The Upper Dragonbacks

Do you have ANY idea what the consequences of this will be??

Yes. I know full well what's likely to happen, and you know full well why it's worth it.

Yes.... So, how exactly were you planning on waking the Mountains? You're no mage.

It's not a problem; I'll find one.

How?

Just watch. With that, Arasus Solarian of Kaat'n, bastard son of L.P. Solarian III and a French maid named Sheila disrobed. This in itself was somewhat alarming to his compadre, but Sir Whiteblade was even more alarmed by the large tattoo running all the way down Arasus's back. Whiteblade could not quite determine the nature of the imagery there presented, except that it all seemed to spring from the letters tattooed on the small of Arasus's back: "SOLARIAN."

D-Di Immortales! What are you doing?

I'm going to summon one of my uncles. Arasus closed his eyes and started humming. Whiteblade wondered if his friend were trying to recite a spell. Actually, the humming was just to drown out everything else. Arasus was concentrating.

Then his skin seemed to move. He had insects crawling on his back. No. That wasn't it. The tattoo. The tattoo was changing shape. The whole image was changing, though the word at the center remained the same. Arasus let out a shriek and then slumped over.

Whiteblade rushed to him, and turned him over on his back. To his surprise, The man there on the ground was not his companion. This fellow had long white hair, and radiated age. The word that came most readily to mind was 'venerable.'

"Sara?" the man growned. "Wh-who are you? Why am I here? What's going on!" He sat up.

Relax old fellow. I...I think my friend brought you here some how. He said he was going to summon one of his family or something like that.

"Uhhh...Oh! Wait. No. That's impossible. They're all. But it does. Hmmm. But...do you have any idea why he would have needed me?"

Are you a mage?

"I suppose you could say that, though I wouldn't." Whiteblade looked momentarily puzzled.

Well, I'm afraid I know exactly the reason he needed you. You're standing on the tallest of them -- the Dragonbacks that is. It's said, by the folk around here, that the Dragonbacks aren't really mountains. They're said to be spirits or something like that. 'Powers so mysterious and subtle that they can transcend reality itself.' I think that's the myth. Regardless, the important part is that, supposedly, they're sleeping, and, more importantly, they can be awoken. Of course, I never really believed it, but --

"Yes you did. It's alright, I understand, and you're right to believe. I can feel the power from here. We're standing on the focus." Whiteblade was knocked back a bit by a sudden force. The old man had thrust is hand into the ground here, all the way down to his shoulder, and then pulled forth a crystal from the granite.

"Yes, this should do nicely. I think the time is, indeed, right. Don't go away, Sir Whiteblade, I'll be needing you to explain our task to me once we get there."

How did you--wait, where are we going?

The man held the crystal above his head with both hands, and then realeased it. It rested there, in the air. He stared up at it, blankly at first, then seeming to entreat it with his eyes, then with a furious glare, then with an inhuman and indescribable expression of elation.

The crystal shattered furiously, emitting a burst of intense light. In its place, a hole was forming in the air, and growing. Threatening to swallow every point on its plane, it expanded.

"There." The old man pointed to the circular black void. Then, grabbing Whiteblade's wrist, he lept seven feet through the air into the void and vanished.