Fable - Ask Those Who Dwell In the Dark

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Kalavan softly snorted and adjusted the leather strap over his shoulder. The smith fell behind the others again, absently gazing at their heels, thoughts of the smithy on his mind. Society meant little to him. People, too. His only desire was to forge.

The Forge of Malus Duun, at the very least, would have neither society nor people to fret over. Forging in peace, surrounded by knowledge lost for generations... Perhaps he had been hasty.

Gaze still downcast, Kalavan sped past the other two and caught up to their guide. He gauged what a comfortable distance was from Dahldaera and Nasir. He made sure to double that for Eske.

"What do you know of the Forge?" He asked the guide.
 
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Shock and disgust painted Daera's face, "Two centuries? How wretched..."

One might've asked her to chew sand or make nice with the Overbright folk. It was enough to make her physically ill. "Lifetime exile," the Crowne Sovereign mused, "you could have remained underground, fled to the city of the Veles with the other exiles. Why did you go to the surface of all places?"

Eske, who had been listening, would have remarked that the City of the Veles had been destroyed quite some time ago - its alleged continued existence was yet another lie told by the Priesthood. In truth, most exiles never made it out of the city, they were taken by the Priests and used for their sacrifices or ungodly experiments.

Instead, the dryder found her train of thought interrupted by Kalavan. Curious. She offered him a smile filled with long, pointed fangs, "The Forge is a great wonder of the Underdark, designed and constructed by the Rilvyn, its heart stoked by the claws of the Akk'arr ... it once stood as testament to High King Malus Dunn's power as a Forgemaster. There he created many weapons and items of legend, most lost to the fathoms of the Underdark or the eddies of time. It will take a great deal of effort to light its heart again," Eske nodded sagely, "but once the fires burn again the rise to power is imminent."
 
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Nasir looked at Dahl, an eyebrow quirking as she spoke of Veles. His lips thinned for a moment, wondering just how much knowledge she had been denied. "Veles has been a ruin for centuries."

There was a stiffness to his voice.

"As are Nzith, Rilvaun, and Eryndlyn." The four cornerstone cities that had once served as the reaches of their Empire. The pieces of their society that had held together the Underrealms and served as fortress for their legions. It had all been lost over millenia, a fact hidden by the priests.

His head shook as he looked ahead of them for a moment, turning his gaze on Eske and the smith for a moment before letting his eyes flicker back towards Dahldaera.

"Exile is a sentence of death." He told her, his voice a bit more soft than it usually was. "Those who are 'exiled' serve as little more than sacrifice for the 'Gods.' A truth that I did not believe until I watched them slaughter those who followed me one by one upon the Altars."

There was venom in the word. "They could not kill me, so I was cursed to walk the surface world."

A curse that he had only been able to break with Myrra's blood.
 
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Kalavan zoned out the conversation behind him, focusing instead on the guide's words. The comfortable distance he so carefully maintained subtly shrunk. The smith was enticed by the legendary forge, its history, and the potential that it held. He anxiously held his pack against his stomach, looking up at eight red eyes and a terrifying smile.

"The Akk'arr?" Kalavan grimaced and stared at the path ahead, his gaze contemplative. If his memory served him correctly, the Akk'arr was a race of lizardfolk, but his knowledge of them started and ended there. "What became of them?"

The smith wondered just how hot the forge burned for the lizardfolk to be needed. Ideally, he would have tended to the forge entirely on his own. He frowned, realizing things were not so simple.

"Legend says Malus Duun's reign was absolute... his power uncontested thanks to his creations. Is the forge so special? Or is it another lie concocted by the Priesthood?"
 
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Daera could not help the look of shock forming on her expression. The Cornerstone Cities ... were gone?

Nzith had been the homelands of the Akk'arr, suspended above an underground magma lake and known for its far-stretching mines that had provided them with the ore required to build, craft, and create.

