Echoes of Power, Part XVIII: Tumultuous Times
As Bloodloch’s dreaded spellplague gnawed through the Tree of Stasis and the rest of the realm’s landmarks fell into quietude once more, trouble stirred within Morvaethe’s horrifying menagerie.
With the Curator’s powers dwindling day by day, his grip upon his oldest exhibits visibly faltered. At first, this manifested in the mysterious deaths of a distant Horkvali society, of which Sapience held no recollection. Confused at first and in desperate search of answers, the continent’s adventurers searched high and low for evidence of Kithzrek’s appearance in the world, even as its people steadily expired in the minds of all who held communion with Dhar’s vaunted Underhalls. It was only in Hive Kithzrek’s final moments that Sapience’s brightest ascendants came to realise the horrifying truth: those who perished did so at the hands of those adventurers who had lashed out at Morvaethe with physical violence. Soon, every city-state came to realise that their strikes and sorcery were being dispersed into the wizard’s kidnapped exhibits, laying bare how the twisted collector achieved his cherished invulnerability.
As one, the realm mourned the death of the hive’s queen and her many drones, even as the Curator swore vengeance and panicked within his sequestered sanctum.
Meanwhile, the energies awakened by the Sanguine Fist’s dreaded disease coursed throughout the ley in a desperate, eternal battle, the vital force of Dia’ruian protection clashing against the profane sorcery of high humourism. These brilliant forces came to a head in the following days, forcing the continental ley into a state of unprecedented upheaval. As city-states battled to control the overflowing ylemnic tides, they caught glimpses of a verdant colossal eld imbued with life-aspected will and the fury of the wilds – a tantalising glimpse of future foes for all but the Theocracy, who claimed victory against all comers and vanquished the first of many colossal life elds to come.
The very next week, the plague-aspected sorcery still roiling throughout the ley forced another catastrophic foci event, resulting in another struggle for control of its evergiving bounty. Though fewer forces waged war to capture the opportunity to glimpse a vile plague eld, the Dragon of the North proved its prowess for the second week in a row by not only securing a gateway within the ley, but also defeating the spellplague-imbued colossal eld mere moments before the worldvein network collapsed around them, granting them the sweet release of death in place of the wasting rot the eld had cursed each of them with as its final counterstroke. Sorcerers and arcanists across the realm were quick to note that the spellplague’s essence seeped back into the ley shortly after its defeat, leading many ley theorists to speculate that the aspect would remain to manufacture more diseased eld. This theory later proved itself true as new hazards coalesced within each city-state’s ylem mines over the following days, and reports soon circulated of other city-states encountering the colossal plague eld during other major foci.
Throughout the days following these unprecedented eld sightings, the unrest within Morvaethe’s exhibits continued apace. Soon, the Dwarves of Kazhuram began to perish before the strikes of adventurers throughout the ages, each blow once intended for the Curator instead spelling the doom of some innocent artisan, scholar, lordling, or even innocent children.
Then, the dawn of Kazhuram’s final day arrived – swift and terrible, utterly bereft of mercy in all its goldglow glory.
Originally meant as a catastrophic gambit against the Curator, Lin the Knife had lured the unwitting wizard into her grove and unleashed an annihilating nova of sunlight at the cost of the wild place’s lifespan. In typical cowardly fashion, the wizard shunted the harm aside into the maze of his protections, though at significant cost and concern to the man. Now let loose and unable to be contained, the blast swept throughout the fabled marble keep of Kazhuram, sanctum of the Muse and Her many innovators, sparing none the cataclysmic beauty of its destruction.
Once more, Morvaethe raged against the interference of modern adventurers. Unhinged, crazed, he spat venomous tirades and swore vengeance as he scrambled to stymie the damages to no avail, the fabled Pixies of Ixetal and the Yetis of Snowswell perishing in tandem in the following days. Each loss drove the elderly sorcerer into the depths of depressive rage, his mania unravelling even the twisted logic and sense that he once held close to his cold heart. On those days when he felt the loss of another of his beautiful exhibits, he wept for all the realm to hear and made maddened pleas to his Menedu servants, imploring them to seek the Sphinx at all costs.
It was only when the final Pixie died that the Living Landmark and her rider, the Indomitable Burt, made themselves evident to the world. Landing within an Esterporean beer garden in search of refreshments, the famous Ogre brawler announced his presence with a flying elbow drop that crushed a Menedu shade where it stood – an act that drew most of the realm to gawk at his glory and the mysterious monochromatic aspect of the long-sought Sphinx. Convinced that the Tree of Stasis was not long for the living world, the Monochromatic Sphinx insisted that she would be the perfect bait to lure the Curator out, but refused to do so until she was sure he could not capture her with one last burst of the power pilfered from the dying tree.
Even as Morvaethe released the final two villages in his grasp in preparation for a final confrontation, an old Seyda witch began the preparations for a terrible curse…
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Summary: The fallout of Bloodloch’s massive spellplague continued, bringing ruin to many of Morvaethe’s exhibits and imbuing the ley with an insidious new aspect: disease. Convinced of her increased safety, the Monochromatic Sphinx arrived in Esterport with the Indomitable Burt astride her back, ready to make a move against the crazed sorcerer seeking her blood.
Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 18th of Dharos, in the year 12 AC.
