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Stage 3
Stage 3
When you drift to sleep, you find yourself atop a mountain plateau. Behind you, columns are carved into the mountainside, etched with unfamiliar shapes and symbols. The rock stretches out ahead of you, and atop it, there are three large slabs of stone which form something of an altar.
Those of you who might have been here before will recognise the place as Remiel. Those who have not… can only guess.
Out in front of the altar, sitting with their back to you, is a wolf. Or at least, it is the shape of one - for although the rowan moon illuminates the sky, this figure is ashen black, void of light or feature.
You are observing the way the moonlight is simply swallowed by the form when it speaks, its voice a gutterall rumble.
“I know you are there.” It does not turn to face you.
You remain still. Silent.
“Don’t be afraid,” the voice says. “It is almost time. Come and see.”
It is your choice:
It is your choice:
Stay where you are OR approach the figure
Two wolves stay where they are
Two wolves stay where they are
You remain where you stand, perhaps cautious, perhaps afraid. You see the shoulders of the figure slump, its head lowering: you get the sense that it is disappointed. A peculiar, wistful sadness washes over you.
“This wasn’t... how things…” Its voice is slow and laboured, catching in its throat. “...Were supposed to be.”
The figure slips to one side, hitting the ground roughly, and laying still. As it does, the owl swoops over your head, before vanishing into the skies beyond.
With a laboured breath, you hear the figure murmur. “Nec-to..”
Only then do you notice the blood, a dark stain trickling silently along the stone. And as you watch, the ground begins to shake below you.
AWAKE.
Eleven wolves approach the figure
Eleven wolves approach the figure
You approach the figure. It remains still. It remains void. It does not seem to acknowledge you at all, save for its voice, which speaks to you clearly.
“Their name never spoken,” it says as you get closer. “But they have had many.”
You wonder who the figure is speaking of.
“The balance. The source. The heretic.”
You speak, though you are not sure where the words come from - it is a feeling that compels you to respond.
“The Fifth.”
For the first time, the figure turns to look at you. Its blank pits of eyes bore into you, and you feel your chest tightening.
You notice it then. The blood, dripping from the figure’s jaw. And as you watch, a coldness drifting over you, you think that you see it smile. A sad smile.
“It is time.”
All at once, you see the circle of stones surrounding the figure. You peer down at the one closest to you, which seems… marked, in some way.
AWAKE
11 ancient runestones have been found!
11 ancient runestones have been found!
It’s enough to earn a clue. When they wake, the 11 wolves who approached the figure can remember the mark on the stone.
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