Anthology of the Vault
| The following anthologies takes place approximately 1000 years ago. There are multiple protagonists, some named some not, telling their story within the legendary Vault of Glass. |
THE AEGIS
Karas and his party across the lands to the vault. They knew of the place, least some it. Tales as old as time itself. Legends of the future past. The vault proper “disappeared” then “reappeared” like a daisy sprouting up from winter snow. This was a venture, an expedition to the far west corner of this continent. He inspired the few to dare against the legends.
They ventured down in the vault. Had it been days? Months? Not the travel. Their time in it.
It… Was like his second home, only filled with mechanical enemies of all sorts. Nasods? Servos? Warforged? He doesn’t know.
Faces disappear like friends inevitably parting ways to different paths. He ventured alone. He faced it all by himself. He didn’t know why he forged this shield, this relic, from the armor and leather of his companions. But something deep in his mind said he must.
Before he vanished, his words ring in the vault echoing through time: "
FATEBRINGER
The Vault is a myth, a legend of its own right. What was inside it were untold riches of a conglomerate whose company achieved great and many things, guarded heavily by gods knows what inside. This doesn’t always mean that there are gold or gems, but artifacts from an age long past. Created inventions centuries ahead of our times.
There had been stories of adventurers or explorers delving deep into it. Those stories end with the same ending: none who ventured ever returned.
It’s been five days since I ventured down the vault with five others. Five grueling days. We’ve barely had good rests. It’s as if we were being watched. Being judged. Every word, every action, down to the miniscule moments of our being.
Even what I write, it’s as if someone is breathing down the back of my neck, an intangible force of anxiety and fear that scrutinizes.
There are only a few of us left, less than half of our strength. With no means of revivification left, we must tread carefully. We must pick our battles right and fight if we must. I know not if we will get though this, to be lost in time or feel the sweet bitterness of death. But as for my death, when Olympus and the other deathless gods appoint it, let it come. I will cheerfully accept the latter.