Iain Deepwode was at his usual spot, working at his desk. His face lit up when I strode up to him, but I figured it wasn't due to my safe return. His eyes were transfixed upon the crown I held before me.
Taking it carefully from my hands and inspecting it, he whispered to himself "This is not exactly how the Diadem was described in the books..." It was true, the Crown didn't look as magnificent as Iain implied it would be. In fact, it looked fairly mundane, and very faded with age. "Well Signus, you did a good job. Our mages will determine if this is the real Diadem. Its power may not yet be fully awakened. Someone will be along to pay you shortly, but I imagine now you wish me to tell you what this is all about?"
Iain spun a long tale about Agon, centuries ago, and how, somewhere between the fall of the Chaldean Empire and the present day, a race of golden skinned beings called the Nithron reigned over the land.
They were tall, giants by the standards of men, and possessed powerful magical abilities, not least of which was immortality. Death was possible through combat it seemed, as all the Nithron remains found on Agon bore the marks of a violent death.
They were few in number for whatever reason, and lived more as lords rather than a race unto themselves. They ruled over the lesser beings of Agon and used them as tools of war in a game against other Nithron leaders, and forced them to construct colossal buildings and monuments. Some were still around, and as Iain described them, I realized I had seen some before just outside of Sandbrook.
But just as suddenly as they appeared, they died off, taking their magic and secrets with them.
"But now Signus, the dungeons and caches and burial chambers which stored their wealth have begun to fill with terrible monsters again. Guardians. Sealed off from the outside world and gathering dust for centuries, these tombs are now alive, and the artifacts within glow with power. Something is returning, and our organization, the Sons of Riada, seek to use this power. Will you help us track down more artifacts?"
Throughout the story I'd sat in wonder. Until now, it seemed all the great events and deeds of the world were long in the past, buried in history books. Now Agon had become a place of perpetual war without meaning, with not even death as an escape. The Usurper Gods that once drove the conflict have long since fallen silent. How could I not jump at a chance to be a part of real history?
But, I still felt something was wrong. A light was burning in Iain's eyes, a lust not for scholarly mysteries, but for power. Was I right to help this man? Well, maybe this magic would finally give the Humans an edge over our enemies and free us from this purgatory. It would be worth it then, certainly?
A day later I stood outside the ruins of Sandstone, a city that Iain said was once ruled over by a great Nithron King. When he died his central treasure, the Dragontorc, vanished with him. The Sons of Riada were hoping that it had returned to the mortal plane, as the Diadem of Dawn had. It was my job to look for it.
The city was dark and decayed, the stagnant air was filled with grit and sand. Most of the stone buildings had long since collapsed, but a few impressive temples remained. Along the edges of some of the buildings were stone pits. It was not difficult to imagine prisoners getting tossed inside them to fight for sport in a time long passed. Between the buildings, where there was once ground, now existed only shallow sea of mud, as if the entire city were sinking, or perhaps, rising again.
I searched the temples first and it wasn't long before I found the treasure chest I was looking for. Upon opening the chest however, I discovered only some commonplace loot that would hardly be fit for a new recruit.
Baffled, I continued my search. These ruins had no life to them, no creatures or defenders, no magic. I was beginning to think that the Nithron hadn't returned to this particular city. As night fell however, my mind was changed. After hours of silent searching, I felt a wave of energy pass through air and my hair stood on end. I stopped moving to try to hear around me. Silent, save for the occasional gurgle of the mud. I was about to continue my search when I felt a second pulse immediately followed by hissing all around me. Still, I saw nothing, but an overwhelming sense of dread settled over me.
From out of the darkness crept a large number of skeletons, and one cyclopean monster. The sword it held in its skeletal hands was almost twice the length of my entire body. And then, It spoke to me.
"Trespasser." It whispered. The voice felt slimy and rotten, and oozed out over my mind. It was almost enough to make me wretch. My vision darkened and my breathing slowed, and I was transfixed. It took step towards me, arcane energy swirling around its body. "You walk on sacred ground. Here rest the gods you shall not disturb. I keep the land pure for their return. Thou must be purified."
And then, It leveled a blast of energy at my body. I flew backwards into the wall, my instantly feeling weak. Smaller skeletons swarmed towards me, while their dark master simply walked away. I pushed myself to my feet, quaffed a potion. Feeling strengthened I pushed by the minions and charged straight at the retreating monster.
A bubbling hissing noise came from Its mouth as it turned to engage me. It was laughing, and as I drew closer, I didn't blame It. I may as well have been running headlong into a fortified keep. It towered over me, blocking the moon and stars. "The land must be pure, the Dragon must return."
I thrust my sword forward, and hit an invisible force, slowing my swing. Again I struck, this time pushing through the barrier and lodging the sword into the leg of the monster. Hissing laughter again came from it's mouth, and my sword was stuck. It's bones creaked as it raised it's great weapon above its head. I took cover behind my shield, but Its swing easily split the flimsy defense in half, and the blade bit deep into my bones. Screaming, blood pouring from my body, I fell backwards as the sword came down again. Hissing bubbling laughter, and then all was black.
My second "death". It felt worse than the last, much worse. I rose again at the Hildershall bind stone, sick and weak. When I had recovered somewhat, I returned to Iain Deepwode and told him I had decided to abandon the search for the Dragontorc. He was not pleased, but as I told him my story, he understood why. Instead of looking disturbed though, the hunger for power returned to his eyes. He dismissed me, but instructed me to return again some day, with help.
The encounter left me deeply unsettled. I could still hear the voice in my head, making me feel sick and disturbed. I was not yet ready to deal with immortals and Demi gods. Not even mentally. My best option was simply to return to Sanguine and see what Redham would have to say. My time in Hildershall was at an end for now, but from that day a shadow stayed on my mind. Agon had suddenly become something much darker.
