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A Prison of Time
Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2023 12:24 am
by Masagh
3rd Day of Frost, 123th Year of the Age of Steel
In the depths of the lair of Lithicus
Drip.
A dark drop fell onto the stone beneath his feet. As it had so many times. He had no idea how long he had been here. Stuck in the confines of a powerful runic circle. The faint ether glow of the power had been dimming the entire time, but the room had no light source besides what he himself could produce so there was no way to tell how much time had passed. He was worried though, because Masagh had begun to feel the hunger growing rapidly within him. Did the spell speed along time within the circle perhaps? Or else age the victim?
Drip.
The lich had been clever, curling the runes of the trap around the seven pillars to make sure the victim could not read everything. It was needless in Masagh’s case. He could not read the runes anyway. He gnashed his teeth as he tried once again to push the long blade of his weapon through the force that contained him to mar one of the runes. It had been the cleverest of his many useless ideas. If he could change the rune perhaps he could alter the conditions of the trap.
Drip Drip.
Ever since he had noticed the power of the trap was waning he had weakened his attempts. The frustration battled with the exhaustion and the hunger for control of his mind. He did not know how long the trap could hold or how long it had already contained him. He could neither shift into an animal and escape or open a portal to do so. How long had he been inside the circle? A day? A week? A month? He knew that soon Emerande and Sabrione would become worried and search. They would not know to look here though. He had been diligent with his lies.
Drip Drip.
They would have questions when he escaped. Questions hard to answer without drawing attention. He stared down at the runes as they dimmed. Such a fool he had been to think he could waltz in here unmolested. Perhaps another, a redvein, might have died from this imprisonment. He had to abandon the attempt with his sword in that moment because the ache in his stomach curled him inward over the pain. Perhaps he would also die of hunger?
Drip drip drip.
With his desiccated face contorted in pain he almost missed the faint shadow of movement beyond the rune light. A woman. He was sure of it. Some pale and beautiful figure moved amongst the shadows of the chamber beyond the trap. Pushing himself up off the ground and grasping the hilt of his sword he peered out. She did not reappear though. It had happened occasionally since his ill-fated arrival. A whip of hair or a glimpse of ivory skin. Every instance though, she disappeared the moment his eyes searched for her.
Drip drip drip.
The hunger grew. His mind fled from it. Where was he? What possible reason could he have for walking into this situation, again? It was all too much. He could feel the ichor in his veins inching along. The rigid ache in his leathery muscles slowed his movements. His teeth gnashed together and his fingers curled around d the grip of his blade. But he still was himself, Masagh Creth of the Ancient and Undying House of Creth. He would not die on his knees. The ghoul found himself standing improbably once again. As he did so, as if in response, the runes flickered out.
A steady pour of water into the circle from above.
Masagh lunged forward and gasped as he stumbled down of the dais where he had been trapped. He fell with a crash of fresh, glorious pain, and a cacophony of sound. The ache of his side and elbow against the hard stone was a welcome change to the familiar ache in his gut. He had won out against the madness of the circle. He had escaped, or rather, endured.
Re: A Prison of Time
Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2023 12:25 am
by Masagh
Pushing himself up off the ground, dusty and ravenous, Masagh’s vision drifted around the chamber. His vision did not pierce every shadow, but he could see a long tunnel flanked by many alcoves. There was nothing so confusing as a branching of directions yet, and his hunger drove him on. He needed to consume, to replenish. How long had he been in that circle?
He tore off down the wide, smooth stone tunnel with speed. Though he was careful to ensure the ground was free of more runic traps. The movement seemed to spur on his hunt drive and he scrambled. There in the dark and dusty caverns that had not seen life in hundreds of years he was no longer Masagh Creth, of the Ancient and Undying House of Creth. He was no longer a proud knight who would not die on his knees. He was no longer a Highborn Graveborn with an ancient legacy to uphold.
He was a hungry undead thing. A vile, unnatural urge drove him. And it was all he could do to grip the reins of his sanity as his gut pulled him along. No longer could he feel his lips touch, or his eyelids close. His hands were skeletal and his bones clattered when he moved. His starved state made him a true horror to behold, though thankfully only the dead and never dying walked these halls.
