RP:Orvaac's Soulstone
The Discovery of Orvaac's Soulstone
The world was in a tumultuous state, war was not waging, though the echoing whispers of peace were deafening. Avian’s were descending from the skies in masses never before seen, their most powerful generals revived from the slumber of mortality. Powerful Dragons were plotting, grouping in alliances of unnatural force for eminent conquest of new territory. The Vampires gathered in record numbers in the mysterious confines of Vailkrin’s darkness. The peace was unsure, the danger constant. The air grew heavy throughout the kingdoms, as the world waited wearily for the balances of peace to be vigorously shifted. It was in this time, that the saga of the Knights of Eurydel would be continued.
One day, seemingly as normal as any other, the Drow Patron, Keter D’Artes was about the prominent tavern of Kelay, noticing the Avian General, Shaelus, recently revived from the dead, giving orders to the Co-General, Daesith. The Avian leaders speaking of a secret city, discovered aloft upon the time of Solaris’ death; the Avian capital, Ashtaeum, drifting high above the nameless desert to the southeast. The concept of this revelation intrigued the Drow; this city thought to be but mere myth. With the subordinates of his House busy monitoring the possible Draconic threats, and a desire to keep such knowledge of the Avian city to himself, Keter decided to personally keep tabs on this situation. Donning an obsidian faceplate, the stealthy creature proceeded to follow Daesith deep into the arid, barren, desert. The sun shone down with fury upon the baked terra below, the thick volcanic glass about the Drow’s face being his only reprieve from its harmful rays. Careful to remain hidden amongst the dunes, he kept a safe tracking distance from the Avian. Daesith, after a considerable and lengthy search, seemingly found nothing amongst the parched desert skies, turned suddenly back to the North; Keter, unsuspecting of the sudden change in vector, sought immediate shelter to maintain his secrecy. What appeared to be the remnants of an abandoned palace lie a short distance away, the nimble Drow rapidly diving into the entrance with mere moments to spare as the Avian flew overhead. Keter remained diligent to keep his presence unknown as Daesith passed, with plenty of problems already plaguing the Underdark, the Patron knew it was a most inopportune time for war with the Avians.
Keter stumbled about the abandoned palace, his vision heavily impaired by the thick obsidian coverings; Drow infravision useless through the glass. The mid-day lighting still far too bright for Keter to removed the faceplate, he felt along the walls to get his bearing, though a sudden loss of footing sent the unsuspecting Drow falling rapidly into an unknown chasm, hitting the ground firmly with a solid blow to the back. With the wind knocked out of him, the Drow lie still upon the rigid stone, looking upward at the hole above him, the ancient floor having yielded to the fury of time. Though he could still barely breathe, the cave felt cool, unlike the torrid earth outside, causing Keter to relax for a brief time, savoring the refreshing darkness within this unknown cavern. Removing the atrous mask from his visage, the Drow looked about, this room obviously hidden for ages with no apparent entrance in sight, sealed away for millennia beneath this aged desert palace. Finally, struggling to his feet, Keter began to made his way through the dry, stagnant room, noticing strange markings which nearly cover the vast cavern walls; these curious inscriptions seemed to tell the tale of an ancient battle, Knights of a foreign kingdom, descending from the sky like Angels upon evil within the lands. The myths carried on, stretching into the cave like a pictoral history of the land, great murals of battle, painted in crude form, told stories of Elazul and Khasad, the hero Tiaren’s sealing of the Nameless One’s Blade, and the Holy Knights which remained in this realm. Keter ventured deeper into the darkness, peering with genuine interest upon the intriguing cavern’s mythos.
