The Foreword of the Slumberous Enigma
I'm slowing wondering if this reality is still my own. I can't help but wonder wether the strange uprisings are the consequences of small and unoticable processes in my sub-conscious, slowly revealing themselves in yet ever more vibrant ways.
For all I can remember, I condemned my mind to eternal slumber, to come here in order to rule over what was supposed to be MY reality, MY world, not whatever appears to be trying to break in to my world.
Perhaps whatever is happening is the reawakening of my mind... That is all I see as a plausible explanation. The sad thing is, I'm powerless! In my perfect reality which only I may shape, I don't appear to be able to withhold the horrific thunder storms or the pyroclastic flows that tumble through the woods destroying everything in its path, eventually leaving the habitats devoid of life.
Saddening really, such sweet nature need not meet dark ends, be cut brutally short and have their livelihood taken from them.
Not to mention that I also have absolutely no idea what the ramifications of these strange and often freakish occurrences are, wether they were an inevitability that was always part of my slumberous future or wether I have something in my world that needs correcting. The latter remains to be seen.
Of everything I have seen in this world I haven't seen anything quite like this.
Truth be told I really don't know what I should be expecting. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.
Chapter 1: Temple of the Slumberous Caskets
Two men wandered the Tomb of Latarus, the last mortal to ever condemn his mind to an eternal slumber, even though this was considered heresy by his people.
One of them began to examine the stone shelves piled high with dusty scrolls, ones containing writings, accounts and personal writings of Latarus himself, and began to read a scroll
However, this didn't stop Latarus from achieving his goal, and he traveled over the Fields of Greenestow and the Mountains of Deerfall to reach the last Tribe of the Sacred Inducers, an extremely primitive race of people who are classed as lesser beings to the outside world.
He was then initiated within their centuries old order, where he learnt the arts of the black magics of the Black Book, spells which have been known to eventually cripple those who possess their power. In truth, Latarus had become a shell of what he once was, no longer possessing the ability to see rationally, idolising the Black Book and all it dark power.
As the years progressed, Latarus began to sneak through the darkened chambers and hallways to the outside grounds of the premises to the Lifeless Field, where the Black Book was immobilised in the air, weightless.
He would then read from its blood stained pages and examine the frayed covers, learning all of its terrible secrets and the strange past of the Dark Ages, becoming a source, a channel for the Dark Forces beyond this worlds comprehension, its peoples not knowing what had transpired in those apparently peaceful months.
After these fateful nights, Latarus was in complete control, and sensing the new surge of Dark power in the world, the Tribal Elders attempted to kill Latarus, and this was met with nothing except their own deaths, at his hands. Latarus then fled the lands to rise to power, and was never found.
Examining the obviously empty casket one of the men, Xarvius, called out,
" Zuvius, what is the point of us being here? It is obvious to me that whoever installed this casket didn't want Latarus to be discovered at all, and what is the point searching for a corpse anyway?"
