Alderyork, Three Toms and York – Solstice
One document talked of Alderyork, Three Toms, and the York ritual
Notes found in the Mists 1106, pertaining to Alderyork, Three Toms, and the York ritual
The year is one hundred and ninety-four years after the founding of the empire of Man, and a man stands before the ruler of the Empire. He is dressed as some sort of fortune teller, with a bag over his shoulders and a staff in his hand. The contrast between this fortune teller and the emperor are marked but the dialog (sic) is nearly as equals. There is no doubt who command who, but it is also obvious that the emperor has great respect for the best agent the empire has ever produced. They are discussing the biggest threat to the empire in many years. “It is decided then. You will go and try to stop this person,” this thing he speaks the last words as if it makes a bad smell, “before he gains the power he needs and becomes a threat we may not be able to beat. Nertomerus Fermundum, good luck my friend. I feel you will need it.”
In a clearing in the woods, a group of elves are holding council. Amongst them are all three clans of the elven race. They are arguing about the best way to suppress the younger races. Some state that they should try to control them, to guide them in the direction they want. Others are less inclined to allow the spread of such being across the land. As they argue, a large elf enters the glade. The shadows seem visibly to lengthen as he approaches. “The plan has been set,” he states, “we will start the sacrifices at the next full moon.” On of the other elves stands. “You cannot start this, Alderyork, without the Conclave’s permission! You have no right to make such decisions.”
“I have the right because this is the only way !!! I will not allow the empire of Man to rule this land any longer. You are either with me or dead.” The elf that opposed Alderyork started again to disagree, but he did not get past the first word, before he started to fall with blood pumping from his throat. Alderyork turned to the other elves present. “Anyone else wishes to dissent?”
A month of sacrifices had made the landscape outside the great city awash with blood. Bodies littered the land as far as the eye could see. Two men hid in the trees overlooking the circle of stones. The fortune teller was speaking “He must be stopped. Look at the carnage. Only you, Errol, can stop him. He will bring your betrothed down at dusk for the last part of the ritual. Before they arrive, you must hide among the bodies inside the circle. Kill Thillidrian, he cannot achieve his ends without her. Then get out of the circle with Elarevia. I will take care of Alderyork. I will break this circle from the void.” “You can do this?” said Errol in amazement. “Well there has to be a first time.”
Alderyork and his ritual group arrive at the circle and step inside. They arrange themselves around the circle, one for each stone and a girl is chained to the altar. The ritualist Thirlidrian commences to invoke the power. Each member of the group binds their pattern to their stone, to become part of the circle and share in all that will be gained. A pyramid is laid on a monolith behind the altar, and the sacrifice is prepared. The power increases with both thunder and lightning crashing around the circle. Telphar, a fire demon, moves forward and makes a cut across the victim’s bound wrists, blood flows onto the altar. He lifts his hand to deal the fatal blow but something is wrong. A figure is moving amongst the bodies. Smeared with the blood of others, Errol Galath stands and shouts for this madness to cease. He wields a great sword and strikes at the scene that unfolds around him. Telphar reacts and tries to intercept him. With rage in his eyes, he attacks but, with only a ritual dagger, he has little success. Deadric the demonologist now joins in and with his sword makes more progress, and drives the attacker back towards the edge of the circle. Thirledrian screams to continue with the ritual, she will not be able to hold the circle’s power much longer. Telphar turns and makes his way towards the girl with outstretched dagger. Errol, seeing this, makes a concerted effort and knocks Deadric to the floor. He runs at Telphar but the dagger is descending, he will not make it. With a final risk, he throws his sword and it slices through Telphar’s wrist, and thuds quivering in the pyramid. An explosion follows but Thirlidrion holds the building power, the circle could blow at any time. Deadric strikes Errol to the ground, and through him against a stone, and he falls unconscious. He will not be interfering for a while. But the girl has escaped and is now nowhere to be seen. Blood must be spilt, all that is left is the ritual party themselves. Telphar has already contributed with his severed hand, so Aldeyorc leads the way and slices a gash in his hand. The blood flows onto the altar, Deadric follows and slices his hand. In turn Thrilidrian and Castel. Only one remains, Wintgol, but he is cowering at the far reaches of the circle. They all look towards and start to advance. Wintgol looks from side to side searching for an escape route, but the only place to hide would be outside of the circle so he turns and tries to exit. As he steps from the circle, another explosion erupts. The fortune teller stands where Wintgol once was. “You will not succeed” he shouts, but something is wrong. He folds with pain, and he, along with the ritual group are pulled back to stones, the fortune teller’s body goes limp and with a scream, they all disappear and the stones sink until nothing but the tip remains.
A silence falls about the circle. The circle is no more. The stones may have their power, but without the keystone, nothing can hold it. Errol walks slowly about the circle. The evil has been dispatched from the land. He moves to retrieve the sword, but as soon as he touches it, a crack is heard and Errol disappears. The circle is now active. The girl, the lady Elarevia, seeing this, weeps for her lost love, walks into the centre of the circle, and transports herself to the arms of Errol.