"Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty."
LYSARA
“Does Death march? Or does He come slowly? Surely? Edging ever closer until your life is in His grasp, and you go in a whisper.”
The bard strums his lute, the beginning of the song a few simple sentences. Hel, Hades, Pluto – whatever Death was named, it was known. The tavern on the edge of the Queenset Isles is alight with gossip, with peace.
Word only travels so far, as quickly and as long as interest is held, before it’s smothered out by another.
The world has been quiet – for months, it seems, after the Kossith were defeated, after no Queendom had sent aid to the pack of Haven and their Queen – silence followed. The threat of Darkspawn in the South became muted, no longer chaotic or the hottest gossip to come from outside Eterna. The Legion were seemingly taking care of it, the threats of Darkspawn and their coordinated attacks no longer anything worthwhile to report upon.
Death did not come with a loud announcement, nor did it come upon the back of a white horse, it simply…was. Black veins upon the ground as a woman in black armor stood at the head. Her name? Forgotten to time, forgotten to all but perhaps the Legion from which she came.
Not a darkspawn, but one who over-extended, blighted Griffon behind her, she is a General of the Abyss. And she is death.
But this death is not loud – it is silence. The Dragon wishes it to be, and so it will be.
The Legionnaire raises her sword, a brilliant light in the dark – Ardentgate, now just a stain on a map. Aventia, reclaimed, but it was never the ideal place. None of these places were ever meant to be permanent. A sea of dead, the streets of Ardentgate now paved in blood, they leave it. The city, strangled by the permanence of the Blight, only to be left in a moment.
The Darkspawn retreat, into the tunnels below the city, leaving Southreach in shambles, and the crossing into Astoria even weaker. But as soon as they arrived, they were gone.
And it simply begged the question – how far did these tunnels reach? From Aventia to Ardentgate – no where between will ever remain safe.
AMON-SÛL
Arrogance. A paradox. One who is silence can never truly be silent.
“Every cry will gutter into stillness. Every song will choke on its final note. They will worship my quiet…and you shall be the vessel that carried me into eternity.”
AVALON
For months now, Elvhen have guarded the Eluvian that leads to FalonDin’s Hollow. Never left alone, the mirror sometimes flashes, but nothing appears. The darkness itself, contained within, a reminder of what could become of the Laurelin the longer it remains standing.
There was nothing special about this day. The Elvhen had only recently reconnected with dragons, some brought forth by those who were lucky enough to meet them, were bold enough to befriend them – in a show that perhaps the time of the dragons would rise with the Elvhen.
Yet still, Garahel waits.
He stands before the Eluvian, as still as the sentinels that surround each Eluvian, each branch, the ones that only the old magic will bring forward.
The mirror waxes and wanes, like the endless light from Arvandoril, but today, blackened tendrils seem to creep out from the glass. Like arms reaching forward, they begin to strangle the edges of the Eluvian, and sink deeper into the ground below the mirror. The statue of Mythal, white limestone as serene as it has been for ages, becomes cracked with the blight that creeps up her figure.
Garahel feels him, the one of the Night. He feels him before he hears him, echoing in his head.
None will stop me.
There is movement, a warping of the magic that keeps the Eluvian alight. A bloodied figure steps out, matted blonde hair and a broken helmet that clatters to the floor. In her hand, she grips black pegasus hair, perhaps the only thing left. But her body does not move of its own accord. Yavanna, a walking skeleton, half of her eaten away by whatever Lusacan had done within – still, she points – The Dragon of Night will not be Silenced.
It echoes through the great Laurelin as the body collapses into the blighted soil, disintegrating – like the dark magic was the only thing holding it together. Shades begin to appear, ones that were previously held within, trapped, like the souls that those who had ventured within had saved.
They all carry the same message:
The Dragon of Night marches once again.
ISKALDRIK/HAVEN
There is a flicker of light. To those within Haven, who see the border, they feel like it is…a trick of the eye. Like a distant memory that none could remember, or that many would forget.
The barrier that Aetheron has had up for months upon months now has…weakened. To those that perhaps listen to the whisper of the druids, listen to the runes, listen to the dreams and nature…something within beckons you. Yet there is no clear path forward – something in your heart whispers…perhaps.
CARIBELLA
A sea shanty cries with the ones who drowned. The waves that crash, that promise a reckoning, Caribella has remained free from it all for eternity.
Yet still, the ground shakes.
Is it the creature below the isle? Doomed to devour the land that it has always called its home? Or is it…something more?
There are mysteries of the druids on this isle. The stones itself send out a distress signal – like they are finally awake, and have no clue how to press forward. Losing memory is like a sickness…yet water remembers. It holds memory, and its desperately grasping for the stones that have been strangled for centuries.
OOC INFO:
It’s the final countdown *cue guitar music*
Lots of info here for all over the world, and should give everyone lots to ponder…
In Avalon, the Queen is telling her people to flee to Lorien’dal if they do not wish to fight or wait out the Blight that is now essentially ready to destroy Avalon. The capital for the Silver Elvhen will become inundated with refugees from the Moongate as the days go by.
In Eterna, they are rebuilding Ardentgate and attempting to ensure the city is still inhabitable despite the blight sickening most who remain within. To avoid a quarantine, they’ve called on the Legion.
The Legion can’t come to the phone right now.
The mysterious woman who led the Darkspawn has not been seen again.
Enjoy!