Post:A Planar Jaunt - 06/26/2024 - 09:47

A Planar Jaunt · on 06/26/2024	2432
Though typically disorienting, the Astral Plane is much more chaotic than typical. Streams of mana present as masses that ripple with a searing heat as they pass by, and you find yourself disembodied in an endless landscape of fractal light with no clear beginning or end. Voices with no clear origin echo from every direction, whispering faintly a word that you cannot recognize, repeated as if echoing forever in the endless, formless Astral expanse that stretches beyond what you can begin to reason. The word is recursive, blending in and out of itself. The echoing voice seems sharper -- much more focused, and aligned such that the word now comes to be as a single focus -- "Liraxes." The word itself is tangible, and yet formless, much like the remainder of the Astral Plane that you can observe. A gentle, deliberate, seemingly benevolent voice echoes within your consciousness, drowning out the discordant chorus. "You bring yourself here with unclear purpose. There is little to gain -- only risk -- in this place with no deliberate action. Beyond here, the Microcosm is less stable than before, its integrity eroding. Even now, Liraxes assembles itself. Go -- remain safe." A pressure builds behind you, urging you in what you believe to be the direction of the Pillars, urging you to return to the comfortable safety of what you know within the Plane of Abiding. Ominous mental static builds in the area. Incomprehensible thoughts infringe on your mind, making clear thinking about anything other than the word "Liraxes" an increasingly difficult feat. The nudging at your back becomes much more urgent. "Go! He comes!" Unlike most astral phenomena, the static does not go away after a few moments. In fact, it's getting stronger. Closer. The benevolent voice fades, drowned out by a harsh, distorted one -- more formal, presented as if it were an incantation. "I was named Pelag ai Aldam." The benevolent voice returns, pleading that you leave before the something -- someone tears your consciousness to shreds. The benevolent pressure becomes a shove, and you find yourself in the Embalming Chamber of Telpengi'hhs Sara'a. Even outside, a static builds in your mind. Voices with no clear origin echo from every direction, whispering faintly a word that you cannot recognize, repeated as if echoing forever in an endless formless expanse that stretches beyond what you can begin to reason. The word is recursive, and has no beginning or end. The echoing voice seems sharper -- much more focused, and aligned such that the word now comes to be as a single focus -- "Liraxes." The word itself is tangible, and yet meaningless. The static builds to a strong pressure, before three words become very clear: "Liraxes assembles itself."
This message was originally posted in Events and Happenings in DragonRealms' Elanthia / Zoluren Events, by DR-IRENOS on the play.net forums.