Post by Sheng on Apr 21, 2024 2:09:22 GMT
“The Metaphysical capabilities of our people are a field not yet truly understood by Royal Scientists. Though many have dedicated their lives to such studies, it is often attributed as one of the more difficult secrets of the known universe to uncover.
All that is known is that we, Ciarians, have an innate proclivity towards utilising psionics in a way most would consider as… bizarre.”
- Alexander Copperwell
Ethnarch’s Tomb
Unmarked Desert Territory
6k+ kms away from the nearest Arcology, Cairn.
Oswald’s face was set in stone as he descended the cracked marble steps, armoured sabatons clacking against the rocky stairwell as he passed by sand-blasted murals and millennia-old items rusting in their displays. Firelight danced across his face as the stairs finally came to an end and he stepped off onto a pure obsidian floor. But before he continued he stopped and took a deep breath, particles of sand tickling his throat like floating embers would a dry tree and only then did he proceed forward. However; an atmosphere of concernment grew heavier with each step forward and as Oswald glanced at the glossy black ceiling and the walls around him he felt as if a thousand judging eyes were glaring back. He walked at a pace for five, ten and then twenty minutes before finally a singular black door came into sight. It was an eerie thing, cast in black iron with a singular symbol engraved into the top centre and filled in with what looked like solid gold.
He came to a stop outside of it and made to knock before, with a great groan and a creak like a massive wooden gate, the door slowly pulled itself inward and revealed an expansive chamber. The entire surface was made from a glossy black surface inlaid with what looked like molten gold, but as he stepped inside his eyes were dragged towards the golden and onyx statue in the centre; depicting a man clad in robes and plate armour with a strange headdress that concealed the entirety of his head, a golden eagle affixed in front of his face and a crown atop the headdress. He approached before coming to a stop before it and inclining his head respectfully to the statue before a brusque voice broke the silence, startling the King slightly. “Every man may reign secure in his petty tyranny, and spread terror and desolation around him until the trumpet of the archangel brings thee before the altar where Christ reposes. Then; you ought no longer to think that you are amongst men; but believe that you are beset by troops of angels and archangels standing against you, and trembling with respect before the sovereign Master of Heaven and Hell. So when you enter His church, exist only in silence, fear, and veneration.”
A small smile crossed itself over Oswald’s face as he turned around to face the voice, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he gazed over to a figure that had appeared in the far corner. The figure, draped in silken white robes with a golden cross stitched over its chest, stepped forward and the flickering firelight that illuminated the chamber revealed an elderly Ciarian man with a pearly white beard and long flowing hair. Oswald raised a hand respectfully towards them as they approached, the figure saying in response to the gesture “A long time it has been, Oswald of Cairn. What brings one such as yourself to such a chamber as this?” Oswald turned and gestured towards the statue in the centre of the room, the figure following Oswald’s gesture over to the onyx structure before Oswald bluntly responded “Guidance.” The figure nodded quietly to themselves before they asked “Guidance, but from whom? The Father or the Spirit?” At that, Oswald hesitated. His lips pursed as he stood there in quiet thought, the figure remaining completely wordless as the lanterns in the chamber flickered uneasily in the silence. They too seemed to await the King’s response. A minute or so later it finally came “I don’t truly know, yet I seek it all the same.” The figure nodded before raising a hand and waving it in front of the statue in a gentle manner, the ground started to rumble in response. Oswald stepped back as the statue before them started to vibrate before it slowly started to rise off the ground, four small pillars pushing it up to reveal a cylindrical staircase that descended downwards. The figure gestured to it before they stepped in and began to make their way down the stairwell, Oswald hesitated once more before he began to follow.
As they both descended the statue that had been concealed the entrance shifted slightly before slowly starting to descend down to cover the stairwell once more, plunging them into darkness before the man ahead of Oswald raised a small torch and lit it ablaze with a hushed word. The harsh yellow flame revealed hundreds- no… thousands of characters that had been engraved into the wall. All around them, as they descended down deeper, was scripture. Oswald reached out and traced a gauntleted finger against the icy stone, metal-clad digits feeling out every rough groove and cut that the stone was bearing towards him. Though the figure seemed to remain uninterested, silent in both word and action as he continued to work his way through the motions and descend towards their destination. It took a few minutes more but finally, an entryway was revealed. A rectangular thing cut into the limestone just big enough for the two men to pass through, though Oswald had to duck slightly due to the extra space that the armour he wore added to his frame. Though once he did, he was astonished by the sight presented to them.
