Alindria: Reforging Apocalypse

My Day as a Gladiator

King Aldred: Now, Magi, you may begin… entertain me with tales of this heroic man and his companions.
Royal Advisor: Yes, my King. “The 12th of Highsun. 1577. The Year of the Blooming Rose.”
King Aldred: Umm…Highsun…Magi?
Royal Advisor: Yes, my lord. That was the end of their summer, Sire.
King Aldred: Very good, Magi, continue.
Royal Advisor: Yes, my lord. “Today might have been the worst day of my life. As I was walking home, getting ready to turn in for the night, I heard a rustling in the bushes. When I turned to see what was behind me, expecting some fox or other small creature, I saw nothing… I heard nothing but the wind… and then it happened. I felt a sharp knock on the back of my skull and I felt myself falling… and then floating, floating in the blackness of my own mind. I awoke to see a great flash of light and feel a rush of wind. I remember the descriptions of portals that the elders talked about when I was very young, before the war, when magic was tame, but this couldn’t be a portal. None exist anymore except for very strong Magi. No way that would have been a portal… but then, how did I end up here… in this cell. How did I travel so far, so quickly… so hidden. I was forced to fight alongside 5 other people in a gladiatorial arena. We were somewhere hot. I only found out from another slave who has been fighting here for over 30 years that we are in the city of Estix. We are in… Sumeria. How I got this far down into Sumeria the gods only know. Maybe it was a portal, but who could use magic that strong, and what do they want with me? However, my new gladiator team members and I make no plans on staying here for thirty years. Oh no, we are plotting a way out through the sewers. Through a grate guarded by a malicious half-orc named Grimsmash. We are privy to the information that he hates rats. How we can use that information to our advantage… only time will tell."

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The Dusty Tomb

Royal Advisor: My King. We have finally broken the final vault of the tomb. Surely many treasures will be buried within.
King Aldred: Yes, Magi, hopefully it will contain something that will help us pay for this wretched skirmish. These hill tribes have naught but stone and ash.
Royal Advisor: Let us descend and find out my Lord.

The two descend with their guard into the abandoned crypt. As the light of their torches breaks through the doorway into the main chamber, the sparkle of gold and gems brings a smile to their faces.

King Aldred: Finally, this damnable war may pay off, Magi.
Royal Advisor: Yes, my liege, but look… in the back of the chamber…
King Aldred: This must be some hill tribe king they have entombed. But why all of this gold down here when they have nothing of value up there?
Royal Advisor: Perhaps it is from a king long forgotten… or perhaps, not a king at all. Maybe the tribesmen did not know what was down here. They are a superstitious, barbaric race, who do not care to raid the tombs of the dead for fear of divine repercussion.
King Aldred: If there is this much gold around the warrior, who knows what is buried with him. Guards! Lift the lid on that sarcophagus at once!

With a large bang, the iron lid slides off and onto the stone floor, scattering dust. Bones of a warrior lay peacefully grasping a mighty sword and wearing the decrepit tatters of what used to be great armor and cloth. A book is nestled in between the corps feet.

King Aldred: What is that Magi? Some ancient spellbook?
Royal Advisor: No, my king, it looks to be a journal. It seems the journal of a warrior and his adventuring group. The dates on the pages suggest, if this corps was indeed part of this group then, he was a survivor of the famous War of the Witch Kings. This journal is over 400 years old!

King Aldred and his advisor open the book and thumb through the old, rotting pages

King Aldred: I… have never heard of any of the places this warrior talks about… you are a scholar of history, Magi, do you know anything about the places he speaks of?
Royal Advisor: Hmmm… yes, I have indeed studied some of the more ancient places that survived after the war. Although, what they were like is pure speculation now.
King Aldred: Wonderful! We have such a long and boring journey back home that I should think to end my suffering now in this tomb, where burial would be easiest, rather than having to endure the torture of dying of boredom on our return journey. However, the gods have blessed me this day, Magi, for as we journey home in the carriage, you shall read me the tales of this wonderful warrior to ease my suffering! Now, into the carriage! We ride for the castle to divide our spoils!
Royal Advisor: Yes, my liege.

The King and the Magi climb into the carriage and close the door. The driver cracks the stirrups and the carriage begins to wobble back and forth across an uneasy path towards their kingdom.

King Aldred: Now, Magi, you may begin… entertain me with tales of this heroic man and his companions.
Royal Advisor: Yes, my King. “The 12th of Highsun. 1577. The Year of the Blooming Rose.”
King Aldred: Umm…Highsun…Magi?
Royal Advisor: Yes, my lord. That was the end of their summer, Sire.
King Aldred: Very good, Magi, continue.
Royal Advisor: Yes, my lord. “Today might have been the worst day of my life. As I was walking home, getting ready to turn in for the night…”

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