Prologue
Excerpt from On Traotos: The History, compiled by Sister Isobeal
Let it be known to all who read these tomes that the encyclopaedic series On Traotos is the most complete documentation on all the aspects of this land up until the current date of 8th Drakant, year 6. The finest minds from each Nation have been chosen to compile each volume of relevant articles, chapters, and correspondences so as to provide the most comprehensive detailing of Traotos. There are 9 volumes, as listed here: The History, Opraria, Foij Glayn, Glaila, Dascualia, The Gods, Magic, The Flora, and All Living Creatures. The volumes are all compiled by a single editor each, yet the chapters and articles found therein are written by a variety of (mostly) very qualified and wonderful researchers.
Please note that the volume on All Living Creatures deals with all creatures who are not human, Dwarf, Elf, or Rivallian. This includes, but is not limited to, Dragons, mammals, insects, arachnids, marine life, and avians. The volumes on each Nation will speak about each of their respective peoples.
I, Earl Graystone, have been asked to provide this foreword due to my personal fascination with this beautiful land and every aspect of it. I have dedicated much of my life to learning about Traotos and the efforts, in large, of the Brotherhood of Jurmin, whose august order is dedicated to expanding both their own and everybody else’s knowledge. However, they also understand the importance of safe research. This is something I wish to impress upon you, dear reader.
There are only 9 volumes in this set. No more, and no less. No more will be added, and none will be removed. Any changes will be published in subsequent editions. To my understanding, this is the eighth edition of The History, and there will likely be innumerable editions following this, as the world continues to change around us. You may have heard rumours of a tenth volume, tales of a tome which speaks about dark creatures who are not investigated in any of the National tomes, nor All Living Creatures. Rest assured that everything you need to know about Traotos is contained within the pages of this 9-book set.
Now, I began correspondence with Sister Isobeal on the recommendation of a good friend, who alerted me that she was having difficulty in learning about the Dwarves of Foij Glayn. Having had dealings with the rather stubborn folks up North, I offered…
The dark, almost black, and rough stone of the caves were lit only by the flickering light of the man’s torch as he travelled in a slightly crouched position through the tunnel. The sound of the heavy rain lashing the cliff face behind him was long gone, and probably high above him now. He had been walking in this huddled fashion for nearly two hours now and his knees were beginning to cramp. Nevertheless, he continued without complaint. For to complain would be to lose favour with Hūrsukïlin.
The tunnels winded and turned, sometimes intersecting into completely new paths or turning back on themselves. The man remained true to his course, however, despite the journey before and behind him being blacker than pitch. The shadows swallowed the light of his torch as if by magic. At the very least, his clothing was now dry thanks to the heat of the flame and the absence of rain.
Finally, after another half hour of walking, he managed to stand straight in what was obviously a corridor. He refrained from releasing a contented sigh as he stretched his legs and neck, working out the kinks and aches before continuing. He knew this tunnel was a corridor, as there were several doors set into the walls on either side. The doors were all made of bright white metal: Starsteel. They had no discernible handles or hinges, and the only opening in them was a small plate near the top which could be slid across to see inside. The man walked up to the first door and slid open the first plate.
Inside the brightly lit room were two cots, a bucket, and a writing desk complete with paper, two quills, and two inkwells. However, the inhabitants of the room – or cell, as it truly was – were the most unsettling. Two individuals, almost completely identical in appearance, were staring at the man through the gap in the door. The one on the left had a pink left eye and a brown right eye. Meanwhile, the other individual had a pink right eye and a brown left. The left one wore a bright green sash over his bare chest, which led to a pair of black trousers. The one on the right had a bright blue sash, going the opposite direction over his chest, and leading to a pair of white trousers. Ny and Jemin, the Cursed Twins. They stared at the peephole without blinking. The man slid the plate closed, leaving the two to their isolation once again.
