Unti Family/Nerta/A2S1
| Orders from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy | |
| The expansive Agyrian Academy stretched out before them was almost impossible to comprehend. The sprawling complex of grand buildings dwarfed many of the larger hamlets the troupe had visited and a small army of scribes and scholars drifted between each. One could study anything here, each building dedicated to the study of some art or philosophy and then there was the library. No where else was there such a collection of lore: uncountable shelves of books and scrolls, mountains of stone tablets, painted hide sheets and faded parchment. One could spend days just walking about, and no doubt years uncovering the unknown but the unseen guide tugged Nerta and her company toward obscured passages and down twisting halls.
As the party entered a reliquary deep within the complex an old librarian halted them with questions, whose answers he was ill prepared to receive. A short exchange later the man scampers off, leaving the group to move deeper past relics of bygone ages. Soon they stood before a massive stone table littered with the discarded books and pages of chaotic research. The scene was lit with braziers of violet flame that flickered and cast deep shadows along with their pale light. The silence was heavy in the soft darkness, leaving them to wait until the nervous librarian came with a mirror to once again reveal the scholar-king of old. He stood there before the strange stone table, his expression wistful as the ethereal hand passed through the pages scattered atop. Realizing he was visible once more at the librarian’s gasp, Aldo straightens and offers a wane smile. “These halls are more familiar to me than the back of my own hand…” For a fleeting instant the old specter seems to feel his age, his corpus growing faint, features blurring but he sharpens once more and pressed on, “For you all to understand what must be done you need a bit of context.” | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
| Orders from Nerta the Weaver | |
| Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy | |
| “Long ago the Gods fought with Dragons for control of the world. The Gods won, but at a terrible cost. The Gods quickly learned that Dragons could not be destroyed for they are,” he paused as though searching for words, “necessary. Necessary but problematic, and so they were cast into the void and contained in part with their own power.”
Drifting around the table the ghost sighs, “It was a foolish plan to be sure, but the Gods were young and certain of their strength. By the time they realized there were cracks in the prison it was too late, some of the lesser Dragons had slipped free and found hosts to manifest: We have known them as Daimons, but they are dragon-kin.” “Many of the Daimons have been shall we say; distracted by their return to the world. Others have been thwarted by the Children of the Gods or even occasionally by humanity,” the rueful tone passes as quickly as it came, “But some of the dragon-kin have been working hard to free their brothers and sisters from the prison and they have nearly succeeded.” A glance to the lingering Nerta had the specter’s voice grave, “Do you remember when we first saw the Eternal Flame? How small it seemed? That flame does many things but among them is to burn off excess power from the Dragon’s prison. That the flame gutters and fades says there is little to spare. All because of the Blight.” “The prison is powered by ley lines, veins of energy that flow through the earth. Dragon Blood, as they are called in the texts. But the Blight swallowed many of the loci, the junctions in that web, sending them to the other world and weakening the network of power.” Raising a hand to forestall questions a bit longer Aldo presses on, “I know all this for the same reason I am here: back when I was alive I stole the knowledge from the Gods. The Third Invasion brought the Daimons to Beluaterra and the agents of the Gods tried everything to stop them. They were dark times with humanity divided, those who wished to stop the Daimons and those who wished to help them. Or at least save their own skin.” His hands clenched even as he glanced down at the table, “I had been given a scroll, a map, by an agent of the Gods but I could not read it despite knowing a multitude of tongues. And so I risked it all to find this table which can translate anything into the tongue of beasts and once it was done…” he runs a hand through his hair, “Once it was done I left the Republic on pilgrimage. I followed the map to the home of the Dark Mistress and stole her books.” “I gained much knowledge that day: Knowledge of what the Gods had done; knowledge of what might come to pass, and now that it has; knowledge of how to fix it.” “We must collect the Dragon Tears, the portal stones; follow the maps contained in the books I stole to uncover the remaining loci; and then restore the network through arcane rituals that we must yet devise.” Smiling faintly the apparition spreads his hands, “Or you know, do nothing and let humanity fade as the world is taken from us.” | |
| Nerta the Weaver (Foederati) | |