Rilvaun, the home of the Rivlyn ... deep gnomes who had designed many of the great fortresses and buildings of the Endless City among many other places.

Eryndlyn had stood as the place of diplomacy and allegiance forging between the El'eth and the other lesser Underdark races - a neutral ground where all were welcome in order to keep the peace of the established empire.

And Veles, a city created by a young Prince Velesene as a project of pride, once meant to stand as a stronghold on a new horizon yet to be conquered - it and the Prince had been toppled only two centuries after its completion by a renegade coalition seeking to place his younger brother on the throne. Afterwards, Veles had been a place for outcasts and exiles.

"All of them?" she shook her head in disbelief, tall ears dipping in thought, "How...how did they cover this up for so long?" A rhetorical question that hung in the air like a foul odor. Daera was struck by the magnitude of such lies and knew, in that moment, that thinking too deeply into it would overwhelm her ability to stay in the present. Rest assured, however, that she would put plenty of effort into learning the how at a later time.

"Could not kill you ... why?" her eyes narrowed. Immortality, so far as she knew, was something saved for her sister, the Conduit.

~~

"Malus Duun a lie?" Eske seemed humored by this notion, "No, dear Smith, not by far. Your Priesthood rose to power well after Duun fell from his. In fact, it is said his fall from power was the catalyst to their beginning. The forge is unique - there exists no other like it in the Underdark. The power of its flames lie in the hearts of the dragons slain for its construction."
 
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Nasir smiled bitterly.

His own reaction to learning what had happened to the Cornerstone cities had been much the same as hers. It had been the reason he'd stoked his rebellion, the reason he'd attempted his coup. The lies had simply proven to be too much.

One could not be a loyal soldier when the force they served told blatant falsehoods. The Priests had thought themselves invincible, the backing of the Gods giving them strength. At least that was what they'd thought. Fighting them had seemed impossible, and were it not for Malgadrin Nasir would have given up before he'd even started. A brief glance towards Eske made him wonder if this was not the same story just told a second time.

His gaze flickered back towards his fellow El'eth as she asked him of his survival. "Fear."

Nasir answered simply.

He paused a moment, clearly thinking of what to say. "Your sister went through the ritual."

Nasir had met her some time ago, seen that fact for himself.

"The gods granted her their power. Gave it to her." For a price of course. For suffering, for pain. As it always was. "I took it from them."

One of them, at least.
 
"I see," Kalavan's voice trailed.

The smith looked up through the narrow chasm, squinting to see the blurry shapes of carvings along the rocks. He thought of the forge and Eske's words. Would they even have the ability to reignite the once-great heart, which had grown cold and lifeless over countless years? Generations of neglect. If the three could reignite it, would it even be the same?

Flames fueled by the innate essence of magic that dragons contained would burn hotter than anything else. It would be a difficult thing to manage, indeed. However, it did not intimidate Kalavan in the slightest but instead strengthened his resolve.

I took it from them.

Kalavan glanced back; incredulity painted over his features as he squinted at the dark one. It was a blasphemous remark that, whether true or not, would have warranted swift punishment at the hands of the Priesthood. However far removed from society Kalavan tried to be, even he recognized that.

Still, he smirked at the disgraced soldier. The smith appreciated the irony of using the Priesthood's own powers against it.

He turned his attention back to Eske, "We cannot light the forge ourselves, can we?"
 
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A flash of distaste appeared in the eyes of the Crowne Sovereign the moment her sister's name hit the man's teeth. Lip curling, gaze narrowing, she considered him and the notion of him stealing an Elder God's power, "...we will not speak of her. Ever."

So far as Daera was concerned, that abhorrent little snipe didn't exist, and so long as she remained wherever it is she was - so much the better.

Composing herself and her expression, she gently cleared her throat and shifted the conversation, "What was your plan in returning to Eris Syhatha? Assuming you had a plan..."


