| What do the stars know? It may seem like an absurd, esoteric question. But that is because you are basing yourself in the gritty, solid logic of rationality. In a time before the church, in a time before cities and towns, in a time before fire, man worshiped the sky. The people of that long distant world made offerings to the sun and they danced in the moonlight and they laid eyes upon the endless number of stars that fill the sky, staying keenly aware that they were staring down onto them as would a hungry spider down from its web. However, that age is now long since passed and we find ourselves in an era of reason and technology. The gods are said to have come and gone and we are left now by ourselves in this garden of paradise. But the sun is still in the sky. The moon still floats through the night. And the stars are still watching us, as they have always been doing. You may think that they are simply a romantic sight. But, in much the same way as we romanticize the howl of a wolf in the dead of the night — It will stop being romantic when you are alone with it in the darkness. The question is not why the stars are watching us, the question is what they’re waiting for. They are a wolf that has already howled. The strike is prepared, yet it never seems to come. And so, we as a people live in a constant tension, that must lead us to ask one thing. - What do the stars know? Why are they so afraid, these ancient, cosmic deities of the old-world, that they haven't moved yet? What terror could possibly be down here on our world that keeps them at bay? |
~ An old witch’s ramblings on the old-gods and the night sky
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| ~ [Dungeon] ~ |
| Floor {130} |
| The Fey-Gate |
| The spirit-world is more than simply the afterlife. It is also used by other creatures, such as the fey, as a place to primarily reside in. Exiting only through rare portals in the surface world, they mostly prefer to stay on their side of reality, inside of the Fey-kingdom. Fey are not particularly fond of any of the common, living races. While in old times, any who stumbled into their realm by mistake would have been harshly punished, currently, Fey will now only cast intruders back out of their realm with little more than a slap on the wrist. This does not mean, however, that they will not fiercely guard their few, rare, large gates to the real world. |
| Room Effects: The presence of the fairy-realm will flood the chamber with fairies upon intrusion. These are not considered monsters of the tower and will continue spawning in great numbers until the boss is defeated. |
| ~ [Fey-Gate Guardian]~ | |
| Class: DIVINE BEING | Element: HOLY / NATURE |
| Type: WARD | Category: CONNECTED GUARDIAN* |
| Rank: SSS | |
| Level: 100 | |
| The Fey-Gate Guardian is an elite member of fairy society, entrusted with protecting one of the few remaining Fey-gates scattered across the world. They are extremely well versed in the wild-magics of the world and are able to cast spells from old, forgotten schools of magic. | |
| HP: 1875/1875 | SOUL: ∞/∞ |
| *As long as the primary energy source of this entity remains standing, it will continuously regenerate itself at a rapid pace. |
Isaiah looks around the chamber of the tower. The room is akin to a strange grotto. It is as if they were in a cave-system beneath a forest. Water runs down the crooked stones, and roots push in from all around, grabbing hold of rectangular, stone-hewn frames as if they were hands holding them aloft. Inside of these frames, magic glows alight.
Small creatures, fey, fly in and out of the stones, buzzing across from one shortcut to another as they use the little doors to traverse a place that is actually somewhere else entirely.
Its gazes wanders to the particularly large fairy, standing guard before the largest, human-sized door.
Isaiah tilts its head, observing the odd creature. It looks like a tiny human had merged with a particularly large moth. It reminds it of the Vildt, the half-animal species it had seen on the other continent, but these creatures seem more magical and less physical in their makings.
“You have nice wings,” says Isaiah, looking at the creature with soft, feathery moth wings. Very interesting. It has never seen anything like it before.
However, the fairy guardian, apparently a stoic professional, says nothing in response.
Very interesting.
Isaiah isn’t quite sure itself if it has barged in one someone’s home with this room. Apparently it has, considering it has connected to the fey kingdom, whatever that means. It seems fine, though. They seem to be disinterested and fairly reserved. It turns its head to watch smaller groups of the fey shoot through the little doors, flying, as if they were schools of fish.
Fey society seems to be very chaotic.
“I’ll leave it to you,” remarks Isaiah, lifting a hand and walking off.
It will have to watch closely when the humans arrive here. It could be very interesting indeed.
| ~ [Seide] ~ |
| Dryad, Female, Wood-mother |
| Location: The Sub-Tower, Floor -99 |
Seide wanders the grounds of the sub-tower, the trunk that connects the tree of Isaiah to the sky. It’s a very interesting opportunity that has been given to her and her tribe. A year ago, she would have been abhor at the concept of living in a structure like this, but times have changed, and so has she. She’s learned a lot about horror — the kind that transcends the natural world and it has given her a bit of a change in perspective.
