((Well Xan forgot to bold his reading action, it appears. Anyway, let's get crackin'))
- So, no opinions? You guys just think this over and share later. Meanwhile hang on and be battle ready.
Cross the stormcloud wall
Just gonna put this here
Replace the armor with my new cloak, and vote to cross.
You replace your armor with your new cloak. It's pretty nice. The head part even still has the snout and upper jaw of the beast, but modified into a helmet. Very Hercules-esque. And the heavy dark crimson mane of the beast frames your heck and shoulders wonderfully.
It appears I accidentally italicized my action.
READ
The next section appears to be covering "Thought-forms", things which were brought into being entirely based upon the beliefs of others. The book uses the same metaphor of the ball in the box, but this time posits that it is possible to do it without a ball ever having been in the box to begin with. However, it also states that the amount of faith required to create matter where none exists is seemingly far greater than the faith which is required to manipulate existent reality. The also makes reference to "The Darbensure Thought-form" and contains an image of a strange iridescent mass of swirling colors hovering above a city of asymmetrical, brutalist buildings. What ever this thought-form was, the author uses it as a cautionary tale, warning that while such things are powerful, they quickly gain a life of their own above the understanding and control of their creators. "And Darbensure's erasure from the world is more then evidence enough of the dangers of power unrestrained".
"Let's sail, gentlemen!"
Onward!
The Warbeast charges through into the storm. The inner reaches of the stormwall are far different from the out side; it is tempest, a raging thunderstorm which pelts the beast with wind and rain. Thunder crashes constantly like exploding artillery shells and lightning curls through the sky all around, throwing purple light and jittery shadows across the deck. The flag, so carefully rendered, tears away from the beast and the fire in the cabin is smothered by rain. The crew hold to the deck and hide in the cabin, sheltering from the rain as best they can.
And then the rain stops. The warbeast steps free of the stormwall and out onto a sunny plain. The sun, an actual sun by the look of it, is sitting somewhere near the horizon, maybe evening, maybe morning, hard to tell. It's throwing reddening light across the sky, bathing the world in calm twilight glow. The crew, soaked and chilly, exit the cabin and look around. The landscape is lush; vibrant green and speckled colors of bright blooms and hanging fruits. The ground is overgrown with grass, creeping vines, bushes, hedges and ferns. Trees sprout up in random groves, or in groups of two or three, boughs of bushy green leaves and black wood overgrown with moss. The plants roll slowly, gently, in the warm western breeze, and the entire world seems to dance to the music of the soft rush and rustle.
Underneath this greenery is something vastly different; poking up out of the sea of green are black islands of blast glass, fallen towers and highway supports. Broken glass still sparkles in sunlight, half hidden beneath the foliage, and the hollowed, burned out shells of buildings rise up only to end abruptly in twisted, rusted, rebar studded stumps a few stories high. Directly ahead, in this overgrown ruin of a city, is a body. If you weren't so high up it would be hard to recognize that giant collection of corroded metal and bare white bone as a body; but from this vantage point it is clear. The body is as big if not bigger than the warbeast you're currently riding. It's partially curled up, almost in the fetal position, laying on it's side. Armor plates, or perhaps metallic bone, trace the outline of it. The bones are...strange. They are obviously artificial in their design with joints more like hinges in many places, a ribcage like sections of overlapping plates and extended Hip bones which protect the flanks and gut. Whatever it is, it is long, long dead.