Eske lead them across the narrow bridge of stone to the far side of the ravine where they took a path carved into the stone face. The dryder crawled out along the flat, vertical surface, her massive form daintily picking its way along as if utterly unaffected by gravity. In the distance, a tall silhouette slowly walked across another of the myriad bridges. Eske eyed the figure attentively before glancing to Kalavan.

"I fear you cannot. Not even the Great King could run the forges on his own. You must reform the alliances with the Akk'arr and the Rilvyn - they are key to fulfilling your goals."
 
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Amusement flickered over his features for a moment.

It seemed that bitterness ran through the family, though that wasn't entirely shocking given who their father and mother were. His head shook, and he decided for now not to push that particular button. Though perhaps it would come in use at a later time.

His gaze flickered briefly towards their surroundings, watching for a moment before he answered her question. "There are still those who know my name. What I am."

Nasir said simply.

"Malgadrin showed me much of what has happened, what our people have endured." The images flashed through his mind as he spoke. "My plan was to send word to those who knew me, create whispers of my return."

He mused. "Craft acts of sedition."

Something he had learned from their kin in the Falwood.

"Destroy their Temples, seed knives in the dark, slowly sow madness and break the illusion they've formed." It was not his way. Nasir had always preferred directly challenging his does, but he was not foolish enough to think he could invade the Undercity with a handful of men.

He'd already failed once.
 
Aureate gaze broke from Eske to track the silhouette across the bridge. Kalavan squinted at the blurry figure until it disappeared.

"I see."

It seemed a task more easily spoken than accomplished. After all, the lesser races bore the brunt of the Priesthood's rise. Alliances that held for centuries have been broken for several generations. A contemplative frown weighed on the corners of his mouth.

"What was that?"
 
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"Subterfuge, of course," Daera's jaw grew taught as she mulled her own connections over, "my father is still in place on the throne, cowing to the Priesthoods every nuance instruction now they've taken my mother in for ...treatment."

A maligned look settled into her icy gaze. It was clear that the word treatment was used in place for something far more foul. Imprisonment was likely, but it was difficult to say. Not even Daera knew the fate of her own mother.

"The Priesthood is feverish with need to recollect their Conduit. There's a bounty for its safe retrieval. I left under the guise of roving out for the mission, but not before planting my own seeds of dissent..." her eyes shifted to the shadow on the bridge in the distance, tracking its slow movement to their side of the ravine before it disappeared through another archway into the stone.


Eske paused as she was along the face of the ravine, "The Watcher," she replied gently, "we must keep moving. Our welcome here is fragile at best. Take the path downwards now, we make for the river."


Dark waters cut through the meandering path of the Rift. At the bottom where aged riverboats bobbed against stone docks it was pitch black. Two sets of bright blues, one set of gold, and four of crimson glowed balefully in the darkness, flaring behind the steam of their breaths in this cold underrealm.

"I leave you here," Eske announced quietly as they boarded a boat.

"You're not coming with us?" Daera looked back at her, "We are not there yet. Was that not your missive?"

"I must take another path to the great Forge Halls of Malus Duun," the dryder explained, "you must merely follow the river past the Golden City and through the Whispering Stretch. Beyond the Tide of Till you will find your landing. It is unmistakable."

"You speak of Nursemother Tales, dryder," Dae scoffed. Golden City ... Whispering Stretch, Tide of Till? All nonsensical places made up as stories to tell young El'eth.

"Tales born of Truths, Silver One." Eske's eyes crinkled in an unseen smile before blinking back into the darkness.
 
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Nasir did not particularly care about the treatment of either of Dahldaera's parents. In his eyes they were all the same, hell, even she was in a way.

The nobility were the reason that things had gotten the way they were now. They were the cause of all this, the reason why his home was close to shambles. Two centuries ago he had intended on slaughtering them all, spilling their blood and ending the bond that held the Gods so closely to their people.

That feeling had not gone away after they'd exiled him. "I suspect anyone seeking it will be met with failure."