The fiend did all but sprint on all fours down the tunnel. When the space opened into a wide, circular room with many chambers shooting off from it. The place was illuminated with a dark blue hue emanating from many clusters of bioluminescence blue flowers. Many of the rooms seemed to hold desiccated furniture or more hallways. Masagh knew he was here to find answers, but his hunger is what drove him now.
A flittering across his periphery. A pale shape. The woman?
He bounded after it. Down a winding passage out of the room with the flowers and into a much narrower hall. The stones were lit with some sort of ever-burning runeforged sconces bolted to the walls every six feet or so. He growled with hunger as he clattered along in his nearly skeletal state.
The space opened into another grey stone room, but this one was filled with cabinets and bookshelves, tables and old vats that once housed ichor. A laboratory. And there, like a boon sent from some vile deity, stood the girl. She was as beautiful as she was pale. Perfectly tidy and clean in this place of decay and dust. Her dark eyes and the deep shadows around them still conveyed the fear at the sight of him there in this her last refuge.
“Flesh.” Masagh managed to groan out. He began to sprint at her. He had never killed an innocent for a meal before, had never killed an unarmed redvein even. But he had never gone this deep into the hunger. Whatever magic had enhanced the time within the circle had brought him on the brink of madness and the morality of the kill did not even occur to him.
“Need flesh…” He growled again as he charged her. She did not move, simply staring in horror at him.
Then he crashed into her.
Or rather through her. The woman dispersed into smoke and Masagh’s lunging claws slid right through the space. He crashed with force into the old chained and locked cabinet behind her. With a crash and splintering of wood the ghoul collapsed onto the ground. An illusion?
No, he thought as she reformed beside him. A ghost. A haunt of the old lair. She stared down at him still, her eyes bright glints within the dark recesses. Tendrils of inky black shifted across the skin of her cheeks. Her expression was one of a morbid grimness, though her features were beautiful. She was made somehow inhuman by the deep sadness he saw in her, even in his manic state. It was perhaps this that made him hesitate and gasp out.
“Please, need flesh.”
“There has been no flesh in the halls of Lithiricus in many years, monster.” It was a light and ethereal note. “You survived the trap and if that were ever to happen I am to be the last line of defense. I’ll admit I don’t know what kind of thing could have survived a year without any nourishment, but I’m sure I could cut you to ribbons-”
“Wait!” Masagh pleaded, thinking quickly. “I- I can help you. Do you really want…” He groaned and hunched over his stomach. “Want to stay here forever, wasting away? I know what you are and I can help you escape.”
“You are tricking me, liar!” She yelled, but it wasn’t anger in that voice, but fear. “I am dead now and there is nothing for me but these shadows, these halls, and these flowers.” And she was sobbing in her words, if not in her manner. “Even he was slain, leaving me here alone to watch his things rot.”
Re: A Prison of Time
Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2023 12:27 am
by Masagh
“No, no.” Masagh rasped, not bothering to try to stand up. “Why do his bidding, come with me. I can give you… more.”
She stared down at him, her hand newly clawed and sharp lowering a fraction. “I can’t believe you, you are like him. A dead thing.” She accused with fear and revolt thick in her tone.
“I am no lich, I am a ghoul.” Masagh pleaded. “I was born to this. No choice. Please, I need flesh to talk more… Please!”
“There is no flesh in these halls, as I said.” The ghost replied tersely. “But the chest over there does have vials of preserved human blood.” She admitted somewhat uneasily.
Masagh stumbled over and when he found a padlock on the clasp impatience won out. He brought Ghoulblade’s edge down on the think and sent it rocketing across the tiled floor. Then he pried the lid open and found that the scrivening runes that had kept the chests contents preserved were still intact along the inner edge of the rim. Good, the blood would just be blood, no alchemical preservatives. Though maybe not fresh, it could stave off his hunger for a while.
Masagh grabbed the nearest two, letting his sword fall to the ground, and flicked the corks off them. Then he upended them into the rictus maw of his mouth greedily. He felt the somewhat stale tang of iron and his entire being rejoiced in it. He downed four more before thinking to turn back to the ghost.
