The Battle In The World's Bowels (event)
The thread unfolds, and I find myself floating in the middle of a vast, circular room - a colossal chamber with seemingly no bottom or top, only countless, crisscrossed balconies lining its sides in impossible configurations. Daylight has not touched this place in eons - only the light of torches and heated magical combat illuminates the ancient stonework. The scene is made all the more confusing by the ongoing, fierce battle. Robed Magi and men in tribal garb exchange fireballs and axe-swings, brilliant explosions causing entire terraces to crumble and collapse into the abyss below, occasionally carrying an unlucky soul down with them into the dark.
One barbarian warrior in particular seems to be making the most out of the situation - his heavily armored, hulking form made almost comical by the four huge tomes he's clutching in one arm, the dozen ill-fitting Magical amulets around his neck, the obviously undersized tiara atop his head, and the large staff in his mouth. Even in spite of this, the coterie of shamans flanking him and the large axe in his other hand are enough to make quick work of any foes that mistake him for an easy target.
Soon, I plummet, and within moments I am back at my chamber. The magical energies which bathed that place have evidently left a sort of residue on me, and I feel it seeping into me and replenishing my magical potency.
I feel a bit dizzy, though.