Nasir stated cryptically before he came to a stop just a few steps behind Eske and her companion. His ears twitched slightly as the Dryder began to list their path, a small smile playing over his lips as he mused for a moment.

"The Whispering Stretch." He mused. "The Blooded Road, Calavan's Folly."

Nasir listed the name. "A dangerous road to walk. It is said Calavan lost his whole army to the Illith'Drak there. Four Thousand men."

Cave Dragons, at least that was what Humans would call them. They were not Dragons, not really. Twisted and broken aberrations of their draconic cousins, scaled and fierce, with eight black eyes that seemed to glow soft purple within the darkness of the abyss. Nasir had killed one once, but the Whispering Stretch was said to be home to dozens.

The tunneled road was called the whispering stretch because it was said one could still hear the calls of Calavan's armies even now. Ghosts screaming as they were torn apart by nightmares.
 
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Kalavan kicked a rock into the water before stepping into the boat. Of course. Of course. How fitting for the tidbit of military history to come from the military man.

"Calavan's Folly," He echoed, attempting to imitate Nasir's gruff tone. "You like that one, no?" Kalavan scowled. If he'd tried to get under the smith's skin, well, it worked.

With a quiet huff, the smith plopped down as far from the former captain as he could and found himself closer to the Crowne Sovereign. He pulled the leather strap over his shoulder and laid the toolbag flat in his lap.

Please, he desperately called out to the Thousands, please, any one of you, make this a peaceful ride.
 
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"Seems we have a challenging journey ahead of us..." and she without a substantial weapon to meet those challenges with. Twin daggers sheathed on her thighs, just hidden by the length of her robes. Light leather armor, small necessities in a bag slung over her shoulder and across her chest.

She had her magic, of course, but she wondered how it would hold up against an Illith'Drak. Daera sighed and took up an oar, waiting for Nasir to get into the boat before pushing off from the dock. The second oar lay near the warrior, though it was hardly needed as a current took them off into the darkness. As they rounded a bend she caught the silhouette of the Watcher staring down at them from another stone bridge.

A shiver ran up her spine ... the farces of her people's history revealed to her today gave her a deep sense of unease. How many more lies would she uncover?

Blue eyes turned to the Smith who appeared to be caught in a moment of - "Are you praying?" she sneered, "Do it while you still can. Once we conquer the Priesthood the Gods are next."

Her gaze shifted to Nasir, "Have you visited the Whispering Stretch before?"
 
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"It is an important piece of history." Nasir said calmly, not confirming his intent. Despite that amusement played on the soldiers lips as he watched Kalavan for a brief moment, blue eyes unyielding before they slowly pulled away and towards the waters.

It was difficult to see anything beneath the surface, even with his eyes, but along the bottom he caught sight of something moving. It seemed to blend with the ground, slowly shifting beneath the both as it seemed to follow along with them.

He said nothing, instead turning his head back towards Dahldaera. "Once."

Nasir glanced back towards the waters.

"The Illith'Drak call out to those upon the road." Hence the name. "Like sirens, though far more cruel. They do not attempt to lure, but break into the reaches of your mind, tearing at your greatest fears and bringing them forth."

He and his men had faced one of their kind, he could not imagine how many Calavan fought. "While you stand before the terrors of your own mind they strike like vipers."

The peril of the Whispering Stretch.
 
An important piece of hi-

Whatever.

The smith's prayer was halfhearted at best. Dahldaera's blasphemous remarks didn't do much to offend him. Her tone did that. Kalavan let out a soft indignant huff and laid his hands flat on his seat.

"I am a powerless man. Powerless men pray." As if a single prayer of his had ever been heard, much less answered. "I will, thank you very much."

He actually didn't and listened to Nasir.

"Um," he cleared his throat, "why not just..." he stuck the tips of his fingers in his ears. Of course, he didn't mean for them to literally plug their ears with their fingers. But, if they could find something between here and there to block out the Illith'Drak's woeful song...
 
