Interactive Quest a quiet mountain

talking gemstones

It is just before dawn, in the quiet of the night before the world begins to awaken. The animals of Novus are asleep and it appears the mountain is asleep as well. Aside from the sounds of the footsteps of the nocturnal animals rustling through the fallen snow, the mountain is eerily quiet this morning. The wind is calm, not whistling through the barren trees at the base of the mountain. There is no sound of insects, of birds, or of animals.

The path that leads up the mountain has been freshly plowed by something unknown, making way for all those that wish to come up to its peak to pray. The path is marked, lit with small torches of fires as they guide Llewelyn through the forest at its base and all the way up through the snow-capped top.

Along the path, there is a steady thrumming of magic, something that cannot be seen or heard. It can only be felt as a sense of mystery, of need. It pulls at Llewelyn, drawing her towards the peak of the mountain without any real answers as to why it pulls her there today. That feeling guides her up the mountain, constantly pulling at her thoughts, her feelings, until she comes to the peak of the mountain.

Upon arrival to the peak of the mountain, Llewelyn will discover that the snow-capped mountain has carved away a small clearing that appears to carve through the mountain itself. The path opens to flooring made of marble and alabaster. There is a magnificent room lit with fires that hang from the ceiling. Thick alabaster and stone columns hold up the ceiling and are covered in a flowering ivy, something that should not be so green so high up the mountain. But despite the things that grow here when they should not, the temple is beautiful. It is comfortable and warm, inviting even.

But that feeling is still there, still calling out to Llewelyn, guiding her through the opening of the temple and towards something hidden in a back room. And as that feeling of magic draws her into the back room, something changes. The temperature is no longer warm because of the fires lit to guide her path. The temperature plummets, almost as if this temple has been visited by something not of this world.

And when Llewelyn get to the back room, she is greeted by a copper basin that holds a green fire. It flickers in the early morning light, just as the sun is coming up and over the horizon. It beckons for the mare to come closer, almost as if it is pulling an invisible string attached to her. As she gets but a few feet away, that is when things begin to get eerie.

A sudden wind whips through the temple, the temperature plummeting to well below freezing. All the fires within the room are put out, the room enveloped into darkness. Llewelyn is left standing there alone, wondering just what she is witnessing. Is it just the anger of the wind, or is it something more…something greater?

And then, the green fire erupts again, flickering life and light back into the room. And when the fire flickers to life, it is not the only thing to come alive. The small rubies upon Llewelyn’s horn begin to glow softly. They reflect the green light but even more so, they begin to whisper. It is hard to say what her jewels are saying, for they say many things and yet nothing at all. They speak of what has happened and what is to come. They speak of hope and despair. The whisperings continue until suddenly, they are silent and the green fire in the copper basin goes out. Llewelyn is left standing there alone with only the strange whispers to keep her company. What will she do with what she has seen today. Will she be reminded of her duty, of her life here in Novus? Will she ignore the whispers and the callings, or will she embrace them and use them? It is up to her now, to determine how she uses the gifts that the Gods have bestowed upon her this very morning.

On her way to Veneror, @Llewelyn will find herself in an otherwordly situation. Perhaps it’s the gods, or perhaps it’s simply the supernatural.

But whoever is manipulating the mountain has also brought her here. As she stands before the altar the basin of fire will roar to life, and the rubies decorating her horns will glow.

But what are those voices she hears, and what are they saying? Are they coming from her horns?

What is going on here?

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This quest was written by the lovely @Zombie.

Enjoy!

RE: a quiet mountain - Llewelyn - 10-21-2019

With all of her pilgrimages, with all of her days of proper, ladylike piety, Llewelyn had assumed that she already knew all she needed to know about Veneror’s windswept reaches. Yet, as she climbed the snowy path, signature emerald cloak wrapped tight about herself, the maiden found that she had been sorely mistaken. Following the tug within her chest like some sort of pet strung along by a leash, the mare offered no resistance to the sensation, instead opting for a resigned curiosity about where the invisible pull would lead.

So up, up, up she climbed, watching the stars become closer with every step and the air grow thinner with every breath. I could reach up and pluck one from the heavens, She mused silently, gazing upward with no heed to where her hooves may lead her, having given herself up to the faultless direction of that incessant tugging long ago. Lashes dusted with frost, Llewelyn found that her eyelids felt heavy when she blinked; as a result, a small smile played along her lips as she wondered if the resulting heaviness would induce sleep.

Suddenly, the maiden’s view of the heavens is obstructed by a dark slab. Gasping, the mare lowered her gaze and found herself within a vast room of alabaster and towering pillars. Fires crackled in grates and shallow pits, hanging from braziers far above the femme’s head and filling the great chamber with warmth. In the heat, ivy and other crawling plants wrapped themselves about the bases of pillars and grew upward, Llewelyn’s line of sight ending as the great stone columns vanished into darkness.

She wished she could have stayed there, in that welcome warmth, and watched the sun rise from within the confines of something to majestic, but alas, the invisible leash was not done with her yet. Brow furrowing, Llewelyn huffed her dissent and followed along, hooves scuffing softly over the polished floors. Through a smaller doorway she was pulled, the coziness whipped away by a merciless and bone chilling breeze. With a gulp and a shiver, the fair youth picked her way forward through the dim passage, gilded eyes locked upon a basin glowing a sickly green.

As she approached, the mare found that the basin was smoothly wrought copper, cradling a flickering ball of flame that cast what could be called jade but.. wrong somehow. Tilting her head upon an elegant neck, the jewels that swung from twin horns tinkling, Llewelyn pursed her lips to blow out the eerie flame. Her satisfaction was stolen, however, by a rush of petrifyingly cold wind. Suddenly, she was plunged into frigid black, not even the light of the slowly breaking dawn permeating the otherworldly void.

Oh, how she did quake, then. How her very bones shook and trembled within her young skin, to bear witness to something not unlike the endlessness of the gods, but no more familiar to her than the outer reaches of the galaxy. A tiny, horrified sound escaped from the femme’s lips, fear loosening her self control and sending it skittering into long forgotten corners of her being. “Wh-“ The questions was bitten off into a shriek as that same wretched fire burst back into light, the tongues of arsenic green giving off a tepid, oily sensation that could not be excused as warmth.

At that same time, the jewels that hung so prettily from horns of alabaster began to whisper, all at once, their voices a hissing crescendo like a swarm of hungry flies. Wide eyed with panic, the maiden shook her head as if to dislodge the voices from the smattering of rubies. When that did not work, when the whispers became incessant, insistent, Llewelyn began to listen.

They told her secrets one after the other, secrets from past lives, secrets from present day, from years not yet come to pass. They were varied, each unique and personal as the day was long; a white lie here, a murder there... a plot, a betrayal, a prank, a rumor. Each of these were whispered to the girl in quick succession, sometimes layered one over the other, a chaos of information that Llewelyn had no idea what to do with. She could not hope to keep up, not with the rapid swarm that continued to build and build as the seconds passed.

At last, when she thought her skull would crack beneath the pressure and the pulse of subtleties revealed, they whispered a final secret to the youngling; their not-quite-voices hissing the words in a chilling unison saved for cultists and demons.

They told Llewelyn her own secrets; the ones that she had not yet discovered, the ones that she had already hidden away, the ones that would warp her sense of self and tarnish the reality that she had so desperately created to fit her idea of rightness.

And so she ran.

>

Oh my, took me only forever to responses. @‘Random Events’