In the wild, creatures die. They get hunted and eaten, and sometimes this process is slow and gruesome. A bear will never intentionally kill its prey before consumption, nor will wolves. They’ll eat it while it’s still alive, drag it back to their dens while it's still alive, and eat it over the course of several days there, while it’s still feeling and aware. Sometimes the prey gets lucky and dies quickly, but this is simply not always the case.
It’s cruel, but this is simply how nature is.
But now that she herself has undergone that process, even as a dryad, a spirit of nature, she finds that she does not enjoy the idea of allowing anyone else to undergo this cruelty, let alone her own tribe.
The governance of the sub-tower has been given to her. Isaiah will still control the structure, but she has been asked to oversee her goblins, who have begun setting up a new village here inside the tower, and also all of the pilgrims who are to come. Residency for them will be found here, in this structure, and, critically, the generous ‘mercy’ spell that prevents death will be applied to everyone.
— The wind graces her hair, which is an odd thing to consider since they’re inside.
Seide looks at the goblins, who are running around a lush, green field and hammering away on wooden structures, planting thick brambles and vines into the soil as shelter. It’s a more beautiful, kind forest than hers ever was, and in a way, that does make her a little jealous.
However, she thinks that if she stays here, maybe she can come to learn how to nurture like this too.
| ~ [Cardinal Erzael of the West] ~ |
| Human, Male, Cardinal |
| Location: The Western Mountain City |
The man flaps through his tome, searching for an answer to his question. How does one fight back against a foe that is massively more powerful than oneself?
He firmly believes that Isaiah is a messenger from the heavens, but how steadfast can a messenger remain against the tides of men’s bodies marching its way? What if this is a test from the gods? What if either the acceptance or destruction of Isaiah is the answer to a cosmic question being asked of them as a whole.
Like ogres trampling through a garden, are they being observed to see if they will crush the gentle flowers around them or not? Why else would the gods return so brazenly and obviously after generations of silence?
Cardinal Schweig will be making his move with his crusade, as will the Witch, Perchta, by unleashing whatever hell she has to unleash.
He flips a page, looking.
“Anything?” asks Erzael, lifting his gaze to look at his quiet colleague from the south. The other cardinal shakes his head, and the two of them return to their research in his private library.
He flips a page.
“Your grace, what about this?” asks a voice from the side, his personal assistant. Cardinal Erzael lifts his gaze to the book that she’s carrying over, despite it being several times her size. She’s a fairy. They were once a common race, like any of the others. But after generations and the gradual decline of the world’s ambient magics, they are now only able to survive in rare high-magic zones. One of these is the mountain in the west of the nation, in which his city is located.
The fairy drops it on the table, sighing in exhaustion as she wipes her forehead.
Erzael looks at the book, reading the title.
“A tome of heroes,” he mutters, his fingers tapping against the table. It’s an interesting idea. They’re clearly the underdogs here, his faction of humanity. He doesn't know how strong Isaiah is, but he does know how strong a witch is and how strong Cardinal Schweig is. A hero, a true hero, could usually only be summoned in however if there was a crisis. It would certainly swing things in their favor, but…
He shakes his head.
“Thank you for the idea,” says Erzael. “But we don’t have a crisis. The spell only works during one,” he remarks.
The fairy lands on the book, looking up his way. She taps her head. “Then why don’t we just make one ourselves?” she asks, winking.
Cardinal Erzael looks at her, before turning to look at his colleague. This would be an unprecedented step. It would be a grave misuse of the gift the gods had left them as a people, wouldn’t it?
Yes, the one-hundred year crisis is about due, actually. It should be this year, but so far, nothing has happened. There hasn’t been a whiff of a demon-king or some great plague or anything more than this war here that is festering in the bosom of the world.
But this is the challenge offered to them by the divine. Perhaps they are watching to see how their children will react when a time of tribulation arrives that they have not been diligently warned about. Perhaps they are observing to see how they have grown and if they are ready to face the world alone, without supervision.
His colleague nods.
Erzael nods back. “Brother, let us pray,” he says, lowering his head. “A dark season has fallen over us,” he remarks, gently opening the book. The fairy flies off.
A hero…
His eyes scour the page.
A true hero.
Is the world really ready for this type of calamity again?
He sighs.
