:: Random Location—Pillars of Qilak ::

Pillars of Qilak

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/24/15

a seraph

Monument: Henge

Nation: Seraphim

Condition: Wild, Elaborate

Weather: Thunderstorm

Color: Light Brown

Keyword: Awesome

After strapping the pirium-wrapped bracers to your arms you tighten the pirium-toed boots on your feet to ensure they don’t fall off mid-flight. The company of seraphim surround you, caked in the light brown mud significant to their religious rituals. The lead escort gives you the nod to activate the levitation gear. Doing so, you rise with them into the night. Lightning flashes in the distance and the thunder soon follows, cracking and rumbling across the cloudy sky as if in recognition of the seraph who lies dead high above.

The funeral site is composed of a levitating henge of pirium pillars encircling the sacred space, blue electricity infrequently snapping between them. In the center hovers a pirium bier, bearing the body of the slain. All around, the attending seraphim don their pirium circlets, glowing brightly in the night, making the scene feel somewhat like a candle-light vigil in a human cathedral. When all have gathered an elaborate ritual begins, thunder rolling after each plea to the Strangers of Darkness. At last, all seraphim close their eyes and the pirium henge is lit up by a web of blue lightning. When you look again, the body of the deceased is gone.

:: Random Location—Temple of Ulemu ::

 Temple of Ulemu

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/15/15

Monument: Pyramid

Weather: Rainbow

Conditions: Occupied, Wild

Color: Pastel Yellow

Keyword: Honor

The wall of dense jungle vines seems to thicken the further you proceed. At last you tumble out into the open. Picking yourself up, you behold a large squat step-pyramid of expertly carved sandstone sitting in the exact center of a perfectly square clearing. Silence pervades. The long, untidy grass does not even sway a little, and a bright rainbow arcs overhead, completing the idyllic scene. But your attention is suddenly drawn away as scores of dark-skinned warriors soundlessly present themselves on the pyramid’s steps, weapons drawn, fierce gazes levelled at you. One warrior advances a few paces—body decorated with paint the color of chick’s feathers—and speaks in an unknown tongue. When she sees that you don’t understand, she repeats herself in your language, but with a heavy accent: “Speak: whom do you honor by your actions here?”