BlackSand Burning Ritual

Champions' Ridge

Ink smeared slightly as the bard continued to write. He followed a procession up the newly designated Champions’ Ridge. As races have returned, BlackSand sought a new way to celebrate their victors. And what was a simple march of rider and steed has turned into a huge parade of celebration!

Warrior #4431 and her Ether Cup champion, Pony #421, led the way with trophy in-hand while ribbons and magical flares filled the air above the crowd. Artisans, poets, & musicians waxed & entertained! The success of the races allowed for BlackSand to commission several sculptors to carve the likeness of its winners into the side of the mesa they now climb; Queeny was the first to be immortalized in Champions’ Ridge.

Upon reaching the flattened summit, the famed Feast of Fortune commenced! Tents were erected, bonfires were lit, and massive tables were aligned for a city-sized banquet! Chefs and bartenders served their finest creations—a sign that BlackSand may well surpass Imperium one day.

Several speeches spoken; timeless toasts taken; morale was high, and the night was young. With so much activity, handshakes, & congratulatory pats, Agnes and Queeny sought a moment of quiet refuge on the ridge, quietly slipping away…

Shaman Azazel

As wizards and warriors convened over delicious meals, the recently studied Quantum Crystals became a hot topic of conversation. They guessed as to their uses…what they could possibly create…and the dangers that came with it.

The leading theory came from those that were more practiced in the ways of the Secret Tower, a place of burning & soul retrieval. Several aspects of these crystals pointed to that otherworldly practice, namely the distinct surface of each and the immense power contained within. Thus, they concluded that these Quantum Crystals could be used as a soul focus…and the vessel surrounding it would act as a transition medium. But theories require hypotheses. And hypotheses require testing.

“How would this work?” someone asked. “We cannot risk the destruction of the Obsidian Tower,” said another. “If not at the tower, then where?” Conversation grew louder as others joined in, voicing their concerns. “I might have the answer,” came a familiar voice.

A wizard in a purple tech coat and metal mask strode forward, a semi-blank expression of unsettling stoicism. It was Wizard #7718, founder of BlackSand. He pulled out a map from his pack & unfurled it on the large banquet table before them. “You can’t be serious,” said a warrior at the table. The tip of Azazel’s phoenix feather rested on their current location, what recently became Champions’ Ridge.

“After extensive research, it seems several remnants of Imperium lay buried beneath our feet.”

Agnes & Queeny

Agnes & Queeny strode around large rock outcrops and over to the far edge of the mesa. She stared at the moon while brushing Queeny’s mane, reminiscing on this unique chapter of her life. “A racing champion, huh? I suppose you’ll need more treats.” Queeny stomps her hoof. “Thought so…”

After enjoying the quiet, Agnes stands and readies Queeny’s reigns to head back, but Queeny resists. “What’s the matter?” She neighs, rearing slightly, and dashes toward a small structure further along the ridge. “Queeny!”

Agnes finally catches up to Queeny as she sniffs & trots around a pagoda lined with worn & broken pillars. “What was that all about? It’s just some old stones.” But as she glances over the edge of the mesa and down into the gully below, she notices something…

With a full moon lighting their path, Agnes & Queeny meander down the ridge and into the gully, black sand walls now towering on either side of them. But Agnes follows the light, cautiously leading Queeny by the bridle. Managing to squeeze through the narrow crevices of rock & sand, Agnes & Queeny come to a flat clearing dimly lit by two braziers nearby. She lights her torch and steps forward. Before them, brightly lit, is a massive temple entrance carved into the side of the cliff…

The Temple

“Are you sure we could be standing over remnants of Imperium?” asked a wizard, a high-ranking member in the Order of Historians. Azazel gave a long pause, knowing what it would mean to be wrong and misdirect the resources of an entire city. “Yes.”

Arguments across the table resumed.

“This is preposterous, even for you, Azazel!”

“We can’t suddenly just dig up entire mountains because some half-burnt scrap said so.”

“There are too many unknowns. Our resources need to be placed elsewhere.”

“He’s right, you know!” shouted Agnes from atop Queeny.

The entire Feast grew quiet.

Bearing a torch and covered in dirt, Agnes looked to Azazel. “It’s here. We found it. Come.” She and Queeny turned and rode toward the backside of the ridge. Many began looking around, hoping to see someone take charge.

Azazel strode forward. Then the Historian. Soon everyone followed. Wizards & warriors, mounts & mechas…all gathered and moved as one. What was once a party became a pilgrimage to an ancient site of sacrifice.

Passing a decaying pagoda at the cliff’s edge, they descended the steep gullies of the ridge below, careful not to lose their footing nor their lives. Now standing before a massive stone-carved entrance, Azazel couldn’t believe it. “The Temple,” he whispered.

Imperium

With lit torches, Agnes & Azazel led a small scouting party into the ruins. As they stepped inside, it was like something out of another time. Having come through what used to be windows, mounds of black sand had piled up over the ages.

But the partially blocked hallways gave way to an amazing sight. Stone reliefs of Imperium scenes covered the walls, the paint having barely etched away. Statues of prominent leaders graced the darkened halls while gifts & offerings placed eons ago remained untouched.

Steps led down into the earth below. The spiral stone staircase was intricately carved and depicted somber processions descending the same path. The death of a ruler, a fallen soldier, even a mount...carried by solemn faces looking toward the abyss.

