[SIZE=9pt]OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION[/SIZE]
Just two pages with text.
[SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]CONTENT INFORMATION[/SIZE]
The First Pages of Skorov contain several paragraphs detailing Skorov's unlikely introduction to The Nether and his first trials within. Most of its contents are met with skepticism whether he wrote this himself, whether it was dramatized, or even if its truthful at all.
[SIZE=9pt]The Pages Read:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]My name is Skorov, I dare not share the house to whom I owe my origin less they claim some credit for the deeds of which I write in the following pages. I hope that these pages, as ripped and torn as they may be, find their way to the planet of my people so they may understand this text and catch a glimpse of comprehension of the horrors I have endured. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]My story, at least any part that has some semblance of relevance, begins within the Dragon Palace of Tritheris. I was a young knight of the Knights Vigilant with few accomplishments to my name who had at best mediocre scores in armed combat, force usage, and strategy. I was, however, just impressive enough to be assigned to the guarding of the sacred urn used to control the mystical forces residing in the palace. I guarded it well, week after week after week with nothing ever occurring, that is, until The Witch came. I am unsure of who they are, be they male, female, Tygerii, or some humanoid of the countless humanoid species. All I saw was their eyes, a blink of darkness where they were chich proceeded to shoot into the urn room. I made haste, arming myself with my longsword and shield and charging to the Urn’s protection. Yet this witch was not after the urn, they were after the power within the palace. I saw the air shimmer, distort, and slowly tear as this witch tore a whole through reality itself and stepped through. I, like the young fool I was, followed her in the name of glory and my sacred misguided oath.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]I still cannot properly describe the hellscape I found myself in. A desert, each grain of sand a cluster of arcane energies willing for my death or at the very least expulsion from their presence. I could sense innumerable life, yet could see nothing but the wasteland who’s dunes shifted and moved like the waves of the ocean. An intense wind seemed to blow, but only where I stood, the dunes seeming undisturbed except for their mystic movement. This wind, so intense, so violent, so cryptic and spiteful would be what kept me from that witch whom I shall curse until the day I die. She floated aloft from the dunes, grinning at me with joyous snarl of rigid teeth taking pleasure in my unbearing agony. The wind which expelled me from her presence forced me from the dunes to a far vaster, stiller, and colder desert. These dunes did not move, their stoic forms standing resolutely against my very soul.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]I did not know where to go, where I was, there were no stars, no sun, no distinguishable markings in the sky. All I knew was that I must move, and so I did. I have convinced myself that only days passed or else I could not have biologically survived. Yet in my mind are months and even years of memories of walking in that endless expanse of unchanging unrelenting sand. Cursed am I with memories of broken limbs, unquenchable thirst, a stomach feeling as if it was devouring my from the inside, and a will to die and an inability to do so. Yet it is after this time that I found a portal, very much like the one the Witch brought me to this wretched place through. I cheered, tears rolling down my cheeks in a strange show of liquid I had not seen in some time, and fled into this portal. Inside was safe harbor, but not home. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]A great tree, if that is the best way to describe it, stood before me like a galaxy standing before an atom. Its incomprehensible size was baffling, even more so when I realized the great porcelain and marble constructs covering its surface were faces. The larger and obvious faces from such a distance had no features, just blank expressionless mockeries of a humanoid’s pleasant features. I made my way down a great path, how I am unsure as I took one step on the stone and awoke as if from a dream at the other end of the path. I was out of breath, as if having taken a great journey, and clearly could see where I had been on this path even though I had no recollection of travelling it. You must understand, that I am unsure of how long I had been in this realm up to this point, but I desired to go home. Burning in me was such a passion for the seas of me homeland that nothing, not even such arcane mysteries as this could have stopped me from pushing forward. Towards a great sea the path led me, above which were many glittering and strange lights. Any attempts to drink the water were in vain, but my attempts to do so uncovered a hidden bridge just under the water’s surface leading across this great lake. My journey would begin again, each step an agony of hunger and bruises. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Across the sea I travelled, this time conscious of the journey unless the path before. I came upon a great staircase leading up to this tree, who’s faces seemed to continue to stare at me with indifference. These stairs were covered in words in a host of alien languages, most of which I know nothing of. Yet each word I read a person’s face was burned into my memory. I felt compelled to meet this person yet I could never figure out how I found them. Faces of many people crossed my mind, some of which belonged to such monstrous races that I still have nightmares of them. I fled up these stairs to find a large gate, leading me to an inner sanctum. The inner sanctum was an infinite expanse, the only decoration within being colossal branches descending from the black infinite ceiling and unfoiling into countless leaves.