Awake
Feel the light
Eyes open
Glorious sight
The Sun
She is out
My son
Be about
The bed
It is nice
And the floor
Is as ice
But arise
Come and see
The world
As it should be
Thursday, 2 October 2014
Friday, 1 August 2014
Thursday, 5 June 2014
Scent
Spring breeze to bring solace
Where my last was spent
Light pooling on the surface
Where we'd made an end
This howling summer gale
Storming inside my heart
My candle glow so pale;
Can I forget the start?
A swift autumn wind
Spinning 'round my head
A fire in my bosom
Did Gaia wish me dead?
Now chilling winter will
grasping, gripping,
yet I remember still
Intoxicating
The scent of her hair in the air.
The scent of her hair in the air.
Wednesday, 23 April 2014
I, Me, Nothing.
I am a memory in the dark
I am a legend in the telling
I am a myth of unknowing
I am nothing.
To know me
is to not
To hate me
is to rot
To humor me
is to lie
To include me
is to deny
I am a candle
with wax down the sides
with flames all extinguished
unlovely to all eyes
I am a lore book
with torn leaves and broken cover
my spine bent and ruined
dusty and undiscovered
I am a key
with rust on the handle
hidden within its strongbox
forgotten on the mantle
I am a story
forgotten over time
told to none, heard by none
in any land or clime
I am nothing.
Light me, I will illuminate
Open me, I will elucidate
Use me, I will unlock
Tell me, I will reveal
I am still a candle, I can still be lit!
I am still a lore book, I can still be read!
I am still a key, I can still unlock!
I am still a story, I can still be sung!
Memory fades to legend,
legend fades to myth,
myth turns to nothingness.
Yet because I am nothing, I was borne from nothing.
I was nothing
myth faded
but I was a legend
after I am a memory
I am.
Friday, 11 April 2014
The Little Things
Mr Wong rushed out of his apartment door without even grabbing a slice of bread, locking the doors hurriedly behind him, groaning as he fumbled with his keys. He was late for an early morning meeting, the seemingly endless bills had piled up and his project assignment (including the presentation on the early stages) was nearly due and still woefully incomplete. Too preoccupied to even consider breakfast, he deigned to tie up whatever loose ends he could manage on the train ride to his office. Adjusting his necktie, he half-walked, half-ran to the nearest MRT station, alerting passers-by to his stressed presence with the loud and incessant clopping of his sleek, heeled boots, ringing on the pavement in an excessive manner. He ignored the grumbling looks on the faces of other morning-goers and trotted on.
7:00 am and he was still not on the train, or even the platform. He ran up the escalators, almost barging his way past people, tapped his fare card on the machine, watched the miniature gates open painfully slow, and sped up the second set of escalators, almost dropping his wallet in the process. Hearing the arrival of a train drawing up into the station, he gasped in panic and increased his speed, sprinting wildly. At the last moment, he just managed to jump through the doors of the large impatient contraption before it shut behind him.
He relaxed slightly, and sat himself down on an empty train seat, brushing small beads of sweat off of his forehead. He tugged the zip on his bag, jerking it open and pulling out a large and thick folder. He unclipped it and pulled out several long and lengthy reports on logistics and resources. He read them through again and again, drawing out the important details and placing them in the back of his mind, where he could arrange them properly on paper later. "And the technical team can be reassigned to the drafting of..." he muttered under his breath, calculating the ideal staff size for such a task and cross referencing it to the resource limits whilst simultaneously checking the budget of the project.
7:15 am. Mr Wong scratched his cheek, deep in thought as the train left another station, barely carrying any passengers and allowing him to breathe. He pulled out another piece of paper and looked at the graphs and statistics listed, trying to process them at the speed that he normally could. His clouded mind prevented him from doing so and he looked up in frustration as a young mother's child cried loudly in equal anger. All the preemptive tirades stuck on the edge of his tongue that stopped as his mouth closed.
The Sun was rising.
At that moment, the thought crossed his mind that such a weak description was terribly inadequate, and he tried to find words to place the strange feeling in his chest, and yet could not seem to find any of them inside of his brain.
The small circle, no bigger than a fifty-cent coin, was climbing over the rolling hilltops and small houses before a large and empty field of green. It showered the land in a warm orange glow, whilst closer to it, brilliant mixtures of red, yellow and golden unleashed its glorious fury to the world. Piercing the clouds with sharp pinpricks of light, pouring into every dark crevice and illuminating the train, the very pinpricks of light landing on Mr Wong.
