The Ascension

[TheAuthor]

Disclaimer:
This story will contain themes of: violence, sex, gore, drug use and abuse. ^{And perhaps a little profanity}
If that ain't your thing: http://www.hydlaaplaza.com/smf/index.php

In these stories I will try to describe the Planeshift Universe. I've already joined the PS Volunteer team as a settings-prospect and I will try to build the world from the bottom up. I will try to paint a realistic world setting, in which science, economies, demographics, climate, politics and the environment provide the fundament upon to build. When these basic backgrounds are in place, I will then further write about the races, gods, animals, cultures and magic. All of this is combined into a story with added backgrounds & extra notes. These sidenotes will mainly aid in the visualization of the PS World.

The time in the stories is not synchronous; parts of the story can happen at the same time.

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^{Credit to: http://syarul.deviantart.com/gallery/}

Part 1 - The Lower Fields

Chapter 1 - The Mushroom Rock

The currents tugged at the lakeweeds as a Nolthrir girl swam past leisurely. In the distance, slowly appearing through the dark greenish water, was a large boulder and small house. The boulder looked like a strange mossy mushroom, its base eroded throughout the years, with it's tip just touching the water's surface. It was surrounded by glowing minerals, which in turn gave the rock an eerie look.

It was the only rock of it’s kind in the area, as it was the only such rock of its kind in the middle of an otherwise green and fertile farmland. The house was more of a hut: small, stone and lit by a series of glowing minerals adorning its roof.

The owner of the hut is an old man that bought the piece of land in the Lower Fields decades ago with the intention of growing Lakeweeds. Back then, the strong, youthful and energetic farmer Nexon had always proclaimed that he could drag the rock off his land himself or break it down with a pickaxe. This always resulted in drunk laughter from his friends and admiration from the local girls. But after many half-hearted attempts the laughter died down, the admiration stopped. Finally, after many years, he grew weak and old.

Now he spends his days managing the farm boys and thinking about the past. He reminisced to his better days as he stared out the window of his stone farmhut, muttering that it shouldn't’t take long before the old beast finally cracked through the middle. In that moment a head popped out of the windowframe and Nexon made a startled jolt.

“Hey grandpa. Whatyadoing?” asked a young Nolthrir girl, as she swam into the light of the minerals. “Looking at that old rock again?”

“Aye kid. Reckon it shouldn't’t take long anymore.” Said the old man slowly, pointing at where the rock was narrowest. “Told the farmboys to go work the shallow fields. Don’t want to be near there when it finally falls”

“Ya really reckon it’s time? You still remember the last time you thought that? The fields weren't tended for we..”  the girl started.

“Yes, yes, Mydla. I remember. No need to bring that old mistake up. This time I’m certain.” The man interrupted, with a slight tone of agitation. He didn't like to be remembered of his past mistakes. The man’s gaze shifted from the rock towards Mydla. “But good to see you again kid. What brings you here?”

Mydla swam to the open doorframe of the small stone building. She poked her head through the opening, smiling widely. “The hightide! Dad told me to ask if you needed anything from the store. The floating markets are all in port, you see.”

 â€œDid they now? ” the man replied, pondering his options. “Well..." he started, "Perhaps you can get me some dyes. Blue, since the netting needs to be redone.” Mydla looked confused and replied “But I thought you had them done last week?”

The old man grimaced. “Yes, but that stonebrain Mathil dyed them purple...” Mydla’s face turned into one of understanding and slight amusement “
and now the Shimmerings are ‘apologizing’ that 'their' nets managed to reach my fields. I had to be very firm or they would just have taken back ‘their’ property."  he said, emphazing words in ridicule, adding: "Excusing themselves all the way, might I add.”

“How very 'polite' of them” Mydla said with a sarcastic look, harvesting a smile from the old man. “Yes, very” he replied,  “But if you could be so kind”. He heaved a breath and walked away slowly from the workbench towards a small crevice in the rock where he placed his bag this morning. With his old hands, he extracted a small purse. It was scaled and teal, but turned into a beautiful rainbow color whenever held in the light. He opened the exotic leather band and extracted thirty coins worth of light blue, gilded Hexas.

