The Temporal Chronicles
Every great story begins with humble origins, and this tale is no different…
Two hundred years. Two hundred years of peace, prosperity, and safety for those that call the Kingdom of Reiklorn their home. Two hundred years of the forces of the void held at bay by the grace and power of the Royal Line. Two hundred years since Gabrien the Grey gathered his trifling army and rode against the unending hordes, succeeding in the impossible and bringing the great demon prince Azrukule low by his own hand. It was Gabrien himself that called out to the heavens and pleaded with the goddess of the dawn, Milaya, to aid in freeing the lands from Azrukule’s corruption. It was Gabrien, who’s valiant heart and pleading words convinced the goddess to sacrifice her immortality in aid of Gabien’s people. Milaya gave unto Gabrien her physical form so that he may craft a runic prison with it to bind Azrukule for eternity. It was with her dying breath that she solidified her spirit into the great Aurora Lapis that hangs over the city of Landrik to this day, its pale light protecting the world from those that would seek to invade it. Gabrien Demon-slayer. Gabrien God-Bender. Gabrien Gate-Binder. Gabrien, the King of Reiklorn.
So, it has been for nearly ten generations that the Celebration of Radiance is held once every twelve years on the winter solstice in commemoration of these deeds. When the seal is consecrated again with the blood of the royal line to keep the world at peace. Many find themselves in the crowded festival streets of the capital, enjoying the festivities and awaiting the time in which the Dawning Ritual will begin. It falls upon the new King Kardon, the last heir to Gabien’s noble line, to offer a fraction of his blood to sate the powers of the prison and uphold the oath of his house.
It is at this very festival that we find our unlikely heroes, each there for their own reasons but inexorably intertwined by fate. Venn the Elven rogue, whose tongue and personality are nearly as sharp as her blades, Jamistis Pletho, a down on his luck Gnomish-wizard and alchemist peddling his wears alongside his pigeon familiar, and Sleekiness of the Mist Shrouded Bastion, the friendly, if not pragmatic, Tabaxi monk. Was it fate that brought these three together at a simple vendor’s cart of trinkets and baubles? Some may say it was luck, but whether it was good luck or bad luck is still to be seen.
As a sudden attack by a great draconic beast broke the exciting air of the celebrations, it was not the revelers below that seemed to be its target, but instead, the Aurora Lapis that hung over the capital. With gouts of black flame, the crystal cracked and shattered, sending shards of gemstone and fire upon the city below. As if serving as the signal for forces beyond this world, nightmarish creatures begun to pour forth from rips and tears in reality. It was with the arrival of a great abyssal horror that these wayward adventurers elected to flee as opposed to fighting. A choice that quickly led to Jamistis being used as a projectile and Venn becoming a snack. It was only Sleekiness that managed to flee from the square and vanish amongst the maze of streets and alleys. Avoiding unimaginable horrors and dangers around every turn he made a break for the city walls, and to the dream of safety beyond. It was not until he climbed the high ramparts and looked across the burning city that he saw that there was no escape. The seal seemed to shatter, and the wave of destructive energy turned all it touched to ash. With his last breath, Sleekiness saw the end times arrive.
This would be the end of the story… if this were a normal story. Pulled forth from the streams of time itself, and deposited within a now empty bubble of static space and time in the very square they first met, they met the only other soul there; an acolyte of the Time Father Gent. A simple man by the name of Paleous, he informed these poor souls that they had been caught in a time loop he had created in an attempt to save the city. They now will live the same last hour of the destruction of the city again and again until this wrong can be righted. Realizing that they had no choice as they processed this information and prepared to reluctantly step from the Temporal Sanctuary into the horror-filled streets, they contemplated their next move…
Until next time, my friends, may your rolls be high and your loot epic.
~Sir Impius Lucifius Cornelius Nox
~Sir Impius Lucifius Cornelius Nox