He stopped thinking, and simply stared at the elaborate scene of nature before him, basking in it without a single word, as if he was lodged in an epiphany of universal proportions. A soft feeling spread through his heart that he had not felt for a long time and he relaxed, easing his back into the curves of the train seat, continuing to watch the Sunrise.
The reports lay forgotten in his lap.
7:00 am and he was still not on the train, or even the platform. He ran up the escalators, almost barging his way past people, tapped his fare card on the machine, watched the miniature gates open painfully slow, and sped up the second set of escalators, almost dropping his wallet in the process. Hearing the arrival of a train drawing up into the station, he gasped in panic and increased his speed, sprinting wildly. At the last moment, he just managed to jump through the doors of the large impatient contraption before it shut behind him.
He relaxed slightly, and sat himself down on an empty train seat, brushing small beads of sweat off of his forehead. He tugged the zip on his bag, jerking it open and pulling out a large and thick folder. He unclipped it and pulled out several long and lengthy reports on logistics and resources. He read them through again and again, drawing out the important details and placing them in the back of his mind, where he could arrange them properly on paper later. "And the technical team can be reassigned to the drafting of..." he muttered under his breath, calculating the ideal staff size for such a task and cross referencing it to the resource limits whilst simultaneously checking the budget of the project.
7:15 am. Mr Wong scratched his cheek, deep in thought as the train left another station, barely carrying any passengers and allowing him to breathe. He pulled out another piece of paper and looked at the graphs and statistics listed, trying to process them at the speed that he normally could. His clouded mind prevented him from doing so and he looked up in frustration as a young mother's child cried loudly in equal anger. All the preemptive tirades stuck on the edge of his tongue that stopped as his mouth closed.
The Sun was rising.
At that moment, the thought crossed his mind that such a weak description was terribly inadequate, and he tried to find words to place the strange feeling in his chest, and yet could not seem to find any of them inside of his brain.
The small circle, no bigger than a fifty-cent coin, was climbing over the rolling hilltops and small houses before a large and empty field of green. It showered the land in a warm orange glow, whilst closer to it, brilliant mixtures of red, yellow and golden unleashed its glorious fury to the world. Piercing the clouds with sharp pinpricks of light, pouring into every dark crevice and illuminating the train, the very pinpricks of light landing on Mr Wong.
He stopped thinking, and simply stared at the elaborate scene of nature before him, basking in it without a single word, as if he was lodged in an epiphany of universal proportions. A soft feeling spread through his heart that he had not felt for a long time and he relaxed, easing his back into the curves of the train seat, continuing to watch the Sunrise.
The reports lay forgotten in his lap.
Monday, 31 March 2014
The continent of Saldivia in the Breaking Age: its peoples and its landmarks
The Saldivian continent cannot be described with any basic shape. The most that could be said is that it had three vague 'points' similar to a triangle: one facing to the North West, one facing to the South, and one facing to the North East. Along the inland of this continent a clump of mountains were stationed, tall and majestic, only outmatched by the Giant's range in Argosant. Many rivers poured from its roots, flowing out through all of the nations and eventually, out to sea. These mountains were named "Ashagal Pierin", the 'focused' peaks, also translatable to the center peaks. These were the largest mountains in the land, and the nations were mainly divided around it.
On the East coast of the continent, opposite the nation of Quenie, was the land of Dunal. Considered the trade center of the known world, they shipped large amounts of commodities everywhere, having a powerful trade navy (although the ships were not well equipped for war or battle of any sort), able to traverse the oceans to reach almost every nation. Directly descended from the Dunnallion in the old days of the Red Age, they possessed most the old lands they had, stretching from the Meldon River to the Caragan River, taking up most of the Eastern Coast. However, their actual control only stretched so far, and lands towards the north and south were mostly populated by villages and small towns that claimed to belong to none. Dunal was also famous for its large port city, Aldane Qala, "Bright(est) City", known for being the largest port in the known world and also for the Tower of Tiel Aldane, (in emphasis, meaning THE brighest, shiniest, normally related to those in majesty), a tall and seemingly topless building that was made of gold and iron and other precious materials, forged together to create the large and impressive structure, built in the older days of glory, (the Golden Age), when all prospered. It served as a meeting place for those of the Merchants' order, who controlled the land through a partially democratic system. The Dunalion look almost exactly the same as the Queniens, being of average height and having many colored hair and many colored eyes.