What a mess.
| What do the stars know? It may seem like an absurd, esoteric question. But that is because you are basing yourself in the gritty, solid logic of rationality. In a time before the church, in a time before cities and towns, in a time before fire, man worshiped the sky. The people of that long distant world made offerings to the sun and they danced in the moonlight and they laid eyes upon the endless number of stars that fill the sky, staying keenly aware that they were staring down onto them as would a hungry spider down from its web. However, that age is now long since passed and we find ourselves in an era of reason and technology. The gods are said to have come and gone and we are left now by ourselves in this garden of paradise. But the sun is still in the sky. The moon still floats through the night. And the stars are still watching us, as they have always been doing. You may think that they are simply a romantic sight. But, in much the same way as we romanticize the howl of a wolf in the dead of the night — It will stop being romantic when you are alone with it in the darkness. The question is not why the stars are watching us, the question is what they’re waiting for. They are a wolf that has already howled. The strike is prepared, yet it never seems to come. And so, we as a people live in a constant tension, that must lead us to ask one thing. - What do the stars know? Why are they so afraid, these ancient, cosmic deities of the old-world, that they haven't moved yet? What terror could possibly be down here on our world that keeps them at bay? |
~ An old witch’s ramblings on the old-gods and the night sky
| ~ [Isaiah] ~ |
| ~ [Dungeon] ~ |
| Floor {130} |
| The Fey-Gate |
| The spirit-world is more than simply the afterlife. It is also used by other creatures, such as the fey, as a place to primarily reside in. Exiting only through rare portals in the surface world, they mostly prefer to stay on their side of reality, inside of the Fey-kingdom. Fey are not particularly fond of any of the common, living races. While in old times, any who stumbled into their realm by mistake would have been harshly punished, currently, Fey will now only cast intruders back out of their realm with little more than a slap on the wrist. This does not mean, however, that they will not fiercely guard their few, rare, large gates to the real world. |
| Room Effects: The presence of the fairy-realm will flood the chamber with fairies upon intrusion. These are not considered monsters of the tower and will continue spawning in great numbers until the boss is defeated. |
| ~ [Fey-Gate Guardian]~ | |
| Class: DIVINE BEING | Element: HOLY / NATURE |
| Type: WARD | Category: CONNECTED GUARDIAN* |
| Rank: SSS | |
| Level: 100 | |
| The Fey-Gate Guardian is an elite member of fairy society, entrusted with protecting one of the few remaining Fey-gates scattered across the world. They are extremely well versed in the wild-magics of the world and are able to cast spells from old, forgotten schools of magic. | |
| HP: 1875/1875 | SOUL: ∞/∞ |
| *As long as the primary energy source of this entity remains standing, it will continuously regenerate itself at a rapid pace. |
Isaiah looks around the chamber of the tower. The room is akin to a strange grotto. It is as if they were in a cave-system beneath a forest. Water runs down the crooked stones, and roots push in from all around, grabbing hold of rectangular, stone-hewn frames as if they were hands holding them aloft. Inside of these frames, magic glows alight.
Small creatures, fey, fly in and out of the stones, buzzing across from one shortcut to another as they use the little doors to traverse a place that is actually somewhere else entirely.
Its gazes wanders to the particularly large fairy, standing guard before the largest, human-sized door.
Isaiah tilts its head, observing the odd creature. It looks like a tiny human had merged with a particularly large moth. It reminds it of the Vildt, the half-animal species it had seen on the other continent, but these creatures seem more magical and less physical in their makings.
“You have nice wings,” says Isaiah, looking at the creature with soft, feathery moth wings. Very interesting. It has never seen anything like it before.
However, the fairy guardian, apparently a stoic professional, says nothing in response.
Very interesting.
Isaiah isn’t quite sure itself if it has barged in one someone’s home with this room. Apparently it has, considering it has connected to the fey kingdom, whatever that means. It seems fine, though. They seem to be disinterested and fairly reserved. It turns its head to watch smaller groups of the fey shoot through the little doors, flying, as if they were schools of fish.
Fey society seems to be very chaotic.
“I’ll leave it to you,” remarks Isaiah, lifting a hand and walking off.
It will have to watch closely when the humans arrive here. It could be very interesting indeed.
| ~ [Seide] ~ |
| Dryad, Female, Wood-mother |
| Location: The Sub-Tower, Floor -99 |
Seide wanders the grounds of the sub-tower, the trunk that connects the tree of Isaiah to the sky. It’s a very interesting opportunity that has been given to her and her tribe. A year ago, she would have been abhor at the concept of living in a structure like this, but times have changed, and so has she. She’s learned a lot about horror — the kind that transcends the natural world and it has given her a bit of a change in perspective.
