Dark Age Year 871
Sixth day of the First month
The Deadlands, a barren and desolate wasteland found in the southeastern part of Aria, is a dead zone, a disgusting blemish on an otherwise perfect landscape. It stands in stark contrast and defiance to the bright meadows, rolling hills, lush forests, raging rivers, and still lakes that populate the continent of Aria. No life grows or thrives in the Deadlands. It is a barren and empty womb that cannot support nor produce any life and is a disappointment to all mothers, past, current, and future, including the greatest and most terrible mother of them all, Mother Nature. The mother from whose womb all life springs forth. It is her tears that bring the waters of life, her breath is the air we breathe, and upon her bosom, it is where we rest in both life and in death. She is the great provider and nurturer, often unappreciated by her children. However, she is also cruel and ruthless, weeding out the weakest like lambs to slaughter, even though she loves all her children equally. For all her children, she sends the greatest tests of skill, strength, and cunning. Even those who fail or are found wanting, their sacrifice will not be in vain, as they will improve and benefit the rest of her children.
Out of all these tests, the greatest awaits in the Deadlands. The only certainty for those who fail or are found wanting, if there is any to be found in this land of jagged rocks, empty rivers, and lakes, would be this: your death. You would find it in the intense heat that can cook your flesh and innards from the inside out, howling winds and sandstorms that can strip your skin and nails inch by inch, and then there is the poisonous water and plants that can sicken and bring ill to even those with the strongest of constitutions. The few creatures that call this blighted hell scape home, like all life in Aria, must follow only this one rule: that only the strongest will survive. This is the one and only truth in this world of blood-drenched sand, bone-filled caverns, and bleak night skies as cold and black as the hearts of those who live there.
Life in the Deadlands is far from uneventful. Among the caves and rock formations that dot the landscape, providing the only refuge from the harsh conditions, lie deep, dark caverns and hidden underground ruins from civilisations long forgotten by living memory and in the pages of history. It is in these caves and old ruins that one would discover that the Deadlands are not as lifeless as the name suggests, as many people call them home. Some are outcasts, barely surviving on the fringes of human society, while others, not belonging to the races of man, such as the nomadic tribes of goblins, orcs, and other foul creatures, fight among themselves for scarce resources. It is a harsh existence, but one that possesses its own virtues if viewed from a certain perspective. It is a life where one earns what is rightfully theirs by their strength, cunning, and will, where you live by your own terms and rules, not by those imposed upon you. While this life may be amoral and even brutal and violent at times, it poses the question: is it more noble, more virtuous than the lives of those who live behind the walls of cities and towns, those who hide and take comfort behind their village fences, being handed everything and benefiting from the foundation that their betters built with their blood, sweat, and tears, while they toil on like directionless cattle and sheep, repeating the same successes and mistakes of generations past, and will continue to repeat them long into the future, for they cannot nor will they see beyond themselves.
However in the Deadlands, beyond the petty conflicts over food and water between ruthless outlaws and the inhuman savages who inhabit the area, a more sinister presence lurks. Deep within a cave, nestled in an ancient ruin, a mysterious ritual unfolds. Within a circular pavilion hewn from rock, supported by weathered stone columns and a decaying roof, faint rays of moonlight filter through small openings. Several cloaked and hooded figures, clad in vibrant green robes with a black scale-like trim reminiscent of snakeskin, stand within the pavilion. Adorned with ornate gold and silver bracelets and jewellery fashioned in the likeness of serpents, their eyes gleam with amethysts, emeralds, and rubies, reflecting the eerie light of the full moon that bathes the scene before the. Faint chanting can be heard as it echoes softly off the walls.