The South was taken up by the Zanturians, the nation of Zanturia. They walled themselves off from the other lands, building an actual physical wall called by them "Zantu Yackmondan", in their strange language, Zantu's Long Arm, (referred to in their teachings as the arm that shields them from all harm, Yackmondan being a literal pronoun). It was referred to by the rest of the continent as "The Cult Blockade", having no relations with the strange Zanturians who worshipped their false god (for it was the Zantu that were long descended from the evils of Jal'Mansar, who had planted the seed of dissent in the previous War of the Powers. It could be said that the false god was in reality, Jal'Mansar, though he indirectly manipulated them), and also at times attacking the other nations at random. They were hostile and unwelcoming, guarding the Cult Blockade's gates with large numbers and preventing entry for anyone except those that explicitly vowed to server their god (on pain of death, in service for life, to never leave the lands except the Master willed it), and killing any others that approached without hesitation. Zanturia is supposedly independent, able to grow its own crop to feed its population and sustain its large armies. However, their ships that launch from their Eastern coast attempt raids on richly laden Dunalion ships, only repelled by the Quenien ships hired from time to time. The Zantu are pale and rather tall, alike to the Corallion, only shorter and much paler. Most of them possess piercings all over their body, in ritual and sacrifice to Zantu. They have only black hair and possess high cheekbones for the most part. This nation is regarded as a threat by every other land, even the Argosantic continent.
North of Zanturia, West of Dunal, is the Nation of Corallion. Cold to most other foreigners, the northernmost part of it suffers from perpetual winter, ceasing only occasionally and for short periods of time. It is home to the world's most skilled swordsmen, using scimitars to weave their 'dance', the name of which they give to battle. They are unique among the world in terms of looks; pale and tall, ranging between 180 centimeters to 2 meters among the tallest. Because of this, they are easily recognizable in foreign lands and are sometimes shunned, leading the Corallion to become mostly introverted and secluded. However, their physical stature was not the only reason for their seeming eccentricity; they had strict codes of behavior inherited from the Alphin who migrated there in the early days of the Red Age (as such, even the original Doren, now referred to as the Dorin were founded there), becoming much like those of the mysterious and wise. In battle, they were terrifying, wearing hideous masks that struck fear into those that looked at them. Matching the Massodrians in single combat, they used their scimitars to great effect, having a great number of named techniques and sword strokes that could outsmart an average swordsman entirely. Stretching beyond this, their traditional method of tactical combat was unorthodox and unpredictable. 'Guerrilla warfare' was often used by their soldiers to great effect, knowing precisely the advantages of remaining unseen before and during the strike. As such, they were named by many as "the walking dead", (agraddin Grall in Zanturian, who feared them greatly for various reasons) and were respected in war and battle. Were they less reserved, a conquest of theirs might have been unstoppable. However, because of their nature, they hardly expand their territory, but also hardly entreat with others. They grow mostly potatoes, but also grow many Saugan, a tough crop of plant that produces sweet fruit all year round and has edible roots and leaves. The Corallion hold this plant in high regard, using it in many of their poems and their idioms and allegories of strength and providence.
Finally, to the north are large wastelands that endure endless winter and snow. They are mostly uninhabited, being mostly unlivable, except for a small race of men that are unnamed among themselves. They live on the wild beasts that live up there and tougher species of Saugan that grow in the Northern parts. They occasionally make raids on both the Dunal and Corallion border, but very rarely, keeping mostly to themselves and and hardly even showing their presence, being skilled in the art of walking unseen in the winter lands. Among the people of Corallion, who have had the most contact with them, they are known as the Erene, the homeless/lost.
In the earliest of times, Saldivia was known as Yarmon.
On the East coast of the continent, opposite the nation of Quenie, was the land of Dunal. Considered the trade center of the known world, they shipped large amounts of commodities everywhere, having a powerful trade navy (although the ships were not well equipped for war or battle of any sort), able to traverse the oceans to reach almost every nation. Directly descended from the Dunnallion in the old days of the Red Age, they possessed most the old lands they had, stretching from the Meldon River to the Caragan River, taking up most of the Eastern Coast. However, their actual control only stretched so far, and lands towards the north and south were mostly populated by villages and small towns that claimed to belong to none. Dunal was also famous for its large port city, Aldane Qala, "Bright(est) City", known for being the largest port in the known world and also for the Tower of Tiel Aldane, (in emphasis, meaning THE brighest, shiniest, normally related to those in majesty), a tall and seemingly topless building that was made of gold and iron and other precious materials, forged together to create the large and impressive structure, built in the older days of glory, (the Golden Age), when all prospered. It served as a meeting place for those of the Merchants' order, who controlled the land through a partially democratic system. The Dunalion look almost exactly the same as the Queniens, being of average height and having many colored hair and many colored eyes.
