ClocktowerEchos — Roleplayer Guild

Myrstrost, the Forgotten Kingdom
Unknown Number of Years Ago

The Hallow stood at the water's edge of the Csarik Strait, more commonly known as the "Strait of Monsters". And for good reason as just beneath the water, they could see darkened shape darting and cutting through the icy waters. Some would simply believe their eyes played tricks on them and would attempt to brave the Strait, only to find that the frozen waters saps them of their strength before they are devoured by the monsters the lurk deep below the depths.

Every so often a tentacle or a glistening body would come close to the surface as a reminder of how the Csarik Strait got its infamous name and reputation, guarding the lost kingdom of Myrstrost, already shrouded in an eternal fog. In the faint distance, one could make out something breeching the water, as if gasping for life like a drowning man before zipping their beastly appendages back into the water.

The Hallow however, paid this no mind, not even as the tide unveiled a line of skulls and mismatched bones, no doubt scraps from those foolish enough to tempt the Strait of Monsters. But the Hallow was no fool, he was called here unlike the poor souls whose attempts of penetrating the fog were dealt with... harshly.

A bell could be heard from beyond the fog, a green light that sat within a high tower was the only thing one's vision from the beach could make out from the all-cloaking fog. Like so many before them, the Hallow was drawn here by both the bell and the light as they could hear the bell since they woke up from death and see the light deep in his mind. Magic worked strange like that, able to call upon those who've become cursed with immortality to venture forth unto the Pandora's Veil for reasons unknown.

The tolling of the bell grew ever fainter as the light dimmed bit by bit until all that was left was the endless wall of fog and the beating of the waves upon the gravel shore. And then, silence. The water ceased to move as the creatures within disappeared even from the sharpest eyes, leaving nothing but murky blue water that lapped at the Hallow's feet.

And then, the gentle, slow beats of a paddle against the water from deep within the fog. Time stretched long and thin as it seemed like days went by as the sound grew with each passing sunrise and sunset until two bright, starlit lanterns shone so brightly that not even the Fog could obscure them. Both the lights and the beating of the paddle grew louder, and louder, and louder, and then, it stopped.

Silence once more.

The gravel shifted under the Hallow's feet as they grew restless until they saw something coming out of the tapering mist.

A long, black, sleek canoe pierced the fog as the beating of the paddle resumed suddenly again. Carved of a shadowy black ebony, a pained head of agony clutched a starlit lantern in its tiny, twisted hands while the driver stood in the back, a long, dark brown staff with another starlit lantern on its tip drove the ferry; its user wearing robes of black over robes of white and a intcritley carved, faceless mask covered their mysterious face.

"Art thou a Hallow?" the silvery mask spoke, "If so, I am here to deliver thou unto thy destiny across these acursed waters."

Without saying a word, the Hallow wades into the shallow banks and embarks the the canoe, waterlogged boots bringing up bone fragments along with the murky blue waters. And in equal silence, the driver pushed the ferry away from the shore and towards the Fog.

"Thou may call me Velus, the Harbinger of you Hallows. Perhaps you have a name?" the robed driver paddled the canoe, gently gliding it across the water as monstorus things appeared off in the distance of the fog, shrouded and hidden by the thick of it, "Fear not of the monsters here now o Hallowed one, for they shan't attack anyone aboard this regal ferry of Mrystrost, the Queen has ensured it."

The Hallow searched their undead brains for their names, only to realize that no matter how hard they focused, nothing came to mind. No name, no homeland, no background, no nothing. Only their beckoning of the bell had been driving them forward from whatever land they had departed from.

"Cannot recall?" the Velus's chuckle echoed slightly from under his mask, "Tis not a strange occurrence, many have since forgotten themselves with only the arcane pull of Myrstrost giving them duty in life, the duty of destiny."

The Velus stopped paddling as the boat drifted in open waters, the dark shadows underneath the tide appearance once more but once again the Hallow did not react,  "Now, under my own duty, I am to send thou unto thy destiny, thy destiny of ending the eternal mist which curses the forgotten kingdom."

Wind picking up and blowing a frosty draft upon the ferry, the small boat creaks and groans as the sound of cracking bones and ruffling of fabric pierce the air. The sound of a blade being drawn was the final signal that the ritual was about to begin and that the Velus had transformed.

"Now... please do rise... Hallow." a deeper, primal, sinister snarl emitted from the now crack metal mask of the Velus, now standing well above the Hallow as they rose to their feet, knowing what would come next, "Now, close thy eyes and take one last breath; tis shall be the final gasp thou shall take upon this ship."

The Hallow closed their eyes and did as told, feeling the cold metal against their breathing necks as the Velus uttered their final rites, "Farewell, honored Hallow. May thou find destiny upon the world beyond."

The sharp scythe slices the undead body and it tumbles off into the ocean depths, the darkness surrounding what remains of the Hallow as the faint glow of starlit lanterns fades and they are pulled into the black abyss. The ritual has been complete, the Hallow now pulled into their greater fate.

With a gasp, the Hallow awoke, entombed in a stone coffin which they had no memory of ever being put in. They didn't even remember how they got to shore as the last memory was one of drowning. With effort, the lid of the rocky tomb was pushed away, crashing to the ground producing a chilling echo as the Hallow arose from their stone shrine, blinded by the sun which now shone bright and true upon the bleak landscape of the Grave of Souls. Dead trees, faded grass and trickling shallow rivers, twas quite the vacation spot as one might presume.

Off in the distance, a bell of awakening was heard once more, calling the Hallow forth once more.

To which the Hallow dutifully followed as they wandered deeper into the Grave of Souls.

To follow their fate.

To find, that world beyond.
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