“Here’s some coin. Get the Markin’s royalblue oil-based dye and get something for yourself too” he said, as he handed the coins over to Mydla. She pocketed them quickly and repeated “Markin’s royalblue oil-based dye. Yessir!”.

They quickly hugged, exchanged goodbyes and Mydla was off. Swimming leisurely towards the nearest floating city. Farmer Nexon returned to his workbench, staring through the greenish waters to the large mushroom rock. “Shouldn’t take long now.”

[Donari Tyndale]

Anonymous. Someone scared? You shouldn't be.

[TheAuthor]

Revisiting Planeshift after six years.

[Donari Tyndale]

Yes yes. Who are you really?

[TheAuthor]

Yes yes. Who are you really?

I'm the author.

[Donari Tyndale]

Not buying that. You're totally a returning oldbie.

[Rigwyn]

Nice start so far. I'm definitely looking forward to following this story.

[Mariana Xiechai]

  Neat. And welcome back to PS.

[TheAuthor]

^{Credit to: http://alice-duke.com/portfolio.htm}

Chapter 2: Graywinch

The pale trader sighed as the wooden cart trotted forward slowly. The wet, slippery ground tugged at the wheels whenever they could. The rider forced the cart into a mud puddle and the jagged movement shook his companions body violently from left to right. The air around him was smelly, hot and heavy, with small vents fuming a sort of warm, nauseating smell.

He sighed again and let out a quiet whine. "How long ‘till we’re there?"

"As I said sir, the lower levels are flooded, sumthing we ain't not seen much..." The dim-litted carrot cart man replied. "What?" The trader quietly exclaimed, not even listening while his white eyes stared blankly at a particularly gnarly, mossy tree.

Larger man continued "
so the only way we can use at the moment is the Graywinch. My carrots no like water, you see!”

"Yes, yes, sorry I asked" muttered the trader ruefully, while his companion chatted on uninterrupted. It has been going on like this for a while now. “Truth be told, this here swampy climate is terrible for their, uhm...". He pondered for a moment, patting his hand on his head, before he exclaimed happily "shelf-life!" He paused, sighed and finally said "But I told them that I would sell it here and so I do!.”

He paused again, thinking hard about what to say next. The trader enjoyed the short moment of silence “T’is just the mosquitoes, but I reckon you just get used to it. You fancy folk don't have those way up there either?"

"No, indeed" the trader said slowly. "No mosquitoes.” His voice sounded strained, like a man who was very much fed up with the situation, as he was. He noted that he sounded highly unlike his normal, charismatic self and that he should pay attention to it. Perhaps.

The cart hit a rock and the two men shifted violently to the right and the last positive thought shook away from the traders head.

The mossy trees started to separate slowly and the wet road turned into a larger wet road. The trader drifted up with his gaze towards the opposite side of the gap. A stunning, gigantic tapestry of layers rose up majestically. The trader slowly tilted his head backwards, and the higher his gaze would climb, the more high-rising cliffs became visible from all around him.

Finally the rings of rock disappeared into the mist and only a small blue light could be seen, in the far distance, towards the Azure sun.

“Damned Board of Traders” he thought. "It all went so well for me until Leroy.." Again he sighed audibly as the cart rolled into an open field next to the massive hole in the ground. His companion misunderstood and said: "Yes pretty sight ain't it not?"

The trader looked upon the dingy and old wooden structure. The ropes and trolleys, touched by various types of mold and degrees of decay, creaked in the slight breeze. Beneath them were large clouds, hiding what appeared to be a massive lake, with a few dots of light in between the larger swaths of light that were covering the surface.

"The floating cities" the trader thought, admitting a slight feeling of awe for this sheer posturing of nature. His companion interrupted the moment: "Naw, truth be told some parts ain't even that deep. Like I said, it’s just hightide ”

The cart moved along to the little house positioned next to the winch. Two men walked out and greeted the riders.

“Oy! Welcome to the Graywinch. For eleven Trias, this one is going down straight to the Nunthal flotilla” the man shouted in a harsh tone. Undisturbed, the cart rolled towards the large wooden platform that was positioned just beyond the cliff's face. It looked like a barge, designed to move large loads down to the lower levels. It stammered and sighed audibly as the heavy cart rolled unto it.

