A large wooden door groaned open into a massive dungeon. In the doorway, a herculean sized man positioned himself against it's frame, staring with intent into the obscurity. His onyx colored skin made him hard to make out, except through a silhouette shaped by his form in the pale light that lingered in from the hall. Reaching back into the hall, the man jerked a torch from it's threshold, delivering it's luminosity to the room. As the flame burnished the room, a sizable cistern was exposed embedded into the ebony stone. One would not find Adam's Ale here.
Within the cistern, a thick darkness glimmered against the glow of the flame. The onyx man drew near to it's waters, finally speaking, his sunken voice reiterating itself against the walls. "It has begun. Your father has taken throne in the East."
As he finished, his words seemed to linger creating an impression of thoughtfulness. As the last echo faded, the darkness in the cistern began to tremble and from the murky tides, a figure began to rise. As it rose, even against the light, it was hard to discern as the dark waters fastened itself to the form, resisting it's slow dissent back into the cistern.
The man's eyes were fastened to the almost seductive scene of the waters almost seeming to grapple at the form's short dark hair, and then finally revealing the pale young flesh underneath. He could almost hear the yelp as it drifted past the neckline and off the face of a budding adolescent boy. It groaned and fought, and yet could not diminish it's dissent or his faithful complexion as it wrestled against his shoulder blades and stretched itself thin across the spine of his back. A faint sob cried out as it slipped down the boy's tender cheeks. Then defeat as it faltered down his legs and back into the cistern.
Then as the final drop seemed to dissipate, another form arose from the waters. This time though, the water's did not appear to scuffle to the form of this creature, but instead urgently fell away. A snake like creature veiled in bronze scales, ascended from the waters, wrapping it's course frame around the boy's right leg, crossing onto his left, and coming up across the boy's cheeks. As tender as his flesh appeared, the course scales of the snake did not seem to mar it. It rose across his stomach, it's tongue quavering across his flesh. Finally, pulling itself across the boy's chest, it's head rest on the boy's left shoulder. It's narrow beady eyes penetrating the man before them.
A soft voice danced across the darkness and it was hard to tell if it was the boy or the beast speaking. "It's time to make our presence known. The Citadel cannot be made to wait."
Maistyr Dioxyl evaded onlookers as he seemingly floated through the corridors of the Lobby. However, as others here would note, it's hard not to notice a skeletal creature, particularly one that had horns as big as he did. The black suit probably didn't help, but he preferred to look formal. His meeting with the staff of this Liaison had gone quite smooth. Before the Planet Skysk's collapse into the Void, it had been a thriving planet that profited off of it's many battlefields in the use of tournaments. Although, it's reemergence and combining with Primordial Earth had left much of prior Skysk left to memories, it still held many of the same battlefields. The planet now known as Sympan, which floated through the universes, would prove to once again be a grand battlefield.
He had worked earnestly since its formation to set these battlefields up and to get them in the proper condition to host powerful warriors. He couldn't have them harming locals and destroying the planet, again. Liaison's men had looked over the final preparations and was approving the battlefields. All in all, he was having a productive day. Though, that wasn't the problem. It had never been.
Regrettably, this wasn't the only reason he was here. Over the course of Trillions of eons, he had watched the same events unfold again and again, and today he would watch it happen again. Each time was slightly different, different places, different events, but not them. They were always the same and it always led to the same thing. The Swallow. He could never prevent it, but he could at least maintain the balance.
Maistyr hovered nonchalantly near the receptionist desk. He could easily see those coming to and fro. He was losing his patience fast. He was sure they'd show up here and now. Something in his gut (maintaining the facade that he actually had one) told him something was wrong. Off. It couldn't be though. He had been there to witness it time and time again and...
A flash erupted within the portals leading to the Lobby. Instead of a person though, was what appeared to be a wooden door. It's tan paint mostly scratched off by the wreckage of time. As the door opened, two figures pressed through. One, a large Onyx-skinned man. Gold markings adorned his chest, stomach and back. His eyes appeared to be solid white as he gazed the lobby in silence. As Maistyr observed the other, had he had a gut, he was sure it would have hit the floor. The Eliade were always slightly different every time he seen them, but this one was no mistake. This Eliade was not the usual. No, this one wasn't suppose to appear till way later in the time-line. It was all wrong.
The second stood smiling in amazement. This one was a young boy, no older than 16. He had short ragged brown hair, adorning what Maistyr recognized as a brown Qatari thobe with a black and brown shemagh around his neck. A black line of seemingly paint stretched from just above the boy's eyebrows to just under his outer cheekbones. The only thing that seemed really out of place with his attire was a small cord stretching from under his thobe, to his ears. Headphones. Maistyr was sure of it now. This Eliade had always, no matter the time period, had a fascination for Human culture.