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]If my journey was to bring me here I was unsure of what to do. I travelled in one direction only to be brought back to the great branches ascending from the heavens. I slept, I waited, I prayed to the great dragon gods, yet nothing happened. In my frustration and from the madness of dozens of faces burned into my soul I attacked the tree, rushing at it with my blade and sinking it deep within the leaves, only, the blade would not leave. I pulled, yanked, and twisted and yet it would not leave. Soon the blade began to sink deeper and I retreated, fearing that I may be sucked in with it. Instead, a single leaf would drop and find its way to the floor. I would take the leaf, unsure of what foul prank had been played on me, before leaving to the outside. I would explore around the base of the tree, finding countless porcelain and incredibly detailed faces were growing from the tree. Yet, I would find one and recognize it! It would be the face of one of the names burned into my mind! This face would suddenly no longer be burned into my memory! I could save myself from the madness! I proceeded to travel the tree, climbing up and down its great expanse, finding the faces to the many names in my mind so that I may find peace.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]I left that strange void after my mind was put at ease. I am unsure of the time, again, time does seem to flow in strange eldritch ways here. Yet, I left. Travelling once again across the ocean and path and through the portal. Yet, I would not find myself in the sandy unrelenting dunes, but a village. It is here that I found these papers, and a man twisted by disease who assured me he could deliver these papers for a price. I hope now that he holds up his end of our grisley deal and that these papers are found by my people. I hope to find a new weapon in this village before I try to find my way home. Peace be with you.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]HISTORICAL INFORMATION[/SIZE]
The two pages were found inside the urn in the centerpiece of the Dragon Palace, home of the Knights Vigilant, nearly five hundred years ago. They were adopted by the order as some sort of arcane gift by this "Skorov" who they had few records of and had vanished several years earlier. These two pages were the first in a recurring theme of tidbits of information and sometimes a whole journal appearing in the urn, all written by the same individual over a 400 year time span. Many assume that it must be true, as the same individual with identical's hand writing and quirks show through each chapter. The only possible explanation of this, assuming the writer is Tygerii as he claims, is that he is indeed within the Nether where time is not always so linear and predictable.
[SIZE=9pt]Intent[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: To add some lore to a mythic character in Tygerii myth who will be a future character[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Image Credit[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: N/A[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Canon[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: N/A[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Links[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: N/A[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Media Name[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: The First Pages of Skorov[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Format[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: Original: Two torn and aged papers of unknown origin. Modern: Distributed within books and in digital format. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Distribution[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Planetary[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Length[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Short[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt],[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Description[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: The Pages of Skorov are two papers depicting the beginning of the Tales of Skorov, a fabled knight who's legends take place in the Nether World. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Author[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: Skorov (supposedly)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Publisher[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: New Hegemony (government of Tygeria)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Reception[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]: Skorov is a household name in Tygeria, considered a great hero. These first two pages are a must have to learn of his story. [/SIZE]
Just two pages with text.
[SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]CONTENT INFORMATION[/SIZE]
The First Pages of Skorov contain several paragraphs detailing Skorov's unlikely introduction to The Nether and his first trials within. Most of its contents are met with skepticism whether he wrote this himself, whether it was dramatized, or even if its truthful at all.
[SIZE=9pt]The Pages Read:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]My name is Skorov, I dare not share the house to whom I owe my origin less they claim some credit for the deeds of which I write in the following pages. I hope that these pages, as ripped and torn as they may be, find their way to the planet of my people so they may understand this text and catch a glimpse of comprehension of the horrors I have endured. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]My story, at least any part that has some semblance of relevance, begins within the Dragon Palace of Tritheris. I was a young knight of the Knights Vigilant with few accomplishments to my name who had at best mediocre scores in armed combat, force usage, and strategy. I was, however, just impressive enough to be assigned to the guarding of the sacred urn used to control the mystical forces residing in the palace. I guarded it well, week after week after week with nothing ever occurring, that is, until The Witch came. I am unsure of who they are, be they male, female, Tygerii, or some humanoid of the countless humanoid species. All I saw was their eyes, a blink of darkness where they were chich proceeded to shoot into the urn room. I made haste, arming myself with my longsword and shield and charging to the Urn’s protection. Yet this witch was not after the urn, they were after the power within the palace. I saw the air shimmer, distort, and slowly tear as this witch tore a whole through reality itself and stepped through. I, like the young fool I was, followed her in the name of glory and my sacred misguided oath.