Campaign of the Month: August 2012
The Celestial Eye
The tower is made of yellow stone and shines with inner light even during antipeak. Two sword archons guard the entryway, their eyes watchful and their straight-backed posture perfect. Clerestory windows are set just below the eaves, with a sing round stained-glass window over the entryway.
Inside, the Tower of the prophet makes you a little dizzy. The whitewashed walls seem to rotate sharply in all directoins at once around a single golden construct suspended in the air abvoe the centre of the floor. This construct looks like a sphere forged in the anvils of Mechanus, but it shines brightly, and its whirring sound is barely noticeable above the noises made by the watchers in prayer. Three bearlike wardens fully 7 feet tall stand in prayer beneath the gleaming sphere, their arms lifted and their lips moving. A human in armour with three aasimar attendants is kneeling directly beneat the golden globe.
The Eye that gives this place its name is a strange object, with a segmented, insectlike covering of brass and copper fittings. The light from the glowing alter-tripod hovers around the Eye as well, lighting up every mote of dust near it. A number of levers next to it control its functioning. One of the large bearlike archons stands beside the levers, alert and watching you.
The brass segments of the Eye snap back one by one, releasing a ray of light so bright it seems like a solid pillar. it points up at the ceiling, reflecting down to the pillars and making the temple floor as bright as noon. As each segment snaps away fro mthe Eye, the light shines directly at more and more of the temple interior; when the final segment drops beneath the Eye, revealing it completely, the light touches each of you. You can’t see anything around you except as flickering shadows; solid people and pillars look transparent in this light. You feel it as a source of warmth and inquisitiveness – living light that burrows into your body to your soul. Voices echo within the light.
Somewhere nearby, you distinctly hear the scratching of a quill on paper, a sound so soft that you don’t understand how you can perceive it in such a large, noisy temple.
The sound of a quill moving over paper stops. You hear the clank of metal, and suddenly you are wrapped in black shadow, blinded. The light is gone, but you still see traces of it shining overhead. With a final clunk, even that light is gone. The world seems black, even though you see pillars and walls and creatures moving about you. A piece of paepr in your hadns shines with an echo of the vanished light.
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