The next cell contained similar furniture to the first, but with only one of each object instead. The man only got a moment to look at it before an ear-piercing shriek emanated from the room and a deathly pale, monstrous creature leapt from the dark far corner, black eyes burning with starvation and desire, jaws opened impossibly wide to reveal lips and gums shredded by a horrific tangle of pointed fangs. The man only just managed to close the slot before the creature hit the door, causing it to shake slightly. No sound came through the door from the creature’s unavoidable banging on it, however. For that, the visitor was grateful.
For several minutes, he investigated each cell in turn, his eyes greeted by all manner of prisoners. Some humanoid, some monstrous, some were mad and others seemed perfectly reasonable and sane. Their doors all remained locked, however, until he opened a slot to find a completely empty cell, save for a mask on a pedestal in the centre of the room. The man closed the slot, then placed his hand to the Starsteel door. After a moment, the door slid downwards into the rock, silently and smoothly. He raised a foot to step forward, then paused. He pulled a coin from his pocket, then flicked it forward.
As soon as the coin passed the threshold, it ceased to be solid and immediately melted into molten gold, splashing onto the ground where it sizzled and bubbled. The man took a breath and raised a hand again, holding it up towards the room and muttering a few words under his breath. A few seconds passed, then he drew a second coin and tossed it into the room. This time, the coin clinked and bounced off the ground, whole. He remained still at the entrance, though, and continued to observe.
After a few seconds, the coin suddenly exploded into a thousand microscopic fragments, prompting the visitor to raise his hand to defend his face as tiny shards of gold struck every wall of the cell. They did not leave the confines of the room, though, as if some invisible wall stopped anything from leaving. The man raised his hand once again, then tossed a third coin. This time, five minutes passed and the coin remained still and unmolested on the floor of the cell. The man, seemingly satisfied, raised his hand and the coin floated up, flying back to him. Before it reached his hand, however, it came to a halt at the doorway, the face against what the man now confirmed was an invisible wall.
With a muttered curse, the man raised his hand a fourth time and this time, it was the last defence to dispel. The coin returned to his hand and he pocketed it before cautiously stepping into the cell. He approached the black, simple pedestal and looked at the mask.
The mask depicted a face. It had a long, hooked nose and a long, pointed chin. Between the nose and chin was an upturned mouth, smooth teeth bared as the corners of the mouth curved almost to the jawline of the mask in an unnatural depiction. The eyes were pure white and above them were a pair of eyebrows, curved upwards and inwards intensely. The whole mask was a visage of sorrow, of sadness, of loss. Furthermore, it was a very impractical mask, as there were no eye holes to see out of. It was completely white, with the exception of blue lipstick and blue makeup around the eyes.
The man regarded the mask for several seconds before reaching into his pack and pulling out a heavy, dark steel gauntlet. He pulled it onto his right hand, then reached forward. The plates on the gauntlet were carved with runes which, upon grabbing the mask, glowed bright red, almost bright enough to illuminate the entire cell.
He picked up the mask and stepped away from the pedestal. Then, wasting no time, he let the mask go. The hard mask dropped through the air and hit the floor, where it cracked and split into three pieces. The shards all settled and all was silent for a time. Then, the pieces of the mask began to dissolve into dust, and the man could have sworn he heard a giggle in the distance, but it was probably a hint of wind from down the tunnels. In a few seconds, the mask was a pile of dust on the ground. The man sniffed, then scattered the pile of dust with his boot before turning and stepping back out of the cell, pulling the heavy gauntlet of his forearm and putting it back into his pack.
The magical wards were put back in place, the Starsteel door was risen up once more, and the man continued on his way down the corridor. This time, he did not look into any more cells on either side of him. Instead, he strolled purposefully and quickly down the hallway. For twenty minutes he walked, turning in the corridors of the prison far below the earth.
This place was the epitome of a magical prison. Carved deep in the Dragonspine Mountain range, only very few people even knew of its existence. Of course, these mountains themselves provoked fear and superstition in everybody, from the tunnel-dwelling Rivallians to their Dwarven counterparts. Many bad things had happened between these peaks, and many people were convinced that they housed a species of people who feast on the flesh of men. Even a few Magi had suggested that the Magivoir itself rested inside one of the mountains.