The South was taken up by the Zanturians, the nation of Zanturia. They walled themselves off from the other lands, building an actual physical wall called by them "Zantu Yackmondan", in their strange language, Zantu's Long Arm, (referred to in their teachings as the arm that shields them from all harm, Yackmondan being a literal pronoun). It was referred to by the rest of the continent as "The Cult Blockade", having no relations with the strange Zanturians who worshipped their false god (for it was the Zantu that were long descended from the evils of Jal'Mansar, who had planted the seed of dissent in the previous War of the Powers. It could be said that the false god was in reality, Jal'Mansar, though he indirectly manipulated them), and also at times attacking the other nations at random. They were hostile and unwelcoming, guarding the Cult Blockade's gates with large numbers and preventing entry for anyone except those that explicitly vowed to server their god (on pain of death, in service for life, to never leave the lands except the Master willed it), and killing any others that approached without hesitation. Zanturia is supposedly independent, able to grow its own crop to feed its population and sustain its large armies. However, their ships that launch from their Eastern coast attempt raids on richly laden Dunalion ships, only repelled by the Quenien ships hired from time to time. The Zantu are pale and rather tall, alike to the Corallion, only shorter and much paler. Most of them possess piercings all over their body, in ritual and sacrifice to Zantu. They have only black hair and possess high cheekbones for the most part. This nation is regarded as a threat by every other land, even the Argosantic continent.
North of Zanturia, West of Dunal, is the Nation of Corallion. Cold to most other foreigners, the northernmost part of it suffers from perpetual winter, ceasing only occasionally and for short periods of time. It is home to the world's most skilled swordsmen, using scimitars to weave their 'dance', the name of which they give to battle. They are unique among the world in terms of looks; pale and tall, ranging between 180 centimeters to 2 meters among the tallest. Because of this, they are easily recognizable in foreign lands and are sometimes shunned, leading the Corallion to become mostly introverted and secluded. However, their physical stature was not the only reason for their seeming eccentricity; they had strict codes of behavior inherited from the Alphin who migrated there in the early days of the Red Age (as such, even the original Doren, now referred to as the Dorin were founded there), becoming much like those of the mysterious and wise. In battle, they were terrifying, wearing hideous masks that struck fear into those that looked at them. Matching the Massodrians in single combat, they used their scimitars to great effect, having a great number of named techniques and sword strokes that could outsmart an average swordsman entirely. Stretching beyond this, their traditional method of tactical combat was unorthodox and unpredictable. 'Guerrilla warfare' was often used by their soldiers to great effect, knowing precisely the advantages of remaining unseen before and during the strike. As such, they were named by many as "the walking dead", (agraddin Grall in Zanturian, who feared them greatly for various reasons) and were respected in war and battle. Were they less reserved, a conquest of theirs might have been unstoppable. However, because of their nature, they hardly expand their territory, but also hardly entreat with others. They grow mostly potatoes, but also grow many Saugan, a tough crop of plant that produces sweet fruit all year round and has edible roots and leaves. The Corallion hold this plant in high regard, using it in many of their poems and their idioms and allegories of strength and providence.
Finally, to the north are large wastelands that endure endless winter and snow. They are mostly uninhabited, being mostly unlivable, except for a small race of men that are unnamed among themselves. They live on the wild beasts that live up there and tougher species of Saugan that grow in the Northern parts. They occasionally make raids on both the Dunal and Corallion border, but very rarely, keeping mostly to themselves and and hardly even showing their presence, being skilled in the art of walking unseen in the winter lands. Among the people of Corallion, who have had the most contact with them, they are known as the Erene, the homeless/lost.
In the earliest of times, Saldivia was known as Yarmon.