The rider opened his purse and let out a murmured "Oops". He thought for a while and looked at the trader. “C’mon, I brought you this far, chip in!” The winch operator ugly face turned into a slight grin. He licked his lips, looked at the pale trader's garbs and said slyly. “That’s eleven
 each.” He paused, grinned again and decisively added, as to solidify his belief in his own words. “Of course”.

The large rider sighed and looked down into his pouch. A meager 8 Trias were staring back at him. “Bah." the trader said bemused. He grabbed his purse, collected three coins and offered them to the operator. “That’s thirty, you can keep the change, if you don’t kill us the way down.” The trader said, eyeing the creaking wooden structure uncomfortably.

The operator took the coins and waved at the other man to release the brakes. With a shock, the ropes gave way and the barge slowly started its descent. As the ground rose in front the riders, the operator said ominously “You know I’m keeping the change either way, right?”

The pale rider rolled his eyes and replied “I know.”

[TheAuthor]

^{Credit to: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Courtyard-Speedy-254917370}

Chapter 3: The Fastest Way Down

The journalist was scribbling on his notepad as the painter plopped down his heavy wooden easel. From a leather bag, he extracted a few bottles of paint and a long piece of charcoal. As he put them down on a small wooden table, next to him, he asked “So, what are we looking at, Mr. Bonebreaker?”

Unmoving, the journalist’s eyes moved from the paper to the tiny man standing in front of him, listening for the answer. He never really liked dwarves. He especially didn't like dwarves when they made him travel from his home in Hydlaa in order to show him...

The tiny man motioned towards the construction “Alright, let me explain.” He walked over to the long, flat wooden, wheeled construction. Cloth was draped over two wooden extensions, fixed on either side. The thing looked like a tent, held together to ropes and large, flat-head nails.

“It’s a flying device” he said happily. “I’ve been working on it for some while now.”
The journalist just nodded and a small smirk appeared on his face. The painter just reached for his charcoal. With long lines, he started to draw the outlines of the device. Both were silent whilst they were filling their papers with lines.

While still eyeing his notepad, he opened his mouth again: “And what do you intent to do with it?”
The dwarf’s face changed into one of surprise, as he sputtered “Well, fly o’course!”

The journalist wrote down the three letters “FLY” and looked around the courtyard. The dwarf had a reasonably nice abode, albeit very close to the Ironwinch. This in turn made it very close to the Ironroad, a long road that allowed for a free flow of metal from the Xallas Mining Fortress to the lower situated trader’s town of Broon. Shouting and the sounds of animals were heard constantly from beyond the wall, although they sounded muffled and far away.

The abode’s courtyard itself was a narrow, paved garden. Decorated stone and metal walls closed the yard on three sides.  On the far side of the yard, there was an opening, with a steep drop that lead into the massive pit, leading down to the lower levels.

“And how are you intending
” He looked at the small energetic man and paused shortly before continuing “What enables this machine to fly?”

“Well, some parts are secret of course.” The man said, whilst walking over to the front of the plane. He beckoned the journalist, who approached with a certain disdain. The dwarf pointed into the machine and said “See the springs here? Lightweight and perfect for storing energy. You wind ‘m with this wrench, like this.”

The dwarf picked up a large wrench from the ground, and used it to adjust the intricate machinery. With each turn, springs tightened whilst others released, emitting high-pitched sounds of stress. The dwarf chatted on happily, as the journalist raised his eyebrow, expecting the machine to self-destruct any moment.

“And this mechanism hold all the energy in place. You just sit on the seat and kick off whenever you’re ready! It’s all a matter of slow release of energy, really.” The dwarf said. He sounded muffled, as he had just poked his head straight into the machine for some final adjustments.

The journalist turned around and, whilst walking, wrote on his notepad. He finished a sentence, turned around and said, smiling. “Does it work?”

The dwarf pulled himself out of the machinery, looking slightly insulted at the journalist before saying. “Of course!”