The visitor, however, only knew that this prison was housed in the mountains, along with the Fortress that rested above it. All manner of people and creatures were kept in these cells. People and creatures who were far too dangerous to allow to roam free. Murderers, thieves, and other criminals were kept in the Toralyn Gaol, located in the capital city of Traotos. Here, the truly powerful and normally uncontainable were kept. Magi who wanted nothing more than to slaughter everybody in the world were kept in cells which cut them off from the Magivoir. Creatures who are impossible to kill by mortal means were kept in isolation here. And then there were the… different prisoners. Like the prisoner whose door the man now stood before.
The door was different from the others. While it was still Starsteel, every surface of it was etched with runes and ritual circles and symbols. Runes of sealing, circles of protection, symbols of suppression. There was not even a sliding plate to see inside the room. It was completely sealed off. Physically, magically, and spiritually sealed off. The man took a deep breath, then knelt down on the ground and opened his pack.
For the next four hours, the man disarmed each ward on the door. He used various objects, from gauntlets to wands to necklaces. The whole time, he muttered ancient and powerful words. One by one, the glowing symbols faded away, until the door was simple, white Starsteel. The man stood, then put his hand against the door and, like with the mask’s cell, the door slid down to reveal the blackness inside. His torch helped to illuminate the inside of the cell and, in turn, the contents of the cell.
From all four walls, white, thick chains, glowing with even more runes, were pulled taut. There were nearly six chains per wall, all of them connected to what appeared to be a Starsteel egg in the centre, held above the ground by the chains. Those chains even clung to the ceiling and the floor. The egg itself was covered with just as many runes and circles, and on the floor, a large ritual circle was carved into the rock. The man regarded the cell with a hint of fear in his eyes, but then shook it away. His fellow Acolytes were relying on him.
For a long time, he began to carefully unravel the defences inside the cell. He lost track of how long he remained at the doorway, lifting every object in his pack and wearing every item of clothing, chanting arcane words in forgotten dialects. He worked through his hunger and thirst, for sating them would cause all the processes to revert and he would have to begin anew. It was such an arduous task, but one that he performed with dedication and determination.
Finally, weary and more tired than he had been in many a year, the man finished the final incantation, and the ritual circle on the ground became undone. He released a breath and his shoulders sagged. Then, he raised his hand towards the egg hovering in the centre.
“Kūros sirtӧnar fāalakat.” He muttered. Finally, he gathered up his things and turned away, leaving the door open as he began back the way he had come. His work was finished here, and it was time for him to leave.
The silver egg in the cell remained unmoved for several hours. With the runes and protections gone, it was only a matter of time before it opened. With the man now long gone and the torchlight with him, the only light was from the magical, floating orbs of light that dotted the prison corridor, none of which shed any light into the now pitch black cell that housed what was probably the most securely imprisoned individual in the entire complex.
Chains began to jingle, then one length fell to the ground with a loud, heavy, metallic thunk. Another chain fell, then they continued to fall until, with an echoing boom, the egg fell to the ground, cracking the floor and now ruining the ritual circle beyond any repair or restoration. Then, a thin source of light emanated from the egg in the form of a line that ran along the side of the object, travelling all around until meeting upon itself. The light disappeared, and the quiet sound of metal on stone signalled that the egg had fallen open. It sounded almost like a metal bowl rocking back and forth, ever so slightly.
Several minutes passed as the impenetrable darkness of the cell remained still and the sounds faded away into silence once again. Then, fingers slowly began to emanate from the darkness.
The fingers moved forward, then kept moving forward. The skin around them was tight and deathly pale, almost pure white. On one hand, there were seven fingers. On the other, nine. Each finger had far too many knuckles to be natural. Those fingers slowly curled around the sides of the doorway, resembling the grotesque legs of horrific spiders. A naked foot then ventured out of the darkness, travelling two meters before resting on the ground. It was long, with seven toes which themselves had an uneven number of knuckles.