In that dark cave, the dank and unlikely home, a strange rune shimmered through the gloom. Its past unknown to most, as the divine contents lie shrouded in forgotten memories of history; forgotten - that is - until now. A slight glint caught the eye of the Drow, a crystalline rune unlike any he’d seen before, set deep within the rocky walls, a smooth finish upon the surrounding stone as if its energy had been wearing away at the aggregate walls for aeons on end. Keter seemed strangely drawn to the object, approaching it slowly, with a caution typical for his race. A low radiating light began to pulse from the rune as Keter closed the distance toward it, though he continued his pursuit. The ever-present Shadow Dweomer about Keter’s form started to fade as he neared the rune, catching Keter off-guard as he glanced about, his mind reeling as he wondered what could possibly cause such an effect. Strangely compelled to move onward, Keter seemed unable to stop, an overwhelming urge seemed to push the Drow like a firm hand upon his back. The unwavering patron moved onward, the dark haze about his form now completely dissipated as he stood mere feet from the radiant gem. Hesitantly, Keter reached out toward the rune, the shimmering sapphire hue irresistible in this close proximity. A sudden flash was released as his slim ebon digit made contact with the ancient rune, Keter blinded for a moment as the stone burst forth from its keep, hovering weightlessly before the startled Drow. In that brief moment of blindness, Keter’s mind was sent into vertigo with a visceral slideshow of the past. He fell back upon the cavern floor, his mind still grappling with the sights he’d seen; a veritable battle took place within his psyche as the Sky Rune quickly assumed a place about Keter’s chest. In mere moments, The Soulstone of Orvaac, Knight of Eurydel, had fully taken residence upon the unsuspecting patron, a mystical tendril snaking around his neck to secure the rune about Keter’s form.
A voice could be heard echoing through Keter’s mind, stentorian in force as it laid orders upon the Drow’s soul.
- “Dark Creature, you have greater purpose than you now fulfill, your darkness shall yield to the power of Orvaac.”, spoke the Soulstone.
Before Keter could even mentally respond, a third figure made its presence known.
- “He has already been consumed, ancient one, you are not welcome to this host.”
Unable to control his movements, the Drow unleashed the E’et Nilah Blade from its home at his side, the blade ringing forth with an eerie chime. The dark aura surrounding Keter’s form attempted a full forced return, but with only momentary success, as the haze was rapidly dissolved by a brilliant flash of the Sky Rune's power. Contorting in all directions, Keter struggled with both body and mind against the dual forces, the war within him ravaging on as the two invaders competed for dominance over the Drow. With sudden and deliberate movements, Keter attempted to cast the sword forward into the stone, struggling to rid himself of accursed blade. Unable to master his movements, Keter failed in the endeavor to discard the blade, finding himself instead, levitating out of the cave portal uncontrollably. The darkness fought back with a vengeance, delivering the full capacity of its power to control Keter’s remaining moments of life. Before Keter could even realize where he was going, he realized he had traveled the bulk of distance toward Kelay Tavern, his body moving autonomously to the will of the E’et Nilah Blade. The Blade was aware, aware it could not conquer the Sky Rune’s power over Keter, but it would not be lost to time in an ancient cave, it would find a new wielder.
Keter entered the tavern, the stoic look about his face unbreakable as he assumes a stance in the center of that history-laden room. Without a word, without a gesture, the Drow plunges the sword deep into his abdomen, pulling upward sharply and forcing the blade deep into his chest. Pulling the blade out with a sickly sound of suction, Keter only watched, a mere passenger in his own body, voices upon voices diluting his mind with innumerable thoughts of insane deeds as he falls upon the tavern boards, blood pooling around his dying frame. His hair, a once brilliant ivory, now stained by the Drow’s crimson vitae, the blade lying likewise, waiting patiently on the blood soaked floor for a new hand to draw its hilt. The body chilled, passers-by and those in attendance cleaned the Drow of his valued possessions, though one item remained, still fastened by mystical force to the tavern’s new corpsen fixture. Upon hearing the news of Keter’s demise, Tiphareth immediately sought out to retrieve his House leader’s body. Coming hastily upon the horrific site, he shook his head in disgust at the image of his fallen patron, confused as to how this could happen. With aid of Keter’s entourage, Tiphareth returned the noble Drow to his homeland; they lurched on slowly, disappearing into the Underdark’s jaws. Keter’s body, including the stone, has not been seen since…
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