He quietly eavesdropped as he witnessed the boy striking up a conversation with a seemingly human Receptionist. "What's a 'Rhiannon'?", he asked her blissfully. The other remained quiet. Maistyr was perplexed and had he had flesh, worry would have been painted all over his expression. He needed to address The Pinnacle. They would want to know of these changes. With a pop, he vanished.
Within the cistern, a thick darkness glimmered against the glow of the flame. The onyx man drew near to it's waters, finally speaking, his sunken voice reiterating itself against the walls. "It has begun. Your father has taken throne in the East."
As he finished, his words seemed to linger creating an impression of thoughtfulness. As the last echo faded, the darkness in the cistern began to tremble and from the murky tides, a figure began to rise. As it rose, even against the light, it was hard to discern as the dark waters fastened itself to the form, resisting it's slow dissent back into the cistern.
The man's eyes were fastened to the almost seductive scene of the waters almost seeming to grapple at the form's short dark hair, and then finally revealing the pale young flesh underneath. He could almost hear the yelp as it drifted past the neckline and off the face of a budding adolescent boy. It groaned and fought, and yet could not diminish it's dissent or his faithful complexion as it wrestled against his shoulder blades and stretched itself thin across the spine of his back. A faint sob cried out as it slipped down the boy's tender cheeks. Then defeat as it faltered down his legs and back into the cistern.
Then as the final drop seemed to dissipate, another form arose from the waters. This time though, the water's did not appear to scuffle to the form of this creature, but instead urgently fell away. A snake like creature veiled in bronze scales, ascended from the waters, wrapping it's course frame around the boy's right leg, crossing onto his left, and coming up across the boy's cheeks. As tender as his flesh appeared, the course scales of the snake did not seem to mar it. It rose across his stomach, it's tongue quavering across his flesh. Finally, pulling itself across the boy's chest, it's head rest on the boy's left shoulder. It's narrow beady eyes penetrating the man before them.
A soft voice danced across the darkness and it was hard to tell if it was the boy or the beast speaking. "It's time to make our presence known. The Citadel cannot be made to wait."
Maistyr Dioxyl evaded onlookers as he seemingly floated through the corridors of the Lobby. However, as others here would note, it's hard not to notice a skeletal creature, particularly one that had horns as big as he did. The black suit probably didn't help, but he preferred to look formal. His meeting with the staff of this Liaison had gone quite smooth. Before the Planet Skysk's collapse into the Void, it had been a thriving planet that profited off of it's many battlefields in the use of tournaments. Although, it's reemergence and combining with Primordial Earth had left much of prior Skysk left to memories, it still held many of the same battlefields. The planet now known as Sympan, which floated through the universes, would prove to once again be a grand battlefield.
He had worked earnestly since its formation to set these battlefields up and to get them in the proper condition to host powerful warriors. He couldn't have them harming locals and destroying the planet, again. Liaison's men had looked over the final preparations and was approving the battlefields. All in all, he was having a productive day. Though, that wasn't the problem. It had never been.
Regrettably, this wasn't the only reason he was here. Over the course of Trillions of eons, he had watched the same events unfold again and again, and today he would watch it happen again. Each time was slightly different, different places, different events, but not them. They were always the same and it always led to the same thing. The Swallow. He could never prevent it, but he could at least maintain the balance.
Maistyr hovered nonchalantly near the receptionist desk. He could easily see those coming to and fro. He was losing his patience fast. He was sure they'd show up here and now. Something in his gut (maintaining the facade that he actually had one) told him something was wrong. Off. It couldn't be though. He had been there to witness it time and time again and...
A flash erupted within the portals leading to the Lobby. Instead of a person though, was what appeared to be a wooden door. It's tan paint mostly scratched off by the wreckage of time. As the door opened, two figures pressed through. One, a large Onyx-skinned man. Gold markings adorned his chest, stomach and back. His eyes appeared to be solid white as he gazed the lobby in silence. As Maistyr observed the other, had he had a gut, he was sure it would have hit the floor. The Eliade were always slightly different every time he seen them, but this one was no mistake. This Eliade was not the usual. No, this one wasn't suppose to appear till way later in the time-line. It was all wrong.
The second stood smiling in amazement. This one was a young boy, no older than 16. He had short ragged brown hair, adorning what Maistyr recognized as a brown Qatari thobe with a black and brown shemagh around his neck. A black line of seemingly paint stretched from just above the boy's eyebrows to just under his outer cheekbones. The only thing that seemed really out of place with his attire was a small cord stretching from under his thobe, to his ears. Headphones. Maistyr was sure of it now. This Eliade had always, no matter the time period, had a fascination for Human culture.
He quietly eavesdropped as he witnessed the boy striking up a conversation with a seemingly human Receptionist. "What's a 'Rhiannon'?", he asked her blissfully. The other remained quiet. Maistyr was perplexed and had he had flesh, worry would have been painted all over his expression. He needed to address The Pinnacle. They would want to know of these changes. With a pop, he vanished.