them were rendered in perfect detail, the impressions in the rock exactly matching the contours of a hand. The third circle contained merely an outline traced finely onto the door’s surface. On viewing the surfaces, Mortec immediately surmised their significance. In an awed whisper, he explained to Morgan that since the day Novorod himself handed the tower over to his followers, access to the wealth of knowledge inside had been successively controlled by three people. Whenever a vacancy appeared amongst the trio, magically gifted beings from across the breadth of the world came to Novorod’s Tower. Each nurtured the burning hope that they were the one destined to take up the vacated wardship and therefore have influence over the magic wielders of the world. Even in his distant homeland, the gnome had heard that only two of the three positions were filled. Gorgonath the wizard and Kvaeth the bard ruled, but without a third member, their access to the tower’s secrets was heavily curtailed. The gnome, felt a thrill of excitement pass through him. Was he fated to become the third? He reached a trembling hand towards the circle with the plain outline of the hand. Without warning, a spectral creature emerged from the enchanted material of the door itself! Mortec emitted an undignified squeal and snatched his hand back before it contacted the creature. The apparition was a partially translucent figure of a man dressed in tattered grey robes. Through his body, the impressions in the door were clearly visible. A face that was heavily lined with age regarded the companions glumly. With a sepulchre groan, it uttered its message. “You have come to speak to the masters. Return at midday tomorrow”. It melded back into the door and out of sight before any of them could think to ask a question. Gnome, human and Black Elf regarded each other for a long moment, then turned and began the walk back to the Port of Warlock. Mistrusting and fearful of the eldritch display he had just witnessed, Morgan vowed not to return to the tower even if all the Dominions hoards were at his heels. [CENTER]*****[/CENTER] [/QUOTE]
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