Author Topic: Season 4 Event 9 Teasers #3  (Read 407 times)

Derek Jones

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Season 4 Event 9 Teasers #3
« on: October 08, 2018, 09:21:00 pm »
Each morning the air gets cooler and cooler as the end of one season gives way to the next. As broken and fractured as it is within the Terran Valley, Time still marches on. The leaves of the great trees begin to wither and dry up as the trees prepare for the frost of winter that is only but a breath away. The fish and the birds migrate to warmer areas lest they freeze in the biting cold of the waning sun. The harvest is over, the grain bins sit festering with rotted wheat and barley. This winter will bring famine, disease, and death.

A pumpkin patch lies untended, the farmer having long ago given up all hope to save his crop. The large orange and green globes have succumbed to the rot and pestilence that has taken hold of the Terran Valley for several months now. The vines have turned to wisy husks attached to worm ridden pulps of goo.

This evening, a cool wind blows across the meadows and swirls through the trees. The wind dances over the rotten pumpkin field, twirling and swirling in a great show for no one. The festivals have not opened this year. The bonfires are not blazing and the fields are home to no merriment. There is little to be thankful for, and the traditions are forgotten amongst the  sorrow of decisions made and fear of the consequences to come.

The dancing wind forms a blinding wall of spinning leaves, dust, and straw as it always has. The rotating whirlwind of the harvest shrinks and forms the outline of an ancient woman covered in the same debris of the twisting wind. Her form is hunched with age, her hair is a tangled mess, and her clothes look to be layers of rags upon rags. Still, she smiles a crooked smile and holds one hand up in a gesture of accomplishment.

Silence. She is alone in the pumpkin patch.

The old crone frowns and wonders to herself. Where are the merrymakers? Where are the bonfires, the apple cider, the flaming jack o' lanterns? Has she gotten the time wrong?

The woman looks around the patch and spies a large black crow with eyes of fiery emerald watching her from its perch on a tattered and leaning scarecrow. "You!" Says the crone while pointing a crooked bony finger in the crows direction. "What season is it? Have I missed the harvest celebrations?" The old crone questions the crow.

The large black bird spread its wings and launches itself through the cool air, landing on the shoulder of the old woman. The bird caws and shreikes before finding its voice. "It is the season of autumn, Mother." Says the bird. "The harvest has been cancelled, Man has been beset by the Harbingers and their food has gone bad."

The old woman looks around at the putrid pumpkin patch. "I see that now." She nods. "This will be a harsh winter for the Man. Harsh indeed." Nods the crone. "Well, there is nothing to be done here now. We shall have to do without the presentations and merriment this year." The large crow caws in agreement to the old woman.

The crone flicks her bony hand and suddenly a gnarled cane of wood so old that it has blackened from use appears. "Come, Crow. We might as well get started collecting the dead, these old bones have a feeling that we will be making more trips than usual this year." The wind erupts around both the old crone and the crow, once again picking up debris from the pumpkin patch. In but a second, the pair of ancient souls are gone.

Derek Jones

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Re: Season 4 Event 9 Teasers #3
« Reply #1 on: October 09, 2018, 09:46:43 am »
Somewhere outside the mortal realm of the Terran Valley there stretches a Long Road. The Long Road is made up of countless different roads, some brick, some stone, some just dirt and some could hardly be called a road at all. The Long Road is made up of fresh new branches, and branches so old that no being has travelled over them in tens of thousands of years. All roads eventually become part of this road, and this road leads to destinations beyond all realms.

A familiar wind twists and spins upon the Long Road. Earthly debris flutter and fly about until they form the physical body of the old Crone and the Crow.

The Crone takes in the familiar surroundings of the Long Road and notes the lack of travellers wandering the paths of the dead.

"What's this? Where have the dead gone? Surely not even the Harbingers dare to cross the death dragon." Mutters the old woman. "What is this all about, Crow?" Questions the Crone.

The large black crow that stands upon the shoulder of the old woman croaks with a voice seldom used. "This is strange, Mother. I have seen death within the Terran Valley with my own eyes. The Harbingers do not interfere with the cycle, there must be something else at play."

The Crone clutches at her gnarled wooden cane. "Yes, there must. Come, let us see if the Death Dragon has answers." With the motion of her hand, the old Crone sets into motion the debris ridden whirlwind and disappears from sight.

On the Plane of Death lies the Eternal Graveyard, a massive spiritual embodiment of the last resting place of all formerly living spirits. The Eternal Graveyard has been the den of the Dragon of Death, Asmodeous, for as long as mortal memory can recall. There are many such places on the Plane of Death, as different cultures come and go so too do the physical manifestations of the plane.

