Everything was exactly as they remembered. A sheet of clear, crystal-blue ice covered everything. Above, the dark grey clouds hung low in the sky. And all around, except for their own movements, the air remained perfectly still. They were intruders, warm-blooded, living creatures in a house of frozen, unyielding cold. The chill that penetrated their bones was more than a physical cold. It was the emotional cold of finally returning to their home after so many years away. Faces turned in wonder and awe at the morbid beauty of the ice that glittered as it caught the rays of an unknown light.
They approached the palace, the Spire of Tekar, once the jewel of their hometown. From there, the Tekaran ruled over the city. But now, it sat frozen in the same ice that had claimed the rest of the demiplane in its frigid claws. The Spire’s great towers once shone with a golden light far above the rest of the town. Now, its once-magnificent pride gleamed only with the cold light of the quiet ice.
Their boots crunched in the ice as they walked toward the Spire. They had all brought shoes that gave them traction in the ice. They knew from their experience twelve years ago they would need the traction. The ice was perfectly smooth, far slicker than any other ice they had encountered before. All around, the frozen buildings evoked long-lost memories in each of the travelers, memories of a childh ood shattered by the icy death. None of them could remember having seen the creatures that assailed their home, but all remembered the fear that had gripped their young hearts.
It had been twelve long years since they had seen the Spire of Tekar, home of the Tekaran, their rulers, since they had bid it farewell. The majestic beauty had not changed from their old memories. Even covered in the ice, the Spire was as proud and noble as they remembered. Finally, they came to a stop at the outer courtyard of the Spire, just inside the main gates. For several long moments, they stared at the Spire in quiet reverie, reliving the events that led them away from their homes. Then finally, one dared speak.
OOC: Please take a bit of time to post some introductions and establish your characters, their appearances, and their relationships. Consider it that first person posting is the first to arrive on the scene.
The quietude of the icy demiplane was broken by a joyful whistling as the first of the orphans reached their ancestral home. The tune was an eladrin composition, first performed by Virily the Firre at the festival of Seven earths, and was taught to its current performer by his adoptive father, the great celestial bard Koo’Jiyad. Koo’s skill with music had not been completely taught to his son (the orphan repeatedly hit a number of wrong notes) but the basic tune remained clearly identifiable throughout the musical interlude.
As the figure walked over the ice, its booted feet made nary a sound. The boots were made of fine leather and the soles were studded with metal spikes for easy travel over the icy surface. In addition to the boots, the figure wore a long white robe trimmed with yellow and blue thread. Beneath the robe, the figure wore a suit of leather armor, though they did not wear it with the practiced ease of a seasoned warrior. In fact, something in the figure’s gait seemed extremely child-like and playful, more like the posture of a four or five year old and not the mature walk of an adult. But the figure was an adult, far passed the age of maturity in most cultures.
His’s walk slowed as he neared the central tower of the demiplane, a reminder of his life before the awakening of his true purpose. The young aasimar man’s eyes did not rise to gaze at the tower but instead focused on the ice. Gazing up from the ice, an illusive reflection gazed up at him. His’s eyes seemed to examine the reflection intensely, surveying the long blue hair that cascaded around the aasimar’s shoulder, the wolf-like ears that protruded from his skull, and the powerful purple lupine eyes that seemed to gaze infinitely into themselves. Rising passed the reflections shoulders were a small pair of blue-feathered wings, a pair of appendages that had been increasing in size ever since he had discovered his true identity. The reflection seemed to glow with an inner light of purity, a light clearly visible to the aasimar, the same light that others could see pouring off of him.
And there Calcarab stood, out on the icy plain, staring at his own reflection deep in thought. Few people would have expected to see a being such as he there, standing so alone and vulnerable. It is not often that one such as he leaves their domains. But lo, there he stood. Calcarab. Emperor of Elysium.