Picture Challenge #2: Old World Relics

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Arcadia

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In fantasy, there are often references to deities that no longer exist, and once had, on the mortal plane of existence, building structures and technology that was both revolutionary and cataclysmic when weaponised. Your task is to describe what this picture was! Was it a superweapon designed by the old deities, before they disappeared from our world? Is it a relic that blesses those who enter it to gain something positive? Or is it simply the abandoned home of a civilization that once lived on Earth, left to fade with the passage of time?
 
It's a Stone Titan's leftover Danish Butter Cookies. He was getting bored of stone cookies, he wanted something more exotic, like Granite Caviar.
 
It's thought to have once been a magical array strong enough to power an entire civilization, but it was broken long ago, and the civilization lost to memory.
 
I'm not sure there is a standard format to reply in. So I chose my favorite.




CheCha appraised his Granfir with a sidelong look. The old man was a living tree; sinewy limbs that held thick and strong when pressed upon, veins as raised as roots, bark flesh belying its formidable prowess through waves of wrinkles. A tree, perhaps, that was in winter, given the white cap of estranged, sprouting follicles on Granfir's spotted crown. He'd shaved his face clean recently, in preparation for the Sending Ritual. The Sending garb sat tight against the old man's waist; leather belt cinched desperately against flesh. If not for the weighted stones at the bottom of the two pieces of cloth attached to the belt, the wind would have given the gathered quite a show of Granfir's unwithered manhood. As his Granfir climbed upon the jutted slate stage without help of hand nor cane, CheCha filled with pride. If he was half as strong as Granfir upon reaching Elder status he'd have done well.


"Jektric keep you!" Granfir called to the gathered.


"Jektric free you, Granfir CheLoch!" The crowd responded, enthusiastic.


"I thought to tell you all the story of Jektric and the Longest Cry. Good that I thought longer, though, or you'd all be asleep upon my Sending." The gathered laughed and hooted. "Instead, allow me to remind you of why we enjoy peace rather than suffer from war." Instantly the people quieted and as one, Granfir included, turned their eyes upon the massive stone architecture behind them. "Close your eyes, flesh of Jektric, and listen."


"While we were still mud and flower creatures, mindless and wailing, Jektric, the Stone Heart, fought his mother, Wind Witch, for the right to create our story. Wind Witch would have us as slaves to the divine. Jektric wanted to give us freedom to think, to toil, to tell stories. They were matched in battle, unable to over power each other. So they pulled up the Wheel of Chance from the divine storage chest and instead sat to gamble our lowly fate. Jektric was winning over his mother when the Kuton, power hungry demons that they are, attacked the divine realms. Wind Witch, hearing the cries of her other children, conceded to Jektric immediately. Jektric spared only enough time to will us thought before following his mother to protect their divinity from the Kuton. And so the Wheel of Chance hangs over us, a divine symbol of the gods' protection, warding off our potential foes, until the day our fate is set to change."
 
Sir Ezra dismounted his horse when he approached the strange structure. The clouds seem to circle around the building as if it had some significance to his journey to save his kingdom and earn Princess Mikara's hand in marriage. His partner, Lycan the Warlock, appeared in a cloud of smoke behind him.
"Lycan, what is this peculiar structure that sits in my sight?" Ezra asked. Lycan replied that it was a portal between the worlds of the living and the deceased. When Ezra inquired whether Mikara was in the realm of the deceased, Lycan replied.
"My intuition tells me that Mikara was taken here by the Prince of Evil to become his bride. Grabbing his blessed sword, Ezra rode up the mountain to activate the ancient portal to save everything he has ever known.
 
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Something terrible was coming... Something not seen for millenia. The answers to everyone's questions were said to be here....

There was a sense of awe, majesty, and sadness as his eyes looked on to the rounded figure before them. Raising his hand to block the sun's rays, he swallowed down a lump that began to form in his throat. The sage travelling with him pointed to the top of the circular, spiraling shape in the distance. It's size dwarfed the mountains it was nestled among, and reached up past the clouds.

"At the top... on the right." His voice was weak and gravelly.

The last living god was said to sit here, in stasis. The victor in a war that ended eons ago. The structure was said to be a once-floating beacon ruling heaven and earth, holding untold magics both divine and terrifying. Those legends state it became a key that locked away it's enemies in the mountain below. In it's crumbling state, it would be dangerous to scale, but the danger of the structure falling was much more sinister. His faith in the legends kept his fears at bay- that there would be a light at the end of this very dark tunnel.

Both he, and whatever lie at the top of this beacon- were the last bastions of hope.
 
"So this is... what it have become since I left huh?" A brand feel of nostalgic coming from the returning hero that has went back to his world ever since the last demon ing had been slain. It merely a year for him but this realm had past over a hundred years, the relic was the place where he first fell into and meet his first companion, a female wolf beastkin. As he touched the relic he reminded of times where he had mixed situation with the beastkin.

"Sir Rinoa, it's time..." A sound of youtful male came towards him, he was a young Dragonoid, a rare breed of dragon and human. The Hero looked at the young boy with a sad smile, "yeah... after all, I've got another demon lord to kill..."