Friday, 21 March 2014
The continent of Argosant in the Breaking Age: Its peoples and its landmarks
The continent of Argosant was shaped like a vague hour glass; to the north the land 'stretched out' into two 'arms', the West reaching down south in a large hook that encircled the land of Lurnuva, whilst the East wing was in a shallow Northward slope. Along the north edge of this continent ran a long wall of near impassable mountains, tall and majestic, given the name of "Emperor's Wall", translated from the old speech of the previous ages "Eladar Giel", when the north was still ruled by the single nation of Parius. To the south, across the narrow lands which were the alleged Argo border, splitting the north and south nations; the land too did stretch out in 'wings', the West being populated by a large and wide Savannah, with an enormous forest separating it from the rest of the continent. Traversing this forest was among the most dangerous of tasks. The East 'wing' was the land of Apochem, another large and spacious land largely populated by the fearsome beasts "Tarkhu", and other larger and more dangerous creatures. These were lands held to be uninhabitable and of utmost danger, separated from more civilized lands by mountains even taller and more fearsome than the Emeperor's Wall, named the Giant's Range for their incredible size, and also for rumors of Giants being wanderers along this great wall.
A total of five nations were in existence on the continent of Argosant during the last of the Old Ages; to the north most east was the nation of Quenie, who resided upon the coasts closest to the other continent of Saldivia. They were expert seafarers and sailors, thriving upon the trade economy of the not so distant Dunal, just across the ocean. The Queniens also lived very much on fish and mostly other commodities traded in from other nations. Their military was not very strong, but considerably well trained, and their might at sea was nigh unbeatable, using small and swift ships to patrol the straits and defeat pirates where necessary. Many a time, a Ledarn, a small and fast travelling ship equipped mainly for battle, was hired by other countries to ensure the safety of their oceans and trade routes. Queniens were mainly equipped with strange layered armor that was durable, held together by nails and axles, causing them to move relatively freely yet still be rather well protected. Their swords were mainly curved, very much alike to those used by the Dorin. Their cavalry was largely limited, giving more priority to the building of ships than to the raising of horses. They also used tall spears in battle to fortify the front lines against reckless charges, but bows were few among them. Queniens were mostly alike to the Ocaren, but were closer in appearance to the Dunalion, having many varieties of colored hairs, red, blond, brown, and black. Their eyes were just as many colored as their hair.
Along the Emperor's wall, next to Quenie, was Ocaren, the nation of the brave. Home to the headquarters of the Dorin, these lands featured rolling hills and mountains, with pockets of forest spread throughout. Rivers from the Emperor's wall networked the land, heading out into the seas. Ocaren held great might in cavalry and spears, and each individual soldier was very well armed. They were held as one of the strongest nations militarily, and in the sun were akin to the old nation Parius in the days of the Red Age, which stood the strongest against the might of the oncoming shadow. The nation took pride in a special brand of soldiers that were well trained to face the front lines, the Alciers, men that wielded hafted blade-spears, shields and short swords, dressed in especially strong armor and able to confront even the toughest of Massodrians in the wars. They were devastating both on horseback and on foot, charging down enemy defenses on the former and holding lines against the enemy on the latter. The Ocaren traded well with the Queniens, but were on short terms with the Iantarans, having warred with them once before. However, Ocaren was constantly at war with Massodria, the bloodshed only punctuated by short treaties and respites such that both sides could regain their strength. This limited the normally great might of Ocaren. The people of Ocaren were of average height, between 170 centimeters to 180, the tallest being 190. They were mostly slender, many with dark hair and eyes of various colors, although distinguishing features such as blonde hair or reddish hair were by and large.
The East wing of the North was held by Iantara, one of the greatest military nations in the Breaking Age. Their wide lands were cultivated with wheat and potato farms, and they traded with the Queniens. Their military largely consisted of infantry, armed with large shields, short sword, and the occasional spear or halberd. They held a moderate force of archers, but their cavalry was close to nonexistent, having dedicated most of the open land to farming and training grounds. Their lands used a system of forced recruitment for a year or more, taking men of age to become soldiers for a short time, disciplining them in the ways of their army. The Iantaran military strength was in the large amount of numbers it could muster in a short time, along with the coordination of each unit, as the soldiers trained were highly united and disciplined to follow orders. However, they were vulnerable to cavalry flanks and spearhead assaults, making them easily defeated in open areas. They spoke the same language as the Ocaren, and the culture was greatly similar. They were also very much alike in physical appearances to them
Finally, the South nations. Across the Argo border were the fearsome Massodrians, stout men with a strict warrior code that led each individual soldier to be terrors in combat. They were strong militarily, regarded as the fiercest fighters and most immovable kinds of people. They cultivated rice, grain, vegetables and other commodities in their homeland, being highly self reliant and rarely entreating with other countries, being quite isolated because of the Great Forest, the Giant's Range, and Ocaren. Each Massodrian had their own individual weapon that they trained with, thus having a great variety of soldiers to choose from. However, horses were rarely used for combat in their land, mostly for heavy loading and transport. The North forgets, but the nation of Massodria traditionally holds back the tide of Tarkhu from the East, having strongly fortified the Gap in the Giant's Range, which allowed easy access to the civilized lands. This was the main reason that Massodrians had to be fierce and wild in combat; to face the regular raids of the terrible beasts of the East, and drive them back. Thus, the Massodrians were almost constantly 'at war', facing threats from two sides. The people of Massodria were relatively 'short', but stockier and tougher. They ranged mainly between 160 centimeters and 170 centimeters, tall people being extremely rare, and only of average height among the Ocaren.