“I’m Masagh Creth, and I was born like this, not made.” He rambled a bit, trying to further convince her they weren’t enemies. “You have been imprisoned down here, ghost. But I can at least bring you up to the world above, give you a place with others of our kind.”
“Our kind? I am not like you.” She spat tersely. Her eyes drifting down to the red teeth in his mouth. “I am a victim of that evil mage. I don’t eat people!”
“I don’t eat…living people. I am a ghoul, and I live amongst the undead, the Graveborn we call ourselves. You, as a ghost, would fall under our protection and be welcomed. Look I didn’t come here to hurt you or anyone else.” Masagh tried to pour as much truth into the words as he could. He had been long silent and his throat still felt like chalk however.
She looked down at him, then her eyes drifted to the long blade of Ghoulblade. “Why did you come here, if not for evil purposes? This is the home of a lich, an evil man. And a home that has been all but empty for… well for a long time.”
Finally, they were talking calmly. Masagh counted that a success, and he pulled another swig from the vials of blood. The chest was nearly empty now though. He could feel his insides thawing from the dusty decay. He sighed and relaxed before formulating an answer.
“I wish to build a sanctuary for my people, a place where all the Graveborn, the undead, may live in peace and safety.” He began. “I think that perhaps the secrets of the lich could be the best wa to give me the strength to do that. So I came here to find answers.”
“So you wish to become evil then?” She asked, taking a step back. “To torture and maim and kill. Lithicus was a monster and though I am trapped here in his home, I am glad he is dead!”
“I wish only to give the children of my house a life without fear.” Masagh said tiredly, gripping his sword and slowly standing. “Yes, we have children. They are just as innocent as any other. Do you think them evil because they are undead? Are you evil because you are?” The hunger was back in familiar aching territory.
“No I have never-” She stopped suddenly. “I see your point, but you did attempt to eat me.”
“I apologize, I was mad with hunger. That trap…” Masagh trailed off. “I will need a proper meal soon though, of the dead! No killing of living. But before then, how are you still here and not gone on.”
She brushed a hand returned to the normal thin fingered state through her flowing hair. “I was charged with protecting a garment, and have been doing that for however long since Lithiricus’s death. That and I tend the flowers.” She said, and he saw in her eyes a flash of warmth. A moment of what may have been happiness.
“You haunt a piece of clothing?” Masagh muttered.
Re: A Prison of Time
Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2023 12:27 am
by Masagh
“Protect!”
He raised a hand and looked around. “Must be important if he left a ghost to protect it. Where is it?”
She frowned at him. “I’m not telling you that.” She drifted up into the air slightly to look down her nose at him. Masagh smirked as best he could in his half skeletal face.
“You still doing his bidding then? Even though he was evil and all that?” He clacked his teeth together and stepped around her, once more with ease in his movements. The room housed many bookcases that were now just shelves of bits of leather and dust. Chests had deteriorated, leaving their contents to rot and wither as well. The chest he had broken into had been one of the only ones to survive this long. The cabinet also was newly battered.
“No. I am still bound to the cloak though.” She said hesitantly. “How do I know I can trust you?”
He looked back at her. Her eyes still held the fear that had been there. But now he saw something else there. A glint of hope perhaps? Things could change now that this new, grisly person had come into her forever tomb. He walked up to her slowly and then half out his hand.
“I seek to build, not destroy. What I build is a place where we can be good and be safe. You are welcome there, but I have to build it first and it will take time. Time and power.” He paused a moment, looking down into the woman’s eyes. She was brave, but she was utterly alone. Lithiricus had chosen the undead road to power, he had his family. She had been stolen and broken. Then placed here in the dark forever. A tool in the belt, discarded.
“Haunt- Eh, protect me instead of this garment. Ghosts can posses that which they haunt. Come with me and help me build my dream and I will make sure there is a place for you there also. Away from this deep tomb. And if at any point you think me too evil for you, posses me and kill me. Release us both.” He said it all quickly and flatly, without much thought.