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Daera raised a brow at Kal's miming, a faint smirk forming on her lips for just a moment.

"If only Calavan had thought of such a simple solution things might've gone a little differently for he and his men, hm?" It stood to reason that evading the wails of the Illith'Drak was far more complicated.

"Fear goes beyond a single sense, dear Smith. It penetrates the mind even in absolute silence, or darkness..." her gaze disconnected for a moment, memories playing back from an upbringing spent learning a great many magics. How to wield them, how to counter them, how to beat them. Over time she came to settle on Alchemy - a vector for a great many things while her sister ...

Fiera had settled on magic of the blood and the mind. Fear. She used it against others masterfully and Dahldaera came to recognize that her parents did not hide Fiera away from the Court out of malcontent, but out of fear. Her little sister grew to like her solitude, or so she believed - at least until she didn't.

Blues snapped back into focus, settling on the mirrored stare sitting at the other end of the boat, "And you may be powerless now," Daera said while watching Nasir for a moment longer, her gaze then switched back to Kalavan, "but I promise you that will change. You will have no need for prayer."
 
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Nasir snarled just a bit at the smith. "You are El'eth Surrah."

His eyes locked with the smith.

"You are only as powerless as you make yourself." The words were oddly inspirational in a way, and Nasir had said them to dozens of recruits and followers over the years. Their people had relied far too long on the strengths of absentee gods and deceptive priests, ignoring the power they held within themselves.

He was not one peddle that fantasm.

"Calavan was brash. He did not prepare himself or his men" Though in fairness, such an impression would have been easy to have at the time. The Underrealm had been their Empire then. It's reach further than continents. "When we reach the Stretch you would do well to remember this conversation."

Nasir looked at both of them. "The fears you see may be your own, but they are just projections of the Illith'Drak. They can serve as traps, but also warnings. When the visions grow stronger, we will know one of the beasts comes near."

He did not say what would happen if multiple appeared.
 
"Fear goes beyond a single sense, dear Smith. It penetrates the mind even in absolute silence, or darkness..."

"Oh." His hands dropped back into his lap. How unpleasant.

Kalavan could only keep his gaze trained against Nasir's for a moment. The soldier's presence was, well, intimidating to the Smith. Inspirational words instead were taken as complete nonsense. It bitterly reminded Kalavan of his father, who tried to shape the boy into a great warrior, just as his ancestors had been. It would never be.

Perhaps a part of him wanted to go against Nasir at every word out of spite. Though despite that, the Smith found some truth behind his words. His ability with a hammer was a testament to that. A brow was raised at Dahldaera and he tucked a stray golden lock behind his ear.

"That's good," he murmured, "praying has never yielded me anything, anyways."
 
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It seemed fitting that the nature of her sister's powers should be only relatable to a beast. Dahldaera smirked to herself at the thought, but it was not a look of vindication. If nothing else, it was a look of prim disgust.

Their journey along the underground river went on for hours, days perhaps, with no break in the darkness or the smooth, lulling current. The Rift span across nearly the entire continent, as it were, known and charted only by those of the Underdark. But Daera was not familiar with its endless winding route. The places along their path had been spoken of only in tales meant for the young. How such places could actually exist ...

So when the Golden City's pale glow warmed the slash of dark between the ravine walls ahead, her heart gave a sudden flutter of recognition. Tapestries and paintings depicting the city littered the halls of the Royal Palace among countless other artworks and ageless artifacts on display. As they drew closer in their both Daera shifted from her seat to stand, the tremors of her movements sending the boat into a gentle sway.

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"Tales born of truths..." she echoed the words of the dryder, gaze pouring upward in wonder as their boat passed in the silent waters beneath the gleaming belly of gold.
 
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Was this too an Illusion?

