Prathettuth

Of the many ways the demons of Infernus tried to record their history, etched glass was one of their least successful types.

The entranceway

You would come into a hallway. Were you the reader here, uneven stone worn flat by hooves until it resembles cobblestone. Around you, the tower rises; but down here, over the risen bridge that has been eaten away by the iron winds, it looks more like a place to camp for the night out of the storm that rages outside - it always rages, but tonight the wind bites harder than most nights.

Well maintained staircases wind ever up, but here, on the ground level, abandoned refuse from nights spent here, litter the area, as does a place where people have worn their steps into the ground, seeking a little stone for their diet - a vain hope, for the 'stone' of the tower is too rich for the average iron demon.

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The first few floors

You explore upwards, pulling the imp-leather hood around you. Each floor going up has green-glass windows, with thick frames and 'stone' hoods over their upper halves to deflect the iron winds away from most of the enriched glass. But that is not the only glass here, spread around your hooves are broken shards, ground to microns in part now, but thick shards lay abandoned around the place and lining the wall, octagonal crystals lay slanted and cracked in rows on rows of thin shelves designed to hold their multitude.

You pick the most well kept crystal up and you see precise and fine writing on four of the non contrasting facets of the crystal, two of the orientations inverted, as if for those the crystal must be turned upside down.

Each floor is a massive ring, precise but rough stone shaped into railings, designs carved into the top 3 inches of railing in a mural that describes the histories of Hsith's past. In the centre, floating on demon rune, is a stone carving, winged and chained (the chains drifting off into nothing) bobbing with the uneven-ness of the magic, as it spins, rotationallly displaced by an ancient force. Its face is defaced by time or vandalism is unknown, but an eye remains on the massive carving, too detailed, and it watches you as the winged demon stares at you until it turns away.

You continue up, grasping the glass crystal delicately, hefting your pack behind you, feeling your iron shards digging into the pack as you work your way higher.

The middle floors

The floors keep coming. Sconces of magma in rune heated bowls cast a gentle glow over the area, the bowls held by alloyed chains, in uneven arrangements and taking up the space where the winged demon occupied below. the brackets are that same alloy, in linking triangles, with alloy 'dripping' from the joints in precise perpendicular decorations.

The crystals are more missing here, an almost green glass crystal dust decorating the stairs and floor here, with only a few crystals surviving in the racks here.

The upper floors

For now, the upper floors are locked, but you guess the device that allows you to view your broken crystal is there. You can see discordant light wafting down the centre column, but massive attrophied doors block your path, like an attic door set into the winding stairs.