“Ages ago the Plythmerians worshiped whatever they worshiped; Yilnarabi, Parthmarginus, Yonth, whatever name you want to attribute to the nameless, to the forgotten things a dead nation might care for. Like breath from a corpse, isn’t it? Yes.”
“Still, what there is, is a temple. Or so they say. A great hulking pyramid. Impenetrable, unscaleable—yet the doors are opening again, and here you are. The night of the pursuit is being rung in once more by a mercurial sky and a droplet of blood for a moon, distant, not a guide tonight. No.”
“Don’t tell me why you’re heading there. All the tales get tangled for one of my elderly disposition. Heroes, villains, fools and more have darkened my little abode, and I’ve enough darkness. You’re on the right path, trust me, you’ll get there alright. Ehehehe!”
Perhaps it was a hag in her hut, an owl with an elven face, the cat that isn’t, or the bleached bones of a mermaid in a shallow river.
No matter. You steeled yourself to their gaze, their words, that mocking laughter. You marched on until your aching feet had carried you to the beckoning shimmer of starlight on blackest metal.
The temple awaits. You enter, swallowed by its vastness, and the door behind you melts seamlessly into the walls.What do you do?