Azazel noticed a dark band of sand following the length of the banister. Picking up some between his fingers, he brought it closer to his mask & sniffed. Sulphur. “Move your hands.” Upon touching his torch to the banister, a rush of fire raced all the way down lighting the entire staircase.

The others looked to Azazel. He nodded, and they continued. The reliefs grew more archaic the further they delved into this temple. Scenes began to show ancient runic scripts…unknown symbols…individuals praying in unison…

Pre-Imperium

After what felt like an eternity, the stairs finally ceased. And through an archway the floor opened to an enormous pentagonal chamber. Each wall portrayed a figure in various poses with miniscule patterns filling the background.

And in the center of this chamber taking up the entirety of the stone floor was a magnificent carving of runic circles surrounding a large ovoid shape. Filling the ovoid were ghostly etchings of faces, creatures—known & unknown—within the ether. Could it be?

It was a sight to behold. To stand here…as if in the days of Imperium, thought Azazel.

“Well…is this it?” asked one of the group. Azazel snapped back to reality. He’s right, he thought. Looking around, there was no sign of an exit.

“Imperium craftsmen created this chamber. And in all my studies, I have yet to come across aspects of their civilization that had a true dead end…that had no significance…no purpose.” Azazel walked up to one of the reliefs, resting a hand upon its surface.

His face mere inches from the rock, he scanned over every detail & noticed something peculiar. The random artistic patterns weren’t random at all. At a distance, they appeared to be nothing but filigree. Looking more closely, they were tiny lines of runic text. Pr…pre-Imperium?!

!Magic

Azazel followed the runic symbols at the fringes of the relief. Tracing with a finger, it meandered, hopped, & skipped under and over the other carvings in the scene. But the symbols never disappeared entirely. Faster he traced, the runes becoming more numerous along with the beats of his heart.

The string of symbols became a jumbled mess, runes overlapping other runes…like the carvings of a madman. They formed a ring. And in the center of the ring…nothing. Untouched stone. Puzzled, Azazel took a step back. And then he saw it.

“Magic” he said aloud. Tendrils of swirling runic symbols weaved in and around the figure in the relief, all ending at a rounded object held in the figure’s palm. He stepped forward once more—placing his hand on the stone in the image—and pushed.

CLUNK The stone gave way, sank into the relief, and locked. Azazel smiled then looked to Agnes. She nodded, picked a wall, & scanned its immense carving with her torch. Upon finding the stone, she pressed it. CLUNK The rest of the group followed suit.

CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK

Silence.

Then…

Beneath the Chamber

RKRKKRRRKRKRKRRRKRR The sound of grinding stone filled the chamber. In the center of the floor, the strange imagery within the ovoid shape had shifted downward forming steps of odd sizes and patterns.

Without hesitation, Azazel began carefully climbing down the uneven steps that led beneath the chamber floor. The rest of the party followed. Despite his torch, he could barely see a few feet in front of him.

This tunnel was unlike the rest. No décor or paintings. No smooth surfaces like the previous ruins. Roughly chiseled stone seemed to either absorb or refract the torchlight at odd angles, dampening their ability to see. Frustrated, Azazel blocked the light from his torch for a second.

In doing so, he caught the reflection of tiny blue & purple specks in the stone floor. As he brought the torch closer, they disappeared & created the same disorienting darkness that had plagued them so far.

“What? What do you see?” one of them asked.

“Put out your torches,” said Azazel.

“Are you mad?!” another quipped.

“Perhaps,” he replied, throwing his to the ground and stomping it out.

“A warrior needs sight to fight,” said Agnes.

“Trust me,” Azazel said calmly.

Quantum Crystals

Begrudgingly, they all discarded their torches and stamped out the ashes, the scent of smoke filling the narrow tunnel. But what they thought would be complete darkness became a sea of pinpoint colors that shimmered & twinkled as they walked.

Stone gave way to crystal formations of various hues. And at the end of the long tunnel emanated a subtle purple and blue glow. The group moved forward cautiously, curiosity and fear battling for supremacy in each of their minds.

The tunnel’s end brightened with each step and opened to an enormous purple cavern filled with stalagmites and stalactites of various shapes and sizes, each sprouting even more colored crystals. Cavern hallways branched off in all directions.

Even here were remnants of masonry, pillars of stone supporting the cavern ceiling. Of their age & maker, Azazel was uncertain. But that mattered not. For in the center of this cavern was the source of power they needed…

A supersized growth of crystals grew from the middle of the room. Embedded within the largest of them was a tall concave ovoid of refined stone and polished metal. Along its base were empty cavities. The center of the ovoid was filled with a strange rotating ether, its form weaving and flowing slowly.

The Aboleth

“An Aboleth…” whispered Azazel, bewildered and awestruck.

“A what?” asked one of them.

“An Aboleth,” replied a wizard. “It is one of the rumored Ancient Gates in the realms of soul transfiguration. Only two are known to exist, and both are in lands more terrifying than you can imagine. But this—”

“—is a third,” finished Azazel.

“But this was here…all this time?” asked Agnes.

“Longer. Much, much longer.”

“What does it do?” she wondered.

“When used properly, it can bring forth…a stronger form.”

“Stronger than Queeny?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s find out,” said Azazel and then turned to the group.

“It’s time. Inform the others.”

“Time for what?” they questioned.

“Time to burn.”

Lore by Deltamouse & Legatus

Entered by: 0x8717…A7A8