Little changed in the murky depths of the Abyss. Baerron Jael felt the familiar darkness surround him, but it was not a welcomed familiarity. It was oppressive and denigrating like a cage that he once freed himself from. A cage he would free his master from; but if he was to be successful in that endeavor, he would need to plunge into the little-known depths once more. Deep in the back of his skull, Baerron Jael felt Richard stir. A flood of terror and disgust washed over the oppressed consciousness. Flashes of images passed along the back of his blood-clotted eye lids; bloody faces, teeth marks in bone, and a darkness so black and impenetrable that insanity and complete and utter depravity were the only recourses to cope with it. Richard's deep-rooted hatred, guilt, shame, and despair fed Baerron Jael handily. The darkness lifted like a late morning fog and the daemon found himself in familiar surroundings. The smell of sulfur mixed with aged papyrus and rotting flesh filled his ichor-lined nostrils. Rooms were hewn into the thick rocks deep beneath the surface by men filled with hubris, though they strived to prove otherwise. The daemon was quite familiar with this place; Sir Cabirus' long lost Abyssal Colony. The once great Sir Cabirus strived to unite the creatures of the Abyss and create a ninth Virtue to encompass all other Virtues, but died before achieving this goal. The resulting chaos and slaughter filled the daemon with fond memories. The sealing of the Abyss by the Avatar shortly after did not. Oh, for a short while the daemon played gleefully with the few humans left behind in the Abyss, forgotten or forsaken by a wizard named Garamon, but once their sanity fled and they turned on each other and fed like gluttons, there was nothing left but darkness and the impossibly slow passage of time with no events to mark it. Though, if it were not for the likes of Garamon, his master would not wander this Realm at all... Richard, deep in the bottom of his mind, clawed frantically to escape but was held firmly by Baerron Jael, who delighted in re-watching the memories of chewing upon the sinew of brothers in arms. Baerron Jael wandered the now deathly silent halls and caverns of the lost Colony. Surprisingly, time did not claim much in the Abyss, like it would upon the surface. Books remained, as did barrels and bones, blood and artifacts. A soul bent on treasure would certainly be able to gorge here, if they could ever find their way here and back again. The daemon passed through the center of the Colony. The buildings were in ruins. Sir Cabirus sought to grow, via magical means, vegetation here for crops as well as to make the Colony more welcoming and pleasant. Some of that growth remained, though in a twisted or near-death state. The Colony was not why he was here. What Baerron Jael sought was much further down. The ancient and powerful Skull of Mondain lay somewhere deep within the Stygian Abyss, left here by the Avatar sometime in the distant past during the beginning of the Age of Enlightenment. The Skull could not merely be destroyed. It held such incredible power; so much that it had to be banished as far away as the Avatar could take it. And now Baerron Jael needed it to break the Eighth and final Seal that bound his master somewhere deep in this infernal Abyssal pit. The daemon made his way further in the Stygian Abyss, past where even the Gargoyles once lived. The caverns grew narrower and wilder, the darkness swallowed any flicker of light that might have existed. The daemon, over the centuries, grew used to such darkness. Although Baerron Jael was considered far more curious than most daemons, even he did not venture this deep into the Stygian Abyss. There were dangers both known and unknown even to beings of his power. There were things far more ancient and in tune with the ancient magics of the Sosaria of old when the lands were known as the Lands of Danger and Despair, the Lands of the Dark Unknown, the Lands of the Feudal Lords, and the Lands of Lord British. The daemon sniffed the air. A thick, choking scent of burning debris and sulfur filled his rotted lungs. In a room bearing ancient Gargoyle markings and architecture, an antediluvian horror stood, immune to the hourglass of time. Baerron Jael did not linger. A creature such as this held such an immense knowledge of the workings of magic that it could, no doubt, merely will the daemon out of existence. Such a powerful creature could never be controlled and it was most prudent to leave it alone as it watched and waited for the end of time itself. Further and further down through winding paths and primordial tunnels the daemon went. The air grew heavier, laden with primeval gasses of a world in infancy. A mortal would not survive these depths, not just because of the vastly different air, but the overbearing heat. Even the daemon grew wary of its oppressive waves. After what felt like days, or maybe weeks, the daemon came across a river of sludge. The daemon dipped a bloody rotten, gloveless finger into the sludge and tasted it. It was primal; this was most likely the