Lastly, the land of Pedi'imon. This wild Savannah held many different names by nations, but was called Pedi'imon by its own people. It was separated from Massodria by the Great Forest, a dangerous and enormous stretch of wild trees even wilder beasts, made passable only by the old forest road made in earlier times. What is special about Pedi'imon is that it still remembers the Oldest Language, spoken by the humans in the Time of Happiness, now long forgotten and not even having its own myth. However, it had been reduced and simplified greatly into a crude sounding language spoken by the people of Pedi'imon, who had taken to other dialects and sometimes the 'common speech' of the continent, which was that of Massodria, Ocaren and Iantara. They were dark skinned people, and militarily were not so strong. However, they were known for their mastery of the wild creatures in their land, and of the knowledge of special herbs that were more effective than any designed medicines by the Dunalion. They were large in number, spread out across the lands that they inhabited in small villages and communities, rarely making contact with one another. In times of peril, 'warlords' would rise up and unite villages into larger armies, and attempt to beat back whatever threat there was. Their height was of great variance, though they were, as aforementioned, of especially dark skin.
In the earliest of times, Argosant was known as Oshavia.
Wednesday, 19 March 2014
Walk
I stepped out into the world for the first time.
Where was I going?
I didn't know.
What did I do it for?
How could I have known.
A few steps forward, and a few prints behind.
As the foot flew forward
The prints disappeared
They faded away
As if they were naught
I carried on walking, and as I did others followed.
They stepped where I stepped
They walked as I walked
Their prints faded
As did mine
I changed my steps, I narrowed them down
The prints were closer
The prints were deeper
They faded away
As if they were naught
The others did not follow. The kept their steps wide
Their prints were the same
Their prints were the same
They stayed
As if they were something
I kept walking.
Where was I going?
I didn't know.
What did I do it for?
How could I have known.
A few steps forward, and a few prints behind.
As the foot flew forward
The prints disappeared
They faded away
As if they were naught
I carried on walking, and as I did others followed.
They stepped where I stepped
They walked as I walked
Their prints faded
As did mine
I changed my steps, I narrowed them down
The prints were closer
The prints were deeper
They faded away
As if they were naught
The others did not follow. The kept their steps wide
Their prints were the same
Their prints were the same
They stayed
As if they were something
I kept walking.
Thursday, 13 February 2014
Before the Record Ages
The Divine Siblings
and the Eternal War
It is unnecessary to
address the beginnings of the Divines and the One himself. Indeed, it would
almost be sacrilegious to even discuss such a topic. What truly matters in this
story are the annals of the world, and how the ‘Earth’ of this world came to
be. There existed a realm long ago where ‘gods’, for lack of a better word,
existed with humans. It was said that in days of old, this realm had achieved
righteousness beyond human comprehension, and were thus lifted up into the
heavenly realm. These days were ones filled with blessedness and peace, the
Divines able to live in plain sight and work their own personal miracles among
men. During this time, the men of this holy realm received long life and
progress beyond imagination.
Though there were many
lesser Divines and holy spirits that dwelt among the humans, a few of these
took precedence and ‘controlled’ lands and continents. They were Er’anade,
In’Latrin, To’Mrall, Sa’Marin, Jal’Mansar and Len’Eewin. It should be noted
that these were their given names in the Eldest Tongue that was created by the
existing humans in that time. The secret language of the Divines has never been
translated, and out of any form of circumstance, would be impossible to
translate into any known languages used my men.
