Fable - Ask Hic Sunt Dracones

[Arkhivom]

In this place, there was only firelight and darkness.

Vast were its halls, with marbled floors and walls of obsidian. Its lines were sharp and pronounced, its shapes intricate and precise. Its presence was looming from every direction. From above, vast chandeliers of great fire burned brightly. Within the very walls there seemed pillars of flame which also lit the dark corridors. There were great chambers with grand spiralling staircases, great halls to hold hundreds, and grandest of them all - the Lords Hall. A tall and wide chamber, with a vast archway, many vast cauldrons of molten rock with fires of blue and white, and a tall throne.

Upon it, he sat. His posture was poised. He rested not lazily, or in some feigned contemplation. There from where he sat, his eyes remained fixed upon the archway far ahead, its great doors closed.

Between he and there, traveling down the vast length there were guards lining either side of the center aisle, each one bearing a fearsome weapon and a ghastly suit of armour.

After a time, a loud sound echoed throughout the chamber as the doors began to swing open. Several hooded figures started in. Their pace was dignified but lacked no haste. Soon they were near the foot of Arkhivom's throne.

There they knelt, and Rhugarol, the lead spoke with her head lowered, "lord Arkhivom... we had no idea-"

"Never mind this babble," he rumbled, his tone composed and hardly raised, though it thundered despite his lack of fury, "tell me what you have learned."

She looked up at him, and they stood, "the Aerai are stubborn. And they have many new friends..." she went on.

Arkhivom studied her as she explained the situation in detail, and when she had finished, he gave her new instructions.

If the Aerai could make friends, then maybe they could too.

 

[Gerald Mercia]

By the time he'd started wondering just what it was he'd gotten himself into, it was already far too late for him to ever dream of turning around. Everything around them just, became dead. The closer to where ever the hell it was they were going, the darker it became. The forest around them grew no leaf, both thorns instead, and what light there was had become dim at best.

And on through the dark wood did a vast convoy of many wagons roll. From beneath the canopy of one, Gerald looked up and out to see a sky thick with rolling clouds.

He frowned, and ducked back in to sit again. A half dozen others had come with him, trusted swords who were also eager for a good fight and some decent coin, but there were another two dozen along with them inside this wagon. That meant little to him other than that this Arkhivom guy must have really meant business, because he figured there were almost a hundred more transports just like this one all heading to the same place.

Then again, it was a war they were heading into.

And even though he figured they were all going to be fighting on the same side, he didn't say he particularly liked the looks of the orcish looking lot at the far end of the carriage.