Just southwest of the boundaries that define the Windtossed Foothills, the forest of the Eastern Lands begin to mesh and fold into the rolling slopes of the windswept territory of the Midland Hills. The trees are less compressed here than the quality of their cousins that flourish in Helovia’s Threshold, though no less mighty. Helovian’s traverse the expanse quite often; finding shelter in the few scattered areas of trees that dot the hillside in denser portions than the rest. There is one place in particular however that remains shrouded in a veil of cautious mystery, the thickest group of trees in the region rests just at the edge of where the hills begin to grow higher, and mountains arise to take shape like great monsters against the sky on the horizon. Those who delve into the ominous shadows of the grove are brave, for at its heart rests the ruins of a Tomb, long forgotten by the mortals, and worn by the elements and time. Whispers and rumors murmur of unnatural occurrences amongst the corroded stones, nearly overcome by the regrowth of the trees that surround it. There have been sightings of apparitions, phantoms of soldiers from the grave, instances of poltergeists manifesting to scare those that dare to wander close enough, and rumors of demons lingering in the depths of the catacombs that lay below the ground, labyrinth like and vast in their existence.
The great structure rises up out of the very earth that surrounds it, built of stone, crafted, carved and molded into the grandiose, ornate image that remains in spite of times destruction. The largest tree in the area has overcome the main entrance to the underground maze, towering above the temple like structure, a mighty symbol of nature’s sovereignty, reclaiming what was once rightfully hers. Several other doorways lead down into the abyss, large enough for equines and perhaps even greater creatures of past ages to traverse into the gloom without any concern. Within the twisting, turning depths of the passageways lie the graves of fallen Foothills soldiers and enemies alike, their bones hidden beneath the ground for hundreds of years, faces long forgotten and names never recognized after the great war that ravaged and tore Helovia and its people apart.
Through the main entrance, the most decorative, ornate details framing the eroded stone beneath natures suffocation, a pathway leads straight down into the ground, where the roots of the trees line the ceilings of a great cavern that hallows out into a large room. Within the cavern other corridors line the walls at various positions, leading off into the darkness. In the middle of the chamber rests a natural spring, a pool of water as clear and smooth as glass, cold to the touch and revitalizing for those that drink from its seemingly endless depths. At the pools center rests an enormous platform of breccia marble that seems to float on the water, and upon it rests what would appear to be a sarcophagus of colossal proportions made of the same earthen looking stone.
Storytellers of the Foothills would tell you of the herd’s strength and valor, of the great warriors that once roamed the hills and protected the lands with valiance and honor. They would tell you of hundreds of years past, when Helovia was tainted by mortal ruin and cloaked in the vestiges of war. For during those days the Foothills were called home by a mason of indescribable power and unimaginable size, a stallion who was said to have been black as night, and so large that his very hoof steps would cause the mountains to tremor in veneration. His name is unknown, lost to the frailty of memory that only grows worse with the pass of time, but his legend remains, and so the Tomb of the Unknown receives its name. It is he that built the tomb and the catacombs beneath it for his fallen brethren, and to honor their enemies with warrior’s noble last rites. They say that his body is sealed within the sarcophagus, and has been for nearly five hundred years. It remains undisturbed, for no soul has been brave enough to attempt swimming through the depthless waters for fear of what might linger within them.
Here the world of ghosts and apparitions collide, the line between reality and fantasy blurred and smudged until it is no longer visible. Will you dare to enter the gloom; will you answer the whispers of the spirits that beckon like sirens from the impenetrable darkness, do you have courage enough to traverse into the unknown deep? And if so, will you be able to escape its clutch?
Permission to create the Tomb of the Unknown, and the history behind it, courtesy of Tamme.
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