From the journal of the High Archmage Soclas:
The Situation grows more dire. Recent investigations at the Guild of Summoners have concluded a precipitous increase in the manifestation of Planar Energy Miasmae. The Summoners claim that these phenomenae are common occurance near areas where they Practice their Art, but a sense of Foreboding consumes me when I Delve the Resonances…it is as though the very Fabric of our Realm frays as the hem of a robe. These results mandate further Study into the Nature of these Planar Manifestations—especially into the caverns below our Mighty Tower. Hope remains that my Concerns are unfounded, but that hope grows more dim by the Hour as we gather more reconnaissance. Our Puissance shall be sorely tested should this Realm be overwrought and infested by such Horrors and Abominations as we know the Outer Planes to Contain.
The dark-skinned man slowly closes the book and smiles grimly. "Yes, 'overrun and infested' describes this place, all right." Looking out the window, the hellish red glow from the caverns nearby illuminate the night. A slight breeze wafts the smell of brimstone and acid into his room. He wrinkles his nose in distaste. Sitting down at a table he moves the candle closer and opens another book:
The Eleven have done their job as befits their status. The Dark Hand have also done what we can. But who has done the most to combat this evil? – no one can really say. Without our help in retrieving the Soul Gem, using it to slow the steady streams of creatures, this world would already be up in flames. And even now, at the cost of life and limb, we combat the horrors that come for us – in our homes, in our city – and even in the caverns below. We must find a way to seal these damnable rifts, at all costs, or we will most assuredly fall. And if we fall, Aetheria itself will fall, and we will be in the unenviable position of leaving a legacy that haunts us even in death: The legacy of a world lost to the demons of hell, and of our failure to prevent it.
Tales from The Mystral Ascendency
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Apokriphos
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Re: Tales from The Mystral Ascendency
Another entry in the journal:
Sanctumbris 4th, In the Year of Our Lord Bane 722.
The world we now call our home is not what we thought. It seem this place exists as an intersection between all planes, a part of all of them and not of any, an Interplane of sorts. Recently, the resonance upon which this place is hewn together seems to be changing. For good or ill, I know not yet the cause of this shift, only that Divine Energy seems to interfere with the transition. I must research further. By Bane's Might, we of the Ascendancy will be the first of Aetheria to discover her secrets - and use them to conquer the rest of her territory!
Sanctumbris 12th, In the Year of Our Lord Bane 722.
My apprentices have abandoned me, and the Ten Hypocrites call me mad from their tower. I have lost three fingers and gained an assortment of livid scars from last night that I fear even our best clerics cannot mend.
Sanctumbris 19th, In the Year of Our Lord Bane 722.
The Planar Energy Miasmae has changed. It calls to me now, my name and others, in countless singsong voices. It was low at first, the gentle whispers of a winter breeze. But it grew, like weeds spreading after a thick rain. Now I can hear it all my waking hours, even here, even now, in my study, whispering and screaming, telling me to do things, awful things I dare not even write for fear they might come true.
In the Beginning, The first Year of The Darkness.
They were wrong, you know. It isss alive. I burned the other scrolls, all of them, expect for this ..final.. one. I must desssstroy it, no.. I shall continue... my experiments. The darkness is waiting.. It calls. IT CALLSSS!...
Sanctumbris 4th, In the Year of Our Lord Bane 722.
The world we now call our home is not what we thought. It seem this place exists as an intersection between all planes, a part of all of them and not of any, an Interplane of sorts. Recently, the resonance upon which this place is hewn together seems to be changing. For good or ill, I know not yet the cause of this shift, only that Divine Energy seems to interfere with the transition. I must research further. By Bane's Might, we of the Ascendancy will be the first of Aetheria to discover her secrets - and use them to conquer the rest of her territory!
Sanctumbris 12th, In the Year of Our Lord Bane 722.
My apprentices have abandoned me, and the Ten Hypocrites call me mad from their tower. I have lost three fingers and gained an assortment of livid scars from last night that I fear even our best clerics cannot mend.
Sanctumbris 19th, In the Year of Our Lord Bane 722.
The Planar Energy Miasmae has changed. It calls to me now, my name and others, in countless singsong voices. It was low at first, the gentle whispers of a winter breeze. But it grew, like weeds spreading after a thick rain. Now I can hear it all my waking hours, even here, even now, in my study, whispering and screaming, telling me to do things, awful things I dare not even write for fear they might come true.
In the Beginning, The first Year of The Darkness.
They were wrong, you know. It isss alive. I burned the other scrolls, all of them, expect for this ..final.. one. I must desssstroy it, no.. I shall continue... my experiments. The darkness is waiting.. It calls. IT CALLSSS!...