Post by Richimal on Apr 13, 2006 16:13:39 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]The Inverted Cathedral[/glow]
In a sea of brown, all jagged edges, and forlorn peaks, a hidden palace had been erected. High winds swept in across so many towering sentinels, long wisps of snow shifting from the mountain sides. The area was a dead zone, bereft of life. No goats littered the mountain sides, finding what tufts of grass they could. No birds swept in from high perches, no roosts crafted into the many pot marks and wicked cuts into the rock face. One would even be hard pressed to lift a rock, and find the myriad of insects that usually found a home there. In fact, the only noise that was created in this barren plot of earth, water, wind, and fire was just that; the elements. Water bubbled up from deep caches of heated pools, creating a host of water falls about the region, collecting into so many small ponds and miniature lakes. But no fish could be found there ... Not one insect buzzed lazily over the surface of those small bodies of water. Earth, made its presence known with the occasional rock, careening down a cliff side, though there seemed to be no catalyst to their fall. The winds were the most prevalent, heard above all else, as they howled so fiercely through the many giant spears of earth. And fire. So many torches, positioned around a small building, that could only be described as pitiful. Evidence of life? Indeed. For there were a few things that stirred in this forsaken land.
The torches numbered in the fifties, all blazing totems, scrawled with a nigh unknown language. They spat and danced angrily, assaulted by the winds. There was magic afoot already, within those long shafts of carved wood, and no amount of wind or even water, would douse them. The building itself, could have been no bigger than a common out house. However it was made of stone, and bore the same arcane markings as the stems of the torches. No door hung upon any frame, upon the one portal the small building had to offer. What could have been inside was anyones guess. From the outside, it seemed to have the dimensions to allow a single body. And standing upright, one would be hard pressed to move about. However, should there be a soul brave enough, or perhaps curious enough, to quest out in this barren mountain range ... And further still, to find what courage one could muster, to delve into the shadow of the small building, this is what they might find ...
There was no cosmic shift, or bending of the boundaries of the realm. It was in fact, just as small inside, as it appeared to be on the outside. However, the reason being, was because there was no need for it to be any bigger. Steps. Steps were cut into the very mountain side, heading ever downward, as far as the eye could see. However, unless ones eyes were gifted, that wouldn't be very far. There was one torch, set in a bracket upon the wall, and the dim light it gave off, was only enough to see ten or twenty yards down. Braving the small, narrow channel of the steps, would be a journey in and of itself. Five miles down, the steps continued, the walls continuing the theme of archaic and arcane symbols. There was a strong supernatural presence, surrounding the entirety of this particular mountain, as well as its depths. But should courage, and patience prevail. One would be gifted with something spectacular. Something quite contrary, to the simplicity of the small portal upon the surface. Something far larger, and grander than the narrow stair well leading down. Light spilled upward, into the stair well, and sounds of glorious music filtered up into the passage. A pipe organ was at work, and it's eerie, majestic tones filled the hallway with unholy, melancholy music. As the steps widened out, a massive inner sanctum came into view. However, the ceiling did not rise upward as it should. Instead, it remained the same height as the very top of the stair well. Instead, the floor would sink down hundreds of feet, a sheer wall just past the last step. Upon the bottom, massive chandeliers pointed upward, toward what should have been the ceiling. But strangely enough, they did seem to actually hang there. At eye level, looking out, peering at what actually appeared to be the floor, reversed, were chairs, tables, altars to kneel at. They were all upside down, pointing toward the 'ceiling'. The Inverted Cathedral. What its purpose was, and why exactly it was inverted was a mystery to all, save who had built it.
Kyle Mathos. The man in the black ivory mask. A black gloved hand was held before the mask, elongate digits idly tapping upon the cool smooth surface. It had no markings upon it, just a smooth flat face of black. It had a total of six holes, four at the mouth, for breathing, and two over the eyes. Through those deep shadowed sockets, unblinking green eyes stared outward. They were wide, almost crazed, but they had an intensity to them, holding years of wisdom and genius. A hood was drawn up over the back of his head, complete with a long black cape, swept over the back of his chair. Kyle Mathos was somewhere in his massive Cathedral, waiting for his visitor. But he knew someone would come. He had divined this from his particular gift of Anthropomancy. He knew not who it was, or what they wanted but they would come. He knew this. The balances were shifting again, churning and bubbling to a new order, and the specifics of who called upon Lord Mathos first, just might be a defining factor....