Finally, the face of the prisoner ventured out of the darkness. If it could be called a face, that is.
A bald head left the shadows. On its head, shaped almost like a trident, with the prongs meeting on his forehead and meeting again at the back of his head, were scars that were badly stitched closed. What would be the short shaft of the trident ended at what would have been a normal man’s nose, but here just some flaps of long-dead skin that hung around the exposed nostrils of the skull.
Below the head scars were two sunken eyes, both of which were closed tight. They were unable to open, as the eyelids were sewn shut with thin, silvery thread. They were sewn in the same manner as the scars, with frayed knots at each end of the eye keeping the stitching in place. Likewise, the thin and cold lips were sewn shut in a similar manner. The figure’s entire face was gaunt, and would have resembled that of a corpse, had it not been on a body which was moving around.
The creature pulled the rest of its body out of the cell. The shoulders were wide, wide enough that it had to turn sideways to leave the cell, and its torso was impossibly long, nearly two meters in length. Its legs were even longer, and almost the entire body was naked, save for some scraps of cloth around his waist and upper thighs which seemed to have once been trousers. The skin was pulled tight over his skeleton, which itself was bizarre in so many ways. The left arm had two elbows, and each leg had two knees.
The monster began to move through the tunnels of the prison, having to crawl grotesquely on its hands and knees in order to move through the tunnel. It travelled for hours and hours, although there was no hint of fatigue, distress, or any indication of it being uncomfortable in any way. When it left the magical lights of the prison complex and entered the unlit, natural tunnels, it did not slow at all, and did not seem to be confused by direction. Now free of the confines of the tunnel, it stood to its full height. Two of the moons were full, the other five in various states of waxing and waning.
Starting in a squat, the creature lengthened its legs, each of which was three meters in length. Its torso then uncurled, and in total, it stood at nearly 9 meters in height. At the ends of its arms, one at two meters and the other at three, the hands and fingers extended nearly half a meter by themselves. Atop the elongated and impossibly thin neck, the grotesque head of the creature lifted up to the starlit sky. Then, something truly horrific happened.
The creature opened its mouth.
The threads were stretched further and further, and the holes they made around the mouth of the creature were stretched open so much because of it that they almost seemed like small mouths by themselves. Inside the mouth was nothing. No tongue, no teeth, only blackened gums. Just a black void, absent of anything human or alive.
Then, the creature shrieked.
The sound was devastating. A crack appeared in the cliff face of the opposite mountain, and a devastating landslide began. The few birds who called the mountain range their home dropped dead upon hearing the deathly wail. The silent night was pierced by the ear-splitting, animalistic, wordless scream. Then, as soon as it began, the creature’s mouth snapped closed, its jaw drawn in sharply by the threads which had been stretched enough.
The creature squatted down once again, bringing its bony pelvis close to the cold ground, then leapt into the air. The force of its jump brought it nearly to the peak of the mountain it had been imprisoned in, and it soared through the air before landing on the lower peak of another mountain, its long, spindly fingers digging into the rock to keep itself in place. It pulled one hand out and reached up, grabbing the peak of the mountain and pulling itself up with ease before pouncing once again, into the night and the darkness.
In the mountain the creature had just left, up at the peak and on the opposite side from where it had gone, inside the confines of the rock, in a hidden Fortress, in an elaborate and rich study, on a plush, crimson armchair... a pale, red-haired man with closed eyes heard the inhuman shriek that pierced the night air. He raised a hand to his temples and released a slight sigh, then raised his other hand, goblet clasped in his fingers, and sipped from the crimson liquid within.
“They are released…” The man muttered to himself, opening his black eyes to gaze into the fireplace before him, observing the dancing flames and hearing the crackle and pop of the logs as they fell to the flames. “The Gods have decided to test us, after all.”