He didn’t want to have to leave her behind in here to fade away alone. They may not have built their dream yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t bring it to life at least a little.
“You? Where will we go?” She asked hesitantly, her eyes shifting to the ceiling as though she could see the world above.
“Gel’Grandal, first. That is where my family home is.” He said gently.
“That little village is still there?” She asked incredulously.
“Yes, grown to a city now. A big one.” Masagh said, and watched her eyes go wide.
She bent over and cried dry tears, which seemed a tragedy to him. “I was only a bookbinder, you know. I didn’t know anything about undead or magic or anything. He took me and now my life is only a distant memory.” She choked out through the sobs she was trying to fight back.
“It doesn’t have to be over, your existence. You don’t have to be anyone’s victim anymore.” Masagh said. He had been born to undeath. The cold embrace of the night was home to him, a comfort and the only reality. “I’m Masagh, what’s your name?” He realized he hadn’t asked yet.
She looked at him and his outstretched hand. “Indira.” She took it, her own manifesting to corporeal as she did so. “I’m Indira.” She let his hand go and stared down at her own. Perhaps even undead flesh felt some comfort after ages of solitude. “The Fademantle is in there.” She pointed to the cabinet he had run into.
“Fademantle?” Masagh asked.
“Lithiricus called is the Fademantle of Apocrypha. It collects souls.” She said simply. “I can tell you more if you promise to free me from it so I can… protect you instead.” She bargained quickly, glancing between the cabinet and him.
“I will free you no matter. Then we can discuss this cloak. Is it safe to touch at least?” He asked, stepping over to the now broken cabinet.
“Yes.”
He reached and pried the doors open. A slight breeze of cold air escaped. Within the cabinet there was only one garment hanging. An inky black cloak that clinked dully with chains from within the depths of its cloth. It shifted slightly as if some current of air moved it. Apocrypha, the realm from which Quetharax brought all his secrets.
Re: A Prison of Time
Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2023 12:28 am
by Masagh
Masagh could not help but attach some significance to this. He reached up and unclasped his own mundane cloak. He let it fall from his shoulders to the ground, forgotten. Behind him, Indira watched mutely. “How do I-” He muttered, but stopped when his fingers brushed the cloth. It slid forward minutely, as if to hold him. He pulled it out and draped it over himself as if it was meant to be there. And when it clasped itself around his shoulders, so it was.
He felt the souls collected within. He could almost hear them, as if each hummed in a slightly different frequency. None could he feel like the warmth and life of Indira though. They were trapped within the chains, she was tied to the cloak now. Ever present and ever vigilant. And as he had become master of the cloak, so to was he master of her.
She watched him now, the hope fading from her gaze as he stared back. It broke him a little to see how quickly she lost faith in his promise. He tried to smile at her. “Indira, I release you from this thing. Come and join me.” He croaked quickly as the Fademantle settled about his shoulders.
Her form shivered around the edges and then she swooped forward. Her hand touched his chest and he felt all the cold in him seep away for a moment. Her soul warming him with its presence deep in his chest. “Indira, what-” He gasped at the sensation. It was like a still writhing meal of living flesh.
She pulled away and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. The warmth simmered down and left him with only the imprint of her presence with him. “It’s done. I’m free of it!” She couldn’t hold in a laugh. It was a peel of pure joy, and seemed to brighten the entire place. And when it ended they seemed to no longer belong down here.
“Yes, and now you get to start anew.” Masagh said, smiling also. “We can talk about the cloak later. Is there anything down here that pertains to Lithicus’s process for becoming a lich? Did he have any spellbooks or any tools he coveted in that way?” Masagh asked her.
The ghost woman was now much more visibly comfortable. She could wrench from him control of his own body if need be, and such a measure seemed to settle her nerves somewhat. Her hair seemed to tie itself up in a messy sort of bun. Her back was straighter, and her hands tucked under her armpits. She already seemed to be returning to herself.
“Well, he kept is most coveted spell book and a special amulet over here…” She led him through the compound. Masagh followed patiently. As they passed the room full of flowers Indira spent the effort to materialize her fingers enough to brush against them gently.
