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Ascension Gate: Paths Unseen (R4-3)The rain begins halfway up the mountain, where the grass and shrubs turns to heather and mosses growing on slate outcroppings. The peak juts up from the surrounding plain, the top lost in a foggy mist that spreads outwards over the plain in a perfect ring.
Dagner looks up from under an oiled tarp, squinting at the sky. “It’s not natural…” he grumbles.
One of his companions looks up, snorting. “Aye, but what has been, man? Near not anything natural about this whole thing, captain.”
“Aye. Things be changing, that’s for sure…” Dagner spares a glance back to the cave inset in the rising cliffs of the mountain before looking back to the sky with an uneasy frown. The rain seems to respond to his negativity, beating down harder on the small camp. Water drips down the canvas shelter, and Dagner pulls his coat up farther around his shoulders with a shiver. “Hopes they all be changing for the best.”
Prince Cyneric, the pre
Ascension Gate: First Meetings (R4-2)Tom taps a thin disc of silver against the table, staring at the tallow candle burning fitfully at his elbow. The flame throws sharp shadows across the grain of the wood and a few more silver disks, each hammered flat not a day before from a pile of gaudy rings. The merchant across the table leans forward into the pool of light, grease stained belly pressing against the filthy wood. Tom’s attention is lured towards him, the merman’s smile drawing tight across his face. There is more filth in this place than just the stains on the man’s tunic. Corruption rolls off the man in what seems like waves, and Tom leans back carefully. He wonders how the man can stand to live with himself after a lifetime of shaving coins and weighing wheat sacks down with sand. He means to cheat Tom out of his purse as well, if he can manage it, but then there is a certain game between merchants of cheating the other and the sea folk are taught to play from an early age.
Tom bares his teeth in
Ascension Gate: Moving Forward (R4-1)Inside the desert crater, the beast that defies description thrashes, legs twisting and grasping for purchase against its own body as it screams its anger to the skies. But as the cool wind carries over the sand and bone and up the sloping sides of the crater, the horror is lost to the silence and stillness of a world awaiting its new god. The air splits in two, a jagged dark hole through reality itself. And through this warp, a figure falls.
Tom hits the ground hard, gasping for breath and clawing at the grass. He curls forward, grating out curses into the ground until he is able to raise his head, eyes shaded by one raised hand. The caldera lies behind him, a wide open field slopes away in front of him. The thumping pound of the gates echo in his ears to each side. He turns his head slowly, wincing. However long he spent in the belly of the beast passing through the third gate was not long enough to erase the effects of the spiced rum on his head. Southwards lies the sea, and the pul
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