Aeoryi

Tales of the King's Folly: Chapter 10

The city of Northernmast, the polar outpost of the Western empire, is surprisingly dirty. 

Even the high imperial parts of the city where the rich prove their wealth are disgusting. It did no solace to the show of money to own a trashed street. A well-made street made no difference if it was poorly maintained. 

The design choices are strange. The roads are made of interlocking bricks, with a massive silver line running in the center of the road, accented with cryptic purple glyphs. That must be the improvements the Western Emperor made when he last visited Northernmast. I already know where to go. I have been here before, and most of the sights are not new to my eye. I make my way down to an information center, owned by the city council.

The city council did do good things for the city, but it was all just to make the people happy. For every good thing the city council did there was 5 bad things as well. But they had met the Emperor's whims, and had kept their place because of it. The central kingdom never had these problems. It was not a very large rule, and was not ruled with an iron fist like the Western Empire. If the Western Emperor was to be described as ruling with an iron fist then the King ruled with a weak, scrwny grasp. The King barely held onto his title through his endless propaganda and falsified claims.

I finally end up at the information center. I have a brief discussion with the people there, and then I am told to follow the powerlines. The powerlines lead to through the rural district, so I am forced to walk by hungry beggars and boney citizens who have done nothing to deserve their situation but yet have no hope of a future outside of Northernmast.

Where the imperial district was sharp and shiny, the rural district seems dusty and unfinished. All the colors are muted and dull, and the roads are hardly marked. The tents are packed closely together, as a sign of mercy from the imperial district. The rural were allowed to live - under the imperials' terms. People scattered about, and communal fires and unsucessful businesses dot the streets.

The powerline is unhindered through the damped spirits of the rural area. It is silvery with the strange glyphs etched in purple, and has a good clear area. The people here must have respected the emperor's gift; it was applied to both the rich for their power and the poor for a central point, a unity.

I pick up some food and a bag and start heading south, following the powerline. It takes days to reach the next civilation, even with the small towns dotted within the western empire. I reach the sight of something breaking the horizon, and as I grow closer I can see that it is a small town. Even closer, and I can see the state of ruin that it is in.

All the signs point to Whismald desecrating this once-peaceful rest stop. The powerful ice demon would've found it amusing to wipe out the town.

The town is only partially ruined. The houses are half destroyed. The broken glass on the ground pairs perfectly with the crumbled brick settlements, and a few piles of ashes lie on the ground. The worst thing to see is what happened to the powerline.

It has erupted in some places, leaving strange purple liquid fire that was inky as darkness, yet outlined in this neon pink. It drains the will to go on just seeing this monsterous creation. The powerline is still intact on some paths, however on most it is crushed. The silver coating of the pipe to the north has been broken in some places, and a liquid that is completely different than the purple shadowflame is visable.

The liquid inside the powerline is pinkish-white, with magenta outlines like the shadowflame that lies around here as a result of the Ice Melter. The liquid appears volitile, almost as bright as the strange blackflame and yet is always thrashing as if containing a sort of beast. The power is in liquid form, and leaves pockets of corroded stone where it spills from the main line. What a strange thing to have inside a pipe.

I walk through the ruins of the town that once stood here, now replaced by violent liquid and mysterious shadowflame as a result of Whismald's passage here in his fit of rage. I wonder if this is a result of my actions. Have I really unleashed a demon onto this world?

 My thoughts are interupted when a living terror crawls out from the corrosive pink-white fluid.

Tales of the King's Folly: Chapter 9

The journey west is very bland. I wouldn't want to talk about it, but there are some intresting moments.  I decided to incorperates some I-outline elements, before we reach chapter 10, which will probably have some demonic stuff going on.

Anyways this is a double chapter for today so feel lucky.

.-.----...-,-.,,

I walk for ages. I walk through day and night through the frozen wasteland. It is unforgiving and unfriendly to my journey.

I cannot remember how many days it was before something broke the landscape.

It was ruined walls of stone. It was assembed in squares, almost like an outline of a fortification. Why the west needed one so far north was a great question. It had clearly been abandoned to the massive sheets of snow, and hadn't been visited in a long time. Ice coated the floors of this stone brick outline of the castle. Discarded lanterns lay unused on the ground. I walk through this desolate foundation and find a well preserved item among the ancient ruins. It is a ceremonial plate of some sort, embedded into the ground. It is a iridescent silver, gleaming in the sunlight and shimmering as I walk by. The plate is square, and about 2 feet wide and long. It has an indented pattern on the side resembling diagonal markers. It stands out in the snow, the plate's shiney surface is a sign of some sort of civilization here. Whether they were connected to the west was a question only those in the west could answer.

The foundation's outer layer all connects up to what looks like part of a tower, with oddly colored rocks layered upon itself. There is a few drawers, that were already looted by ambitious thieves who preyed on the few who lived in the north. There is a bookshelf with books that have yellowed pages, I open one and find that it is written in a glyphic language, which has a few characters repeating but does not look like a western or central dialect of glyphs. How strange.