Er’anade ruled the
continent of Oshavia, In’Latrin of Yarmon, Len’Eewin of Aersa, To’Mrall of
Taimpovly, Sa’marin of Kishrin and Jal’Mansar of Uldunar. These six Divines
were named siblings, whether because they were truly blood related as gods or
because of the closeness of their friendship, it cannot be said.
The six nations and
Divines ruled in peace for years beyond counting, each cooperating with each
other to bring better life for all the lands. But the fall came, and Jal’Mansar
began to lust over the idea of complete domination; to rule over all the lands,
even over his own siblings. He began to taint Uldunar with his wicked ideas,
slowly spreading evil across it, turning the pure hearts of men and spirits
into dire thoughts and black feelings. Soon, Uldunar had become a haven for the
impure in that holy realm. It was then that Jal’Mansar began the preparations
for war, an idea unheard of within the lands. He, using his machinations,
wrought spears, clubs, swords; weapons used to maim and kill. Thus began the
end of the ageless peace. Jal’Mansar sent his armed men into the continent of
Kishrin, the smallest among all the nations. There he wreaked havoc,
transforming it into a horrific wasteland, destroying all life that existed
within it. Sa’Marin, surprised and frightened, fled the land and took refuge
with her sister, In’Latrin, within Yarmon, hoping that the madness of
Jal’Mansar would subside
Er’anade, infuriated
by the destruction, and equally fearful of Jal’Mansar, for his lands were
closest to Kishrin, appealed to his siblings to allow him to raise his own
army, and bring forth the punishment of his brother along with an end to all
his evil machinations. However, despite showing he was beyond repentance with
the continuous slaughter of innocents, the siblings kept blind faith that he
would eventually return to his old self; kind, compassionate and loving and
rejected Er’anade’s requests. Angered and reckless, Er’anade knew he was
forbidden to bring the people under him to arms, and loving them far too much
to put them in danger, used all manner of things he could gather, and the magic
availed to him as a Divine, and created creatures of war. The Tork’ashu, the
Thra’un’greth, and highest and most celebrated as a creation of war, the
D’ragonn, who were made with higher intelligence and given special powers of
Er’anade’s own making. Thus began what was called the ‘Eternal War’; it was
held that Jal’Mansar had begun what could never be ended. The Eternal War is a
legend of much debate in current times.
It was during this
time that the lands were ravaged immeasurably, and the deeds of the Divines
played the most part in the ongoing battles. Er’anade’s beasts fought with the
corruptions of Jal’Mansar, and both clashed numerous times with the rages of
godly powers shredding apart oceans and tearing up the earth as was known.
These two were the main contenders in the war.
In’Latrin, lover of
peace, refused to join any form of war, walling the land of Yarmon against all
and any, save those that pledged never to do harm or violence again. It was in
this way that Sa’Marin cast herself out of the lands, for she could not take
the oath, gaining feelings of vengeance against her brother in her long time of
hiding. Thus, Sa’Marin eventually joined hands with Er’anade, and helped wage
the terrible war in attempts to crush Jal’Mansar. Ever after was she vengeful
and unforgiving, losing her trust in all man and beast. Though her power of
creation was limited, she gained great knowledge in the art of destruction; it
was her that gave the energies granted only to the D’ragonn: Do’Ma.
Len’Eewin did not participate
in the war. Though he held great powers of creation, he withheld them from his
siblings, refusing to do battle with his own kin. However, he aided the lands
by bringing healing and blessings. Much more destruction could have remained in
the world if Len’Eewin had not cured some of its deep hurts, brought about by
the constant bloodshed.
To’Mrall was one of
hot-headedness, though surpassed by that of his brother, and though he himself
did not possess great powers of his own, he bequeathed it to the entire human
race, allowing them a small fraction of the ability of the gods, whereby they
could now manipulate the essences of creations and beings. However, this gift
of enormous proportions left To’Mrall weakened and weary. It was then that
Jal’Mansar decided upon a timely attack on Taimpovly. Much was destroyed, but
the attackers were eventually repelled. Not wishing further harm to come upon
his land, and realizing that he was far too weak to defend it personally, he
used the last of his powers to raise it up, creating almost impassable cliffs
around the entire land, deterring attackers. Then, with the aid of Sa’Marin,
his closest sister, he laid layer upon layer of protection around it, such that
even would have much difficulty breaking through. Thereafter, he sealed himself
away to recover his strength, trusting in the rest of his siblings to use his
gift wisely. This was the annals of the Maielders.