In a sea of brown, all jagged edges, and forlorn peaks, a hidden palace had been erected. High winds swept in across so many towering sentinels, long wisps of snow shifting from the mountain sides. The area was a dead zone, bereft of life. No goats littered the mountain sides, finding what tufts of grass they could. No birds swept in from high perches, no roosts crafted into the many pot marks and wicked cuts into the rock face. One would even be hard pressed to lift a rock, and find the myriad of insects that usually found a home there. In fact, the only noise that was created in this barren plot of earth, water, wind, and fire was just that; the elements. Water bubbled up from deep caches of heated pools, creating a host of water falls about the region, collecting into so many small ponds and miniature lakes. But no fish could be found there ... Not one insect buzzed lazily over the surface of those small bodies of water. Earth, made its presence known with the occasional rock, careening down a cliff side, though there seemed to be no catalyst to their fall. The winds were the most prevalent, heard above all else, as they howled so fiercely through the many giant spears of earth. And fire. So many torches, positioned around a small building, that could only be described as pitiful. Evidence of life? Indeed. For there were a few things that stirred in this forsaken land.
The torches numbered in the fifties, all blazing totems, scrawled with a nigh unknown language. They spat and danced angrily, assaulted by the winds. There was magic afoot already, within those long shafts of carved wood, and no amount of wind or even water, would douse them. The building itself, could have been no bigger than a common out house. However it was made of stone, and bore the same arcane markings as the stems of the torches. No door hung upon any frame, upon the one portal the small building had to offer. What could have been inside was anyones guess. From the outside, it seemed to have the dimensions to allow a single body. And standing upright, one would be hard pressed to move about. However, should there be a soul brave enough, or perhaps curious enough, to quest out in this barren mountain range ... And further still, to find what courage one could muster, to delve into the shadow of the small building, this is what they might find ...
There was no cosmic shift, or bending of the boundaries of the realm. It was in fact, just as small inside, as it appeared to be on the outside. However, the reason being, was because there was no need for it to be any bigger. Steps. Steps were cut into the very mountain side, heading ever downward, as far as the eye could see. However, unless ones eyes were gifted, that wouldn't be very far. There was one torch, set in a bracket upon the wall, and the dim light it gave off, was only enough to see ten or twenty yards down. Braving the small, narrow channel of the steps, would be a journey in and of itself. Five miles down, the steps continued, the walls continuing the theme of archaic and arcane symbols. There was a strong supernatural presence, surrounding the entirety of this particular mountain, as well as its depths. But should courage, and patience prevail. One would be gifted with something spectacular. Something quite contrary, to the simplicity of the small portal upon the surface. Something far larger, and grander than the narrow stair well leading down. Light spilled upward, into the stair well, and sounds of glorious music filtered up into the passage. A pipe organ was at work, and it's eerie, majestic tones filled the hallway with unholy, melancholy music. As the steps widened out, a massive inner sanctum came into view. However, the ceiling did not rise upward as it should. Instead, it remained the same height as the very top of the stair well. Instead, the floor would sink down hundreds of feet, a sheer wall just past the last step. Upon the bottom, massive chandeliers pointed upward, toward what should have been the ceiling. But strangely enough, they did seem to actually hang there. At eye level, looking out, peering at what actually appeared to be the floor, reversed, were chairs, tables, altars to kneel at. They were all upside down, pointing toward the 'ceiling'. The Inverted Cathedral. What its purpose was, and why exactly it was inverted was a mystery to all, save who had built it.
Kyle Mathos. The man in the black ivory mask. A black gloved hand was held before the mask, elongate digits idly tapping upon the cool smooth surface. It had no markings upon it, just a smooth flat face of black. It had a total of six holes, four at the mouth, for breathing, and two over the eyes. Through those deep shadowed sockets, unblinking green eyes stared outward. They were wide, almost crazed, but they had an intensity to them, holding years of wisdom and genius. A hood was drawn up over the back of his head, complete with a long black cape, swept over the back of his chair. Kyle Mathos was somewhere in his massive Cathedral, waiting for his visitor. But he knew someone would come. He had divined this from his particular gift of Anthropomancy. He knew not who it was, or what they wanted but they would come. He knew this. The balances were shifting again, churning and bubbling to a new order, and the specifics of who called upon Lord Mathos first, just might be a defining factor....