Either way, I leave the terminated castle alone as I start to head southwest. The ruins were not unsettling, they were just curious. Many strange groups had tried to colonize the north, and most were largely unsuccessful. Northernmast was the major city the farthest north. It provided some unique exports, and joined the Western empire almost two hundred years ago, even if it maintained its strange culture and people.

I start to head through a narrow canyon that I know leads to Northernmast. Northernmast would be a good place to stop at, even if the people were being weird. I had only been there once, and only visited the rural areas of it. They had some nice folk, but the city council - the people behind all the desicions of Northernmast - were not. Hopefully they would have changed by the time I arrive there. The west had been apparently putting more resources into upgrading the Northernmast's technology, and their leaders would probably also have to change. But either way the city council held no military power and wouldn't really be a problem for the most part. They probably wouldn't even know the world was flooded yet.

As I make my way to Northernmast I can see the people. The people would have to hunt and gather far from the city, and would likely be looking for food. Animals were scarce around these parts for that reason. They had tracked and killed all their prey. 

I can soon make out the jagged skyscrappers of the Northernmast's imperial district. It was very much a westerner thing to build massive towers out of metal for no reason other than to prove wealth. It was quite strange to see such collosal towers puncture the skyline. I always think that the high imperials that make up Northernmast's elite had too much time and money on their hands.

I could see the rural district of the Northernmast. It was... pathetic and underwhelming. It didn't show the same wealth and effort as the high imperial district. It looked like a bunch of hide barely scraped together to make shelter. It swarmed with people who walked on the dirt paths that made up the city. Some of the major roads were paved with aphsalt, but that was mainly a thing of the imperials. The city was said to be built the shell of a massive metal dragon, which was hard not to dismiss of as a myth after seeing a literal dragon blow up a few days before.

So their entire city was built on lies. The city council had probably created those myths - they liked control and were quite power-hungry when it came to money.

Their entire city was made on lies, and functioned off of corruption and I was going to visit it.

I couldn't wait to see this rotten trade outpost of the north.

Tales of the King's Folly: Chapter 8

I, for the second time this day, am being stared at by a sea of eyes. It is a while before something moves. Whismald, The Ice-melter, finally declares an attack on me.

Instantly, bolts of ice and crystals fly at me. I duck, hiding behind a piece of debris.

I can hear Whismald's pale voice. He booms, "Find me the mortal! We shall deliver his head to the Efridit of the east, the Waterdrowned!"

I quickly run among the ruins. That proved to be a good choice, as a conducted barrage of frosted fury strikes true there, breaking the ice in a pink flash. 

As I stand knee-deep in the crystaline dust, I can feel another storm of icicles fly by, much closer to my actual location this time. 

I then have a great idea. I shout for my dragon. He isn't actually mine, he just obeys my commands as part of the deal. The dragon comes to me, trampling a few ice demons and shattering some of them. His natural defenses protect against the ice demons' wrath, and he easily towers over the ice demons. Whismald, surprisingly, grows to the size of a dragon and roars with a harrowing screech. 

I can clearly see the battlefield now. It is littered with some dark purples flames, most likely from the dragon's breath, that linger in the massive dunes of the former palace's dust. The purple doesn't seem to extinguish, which is quite unique for a flame. Quite powerful for a dragon of this size. 

The dragon that I used to get here roars. It then charges at Whismald, and attempts to shatter the icy foe with it's horns. The powerful frosty horror does a motion with his wrist, and then freezes the dragon. With another motion, he shatters the dragon, killing the beast. 

The dragon just exploded into small shards. the orange of the eldritch magic illuminates the inside of the explosion. Some strange glyphs break and the dragon explodes again in a burst of purple and teal, sending streaks of color down onto the crystaline surface. More of this black shadow-fire forms where the streaks of inky purple land, and the green streaks seem to be absorbed into the ground. What a strange blood to have inside of a dragon. 

The pieces of shell are scattered in the sand. I look up at the ice demon, and am surprised at what I see. 

There is a shadow of grevience in his eyes. Just a small reflection of pity. 

The ice demon conjours wings and flies north. 

I start processing this entire encounter. It seemed so strange.

the first thing I recall is the comment about the west and their mining islands. Why would the demon be so concerned about those? I then recall what made him so angry. He couldn't control Efridit's water. He had suggested to use a gathering place, to make him require more focus and make him struggle. I should start heading south.

The dragon shadow-flame sits on top of the crystal shards. I realize, when I pass them, that they aren't actually on top of the sand. They float, like an airborne flame, and seem strange and otherworldly. They suck at my soul, sapping my energy. They are pink around the everchanging edges, which move like liquid fire. It seems off, but it is the corpse of a mythical beast, so it would obviously be magical. I pass these bizare graves as I journey to the west.

It was the obvious choice to head west. The weather is kind enough to provide sun, taking pity on my situation. I start the slow but necessary trek to the west.

the west is filled with strange contraptions. Heretics to the king and minglers of politics make up the people of the west, and their strange materials make the place almost like another world. Legends have been told about them having light with no fire, and the ability to warp anywhere. They are lunatics.

The westeners are the only ones that can save me now.