Velkya
18-02-2006, 17:33
Castle Frionia, near Mount Grathion, 400 miles southeast of Vladistock, Velkya
Velkya is known to have some of the fiercest snowstorms in the world. 60 below temperatures are always recorded in the winter, and it is known to get much colder as Decmeber and Janauary pass by.
An icy blizzard greeted a cloaked traveler, mounted on horseback. He rode towards a large stone structure built into the side of a mountain, a relic from the days of Voinan the Conqueror (an mideval Selken warlord). He wore a large black hooded garment, which flowed down to his boots and covered his head in a dark shadow. Even though the cold could kill an exposed human in mere minutes, this man appeared completely unaffected by the weather, riding his steed (who appeared ready to freeze solid at any moment) to this ruined castle. Icicles clung to the roof as he dismounted his horse, stepping onto a decaying draw bridge.
He swore he could hear his horse collapse behind him, letting out a strained neigh, but he continued on, trying to keep his balance in the increasing gusts of wind. His eyes felt like they were turning to ice. Walking down the lonely snow-ridden path to the main gate, he looked up to the castle. A massive hole has been ripped into the walls, and some battlements were taken down completely, burned to ashes that had long since been blown away by the winds of time.
As he neared the door, he felt an intense desire to return to his horse. He looked back. He could see nothing, just the fortress in front of him, everything else a sea of white snow. The wind began to pick up. He ran, reaching the portcullis of the castle in a few seconds, which seemed to rise away from the ground and he drew closer. He hesitated. Then, seemingly not of his own free will, he pounded a large stone knocker. No answer. He tried again. This time, a soft moan reached his ears. The door opened, and he felt a presence. A raspy voice rang in his ears.
“Enter…”
The young recruit stepped in, taking off his hood. This action revealed a white-skinned head covered in black tattoos, depicting rituals and arcane insignias. Another figure stepped from the shadows created by a nearby torch. The figure was revealed to be the source of the voice, and he spoke again.
”Who sends you?”
The traveler spoke up, in a higher pitched voice.
“The Lord Priest of the Oceanic Lands, Ranium, my lord. He brings this message to you.”
The traveler handed the shadowed figure a faded parchment. He cried out in pain as the figure grasped the parchment, clawing the messenger’s hand with what appeared to be metal nails. Blood gushed out, as the first man reeled back, caressing his wound. He tripped over a notch in the ground, smacking into the filthy stone floor. The second pocketed the parchment, before stepping forth. His eyes were pierced with steel rods, and large chunks of flesh were missing from his body, which was extensively pierced and tattooed. He held a long dagger, jagged and engraved with seemingly satanic symbols and smeared with dried blood.
“You have spoken the name of our lord, unfaithful acolyte. You must be purged for your sins against the umbra malum.”
The injured messenger stumbled up as the figure approached. Struggling with the door, he pried it open, only to face the portcullis. He turned, as his future killer drew closer, brandishing his weapon.
“Please, forgive me!”
He received no reply, and from the darkness came the blade, slicing through the acolyte, making him scream in agony, impaling him with the small weapon. With inhuman strength, the attacker picked the victim up by the knife, making the acolyte howl even more, dragging him into the darkened passageways of the castle, as the doors slammed shut.
The stone halls echoed with the screams of a betrayer.
OOC: This is closed for now, until the story gets more on track.
Velkya is known to have some of the fiercest snowstorms in the world. 60 below temperatures are always recorded in the winter, and it is known to get much colder as Decmeber and Janauary pass by.
An icy blizzard greeted a cloaked traveler, mounted on horseback. He rode towards a large stone structure built into the side of a mountain, a relic from the days of Voinan the Conqueror (an mideval Selken warlord). He wore a large black hooded garment, which flowed down to his boots and covered his head in a dark shadow. Even though the cold could kill an exposed human in mere minutes, this man appeared completely unaffected by the weather, riding his steed (who appeared ready to freeze solid at any moment) to this ruined castle. Icicles clung to the roof as he dismounted his horse, stepping onto a decaying draw bridge.
He swore he could hear his horse collapse behind him, letting out a strained neigh, but he continued on, trying to keep his balance in the increasing gusts of wind. His eyes felt like they were turning to ice. Walking down the lonely snow-ridden path to the main gate, he looked up to the castle. A massive hole has been ripped into the walls, and some battlements were taken down completely, burned to ashes that had long since been blown away by the winds of time.
As he neared the door, he felt an intense desire to return to his horse. He looked back. He could see nothing, just the fortress in front of him, everything else a sea of white snow. The wind began to pick up. He ran, reaching the portcullis of the castle in a few seconds, which seemed to rise away from the ground and he drew closer. He hesitated. Then, seemingly not of his own free will, he pounded a large stone knocker. No answer. He tried again. This time, a soft moan reached his ears. The door opened, and he felt a presence. A raspy voice rang in his ears.
“Enter…”
The young recruit stepped in, taking off his hood. This action revealed a white-skinned head covered in black tattoos, depicting rituals and arcane insignias. Another figure stepped from the shadows created by a nearby torch. The figure was revealed to be the source of the voice, and he spoke again.
”Who sends you?”
The traveler spoke up, in a higher pitched voice.
“The Lord Priest of the Oceanic Lands, Ranium, my lord. He brings this message to you.”
The traveler handed the shadowed figure a faded parchment. He cried out in pain as the figure grasped the parchment, clawing the messenger’s hand with what appeared to be metal nails. Blood gushed out, as the first man reeled back, caressing his wound. He tripped over a notch in the ground, smacking into the filthy stone floor. The second pocketed the parchment, before stepping forth. His eyes were pierced with steel rods, and large chunks of flesh were missing from his body, which was extensively pierced and tattooed. He held a long dagger, jagged and engraved with seemingly satanic symbols and smeared with dried blood.
“You have spoken the name of our lord, unfaithful acolyte. You must be purged for your sins against the umbra malum.”
The injured messenger stumbled up as the figure approached. Struggling with the door, he pried it open, only to face the portcullis. He turned, as his future killer drew closer, brandishing his weapon.
“Please, forgive me!”
He received no reply, and from the darkness came the blade, slicing through the acolyte, making him scream in agony, impaling him with the small weapon. With inhuman strength, the attacker picked the victim up by the knife, making the acolyte howl even more, dragging him into the darkened passageways of the castle, as the doors slammed shut.
The stone halls echoed with the screams of a betrayer.
OOC: This is closed for now, until the story gets more on track.