The journalist thought deeply about what the dwarf just said, prodding his quill in the paper. “This could
 work.” He said carefully, pausing at the word “could”. He continued to look as the dwarf grew slightly agitated and then said, decisively “We’ll just have to see you fly it then!”

The mouth of the tiny man opened slightly, and he looked quite stupid. “Te- test it? Like, now?” he asked carefully. The journalist looked over to the artist, who was holding a thumbs up in response “It seems like the sketchwork is done, Mr Bonebreaker.”

He took a few steps towards the dwarf, to maximize the feeling of pressure for the little man, continuing “I can’t go back up without a proper story, now can I?”

 â€œAc-actually I was still looking for proper test-subjects” he murmured softly, while the journalist was growing taller by the second.

Without another word, the dwarf ran into his house. The journalist and painter stayed behind, exchanging looks of amusement. “Got him running, hah!” the journalist laughed. Within seconds, the tiny man stormed out of the house, whilst wearing large glass goggles and a strange bag made of cloth on his back.
“Let’s do this” he said decisively. He walked over to the front of the plane, picked up the wrench and gave the machine a couple of twists. The machinery whined as the tension increased. He nodded intently, walking around a wooden wing and hopping on the machine.

“Rudder, check. Flaps, check. Wheels, check. Kickoff, check.” he murmured. Suddenly, he turned around and asked. “Could you give me a push?” Both the journalist and the painter shrugged and moved towards the plane “Nice and steady now” the dwarf said.

The two men started pushing the wooden and cloth construction down the courtyard. “Alrighty, releasing breaks!” the small man shouted. He kicked a lever with his foot and the propeller started to rotate wildly. With the help of the angled courtyard and the two men pushing, the plane finally picked up speed.

Wild winds were blowing through the courtyard, pushing the easel and the table to the ground with a bang.  The jars fell and loud shattering noises filled the courtyard. “My paint!” the painter shouted. He stopped pushing abruptly, turned around and started running back to prevent the few unbroken jars from rolling down the courtyard.

With only a single man pushing, the plane started to swerve to one side. “Stop pushing!” the dwarf shouted in fear. The journalist halted and tripped, falling down on the rocky pavement. Few seconds later the plane tipped over the ledge, disappearing into the hole beneath.

“It broke nearly all my damned jars!” the painter shouted, still busy collecting his things.

The journalist got up, cleaned the dust of his pants and looked into the beautiful abyss. The riverlands of Land's Edge sprawled beneath him, rounding off in the far distance in order to meet again at the opposite end of the gap. The journalist found the town of Broon. The wooden town on low stilts, built next to the great Irifon river, under the Ironwinch.

He followed the river and saw the majestic waterfall that fell down into the steaming marshlands of Shore. From there, the water fell into lake Klyxx, a body of shallow waters that engulfed the a full quarter of the entire ring. The water always found it's way down and at the end of the journey, at Aarrex's Falls, it split into a thousand tiny streams of water, all trickling down the cliff. They fell through the puffy clouds into the dark, murky lake of Land's Edge.

The bright, azure sun reflected in the sprays of the waterfall and for a short moment it seemed that the sounds around the journalist stopped and time halted. In this exact moment, unbeknownst to him, a pale trader was looking up at the same time.

One deep breath.

“Does it work?” the painter shouted, bringing the journalist back from the short moment.

“Fitting name” the journalist murmured, before turning around. He raised his arms and replied “Nah."

[TheAuthor]

^{Credit to: http://syarul.deviantart.com/gallery/}

Chapter 4. The Market

Serenity...

Mid-swim, Mydla turned with her back to the ground and looked up to the shimmering ceiling. She could see the tiny droplets of rain falling silently into the water. The dimly lit underwater road she followed swerved on, towards a large stone pillar that stood in the middle of a muddy field. Above it was a large collection of shades, floating in the waves.

The stone pillar pierced the water and continued to rise in the air, beyond Mydla's view. The girl swam towards the surface some distance away and poked her head into the air. It was heavy with moisture and the large rainclouds above were showering the lake with a light rain.

