The Lorehold Summons

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The Lorehold Summons

Post by Nortlendiga on Tue Jan 26, 2016 6:45 pm

White, yet dark. Loud, yet eerie. Months had passed since Viskavaeng had seen the sun, and the air was dense with wind and storm, howl and snow. From a distance the city appeared only as a flicker of flame on the mountainside, twinkling with the blaze of the fires which lit the homes, the streets, and the walls of the city. But for all the wrath of the storm, Viskavaeng was still and solemn. The gray city, all wrought of stone, was unshaken. Even the great wooden longships, moored in the fjord at the foot of the mountain, lay unmoving, held fast by thick ice-- the dragon heads hewn at their bows peered longingly out to sea.

In the city, the streets were nearly empty save for sentries and patrols who guarded Viskavaeng by the light of the whipping flames in the braziers, since most of the citizens remained sheltered in their Halls, preparing for sleep. Dimly beneath the wind, a careful listener might have heard the echoing voices of the choir of the Temple of Gjaldun as they chanted their respectful hymns.
Though none could hear the footsteps of the Imperator, Hjaltur Baurlantr, as he trekked, wreathed in the swirling blizzard, along the path from the palace grounds to the Monastery of the Silent Order of Viskavaeng, the great library of arcane knowledge known as Lorehold to the people of Nortlendiga.

Inside the stone halls of Lorehold nothing stirred except for a few writing quills and the torchlight dancing on the wooden beams. Suddenly the tremendous wooden doors were pushed open, and along with a thrust of wind came in the High King, seen now in the full splendor of his royal cloak of giant-wolf hide. Then the doors banged shut and the quiet warmth of the interior resumed.

"Silents," thundered the voice of the Imperator through the halls. "Hear my Word and obey. The world outside the Empire has spoken much, and I have listened. Now raise my Voice to the ears of the foreign nations, and they shall listen to me." The Silents gathered around the High King, and at once they issued forth their voices in Throat-Song. First low growls and rumbles emerged, then icy howls and beansidhe wails overlaid in a melange of sounds that bellowed out into the night. As the Imperator spoke amongst the monks, his voice resonated through the walls of the monastery and was whisked away on the winds to the ears of all the great leaders of the Earth.
"The Northern Drake summons the leaders of all the nations, along with their highest scholars and loremasters. Gather here to Viskavaeng, to the Eye of the Dragon, with haste, for the task is long. The time has come. Knowledge of ages past will be forged for ages hence, and it shall be called the Sogur, the sagas of all the world's cultures and their long histories, lest the ancestral stories be consumed by shadow. Hear me and come! We will weave a great tale."

For a moment the skies parted, and the light of a half moon pierced its beams down upon Lorehold. The voices in the Monastery soared high above the rooftops and over the mountain, out across the sky to distant ears.
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Re: The Lorehold Summons

Post by American Imperium on Tue Jan 26, 2016 6:56 pm

Two scholars would be sent from the American Imperium,two people who had been in line for the Supreme Senate but had both declined, wanting to continue their work, not be part of some political process. Their names are Ruma Remisi a women of indian descent whose family had dwelt in the Imperium for some time now, and Timothy Mac'Simon a man whose family had immigrated to the Imperium some generations ago from the emerald island of Ireland in Nortlendiga. They arrived at the meeting place before the others who were summoned and made their presence known, Timothy speaking first.

"Scholars and teachers of Nortlendiga, we were summoned here by your Imperator too compile the history and culture of this world into one complete chronicle. The Imperium has sent it's two brightest teachers and historians to aid you in this task. My name is Timothy Mac'Simon, and my associate is Rumi Remisi."
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Re: The Lorehold Summons

Post by Coalition of the Isles on Tue Jan 26, 2016 7:32 pm

Another duo of councilmen would appear before them from The Coalition. One was named Villa Nikko of Halaman, otherwise known as Councilman Villa, and the other was his escort, Councilman Duad of Malasyia. Councilman Villa was well known for touring all of the islands of his nation and composing the complex histories of each culture that resided there. Unfortunately, the islands are often threatened by the barbarians at their small borders, and Villa was never a soldier nor did he have any sort of combat skills. This is why he is accompanied by Councilman Duad, who is a seasoned magic fighter, was often a bodyguard for his fellow board member, and was very helpful for his research as well. Both men inclined their heads to the other scholars.

"We come to represent the people of The Coalition of the Isles," Councilman Villa spoke in a quiet voice, but the sound of his words seemed to reach everyone's ears as if he were speaking directly into them. "I have previously complied the diverse history of my nation and look forward to working with the world to record ALL of our histories. My comrade here," he gestured to Councilman Duad, "happens to be an excellent translator for the variety of languages that are spoken by our citizens."

"I wish to aid in the process of the publication of this text," Duad added with an enthusiastic smile. His voice was of a regular volume, and seemed not to be utilizing any sort of magic at the time. "May our deities bless this project and guide us to it's eventual completion."
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Re: The Lorehold Summons

Post by Nortlendiga on Thu Jan 28, 2016 11:34 am

The Silents turned and led the foreign scholars through the dim corridors which descended below ground, their walls covered with stuffed bookshelves. They passed rooms full of Silents peacefully and diligently illuminating page after page in various inks and magics. Before long they reached a wide underground chamber with a high vaulted ceiling, lit in a silvery light which poured in through a massive crystal lens in the ceiling.
In the center of the room lay a broad circular table atop which was etched a map of the world, and the moonlight from the lens above percolated down in just such a way that it created a topographical projection onto the map, and simulated a planetarium of stars and planets swirling above the table. All around the table were large lecterns of dark wood, amply stocked with blank leaves of paper and pots of inks in many colors and shades.

High King Hjaltur began, "We all know the gravity and scale of this challenge, and its value to posterity. Long will you spend here, and so there is no time to wait for the other scholars. We will commence writing this night. Approach a lectern. Good, good. Now, begin by writing the founding tales of each of your nations."
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Re: The Lorehold Summons

Post by The Somali Caliphate on Mon Dec 19, 2016 12:36 am

The three representatives from the Caliphate hurriedly rushed down the hall into the chamber, bundled in heaps of clothes, the two men and a woman were all freezing in this northern climate. All three were embarrassed to have arrived so late, but their travel had been delayed by the weather. The woman, Shooshanah Odisho, turned to speak while the other two, Avi Steinman and Abdullah ibn Feisal, tried to regain feeling in their hands.
"We are so dreadfully sorry to be late. The weather has not been agreeable since we passed the Mediterranean and, as I am sure you all know, we are not accustomed to such extremes. Still, we look forward to telling the stories of our people and their culture. We ask that you give us some time to warm up a little, though. The cold is not conducive to story-telling."
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Re: The Lorehold Summons

Post by Nortlendiga on Tue Dec 20, 2016 12:30 am

The Imperator turned to them and thrust an arm across his chest in salute. "Skol, and welcome." He turned his gaze to the hearth, and as he did so the fire blazed with renewed energy. "Doff your heaviest layers and rest by the fire while the others begin. Stradi, Honarr,"--two figures robed in grey bowed. "Bring each of these three a mug. Tea of the southern variety, and no ale, I presume. See to it that they are fitted with proper pelts before they leave the Hold." As the monks drifted away into the dark, Hjaltur returned to the table.

"Others may later come. But time escapes us, and we shall begin. Please, in expounding your nations' founding histories, begin in year one of our Age, with the falling of the Himinnrokk, the meteor, the great sky-stone which struck what was Vyenna, now Crator, and ushered in our world. Representatives of the Imperium, will you please start us."
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