Indira lead him through another tunnel and into a chamber that had once been audaciously decorated as a throne room. Masagh though, a bit ruefully, that it reminded him of the Creth Great Hall a bit. She walked purposefully across it and stepped onto the dais where the throne sat. It was a rigid and spiky thing, uncomfortable to a fault. Masagh could not think of a purpose for such a room except to bask in ones own self-importance. The perfect place for a prized treasure.
Re: A Prison of Time
Posted: Wed Dec 06, 2023 12:32 am
by Masagh
“Here. The spell book seems to have aged to nothing.” Indira pointed to a raised display that housed what could have once been the leather binding of a book. Next to it sat the shattered remains of an amulet or wrought iron and crystal.
Could this be another ingredient in the recipe for lichdom? Or else some other relic more prized than the Fademantle. Masagh reached up and brushed a fingertip against the cloak as he thought of it. “What happened to the amulet? That doesn’t look like age’s touch.”
Indira turned and indicated a circle in front of the dais. “Lithicus used to summon all sorts of things to bargain with them. He had them bring him people, kill people, find things. Sometimes they fought it.” She sighed. “One of them was too strong for him. It broke his bindings and came straight over here and smashed it with a claw. I was watching.”
Indira did not seem disturbed by the memory. “That was the one that killed him.” She stepped away, towards the throne. Looking down, her face remained passive as she continued. “He withered away, and I cleaned up the ashes.”
“Not a very auspicious end, was it?” Masagh muttered, gingerly pulling the leather apart to see if he could salvage any parchment within. Just dust and ashes.
“He did go to a place called Ecith. I heard him send some of the summoned things there to find a necromancer, and a dragon one time. Maybe that’s where you can find your answers?”
“A dragon, eh?”
She shrugged. “He spoke as though he had been there. But I don’t know more.”
She and the cloak would be all he found here. All else was ash and dust. “Come on, you ready to leave?”
Indira looked around again, apprehension crossing her features. “I don’t know what is out there anymore. It has been so long.” She walked over to stand next to him. “But I do know what is down here, and I don’t want anymore of it. Let’s go… Masagh.”
She only hesitated as they entered the flower room before the trap. Masagh caught her eyes drifting sadly to the flowerbeds, but her mouth tightened into a line and she said nothing. He glanced around, then approached one of the clusters of blue flowers. He bent and looked at it. The flower had veins of light blue bioluminescence that gave off the glow, but the seeds were a pale white at the center of the flower. “Could have alchemical uses.” Masagh said before reaching to pull a few free carefully.
“They don’t, Lithicus checked.” She told him.
Masagh turned and tucked a small cluster of the flowers safely away within his leather cuirass. “You said you don’t know anything about magic, Indira.” He patted his chest. “So I think I’ll have to plant a few in the family compound and then when they grow we can have someone with the proper knowledge check.”
She glanced from his chest to his eyes and her gaze softened a bit, but she didn’t smile. He turned and lead the way back to the entrance under the cove.
“So is this trap dead, or still active?” He asked, changing the subject and preparing to take them up and out of the ruin.
“It was a one time protection.” She said. “The undead beast above, the trap, and me. His fool proof plan of safety.”
“Seems a bit flimsy, no offense to your capabilities.” Masagh said. “I don’t know how he made it feel like such a long time though…”
“No” She asked. “No, he made it feel like a short.”
Masagh turned to her, questioning.
“For whoever was in the circle, so you.” Indira said, tilting her head at him.
“So, so I was in there and it felt like a few days or maybe weeks, but it was…?” Masagh confirmed.
“A full year.” Indira said matter of factly.
In this story Masagh gains both The Fademantle of Apocrypha and his CNPC Indira
Re: A Prison of Time
Posted: Thu Feb 08, 2024 5:13 am
by Zora
Review
XP: 8
Magical XP: N/A
Loot: The cloak and CNPC
Injuries/Ailments: hungry!
Comments: You perfectly captured what it would be like to be a "hungry undead thing" 
It's nice to see his efforts to escape paid off with a pretty sweet cloak!
Unlimited Power