In the pavilion, there is a deep and dark pit in which mysterious figures are standing, staring down into it as if they were observing something. At first glance, it may appear as an empty and uninteresting hole. However, for those who appreciate the pitch-black darkness, it exudes a unique allure. As moonlight filters through the ceiling, casting a bluish hue into the pit, the truth is unveiled. Inside the pit, numerous snakes slither and writhe—some venomous with dagger-like fangs, others constrictors with robust bodies. Metal grates in the pit wall open up revealing the endpoint of pipes, where a faint gushing sound can be heard as a sanguine fluid begins to pour out, covering and dyeing the snakes a crimson hue. Amidst this writhing mass, a girl of modest beauty and figure lies, her torn clothes revealing her bare olive skin. Snakes coil around her, tightening around her breasts and waist, biting and injecting venom into her veins, with it slowly seeping out onto her skin. Others explore every cavern and caress of her body at their own leisure. It was, if anything, a captivating sight for some, while for others, it would have been a scene of utter horror. The rules of modesty, the hallmark of any Civilization, were broken like shattered glass in a scene that could ignite the primal desires of both men and women alike. It was widely acknowledged that women held within them the power to captivate and enchant those they wished to attract, regardless of social norms or standards. Above the pit, figures observed in eerie silence, their expressions concealed behind stoic masks. Despite the provocative display below, these figures remained unmoved. The woman’s passionate cries and her gymnastics failed to elicit any reaction from them. What is more shocking: the act itself or the fact that it inspires no reaction? For the figures standing above the pit, watching this series of events was mundane, akin to going to milk your cow or collect eggs from your chicken coop.
However, soon black marks began to appear on the girl’s skin, forming a spiral pattern on her arms, legs, and around her breasts. Symmetrical markings also appeared on her face, with lines extending from her forehead down past her eyes and lips, stopping just past her chin. Inverted triangle marks showed up in the centre of her cheeks. One of the figures, more well-dressed than the others and holding a long golden sceptre, smiled widely upon seeing this, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He turned to another figure, the one leading the chanting, and with a quick nod and a tap of his staff, the chanting abruptly stopped. More figures entered the room, taller, more muscular, and heavily armoured than the ones chanting over the pit, carrying a massive stone circle. As the mysterious figures began to leave the room, another group moved to cover the pit with a large stone circle, blocking out any remaining light. The girl was now surrounded by darkness, with only her own cries of pleasure and the snakes in the pit for company.
As all the figures start to go their separate ways going down the different passageways that make up their underground home, outside of one of the mysterious figures the one currently currying a sceptre. one of the more heavily armoured figures walks up to the mysterious figure with the sceptre, whispering in his ear.
“Head priest, I have received word from one of my scouts that three individuals have recently entered the border of our territory.”
“I see, are any of them viable for our plans?” The Head Priest turned his head towards the pavilion, not making direct eye contact with the armoured figure.
“Yes, Head Priest, two of them look like warriors in the prime of their lives, and the other is a boy who appears to be on the cusp of becoming an adolescence.”
The Head Priest smiled widely at the news; his eyes filled with satisfaction. “Keep an eye on them, and when the time is right, capture them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Head Priest,” the armoured figure stated, giving a deep bow.
“May Nagazarzul guide your hand.” The Head Priest gives a knowing look at the armoured figure. The armoured figure gives another knowing bow and turns to leave, leaving the head priest alone to wander in the passageways. Eventually, he exits a cave on a high vantage point. Pulling down his hood, he reveals his yellow, snakelike eyes and small needle-like teeth. His eyes hungrily scan the surrounding area, with the sands bathed in a blue hue and some bits of sand starting to twinkle like stars in the night sky. It was rather pretty to look at. As he continued to stare out at the vast desert wasteland before him, he saw in the far distance what looked like a smoke trail from a small campfire. His eyes lit up, and a wide smile revealed dagger-like teeth, that gleamed in the moonlight.
“Soon, the creation of the vessel will be underway. All that is required is the second half, and then we can make the final preparations for your vessel. Soon, my lord, you will walk among us as you did centuries ago.” He spoke aloud as if he wanted the whole world to hear his words, his conviction. Reaching into his robe, he pulled out what looked like a wooden four-armed man figure with a snake’s head, armed with swords. After speaking a few words to it, the figure came to life, walking down his arm and onto the rocky hills overlooking the vast desert plain below, before burrowing and tunnelling itself within the sands below.
It’s always good to have a backup plan. he thought to himself as he turned his back and headed back inside the cave with the full moon shining behind him. As he did so, he heard what sounded like the howling of a wolf far in the distance. He paused for a moment before heading deeper into the cave. Never a dull moment in the Deadlands. he thought to himself as his form sank into the shadows of the cave and disappeared from sight.
