The sorcerer tower was several stories tall and was constructed of black marble. The black marble that went into construction stood unsullied by the ravages of time. it was unnaturally pristine It was as if it had been built that very same day. There was something rather unsettling about it, it was if such cleanness was merely a front, a façade to hide the evils that went on there. While some of these were viewed as a necessary evil, a view that many people including Tharos shared. Due to the great benefits to society that the research provided. Still, one had to question the moral and ethical issues such research raised, how much blood must be spilled? how much suffering must be inflicted? how many people must be sacrificed, for the benefit of others to the benefit of wider society. It was a question that Tharos along with many of his colleagues didn’t have an answer for, even with the many vigorous debates they had on the subject. As tharos walked into view of the tower, the hair on the back of Tharos neck stood on edge. he felt he was being watched. As he moved closer towards the tower his eyes were darting back and forth looking for any sign of movement, his ears pricked up for the slightest noise. However, there was nothing there aside from himself. The various streets and alleyway he passed were empty of life, and the only sounds was a crisp crunch of snow under his shoes, and the thud of his rapidly beating heart. As he passed the boundary and entered the towers district, Tharos noticed that the dim light of the sun was being replaced with the darkness of the night sky and that his body was starting to feel weaker as he walked closer to the tower.
“It seems like the wards are still active. a good sign at least.”
as the wards started to work their magic on Tharos body & mind. Tharos his steeled his resolve as he tried to resist the ward’s effects. “Focus on the task at hand.” These where the words that echoed in his mind repeatedly. Kept his eyes closed and moved slowly toward the door with weighted steps, as the magic tried to sap every drop of his vitality. After a few tense minutes, he felt his body slam into what felt like a wooden door. As he opens his eyes, he sees the sky has gone back to normal, and what is before him is a rather ornate but solid wooden door. Its frame was etched with arcane markings that quickly flashed a faint light blue color as Tharos placed his hand on the door. As he slowly opened the door, the markings started to disappear and fade into the woodwork. And what greeted him next to his surprise was the smell of fresh air, and clean stone floors and walls. The torches on the wall where shiny and looked well-polished, the spiraling stone staircase before him looked untouched as if not a single foot had stepped on them. it was too perfect, and that was what truly unsettled Tharos about this place.
“Even during the times, I was here with Vartark. It was never this clean.”
As he slowly walked up the spiraling stairs, the torches would burst into life and flicker bright Crimson red flames at his approach, lighting his path forward as He reached the first floor. He was greeted by the sight of a massive and well-furnished common room, with the crackling of a now-lit fireplace replacing the deathly silence. Tharos felt the fire’s warmth touch his skin, and as the fire started to bathe him in its warm glow. Tharos was overcome by a feeling of serenity, a feeling that he had not felt in a long time. However, he would not let this feeling take root in his heart. Shaking his head and letting out an audible sigh.
“at least the tower enchantments are still active.“
he would then stride forever forward ignoring the fireplace, ignoring the various ploys and tricks the tower would play on him as he made his way up the stone steps. Step after step floor after floor the tower enchantments would try to pierce into his mind or sap away his strength, it would show him visions some containing his greatest fears or desires, Things that he had forgotten long ago. Tharos being barely able to resist the effects that slowly ate away at what little defenses he had in place. The temptation was overwhelming. But if he were to lose focus or give in to the heaviness his body felt, not only would be doomed to spend all eternity in a deathless slumber without end, but the creature breaking free of binds would be a certainty and it would be free to spread its taint throughout the land once more, as it once did during the times of his forefathers, the times of the eternity war. His people saw and lived through a world turned on its axis, while battles raged that darkened the heavens, while fields and forests burned in the distance. Tharos would reach the top of the tower and to the sorcerer’s Private quarters after what felt like hours of grueling fatigue. As he opened the door, he found to his relief that the quarters were still immaculate as ever, and standing in the middle of the room was the pedestal and on top of the pedestal was his quarry, it was a circular stone disk with many diodes made out a smooth green stone, interconnected with a copper string that is intricately woven into the stone disk. As Tharos walked into the room he paused for a Secord and took a monument to soak in all the details of the room. Admiring the various arcane devices, shelves full to the brim with arcane lore, and at the far edge of the room leading to a balcony outside was the star gazer, still pointing towards the heavens above. Tharos mind then wondered to thoughts from long ago.
“Vartark you would always talk about how one day this place would be yours, and that would have that oteaps’s head on a silver platter. sadly, you never got the opportunity.“
Tharos would let out another depressive sigh at that thought of his best friend. He would then turn his attention towards the device in the center of the room. As he walks towards and reached his hand out to touch the stone disk resting on the pedestal. He would have to be careful; this device not only controlled and managed the magical barrier and the other defenses of the city. It also manipulated the city’s ley lines, one wrong move or one miscalculation could have serious ramifications not only for himself, but also for the wider outside world. However, as his fingers were about to touch the disk Tharos hears a faint noise, that sounded like a strong gust of wind coming from the direction of the Balcony. The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge, and what followed this sound was this audible but muffled Screech.
“of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.“
a sentence that contained more truth that the speaker would realize. Tharos reaching for sword, just in time as bursting into the room with the speed of a charging bull. Was a winged serpentine creature with a head of an old man, with black feathered wings. The creature hissed at Tharos, its bottom jaw extending and spitting into two segments, revealing sharp needle like teeth and a long tongue that dripped a black ichor, the ichor slowly eating away at the stone floor. Tharos raised his shield and directed his sword in the direction of the creature. The creature then spewed forth a torrent of black mist that started to eat away at the surrounding area and the device itself.
“NO.”
Tharos shouted. His voice carrying a level of frustration and anger that was unusual for someone of a phlegmatic temperament like himself. Black feathers then shot out from the black mist, Tharos quickly reacting raised his shield to defect them, the feathers only making a faint tapping noise as they hit his shield. then from above the creature would begin its assault, lunging forward with fangs extended, its tongue whipping the air. Tharos would return in kind, swinging his sword at the creature. The two combatants would exchange blows after blow, not noticing the device in the center of the room was starting to glow, ever and ever brighter as arcane energy sparked and cracked in the air. Tharos upon hearing a small ringing noise in between the hissing or clang of steel. turned his gaze ever so slightly to the device in the room. That was starting to break apart as the arcane energy that it contained was about to reach its zenith. Tharos jaw would drop, and he utter but a single word Dripping with disappointment.
“Curses.“
The room would then be cloaked in a bright and blinding blue light followed by a loud sound that sounded like clapping thunder consuming both Tharos and the creature in an explosion of arcane energy. The tower itself began to crumble and collapse in on itself. unable to handle the burden as a beam of energy coming from the top of the tower shoots itself up to the sky above, blowing a hole though the thick winter clouds. Enjoying the view was Tharos, his crippled body spread out on a collapsing rooftop. His bones broken with most of the flesh striped of them, as he faded in and out of consciousness waiting for his body to full heal itself. With his one good eye he stared up the winter sky, he didn’t know what hurt worse, the pain of failure, the pain that a collection of arcane knowledge, wisdom and items just went up in smoke or the stray snowflakes stinging him as they touched his exposed flesh. He made a low sigh. Once again, he had his work cut out for him.
