A Word to Annwyn (1 Viewer)

thehorde

Event Team
Event Team
@Bromophobe
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"These years had been most humiliating. My world's been set upside down, the impossible occured left and right, and where merit and ambition was destined to avail, instead the weak and feeble acquired victory. A horrifying experience, and, that is all I can add to it. The lessons speak clear, and the slate's been wiped clean, well, not my past's, but that of what I am. So, earned through hard work, or acquired via subterfuge, in time these relics will be returned to those who can cherish them not for their power, instead for the meaning they present and hold in our current age." Told the six horned as he left Xia's clutches, his only remaining hand fiddling with the Great Dragon's Token.​
"Sahyl, is now inert. For me, that is. Others may read it... I have achieved all I wanted with the Arcane, it was a small price to pay for a new approach, a new way of life; free, and unbound."​
Delivered by an Iceborne Danakov, a letter and a cylindrical container would arrive into the far North. These two objects would be handed over, then the courier would depart.
A Letter to Annwyn;​
"You of the Northest reaches are still of the olden Avaltan culture and origin. Several artifacts of your past will be sent to you intact for safe-keeping until the end of times. Ask no questions, nor search for reasons. Best of luck throughout ages."​
Sincerely,
Hyssir'larhaa Aardynar
With the letter would be sent a staff of purely avaltan origin. It would be recognizable in an instant; The Staff of Akdun
 

Bromophobe

Captain Chromosome
[!] And yet… the danakov never reached that fabled city. His parcel? Perhaps. He had no way of knowing. He had been sent on an endless goose chase across the hinterlands, looking for a town that seemed to constantly escape his grasp no matter how close he felt he was. Everybody he spoke to, knew next to nothing about it. The elvish tribes hid its location, and the avaltans spoke none of it. Even his fellow brood could not properly tell where it was. West, east, no that was Vinnagard, perhaps to the north? What could ever lie north of Vinnagard? Trudging through snow, and rocky crags, he attempted a brave climb into a peninsula renown for its barren lands and waste.

Recounting his voyage was a rather difficult task. The last clear memory he had was atop a rock, looking down onto the thick dark forest that guarded entry, sided to the east by ravenous craglands and mountains. To the west, a torrential river that was bound to drag any foolish enough to cross it without ship or crew. A faint doubt in his mind said that none could ever live in such a place, it was too grim, too horrid… but again. Perhaps.

With that word in mind, the memories became hazier. He knew not how long it took to meet with the forest's outskirts, and when he did, he remembered its darkness tunnelling like the never ending guts of a worm. Crows cawed, spiders jittered, and whispered whistles seeded doubt once more. Looking at the parcel, he wondered if it was worth the risk, but again the General had ordered him so. Reluctantly, the courier stepped within.

All he could remember was the silence in his heart, and the surrounding sounds of the forest. The mist within grew deeper, and thicker, like pea soup… he mused about ghosts, and chose to double take. As he carried on his adventure within, the last thing he could remember was the wind and whistles barreling his mind, ghosts mocking him endlessly, a thick veil of gray, humid silver laid all over him, and suddenly, the sweet release of unconciousness.

He woke up to a bizarre world, where sky was below and earth was above. Yet snow it did as per usual? He looked to his hands, and grasped the white flakes, before realising he had been hung upside down, to a tree at the border of the woods. The dusking sunlight caressed his face, and behind him the grim woods loomed ever silent. His parcel was gone, and in exchange, in his hand, he held a single bright golden coin, of an unknown mint… [
!]


***
As the staff was brought to Magh Mael, Geir was summoned by his King and bestowed with its guidance.
Akdun was a spirit of the Avaltan, and this relic had no right to be in Annwynn hands.
@That_one_niceguy
 
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That_one_niceguy

Event Team
Event Team
*It would be another cold day in Annwynn with the winds whipping about and the snow to follow. The fires of Magh Mael would be lit constantly giving warmth to the women, children, and elderly while the men would go about their business during the day. Avaltan scouts within the forests south of Magh Mael would be the first to catch the scent of the messenger and following its tracks until it had reached the city gates. The parcel would have been allowed to safely be delivered and the messenger would have been escorted in his leave though south of the peninsula the messenger's luck would be his own. Geir, the Tribe Chief of the Magh Mael and leader to Magh Mael would have received a summons not too long after and answering the call leaving his son in charge until his return.

*With sight of the god's staff he would be both skeptical and curious but seeing it to be true Geir then would be honored and take the staff readily. Bringing it back to his tribe he would show all of his people its heritage and power, securing Geir's claims as the Tribe Chief and granting this artifact to be protected from the likes of the southerners at all costs. When the tribe would be sent back to their works they would have a new energy about them and the staff would be kept in the Magh Mael keep.*



 

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