All around them, decorating the walls and the ceiling, were murals. Great depictions were carved into the limestone and elegantly hand-painted. One displayed a Human knight standing with a golden sword in hand before a great monstrosity, a golden halo shimmering above his head and feathered pearly white wings protruding from their armour. Another showed a Ciarian man clad in torn rags but wielding a shimmering cobalt spear with flecks of gold scattered throughout skewering an absolutely titanic serpent through the eye. Every mural was truly a work of art, illuminated by old silk-covered lanterns casting bright yellow light throughout the tunnel. The light danced across the murals making some aspects shimmer and others as if they were coming to life right before Oswald’s very eyes. The King turned around in a full circle as he took in the sights around him, face twisted in awe and eyes practically sparkling as they flew from mural to mural. Only at a polite cough from the figure, who had moved a little way up ahead, did he finally snap out of his excitement and turn his focus back up towards the other Ciarian. A gentle smile was on the old man’s face as he raised a hand towards one of the murals and said “The records of man have many a time proven vulnerable. Be it time, their fellow or themselves, they had a habit of being forsaken enough until their tales became rumour and rumour became fiction.”
His gesture shifted into a point towards the mural depicting the Knight facing against the monstrosity, the old man continuing “Tales of Great Battles.” The outstretched finger lowered and another raised up towards the Ciarian impaling the serpent “And of Harrowing Conflicts.” The other hand lowered as the man turned their attention back towards Oswald “All lost, and forgotten, by all.” But he then turned and tapped a hand gently against their chest “Or at least, all but me. I am the Custodian of this Tomb and I have had many names; Conservator, Caretaker, Keeper, Academic and my fair share of titles to accommodate but none of them are truly important.” He turned and continued walking, feet pattering against the stone floor as Oswald hurried to follow. As they walked the custodian continued talking “This Tomb is, like many others, naught an act of record keeping. To preserve a select memory so that those that come after can pay their respects and perhaps gain some sort of knowledge from what it holds. What differentiates this Tomb from others, however, is what exactly the memory it holds actually is.”
Oswald listened as they pressed on through the tunnel, continuously taking in the grandiose decoration around them as he did so. Only for them to stop in front of a large double-granit door engraved with an all-too-familiar symbol; A perfect circle with an altar in the centre and an eagle with outstretched wings standing atop of it, the entire depiction inlaid with shining gold that was wonderfully illuminated by two flickering amber torches on each side, giving the engraving an almost fiery look. The Custodian turned to face Oswald and gave the weary King a gentle smile before saying “You came to me, to this place, seeking guidance as many have before you and beyond this door-” He reached over and laid a careful hand against the engraving. “-is just that. However I must ask, are you ready for such knowledge? If you continue to pursue it will you abide by what the holy ghost tells you? Even if it is something that you may not wish to hear?”
Oswald paused for a second, not from hesitation but from… a feeling, deep inside the back corners of his mind that seemed averse to such an idea. Cobalt and Golden eyes burned as he stared at the engraving before him, the torchlight flickering across the metal looking more and more like wisps of flame. Without a word he lifted his hand off of his sword and slowly reached out, laying his palm atop of the stonework. The Custodian’s smile gained a twinge to it, somewhere caught between sadness and acceptance, as he nodded and laid his hand next to Oswald's. With a great heave, they leaned their weight up against the door and both pushed it open before the Custodian came to a stop just inside of the doorway, at Oswald’s confused expression he quietly said “This is your path, yours and yours alone. Know that the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us and is not frightened of anything by your opponents. This is one of the signs to us, that our faith is absolute, and to the enemy of their destruction, but of your salvation; Upon the Altar of Christ"
With that said, the old man stepped away.
And Oswald stepped forward.