The wide vitre flooring catches the echoes of your steps as you hurry down the broad, arched passageway, well lit by narrow windows catching the afternoon sun and lighting the vibrant mosaic patterns lining the way ahead. An aloof aide, immaculately dressed in high-caste serf's garb (only fitting, for a lord of Cassius' status) accompanies you on the way, briefly knocking at a tall, dark door composed of some exotic wood, mahogany brown with streaks of jade green woven throughout like fossilized root systems (a priceless Heori import, you are sure, perhaps treated with some form of transmutation or enchantment).
"Enter!" replies a dry, airy voice from within.
Upon entering, you find yourself in a long rectangular room - a library office with clear vitre tiles lining the far wall and ceiling, filling the room with strong but not overly bright light. The long walls to your right and left are filled, bottom to top, with shelf upon shelf of books and scrolls, most of which are originals, you are quick to notice. Lord Cassius himself, an elf of imperial bearing and comeliness, wearing the traditional gold sash of Talisan Lordship, gestures you forward without raising his eyes from the wide sheet of vellum spread across his immense desk, also of the same material as the door by which you entered. The only sound besides your breath and footsteps upon the floor is the musical ticking of a pocketwatch open on the desk, shining with metallic luster in the light.
"Hello, Doctor. You are two minutes early to our appointment."
Dr. Matt Lindstrom, a 23 year old human (looks more like 16, with a boyish face), the youngest Professor at the Royal Academies of Talis, presents himself in his best suit and tie. He comes in carrying his research materials on the ‘place beneath mountains of ice’. He walks with confidence but not arrogance. He has always had to prove to others his worthiness; just the way he liked it.
He acknowledges the aide. He approaches Lord Cassius and bows. “Lord Cassius, thank you for accepting my application for the expedition.”
"Indeed - it would have been hard for me to ignore such a figure of... reputation."
Unwanted memories of gruelling debates with colleagues at the Academy come to mind, in which several of your more unconventional theories were dismissed, with heavy overtones of personal bias conveyed in the process.
"In any case, while you are here, I would not mind your opinion on some matters. Approach the desk."
Waving you forward, he meets your eyes briefly, and the privilege and burden of responsibility strike you in his piercing gaze.
As you approach the table, you immediately appreciate that it is a map of incalculable value - spanning the full breadth of the equatorial regions with updated sections on recently discovered areas, including the ruins of old Argo (until very recently impassable to all but the bravest explorers) and the Barbarian caravan routes, traversing the polar wastes in winding, irregular courses.
With an elegant finger, Lord Cassius draws a line from the ruins of old Argo north, following a lesser caravan route until it passes a dark stain on map - a landmark of some kind. "Si pronyebis, ascientas." He mutters in old Argo. (Thus much, for our knowledge).
His boyish excitement starts to get the better of him as he looks intently at the map. He feels almost drawn into it as if through magic. He gathers himself, remembering where he was and with whom. Using his comprehend languages ability he looks at the words on the map to better understand them. He looks for other things of interest as well.
The map is of superb quality, beautifully rendered, but it contains little to no new information to you. There are the various Polises, surviving colonies of ancient Argo and its mighty empire. There lies Heor on the slopes of the Worldfang, a mass of incontinent barbarians obscuring relics and archeological wonders of the ancient past. There lies the squat, crimson mountain of Mogra, and the mysteries therein sealed forever by its fearsome Legions. All this is well known to you, as well as the two primary Caravan routes, carved by the tramping feet and hooves of myriad barbarian tribal peoples over millenia. One in the northern Hemisphere, one in the southern, these routes dip in and out of settled, civilized lands and into the wastes, making special efforts to swing by the more powerful cities and crossing the equator entirely at the Worldfang. These routes give wide berth to the old Heartlands, where the porcelain shell of old Argo still reaches for the sky, impenetrable to all but the most intrepid of Talisan explorers and aviationists (and few enough of these, as their skills are needed to keep Mogra at arm's length with reliable scouting across their territories!).
Still, there is the one faint caravan road from Argo, long abandoned, leading north to a marker of some kind, which you now properly read as a sort of shorthand-language related to Old Argo but more efficient for notetaking. The marking is very old, and seems to be a short list of numbers and letters, which you must infer as the nomenclature for a series of such structures - likely old watchtowers raised by the Argo in the height of their power and influence. You turn your head to get your bearings a little better, and you catch a glimpse of some of Lord Cassius's notes (also written in old Argo in an elegant hand) weighed to the table with a shiny paperweight, and it finally clicks - you have read of this particular structure before: Founded on a deep pillar of granite, still rising easily 100 feet above the plains surrounding it, the narrow tower was formed of a nearly indestructible variant of Vitre, the secrets of whose making are, of course, long lost (Think Lord of the Rings's Tower of Orthanc). This particular tower was the subject of an Academic expedition that you would have studied in passing while pursuing your doctorate, led by a rather intrepid Talisan Lord named Pheistores (Fay-Stoh-Rees) who never returned, though some of his early messages and instructions as to the management of his estates did.