first life in this Realm. The first plants, the first creatures came from this. The Gargoyles, the Elves, the Dwarves, the Bobbits, eventually even the Humans came from this, or other such similar streams too many thousands of years ago to count. The only life, if it could be called that, surrounding the ooze now was shadow. Creatures made from the very darkness itself. And yet, there were structures here. They were not made by man or Gargoyles, yet they looked familiar. No, these were carved by his kin, daemons. Not daemons that he was familiar with, but the ancient daemons that sprung up out of the primordial streams. The first daemons. Walking further yet, Baerron Jael glimpsed more evidence of these ancient daemons. There were brick structures, even ancient blood preserved upon the stones and cavern walls. The first daemons were vicious and ruthless, killing any other life that emerged from the ooze. But obviously other life did spring from the streams. Did something happen to the ancient daemons? Perhaps life sprung up from other streams and the daemons were only native to this stream in particular? The first question was answered after plunging further into the darkness. Baerron Jael sniffed the air and there was a scent wholly unidentifiable to him, yet standing before him and bearing witness to his very own eyes were daemons. They towered high over him and peered at him with a malicious curiosity. They sniffed at him and one daemon of a much darker red skin than the others, brushed his colossal palm over Baerron Jael's face. Richard, deep down, recoiled in utter horror. The mere presence of these creatures to a mortal was too much to bear. Although these daemons felt unlike anything Baerron Jael ever knew, they on some deeply universal level very similar to him. They did not raise their claws to him or summon forth ancient and archaic magics. They disregarded him altogether. The daemon could sense something else in this area. He could taste a certain power upon the otherwise noxious air. Yes... Yes... It was here. This is where the Avatar brought it. The Skull of Mondain. Baerron Jael lifted the skull to his face. It looked no different than any other skull, but there was a deep-seated power lurking within it. Now that he had it, he could begin the work to breath the final Seal and free his master. The time of mankind was at an end. ======================================================================== ======================================================================== (OOC) Interestingly enough, meandering through the Abyss was not the only fun and interesting part of this. As it turns out, you can go sooooooo far off reservation, if you as curious of a wanderer as I am, as to end up in what I can only describe as an alternate shadow reality. This is not some crossover into Trammel or anything (I did the -where command to make sure), but it is so far off the main map that I am not really sure where it is. Basically, the whole world is there, except there is *nothing* in it except for the very base land tiles. That's it. No trees, no walls, no decor, not even coastal water. The coordinates are a few thousand higher on the X axis than the normal world. Here is the area right outside Hythloth: Here's the entrance to Trinsic: Here is the swamp north of Trinsic: Here is the Hedge Maze: Here is the entrance to Lord British's Castle (I fell off the ledge so I ended up in the moat and couldn't get out: Here is the West Britain Bank: Here is what I think is a lake somewhere out in the wilds: Traveling through this was a pain because sometimes you would end up in the middle of a mountain (which is all black, not all grey and mountainy like we know and love) and would get rather stuck. Took some creative teleporting to get unstuck. So that was going off the reservation so far to the south. I then tried going off the reservation to the north and this happened: Can't really get out of there once you get in there. Anyway, just thought I would share some interesting findings.
(Apologies, but this is just too good not to drag back into character!) On traveling in the void: Perhaps this journey into the void was not by mere chance and should not be dismissed so easily. An opportunity to cleanse the mind of its many and tiny woes? Seeing neither friend nor foe? It could be just what the healer ordered! I too have fallen through the cracks of time and space as we know it and the experience can be life altering. Let us hope this sojourn into the void did not leave poor Richard unchanged. Even if this was the work of the unseen claw of the Slasher of Veils, great good can oft arise unbidden from the darkest of evils. The potential to "link the past with the distant future, to connect Old Sosaria with the worlds of tomorrow" goes quite a long way towards explaining recent events, as well. Then again, these may be the misguided musings of an old man who has traveled too far and seen too much for his own good... as my access to this journal will surely attest. To hold these words as absolute Truth may be as perilous as ignoring them altogether.
