Beyond Dominia: The Role Playing Mill: Sanctum

By Elrohir (Elrohir) on Saturday, June 16, 2001 - 01:01 pm:

May 19, 795 - TR

Jaron did not know what to make of Thrakkiss. Dark and fell, a terror yet not so. Within the Dark Warlord was a malice and seething anger - a man deeply wronged by circumstances beyond his control. While Jaron traveled with him, he seemed still to be more than just a heart of darkness. Thrakkiss was stern and gruff, yet authoritarian and most certainly in charge. Where Gandalf and to a lesser extent Elrohir's shade had been kindly but troubled, Thrakkiss was troubled yet kindly. The inverse of Gandalf.

Thrakkiss had led them in a southerly direction, taming two roving steeds their first day out and driving them hard by day, resting little at night. Jaron had seen the fires of the kobold encampments away to the east, and knew without a doubt that the world certainly was entering days of pitch darkness. Swirling cyclonic winds dogged their trail, and often rain beat mercilessly upon them, forcing to travel slowly lest their horses stumble and become useless.

{So, where exactly are we headed, Thrakkiss? You have told me little about this journey, but I can feel it taking me far from my sister. And we should have tried to save Joerda.} He had mourned her loss deeply, and still knew not whether she was alive or dead in the hands of the kobolds.

"Where we go is of concern to me alone. Do not bother yourself." Such had been the Warlord's speech, and Jaron got little else out of him.

But today was different. Before them loomed great hills, and beyond lay a massive forest. Jaron had been to the outskirts of Deep Shadow, but this was larger and grander still.

"Shaharazad Forst. We're reaching it's northern borders. Before long we will turn aside. Then you will see what I have brought you here for."

Near the end of the day they were in the midst of the hills, and Thrakkiss was closely paying attention to his surroundings. Still he said little. As the sun plunged beneath the horizon, Thrakkiss saw what he sought. Dismounting, he bid Jaron do the same, and the walked together to a boulder which appeared to be in front of a cave.

"Stand back," Thrakkiss said. Raising his left hand, he clenched it. The boulder shuddered. High above his head, he clenched it harder. Even in the starlight, Jaron saw rivets of dark blood streaming down Thrakkiss' arm, his eyes winced shut. With a flourish, he spread his palm wide, and the boulder lifted from the ground. It rose slowly at first, then quicker. Waving his hand, the boulder shuddered and flew off into the night. Moments later the thundering impact reached them.

The cave entrance revealed, Thrakkiss strode inside and Jaron followed. Before long the path ran deep under the ground, twisting such that even the scant starlight could not be seen. Then it ended in a sheer, smooth wall, devoid of cracks or markings.

"Sanctum, open," Thrakkiss spoke commandingly. The wall responded, rising into the earth above it, giving view of a massive technological wonder behind.


Hatred mingled with anticipation.

Not long now, no - not long. We will meet soon.


"This is an extension of Sanctum," Thrakkiss explained to Jaron. "Long ago, Phyrexians sought to use this world as an energy source to power their foul creations an an attempt to conquer Dominaria Prime, the heart of the multiverse, Dominia. Phaema lies outside Dominia by a great distance, and the Phyrexians were far from home.

"From what I gathered in my time here, or rather, the northern counterpart under Deep Shadow which I called Sanctum, an even more terrible power was wakened. The Heart of the World wiped them all out, leaving their technologies intact."

{Was this the Dark Heart of the Wood that tried to destroy the world?}

"Corrupted by misuse of its power and fully sentient, yes. The Heart of the World beat in Deep Shadow, and was known by most as the Heart of the Wood as well. But we'll speak now of other things."

"Cycles upon cycles have repeated themselves endlessly on this world. Beings of darkness, war, and power corrupt have laid waste often. Always a solution came about. But those were in different ages, when the measure of a hero was not defined, except by their deeds alone."

{Even you are a hero, Thrakkiss. My father spoke well of you.}

"Was that Elrohir, or Gandalf who spoke those words? I am a terrible menace. If I am a hero, I did nothing to warrant such accolades. I have wreaked a great deal of havoc in my time. I do not lie about it, or try to cover it up. I am a monster, and I am comfortable with that. I know what I am. Do you know what you are?" Jaron gave no reply.

"Sanctum, I have need of you," Thrakkiss shouted to the walls.

Strange buzzes and hums came, dim lights grew ever brighter, machinery spun up and became active.




"My return was unplanned."


"What! Thrice damned machinery. I have need to travel. My other plans can wait. Continue them. Status report."


Jaron was lost among the conversation, trying to figure out what was being referred to. It was all so strange and unwieldy. Thrakkiss continued on, learning the status of this reserved Sanctum. From Jaron's recollections, this was not the same Sanctum Thrakkiss had used before, but another created by the Phyrexians, converted for Thrakkiss' use. Thrakkiss had abandoned Sanctum due to system inoperability, but it seemed he had set some plans into effect to bring it back online. For what purpose, Jaron could not fathom.

Leaning back, Jaron focused his mind, and let it go. Free of his body, it roved throughout the Sanctum, touching electronics thrumming with power, felt the seering heat of the reactor. It was all so new, so foreign, yet indescribably old and terrifyingly advanced - definite echoes of the people who created it and imbued it with terrible energy.

Thrakkiss spent several days learning of situations around the world. He brought Sanctum fully online, and tested the teleporters by sending various pieces of scrap to remote areas, and retrieving them. In his studies, he found one thing that interested him and resolved to check in on it at once, even before dealing with the Dark One, Shadow.

Jaron had been allowed research of his own, after a fashion. He could turn up nothing about Aerlin or Joerda, and this made him depressed and angry. He also saw the full extent of the kobold war machine. Though there were constant streams of ships coming into the continent from Northshir, the kobolds had already established breeding grounds in numerous locations off Dantimos. More were being born daily and maturing in months than were arriving from the homeland. Training for war began at three months of age. That dam was ready to break, and all would be swept away by the tide.


Even Dark Warlords sleep. It had drawn him to Sanctum. It WAS Sanctum now.

Revenge would be swift.
Revenge would be deadly.
Revenge would be...unexpected.

You are mine, Thrakkiss.

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