the Atlans
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 28152
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Many days have passed since the Rising, but on this day Aron, Orin and
Erun stand upon the parapet and breathe with such an intensity that they
nearly hyper-ventilated. Tara, Erin, and Media were on a lower level of
the tower, but too were looking out and upon the sea, upon the waves and
the gulls, upon the sky and the clouds. These princes of the People stood
with glee and with awe... they had gone and they have come back, not all
was
good, not all was known, but they were alive! In fact, all across
Atlantis the People were awake and glorifying their gods - the
Eldergods that none in this time recalled, nor remembered, nor
worshipped.
Atlantis had been more than a City, more than edifices of gold and platinum, Atlantis was a culture. Correction: Atlantis is a culture. The People had been put to sleep... quite literally millenia ago, before the rise of Man on the Continent. Their world was one of pure magic, a magic that flowed from within one's veins, that pumped through one's heart, that was exhaled with every breath. Magic was life. Correction: Magic is life. A terrible Catastrophe overtook the People and they were put to sleep, the foundations of their City burst asunder and the City itself sunken beneath the seas. The human races of the Continent know not what occurred, bits and pieces of information, fragments of traditions and oral tales survive within a few dusty libraries, but for most humans of today the word Atlantis brings to mind only hyperbolic images of riches and greed. The Human forgetting of the People will soon come to an end... for one ship of men this non-remembrance has already done some damage. The Heart of Oak was secure in the Harbor of Ilyer's Gate. When it had sailed up from the horizon the Atlans knew not if it were manned by friend or foe. They did what was natural, what was logical: they took defensive positions. They were tired, even weak after their unnatural slumber, but the call to arms was never unheeded. There are no balistas nor archers of wooden arrows in Atlantis, rather the Atlans called forth from the Depths of Ether their magick. To put it bluntly, the Allarians never knew what hit them. The crew of the Heart of Oak was caged within a barracks. They had been given no food for there was none, not even for the Atlans (after millenia under water there were no land animals, no land plants, only the seascum, the algae and mosses which with the abrupt resurfacing were drying, wilting, even cracking under the warmth of the sun). The Atlans did not know how long they had been "gone", they did not know what the political situation was - the same as when they were betrayed or different? The quicker ones had realized by looking at erosion patterns, silt lines, and algae thickness that they had been taken out of the picture for quite some time. But no one knew if their ancient enemy - the Grecians - were near or far, long gone or waiting to pounce. They scoured the strange ship for signs of any information that could answer their questions, they scoured the ship for any materials... including food... which they could use to their benefit. They also sent their best interrogators to the barracks to speak with the strangers, and if need be to force them into to providing the information that was needed. Too much was at stake... they had been betrayed once, they had nearly been exterminated... the Atlans were determined not to fall into that trap again. The interrogators had already been given the little information gathered from the ship. What written material there was was undecipherable... the alphabet used was not known, it did not conform with anything the Atlans had ever seen. As to magi-boxes or other knowledge orbs, there were none. This was puzzling to the Atlans, to go about the world without the most basic of supplies was not logical. They did notice that there were a few maps written upon parchments of paper and animal skin, and though a few of the Atlan scholars asked the question: do these strangers not have magic?, few of the Atlans could bring themselves to believe such a bizarre idea. Even as one group poured over the things taken from the ship, another group went to speak with the people from the ship. Entering the barracks a warriormage strode to the cell of the man called Captain. "My name is Andromedia, answer my questions and all shall go well for you."
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YY
5/21/2003 8:52:43 PM
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