The wide vitre flooring catches the echoes of your steps as you hurry down the broad, arched passageway, well lit by narrow windows catching the afternoon sun and lighting the vibrant mosaic patterns lining the way ahead. An aloof aide, immaculately dressed in high-caste serf's garb (only fitting, for a lord of Cassius' status) accompanies you on the way, briefly knocking at a tall, dark door composed of some exotic wood, mahogany brown with streaks of jade green woven throughout like fossilized root systems (a priceless Heori import, you are sure, perhaps treated with some form of transmutation or enchantment).
"Enter!" replies a dry, airy voice from within.
Upon entering, you find yourself in a long rectangular room - a library office with clear vitre tiles lining the far wall and ceiling, filling the room with strong but not overly bright light. The long walls to your right and left are filled, bottom to top, with shelf upon shelf of books and scrolls, most of which are originals, you are quick to notice. Lord Cassius himself, an elf of imperial bearing and comeliness, wearing the traditional gold sash of Talisan Lordship, gestures you forward without raising his eyes from the wide sheet of vellum spread across his immense desk, also of the same material as the door by which you entered. The only sound besides your breath and footsteps upon the floor is the musical ticking of a pocketwatch open on the desk, shining with metallic luster in the light.
"Hello, Doctor. You are two minutes early to our appointment."
Dr. Matt Lindstrom, a 23 year old human (looks more like 16, with a boyish face), the youngest Professor at the Royal Academies of Talis, presents himself in his best suit and tie. He comes in carrying his research materials on the ‘place beneath mountains of ice’. He walks with confidence but not arrogance. He has always had to prove to others his worthiness; just the way he liked it.
He acknowledges the aide. He approaches Lord Cassius and bows. “Lord Cassius, thank you for accepting my application for the expedition.”
D&D since 1984
"Indeed - it would have been hard for me to ignore such a figure of... reputation."
Unwanted memories of gruelling debates with colleagues at the Academy come to mind, in which several of your more unconventional theories were dismissed, with heavy overtones of personal bias conveyed in the process.
"In any case, while you are here, I would not mind your opinion on some matters. Approach the desk."
Waving you forward, he meets your eyes briefly, and the privilege and burden of responsibility strike you in his piercing gaze.
As you approach the table, you immediately appreciate that it is a map of incalculable value - spanning the full breadth of the equatorial regions with updated sections on recently discovered areas, including the ruins of old Argo (until very recently impassable to all but the bravest explorers) and the Barbarian caravan routes, traversing the polar wastes in winding, irregular courses.
With an elegant finger, Lord Cassius draws a line from the ruins of old Argo north, following a lesser caravan route until it passes a dark stain on map - a landmark of some kind. "Si pronyebis, ascientas." He mutters in old Argo. (Thus much, for our knowledge).
I’ll be out of internet service starting today thru next Tuesday
D&D since 1984
(I’m back 😁)
His boyish excitement starts to get the better of him as he looks intently at the map. He feels almost drawn into it as if through magic. He gathers himself, remembering where he was and with whom. Using his comprehend languages ability he looks at the words on the map to better understand them. He looks for other things of interest as well.
D&D since 1984
The map is of superb quality, beautifully rendered, but it contains little to no new information to you. There are the various Polises, surviving colonies of ancient Argo and its mighty empire. There lies Heor on the slopes of the Worldfang, a mass of incontinent barbarians obscuring relics and archeological wonders of the ancient past. There lies the squat, crimson mountain of Mogra, and the mysteries therein sealed forever by its fearsome Legions. All this is well known to you, as well as the two primary Caravan routes, carved by the tramping feet and hooves of myriad barbarian tribal peoples over millenia. One in the northern Hemisphere, one in the southern, these routes dip in and out of settled, civilized lands and into the wastes, making special efforts to swing by the more powerful cities and crossing the equator entirely at the Worldfang. These routes give wide berth to the old Heartlands, where the porcelain shell of old Argo still reaches for the sky, impenetrable to all but the most intrepid of Talisan explorers and aviationists (and few enough of these, as their skills are needed to keep Mogra at arm's length with reliable scouting across their territories!).
Still, there is the one faint caravan road from Argo, long abandoned, leading north to a marker of some kind, which you now properly read as a sort of shorthand-language related to Old Argo but more efficient for notetaking. The marking is very old, and seems to be a short list of numbers and letters, which you must infer as the nomenclature for a series of such structures - likely old watchtowers raised by the Argo in the height of their power and influence. You turn your head to get your bearings a little better, and you catch a glimpse of some of Lord Cassius's notes (also written in old Argo in an elegant hand) weighed to the table with a shiny paperweight, and it finally clicks - you have read of this particular structure before: Founded on a deep pillar of granite, still rising easily 100 feet above the plains surrounding it, the narrow tower was formed of a nearly indestructible variant of Vitre, the secrets of whose making are, of course, long lost (Think Lord of the Rings's Tower of Orthanc). This particular tower was the subject of an Academic expedition that you would have studied in passing while pursuing your doctorate, led by a rather intrepid Talisan Lord named Pheistores (Fay-Stoh-Rees) who never returned, though some of his early messages and instructions as to the management of his estates did.
(Sorry about not replying sooner. I'm not sure where to take us next, but I will try)
"Yes, I remember that. Lord Pheistores if I remember correctly. Do you have access to the messages that came back? This is most exciting."
D&D since 1984
Are we still continuing with this campaign?
D&D since 1984