She took a deep breathe of air and continued to swim towards pillar. It was surrounded by a large assembly of wooden boats that jostled in the waves and wind. The boats themselves were tied together by rope and chain and long wooden boardwalks were laid over and between the ships. Mydla was greeted y loud merchants that were shouting over the winds for the attention for their wares

Sidenote - The Nunthal Spike trading town
Nunthal is a relatively small trading town, located in the bottom of the gap. Because of the proximity of Lakeweed and fish, it is often visited by Klyros from the marshes of Shore, whilst the weather and distance to the dome limit it's use as a central trading hub.

At times, groups of Yllians would battle the unfavoring weather conditions and, dressed in their heavy leather cloaks, would come down all the levels to the lake. They would carry with them their exotic goods. This allowed them to circumvent the standard taxes and controls, commonplace for the riverland trading towns in the ring known as Land's edge.

In the middle of the wooden flotilla, the lone stone tower stood solemnly, watching over all the boats. Sturdy metal rings kept the pillar standing strong against the winds and rain. On top of the pillar was a mineral, that emitted a bright red light that allowed for travellers to navigate the big lake. In the misty distance, a blue light and a green light could be seen. Blue for the sunken capital city of Mielthis and acid green for the cliff-side fortress of Nunthiel, home of the Deepwatch.

Nunthal itself isn't a very populated town because of the the fact that most Nolthrir live mostly underwater, in the more populated sectors. Besides some Klyros tavern wenches, nobody actually stayed in Nunthal for a long period. This behaviour can be traced back to the creation of the Nunthal Spike, built purely so that trading vessels could meet in quiet waters. It became especially useful as a place where walkers could meet swimmers and do business without becoming too wet. However, due to the lack of proper infrastructure and local government, it quickly became a place of pure commerce, without oversight or taxations.

The large stone spike was placed beneath the Shore overhang, just at the edge of the lands above. This allowed the city to grow, as it allowed walkers to visit the town, permitting them to lower themselves directly into Nunthal with the ancient Graywinch, boats and all. The overhang does make the town especially dark, as it partly covers the Azure sun.
/Sidenote

As Mydla approached the steps, the long chains of glowing minerals greeted her. They were dangling from poles on either side of the boardwalk and provided a greenish hue over in the dark town. She walked up the mossy wooden steps unto one of the central boardwalks.

She found herself surrounded by little shops. Merchants, some with bad Klyros accents, were offering goods on either side of the narrow passageway as she made her way through to the Dye saleman. As she passed the Graywinch's landing bay, an old barge was lowered unto the water. It was carrying three passengers and a cart of carrots, which bobbed lightly on the water.

How would it be like, up there, through the clouds?

She walked over to tiny boat. It was taller than it was wide and the waves made it move violently at times, which produced loud sounds of clattering glass. The small roof, made of leaves, kept most of the rain outside and inside stood a slim man, hunched over some small wooden boxes, off to the side. A small sign said “Maxxi’s Dye Shop. Best in all the pit!”

“Excuse me sir!” Mydla said, tapping the shoulder of the Klyros salesman. He turned his head and looked at the Nolthrir girl. “Yes, what could I do for you?”

“I'd like one bottle of Markin’s Oil paint, please” She replied. “Royal-blue. It’s for the netting.”

The merchant smiled “Ah, for the old man Nexon. Let me see.” He opened a large cabinet filled with all sorts of dyes and retrieved a old bottle of Royalblue dye. “Let’s see.” He said, examining the label. “Look kid. This is a glass jar. This means you can’t take it with you deeper than 12 feet for a few minutes. Understood? Anyway, that'll be twenty-five, kid.“ the man said, putting the jar in a leather pouch that said “Markin’s” in gold lettering.

Mydla nodded, paid the man and tied the leather pouch to her belt. She turned around and saw a pale man walking into the large, rotting tavern. Mydla walked on, when the merchant shouted after her "Remember, you get two tria back when you return the jar!". Mydla turned her head when she bumped into a large man, covered in a leather cloak.

"Hello, little girl" he said, as another man covered her mouth with a black glove. Cloth was stuffed in her mouth, a black bag over her head.

A sharp pain.

Darkness.