The war continued for
1000 human years, though it must have been disproportionate to the Divines, to
which time seemed a trifle. Furthermore, humans had life spans of a maximum of
over 300 years at the time. Long though the war was, it was not as long to them
as it would have been to the current rate of humans.
It was then that the
One seemed finally to feel the tremors of a world under duress. Because the
manual recreation of Tork’ashu and other such creatures at their time of death
had become taxing, Er’anade created a process of mating and reproduction for
them, such that his armies were replenished without him, and he could focus his
energies on contending with his enemy. As a man, even I cannot comprehend the
processes of a proverbial God of my creation, so it is unknown why the One
allowed the destruction to continue in the first place. Perhaps it had truly
slipped under his gaze while his attentions were turned elsewhere, or maybe he
was waiting to see how events would unfold until the land reached a breaking
point. At any rate, almost 1000 years into the war, he finally stood in the
middle of the fighting, casting great lights from his hands and raining stars
down from the sky, blinding the entire world and ceasing the bloodshed almost
immediately. He then called council with his six ‘children’, seeking to let
them state their reasons and to sentence them according to their deeds, to
whatever punishment they deserved.
The Naming of the
Divines
In’Latrin, because of
her abstinence from battle, was named Lover of Peace. She became the Divine
that represented peace in her world.
Er’Anade, because of
his continued warring, was ever after known as the Overlord of Destruction, in
that to men it would seem that bloodshed and war were ever his fault, though he
was only a representative.
Sa’Marin was named the
Bringer of Vengeance, for her cause of war was to go forth into battle to
bring, not justice, but satisfaction. She would be with the tainted hearts of
men that seek battle for revenge.
Len’Eewin, because of
his deeds, was named the Healer of Hurts. For his work was always to cure
wounds, whether they were of men or whether they were of the world.
To’Mrall, however, was
not brought before the court. For though the One could easily tear his defenses
down, he left him to sleep, for he knew that To’Mrall’s gift to men had left
him on the point of reduction. However, he announced that To’Mrall was the
Watchman of the World. For he spent much time in it, protecting his people and
in the end, his main concern was for those that would be hurt by the issues of
the gods.
Finally, Jal’Mansar
was brought to the Heavenly Court. His heart was tainted, and though he feared
the One, he also despised him, feeling his birthright of the world being taken
from him. Because there was no
repentance in his heart, Jal’Mansar was cast out of the world. Though his
position as a Divine was not reduced, he had become tainted beyond measure, and
his hands were dripping with the blood of those he killed. From that time forth
his place was in the deeps of the nether world, and his form took upon the
opposite of the fair and majestic divines. Though still large and powerful, he
was terrible in appearance, striking fear into those that saw him as he
descended; a dark lord of the underworld. Thus, though the One gave no title,
the Herald of Evil he was called, and though the name has been changed
countless time throughout millennia, it is ever held that Jal’Mansar is one of
evil, and that he tempts men to folly and destruction.
It is because
In’Latrin held to the peace that she was given the most respect and reverence
thereafter, though it was not her intention, giving rise to the most
significant religious church in present days, the Church of Peace, in which it
was a privilege to attend. Though the other Divines were given respect, they
were not worshipped. Indeed, Er’Anade received the lasting dislike of the
people, and known as a Warmonger and the reason for the destruction, never
taking thought for how he never used a man for his part in war, caring for them
too much to let them under dominion or cast their lives away for what seemed as
his cause.
Though it seems that
Er’Anade was named with a title that was akin to something dark, in reality, it
was reasonable. His was the sphere of necessary destruction, as the One told
him. “You are the Keeper of Peace. Though your sister holds the significance of
Peace as a whole, you are the ultimate precursor. Though you may be unnecessary
at times, it will be that In’Latrin will need you at the direst moments of the
world.”
However, Er’Anade was
still to be punished for wreaking havoc and almost completely obliterating the
land that used to be so holy. Because it had been corrupted with dark energies
and was no longer a land of peace, it could no longer dwell in the heavenly
realm. Thus, the One cast it out as well; not to the deepest ends of the proverbial
pit, but to the realm in between; the realm of the living. It did not mean that
humans were suddenly mortal, but they were subject to evils of the realm below.
Even as the world landed in the mortal realm, the terrible cracks in its fabric
forged connections with the hell beneath it, allowing blight spirits of evil
and impure destruction to roam the Earth and destroy it further. Er’Anade was
put on parole; should he ever meddle in the affairs of humans for the space of
a thousand years, he would be truly punished.
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