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]I still cannot properly describe the hellscape I found myself in. A desert, each grain of sand a cluster of arcane energies willing for my death or at the very least expulsion from their presence. I could sense innumerable life, yet could see nothing but the wasteland who’s dunes shifted and moved like the waves of the ocean. An intense wind seemed to blow, but only where I stood, the dunes seeming undisturbed except for their mystic movement. This wind, so intense, so violent, so cryptic and spiteful would be what kept me from that witch whom I shall curse until the day I die. She floated aloft from the dunes, grinning at me with joyous snarl of rigid teeth taking pleasure in my unbearing agony. The wind which expelled me from her presence forced me from the dunes to a far vaster, stiller, and colder desert. These dunes did not move, their stoic forms standing resolutely against my very soul.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]I did not know where to go, where I was, there were no stars, no sun, no distinguishable markings in the sky. All I knew was that I must move, and so I did. I have convinced myself that only days passed or else I could not have biologically survived. Yet in my mind are months and even years of memories of walking in that endless expanse of unchanging unrelenting sand. Cursed am I with memories of broken limbs, unquenchable thirst, a stomach feeling as if it was devouring my from the inside, and a will to die and an inability to do so. Yet it is after this time that I found a portal, very much like the one the Witch brought me to this wretched place through. I cheered, tears rolling down my cheeks in a strange show of liquid I had not seen in some time, and fled into this portal. Inside was safe harbor, but not home. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]A great tree, if that is the best way to describe it, stood before me like a galaxy standing before an atom. Its incomprehensible size was baffling, even more so when I realized the great porcelain and marble constructs covering its surface were faces. The larger and obvious faces from such a distance had no features, just blank expressionless mockeries of a humanoid’s pleasant features. I made my way down a great path, how I am unsure as I took one step on the stone and awoke as if from a dream at the other end of the path. I was out of breath, as if having taken a great journey, and clearly could see where I had been on this path even though I had no recollection of travelling it. You must understand, that I am unsure of how long I had been in this realm up to this point, but I desired to go home. Burning in me was such a passion for the seas of me homeland that nothing, not even such arcane mysteries as this could have stopped me from pushing forward. Towards a great sea the path led me, above which were many glittering and strange lights. Any attempts to drink the water were in vain, but my attempts to do so uncovered a hidden bridge just under the water’s surface leading across this great lake. My journey would begin again, each step an agony of hunger and bruises. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]Across the sea I travelled, this time conscious of the journey unless the path before. I came upon a great staircase leading up to this tree, who’s faces seemed to continue to stare at me with indifference. These stairs were covered in words in a host of alien languages, most of which I know nothing of. Yet each word I read a person’s face was burned into my memory. I felt compelled to meet this person yet I could never figure out how I found them. Faces of many people crossed my mind, some of which belonged to such monstrous races that I still have nightmares of them. I fled up these stairs to find a large gate, leading me to an inner sanctum. The inner sanctum was an infinite expanse, the only decoration within being colossal branches descending from the black infinite ceiling and unfoiling into countless leaves.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]If my journey was to bring me here I was unsure of what to do. I travelled in one direction only to be brought back to the great branches ascending from the heavens. I slept, I waited, I prayed to the great dragon gods, yet nothing happened. In my frustration and from the madness of dozens of faces burned into my soul I attacked the tree, rushing at it with my blade and sinking it deep within the leaves, only, the blade would not leave. I pulled, yanked, and twisted and yet it would not leave. Soon the blade began to sink deeper and I retreated, fearing that I may be sucked in with it. Instead, a single leaf would drop and find its way to the floor. I would take the leaf, unsure of what foul prank had been played on me, before leaving to the outside. I would explore around the base of the tree, finding countless porcelain and incredibly detailed faces were growing from the tree. Yet, I would find one and recognize it! It would be the face of one of the names burned into my mind! This face would suddenly no longer be burned into my memory! I could save myself from the madness! I proceeded to travel the tree, climbing up and down its great expanse, finding the faces to the many names in my mind so that I may find peace.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]I left that strange void after my mind was put at ease. I am unsure of the time, again, time does seem to flow in strange eldritch ways here. Yet, I left. Travelling once again across the ocean and path and through the portal. Yet, I would not find myself in the sandy unrelenting dunes, but a village. It is here that I found these papers, and a man twisted by disease who assured me he could deliver these papers for a price. I hope now that he holds up his end of our grisley deal and that these papers are found by my people. I hope to find a new weapon in this village before I try to find my way home. Peace be with you.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]HISTORICAL INFORMATION[/SIZE]
The two pages were found inside the urn in the centerpiece of the Dragon Palace, home of the Knights Vigilant, nearly five hundred years ago. They were adopted by the order as some sort of arcane gift by this "Skorov" who they had few records of and had vanished several years earlier. These two pages were the first in a recurring theme of tidbits of information and sometimes a whole journal appearing in the urn, all written by the same individual over a 400 year time span. Many assume that it must be true, as the same individual with identical's hand writing and quirks show through each chapter. The only possible explanation of this, assuming the writer is Tygerii as he claims, is that he is indeed within the Nether where time is not always so linear and predictable.