The landscape is dark and barren of life. Dry grey dirt give way to the occasional leafless trees that dot the landscape under a blanket of black cloudless sky. Points of light that appear to be stars twinkle in a spectacular night sky reminiscent of the sky found on Tyrra. There are no constellations to be found in this sky, however, as the points of light appear and disappear haphazardly.

In front of the massive metallic gate that serves as the entrance to the Eternal Graveyard the swirling whirlwind of debris coalesces into the form of the old Crone and the Crow.

The old woman stands on guard as her form solidifies from the dirt, leaves, and twigs that are caught up in the magical dust devil. On her shoulder, the Crow flaps its wings and lets out a loud caw in alarm.

All around the new arrivals, ghostly spirits of the formerly living listlessly float in mid air. None of the spirits appear to take notice of the disturbance from the arrival of the Crone and Crow. The Crone is familiar with Plane of Death, she has been here countless number of times to bargain with the Death Dragon for the spirits of those that practice the traditions. The Crone has never seen this, however.

A small green vortex of power swirls in midair near the gate of the Eternal Graveyard. A black robed figure weilding a massive scythe made of white glowing arcane magic herds nearby spirits into the portal vortex where the spirits come to their senses and begin to scream in anguish before being sucked into an unknown oblivion. Thankfully, the vortex is far enough away that the Black Shepard does not notice the Crone and her companion.

"You are no longer welcome here, old woman." Says a disembodied voice near the Crone. The old woman turns to the source of the warning and suddenly finds herself face-to-face with a large suit of black armor, etched with ancient arcane runes of power and Death.

"Lord Erostis" Sighs the old woman, lowering her guard. "You know better than to sneak up on an old woman. You gave me quite the fright!" A crooked smile forms on the cracked lips of the old Crone.

"Jerk!" Croaks the Crow.

"You should leave, Samhain. The Plane of Death no longer welcomes you. The new master does not respect the old traditions. You will find no bargain to be struck here. Be gone!" Snarls the deep voice within the black steel helm.

"What is this?" Snaps the Crone. "A new master? Someone killed off the Death Dragon?" Asks the Crone incredulously.

"It does not matter to you, how this came to pass. It only matters that you leave now before the master takes note of your presence and binds you to his will!" Warns the armored Death Lord.

"What is this new Archon of Death doing with the spirits of the dead?" Demands the old woman. "I'll not leave until I receive an answer as to why the traditions have been abandoned, and the spirits are being diverted from their paths along the roads!"

The shoulders of the rune covered armor drop ever so slightly. "Samhain, the time has come to pass when the ancient enemy has awakened. I do not know how this has come to pass, but I do know that the servants of the enemy have taken the power of Life and Death and have twisted the elements into tools of the forbidden magic. The ancient empire in the Terran Valley has been risen from their tombs in the sand. The Kings have set into motion their vile plans to awaken their lords."

The black helmet of the Death Lord turns towards the Black Shepard. "My plane has fallen. These are no longer the spirits of heroes and champions. They are food for the enemy."

Samhain looks to the Crow on her shoulder and then to the green vortex that continues to swallow the spirits as they are pushed into the event horizon. "Are there no champions left to fight them? Are the traditions so far gone as to be unknown to the Tyrrans?" Asks the Crone.

"Old woman. You have arrived much too late." Says the Death Lord.

"No, she has not." States another voice. The form of a shining spirit appears before the trio.   The lovely sylvan spirit form of Thelan Starbloom approaches the old Crone. "Beloved Samhain, I am thankful that you have come. It pains me that you are not welcomed in the old ways that you deserve. As you can see with your own eyes, the people suffer and the next war begins within the valley." The shining form of the old sylvan spirit, and the manner in which it addresses the old Crone marks the Elven spirit as one of the Siol Lear.

"You spoke of my timeliness. What do you know, child of the Siol Lear?" Asks the Crone.

"It is true that the old ways are forgotten, but they are not lost. My people kept the traditions in writing as well as in the mind. While the living no longer practice the old traditions, there are those that will listen. There are adventurers within the town called Varos, where the Moon called home." Says the sylvan spirit.

"Varos, I know of it. The town is renowned for its greed and stupidity. Mother, I do not think it would be wise to involve those mortals in this new game." Croaks the Crow.

"We shall see if your evaluation is correct, Crow. I dearly hope that you are wrong on this as well." Says the Crone. The old woman waves her hand to summon the whirlwind that will take her from the Plane of Death. "Come Thelan, we will seek out those who will listen." In an instant, the Death Lord is left on his withering plane to bear witness to the end.