In the wild, creatures die. They get hunted and eaten, and sometimes this process is slow and gruesome. A bear will never intentionally kill its prey before consumption, nor will wolves. They’ll eat it while it’s still alive, drag it back to their dens while it's still alive, and eat it over the course of several days there, while it’s still feeling and aware. Sometimes the prey gets lucky and dies quickly, but this is simply not always the case.
It’s cruel, but this is simply how nature is.
But now that she herself has undergone that process, even as a dryad, a spirit of nature, she finds that she does not enjoy the idea of allowing anyone else to undergo this cruelty, let alone her own tribe.
The governance of the sub-tower has been given to her. Isaiah will still control the structure, but she has been asked to oversee her goblins, who have begun setting up a new village here inside the tower, and also all of the pilgrims who are to come. Residency for them will be found here, in this structure, and, critically, the generous ‘mercy’ spell that prevents death will be applied to everyone.
— The wind graces her hair, which is an odd thing to consider since they’re inside.
Seide looks at the goblins, who are running around a lush, green field and hammering away on wooden structures, planting thick brambles and vines into the soil as shelter. It’s a more beautiful, kind forest than hers ever was, and in a way, that does make her a little jealous.
However, she thinks that if she stays here, maybe she can come to learn how to nurture like this too.
| ~ [Cardinal Erzael of the West] ~ |
| Human, Male, Cardinal |
| Location: The Western Mountain City |
The man flaps through his tome, searching for an answer to his question. How does one fight back against a foe that is massively more powerful than oneself?
He firmly believes that Isaiah is a messenger from the heavens, but how steadfast can a messenger remain against the tides of men’s bodies marching its way? What if this is a test from the gods? What if either the acceptance or destruction of Isaiah is the answer to a cosmic question being asked of them as a whole.
Like ogres trampling through a garden, are they being observed to see if they will crush the gentle flowers around them or not? Why else would the gods return so brazenly and obviously after generations of silence?
Cardinal Schweig will be making his move with his crusade, as will the Witch, Perchta, by unleashing whatever hell she has to unleash.
He flips a page, looking.
“Anything?” asks Erzael, lifting his gaze to look at his quiet colleague from the south. The other cardinal shakes his head, and the two of them return to their research in his private library.
He flips a page.
“Your grace, what about this?” asks a voice from the side, his personal assistant. Cardinal Erzael lifts his gaze to the book that she’s carrying over, despite it being several times her size. She’s a fairy. They were once a common race, like any of the others. But after generations and the gradual decline of the world’s ambient magics, they are now only able to survive in rare high-magic zones. One of these is the mountain in the west of the nation, in which his city is located.
The fairy drops it on the table, sighing in exhaustion as she wipes her forehead.
Erzael looks at the book, reading the title.
“A tome of heroes,” he mutters, his fingers tapping against the table. It’s an interesting idea. They’re clearly the underdogs here, his faction of humanity. He doesn't know how strong Isaiah is, but he does know how strong a witch is and how strong Cardinal Schweig is. A hero, a true hero, could usually only be summoned in however if there was a crisis. It would certainly swing things in their favor, but…
He shakes his head.
“Thank you for the idea,” says Erzael. “But we don’t have a crisis. The spell only works during one,” he remarks.
The fairy lands on the book, looking up his way. She taps her head. “Then why don’t we just make one ourselves?” she asks, winking.
Cardinal Erzael looks at her, before turning to look at his colleague. This would be an unprecedented step. It would be a grave misuse of the gift the gods had left them as a people, wouldn’t it?
Yes, the one-hundred year crisis is about due, actually. It should be this year, but so far, nothing has happened. There hasn’t been a whiff of a demon-king or some great plague or anything more than this war here that is festering in the bosom of the world.
But this is the challenge offered to them by the divine. Perhaps they are watching to see how their children will react when a time of tribulation arrives that they have not been diligently warned about. Perhaps they are observing to see how they have grown and if they are ready to face the world alone, without supervision.
His colleague nods.
Erzael nods back. “Brother, let us pray,” he says, lowering his head. “A dark season has fallen over us,” he remarks, gently opening the book. The fairy flies off.
A hero…
His eyes scour the page.
A true hero.
Is the world really ready for this type of calamity again?
He sighs.
What a mess.
