Tamriel Data:Tower or Tomb

Book Information Tower or Tomb
Added by	Tamriel Data
ID	T_Bk_TowerOrTombPC
	40		3

Tower or Tomb

by Olsia Corantha

An adventurer explores an Imgan Under-Tower.

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"To seek the truth, one must look below."

The words of her mentor Arimus buzzed in Antera's head as she stumbled and ducked into the ruins of an under-tower. Dipping into a slick crevice of fallen pillars and muddy rubble, she shimmied and slithered through the hole further, and further down into a creeking void of rock, root, and mud. Within an instant, she flung herself back towards the wall as her eyes drifted downwards into the abyss. She had slid out of the crevice into the chasm of a spiral staircase, broken by millenia of decaying stone and tangled tree roots. Nearly falling, her chest grew heavy as she struggled to breath the damp, cold air. Her guide, Krevehtha, had warned her that exploring an Under-Tower, or "Gai'Devag" as the Imga call them, was a death sentence. They were dilapidated relics of the Ime Period of Imga, whose secrets have been lost to myth and legend, and were in equal parts sacred and treacherous. Not even the Imga, as reverent towards their history as they were known to be, venture into most Under-Towers, save for the especially brave or foolish.

Arimus taught Antera much about history and magic. Late nights spent memorizing dates and names of Galerion's early life, writing papers on Shalidor's famed Glamoril, and so on. In the waning years of her youth, she felt herself drawn to the Imgan mystics of legend. Before she knew it, she became fascinated with the Imga. Their culture, history, traditions -- all of it. They were "HER Labyrinthian", "HER Galerion", and when Arimus was offered to position of head of the Mages Guild of Virimoor, she knew that she had to join him.

During her days living in the Bosmer city, she absorbed everything she could from the Imga traders and mystics visiting. They seemed amused by Antera's fascination, and were more than eager to fuel her obsession. It wasn't long before she was invited to a nearby Imgan village to witness the Nab'Angoorfet, a native practice that would be considered under the School of Mysticism if the Imgan sages would ever allow the Mages Guild to study it. A refusal that no doubt had contributed to the Guild declaring many of their practices "hedge-magicks".

The Nab'Angoorfet, from what she understood, was a mystical practice of stretching one's own soul across a great distance. It was an awe-inspiring display as she felt their spirits wrapping around her own, twisting and enrapturing her very life and history into themselves, if but for a moment. As the night grew long, Antera spoke to the sage-elders of the village who informed her of a Gai'Devag nearby. The residents of this village, or this "Imgan State" as they were quick to correct her, were supposedly descendants of those that lived in the Under-Tower over 3000 years ago. With no hesitation, she was quick to negotiate with them to secure a guide in the form of a young Imgan woman, Krevehtha.

As the dawn broke, they left for the Under-Tower named Uurgelgra. Krevehtha assured her it was not too far from the Imgan State, but after hours of battling hallucinogenic brambles and vine-like Xaril Trees, Antera's feet grew weary and bloody from the endless flora determined to ensnare her. Nevertheless, her hunger for knowledge had been overpowering, despite her body's frailty. As they pressed on, the clouds grew dark without warning. Krevehtha assured her that these sudden rainstorms were common in this part of Valenwood and offered to take her back to the village, but Antera wouldn't be dissuaded by a seasonal shower. Not from this. So they continued onward through the monsoon. The cold autumn rain only strengthened her resolve.

After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at Uurgelgra, and it was magnificent. An ancient city swallowed by the jungle. Krevehtha attempted to dissuade Antera from entering the structure, but she ignored her. Her words meant nothing compared to the history beneath her feet, begging her to know it. "You'll die down there!" Krevehtha scolded her as Antera approached the entrance, barely as Antera approached the entrance, barely able to hear Krevehtha over her own excitement. She waved her guide's warnings away. If Krevehtha had reservations about entering the ruins, then she need not remain by her side. She had done her job and was free to leave for shelter from the pouring rain, as Antera assured her.

Antera climbed through the depths of the chasm for what must have been hours. She paid no mind to the shivers running through her body. What lied at the bottom was her prize, whatever that may be, and there was no one else there to take it.

She eventually arrived at an end of the chasm, with a single hallway. Ducking the sinking walls, Antera arrived at a strange chamber. Advanced in functionality even by the most modern of magecraft standards, yet primitive in design. This mysterious artifact could provide her a clue as to the Imga's role in the Merethic, a portion of their distant history which scholars knew little to nothing of. Antera spent the night in the chamber, eating the rations the sage-elders had provided her with for the journey. And she spent what time she could examining the chamber, compelling her mind to theorize and study it. There were signs of the Fey, throughout, as well as traces of ancient enchantments long-since abandoned and depleted. She knew that any amount of time examining the structure would be inadequate, whether she had the supplies for it or not. Not wanting to burn through her remaining rations, she chipped a piece of the altar off and left to begin heading back up the chasm, so that she could crawl back to the surface and return to the guild.

With great effort, and a few near-death slips off the roots bulging from the cracked walls, she made it to that same small crevice. Squeezing through with confidence, she shimmied further in. But as she pulled herself fully into the cramped space, she noticed that walls seemed tighter, the ceiling lower. There were more rocky corners than she remembered, and before long, she came to the horrid realization. The hole was caving in. Panicked, Antera pulled and shifted faster, as she felt gravelly mud rush down her face. She struggled, wormed, and slithered faster, unable to breathe, motivated by the glimmer of light off in the distance. Faster, faster, faster. Antera heard it before she felt it -- a crack. A stone dislodged itself from the ceiling, piercing her spine. She couldn't move as the pain surged up her back and into her neck. As a studious mage, she knew the basics of Recall -- the ability to return to her own spiritual anchor back at the Mages Guild, but the pain made her concentration void, and the panic set in by the collapsing crevice left little but twitching desperation.

With little clarity of mind and body, Antera attempted the impossible: Through sheer determination, she would muster the strength to cast the spell. Her twitching hands, being berated by mud and small stones, spun the spell with as little grace and room. Her magicka swelled with a stuttering pace as her eyes began to drift downward. She felt a great release of pressure on her body, as the warmth drained out of her torso. Her eyes opened as painful slits, before growing wide in shock. She was back in that chamber, leaning up on the side of that ancient altar. Antera was confused, but her fading consciousness wouldn't allow her to speculate any further. She let out a defeated chuckle as she accepted her fate. "This place, this place will be my tomb."