Enoch's Cresendo
Looting Activity
Someone from our realm has plundered Duil (Astrum), stealing food from the grain stores.
The mystics dispatched with the damned. In payment for the grain they took, they spared these poor souls a fate unfitting men. They would need the grain far more. The fat stripped off peasants, at a monsters delight, would have served them poorly.
Enoch and his men rode toward the Mountains of Remorse. The path he laid required that he and his men face all that they wrought into the world. Remorse for what they had done and what they would do. The magnitude of this must be faced in the divine realm.
Only then, will we truly accept our path.
Circling a campfire in the dark of night, at the highest peak of the Mountains of Remorse, Enoch and his Mystic Riders drank the Ambrosia of the divine realm. At first all that could be heard was the wind. The shuffle of the horses here. A owls hoot there. At first the wails bellowed with the wind and one wouldn't notice, but the labored howls became more distinct as they picked up in volume.
The modest fire rose. Seemingly stoked by the wind and the howls, it grew with intensity. Yet when Enoch and his men looked beyond each other, the blackness grew closer. The fire cast no light, no heat, but seemed to cast the wails from within.
"You seek knowledge of yourself, but can you bear the burden?" A voice boomed from the fire.
"Show us. We would see past the veil!" Enoch exclaimed. As soon as the words were out, the fire was gone and they were left in blackness.
A mother, a boy, a father, a son, a grandfather, a grand daughter....
All come to pass so that you may pass as well. A panorama of each man's ancestry stood before their eyes. The past, the present, and the future.
A temple stood before Enoch. Not a grand affair, but a modest gathering place barred shut. Behind it, power glowed. Power above kings, yet of kings. Power above the veil, yet within it. As he reached for the lock, the wailing returned. As each man saw the power behind the temple, they heard the wails. Again blackness overtook their vision.
In the dark, the wails could be felt. Like a breath in the ear, the rumble of the bass. It was when the torment manifested itself into the dead, did Enoch and his men drink a second dose of Ambrosia.
The Mystics eyes rolled and they interlock hands. All the while the dead gather around them.
This soul died at the battle of Darfix. This soul will die at the battle of Mimer. This soul was poisoned for knowing too much, because of my future involvement. These were their dead. Those brought to the veil by them and their vibrations through time. It was time for atonement.
Together they cast themselves into the darkness where once the fire grew. There, at the source of the pained anguish, they lived the lives of the dead. Felt their every joy and sorrow. Felt their own betrayal from the other's eyes. They wept and joined the piteous wails for the night. When dawn finally broke, a millennium of sorrow weighed on the Mystics.
"You have seen past the veil, our deal is struck." the voice boomed as the horrors ceased.
"The dead shall see appeasement, through living again. They will take the land as their own, freed from their bondage."Enoch saw the vast fields of Asylon overrun by the dead. The walls of Darfix a home to motionless skeletons. Even the daimons shivered behind ethereal walls.
"Go back to the emptiness, your answers lie at your start."Those last were not the words of the Mountain of Remorse. The light behind the temple flashed into vision. It was the voice of the Metatron.
"All will be clear."