Nasir often found that question far more relevant than he would have liked. The past and the future often collapsed in on itself within the Underrealm, and things that were once real were no longer. The opposite could be true as well, and as the Princess stood and gazed up at the majesty around them Nasir couldn't help but think those thoughts.

He frowned a moment, shifting his gaze away from the Golden City and glancing towards the waters once more. Something shifted beneath the surface, caught perhaps by the slight rocking waves of Dahl standing up within the boat.

Were they being hunted or guided along a certain path? It was hard to tell, but blue eyes shifted slightly as he reached up and gently grasped Dahl's arm. His other hand gestured to the waters, the slight shift of movement that could be spotted just beneath the reaches of the surfaces. "Do not be so caught in the wonders above you miss the dangers below."

Nasir warned quietly.

The beast within the waters lurked quietly, yet this was the closest it had come to them. He could see it's outline now, four or five times larger than the boat, skin as black as the abyss, three spines rising from its back. It moved quickly, rushing back into the depths as though it knew that it had been spotted.

The old warrior was did not know what the creature was, nor what it wanted, but caution would serve them well. Best to get through the city first, even if it's splendor was worth gazing upon.
 
"They say that primordial creatures crafted the city," the Smith remarked in an awed whisper and found himself gawking, "that mortals have no means to emulate it."

Long, slender fingers tightened over the gunwale.

"I wonder what knowledge begs to be discovered within the city?"

The Captain's quiet warning reached Kalavan's ears, and the Smith retracted his hand and uneasily scooted back to the center of his seat with a hushed groan.

"Dangers below?" he echoed Nasir's words without his normal incredulous tone, "pray tell, Captain, of what do you mean by dangers below?"
 
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"For being crafted by primordial creatures it's all very mortal in design..." Dahl remarked, eyes skating across the domed structures of gold as they appeared through tall columns of stone that held criss-crossing bridges above them. "You would think they would have no need for windows and yet-"

"Do not be so caught in the wonders above you and miss the dangers below."

The boat rocked gently beneath her feet, a soft shudder echoing through the wood and into her boots. Dahldaera peeled her gaze from the splendor above to mark the shadow passing below them, brows lofting in surprise. Kalavan managed to steal her thoughts and voice them first. The Rift was a complete unknown to her aside from what was spoken of in bedtales. So far she'd found herself stuck between the glorified stories and the truth - both seeming to mirror one another more than she'd ever expected.

"A distant relation to Lake Eris' water serpents perhaps?"
 
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Nasir shrugged. "I do not know."

There were many things within the Underrealms that he could not even pretend to understand. He had traveled far and for a long time, but to think one had seen it all was a fools gambit. The creature within the waters could be any number of things.

"Perhaps." He answered Dahl, watching the shadow as it slowly slipped back into the depths. Nasir knew it would return in time, as it all along their journey. "Or something birthed by those who created this city."

Nasir gestured to the splendor around them "A guardian to what lays within."

Right now they were just passing through, travelers that held no threat. What would happen if they attempted to step into the city itself? To delve into it's secrets.

It was a theory he was not eager to test.

"Sometimes It is better not to have an answer." He said as he regarded his companions.
 
Perhaps those that came before wished to stare out their windows and admire the... rocks. Huh.

"A guardian," Kalavan quietly echoed as he cautiously peered over the edge of their boat, squinting and straining his eyes to see, though it was to no avail. Even if he didn't see everything as a blur, the Smith couldn't have possibly seen into the water's abyssal depths.

"Sometimes It is better not to have an answer."


He abruptly sat up straight and slapped his hands flat down on his lap. "Yes! I wholeheartedly agree. It is in our best interests to avoid any ancient, eldritch creatures."

While finally finding something to agree on with the Captain, Kalavan still couldn't look him in his eyes. His expression was cold- hardened. When his gaze shifted to the Crowne Sovereign, well, he couldn't quite look at her that long either. She was scary. Scowled a lot.

As the boat drifted along, the Smith squinted at the blurry, golden architecture above.
 
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