▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ Désolation de La Portée du Paradis by Telis Dalarac, circa 309 A.C. ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ (music for your entertainment) ❢◥ ♩♫♪ ◤❢ Red wax dribbled across the surface of an altar. Cinnabar toned emulsion caked the white linen draped overtop a thick obsidian formation. Chipped, carved, and occupied no longer. The individual whom had laid out numerous offerings, which were now merely ash amongst the ruinous scent of incense and melted trinkets splayed his crimson talons over the edge of the glassy texture with an audible rhythmic clicking. Once, twice, thrice -- Once, twice, thrice. He hung his head and a lock of black hair fell before his eyes, a choked red aura hazed over the edges of majestic and royal purple. His mind raced as he committed the act of something so sacrilegious. Gaze slipping over each little detail of his ritual having been completed, the blood of his forearm seeped through his black scales and dripped to the floor. He drank deep the quiet, and inhaled in wait for his destruction he may yet wrought. Not a moment longer he broke free from his trepidations, his doubt, then moved to the window to witness the sky tear open above the pearlescent rooftops of a port in the distance. The parasitic glow of his pact power energized and roared like the fires which rose and consumed the tint of his past within his gaze. Observing ruin, he took up pen, and to the cacophony of chaos spilling out from the Void itself his ideas and madness flourished taking the form of a hymn. Eyes beginning to well with tears of... ❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢ ...2 months later [Prior section flavor story to chase this following section. A written announcement, shared between word of mouth, noted, and publicized.] I have walked your roads, I have shared drink with you, I have bled for you, My name is Coren Isil. And I recognize the wealth of names & titles granted to me over the years, Kel'drocos, Parasite, Dragon Warden, Betrayer, Dead One. Each one holds truth, pain, and I bear the infamy of every Act of my life attached along to them. However, with this announcement I formally propose a new one. Beacon 999 Scales Worn in Humility to the All Supreme I lay myself bare for all to judge and see that I take responsibility now in leading the Cult of Evolution's sect of worship in his Supreme Being of the Revenge of the Dragons. Those which flock to me are not 'mine'. Nobody can be 'mine'. My namesake is not truly 'mine' either. I have only thus far acted in the better interest for my Supreme Being, and in vengeance of those harmed in this alarming period of time. And shall continue to do so till vengeance has been claimed upon me. The Rokhaal which draw breath and blade do not exist by my command, I do not control them. I merely profess the Will of my All Supreme, and display the Power which comes from him. But do not confuse this as denial to caring for them, for I care for all whom seek out my guidance and like a shepherd a flock will be kept safe. Let there be no censorship, nor disposition, my intentions are to make this world and its people better. To those whom dredge my name with hate on their tongue, I understand you're merely held back by the same chains which scared me into stagnation. Great purpose can sometimes be hard to accurately pursue and achieve while your god's eyes are upon the nape like cold steel, watching your every move. Such pressure can crack a diamond, or lead to a slaughter. I have felt such a razor edge, as I'm sure others may also claim. Many believe once this ends all will return to normal, but I assure you the city will remain gaped. The damages done. The Alliances shredded. And its people, scarred. As all things have in the past, and as all things will commence from hereon out. This was only the beginning. Avenge your fallen. Avenge the life you idealized. Then seek the resolve to challenge the world and yourself to grasp hold of newfound strength for this inevitable war to come. All deserve the chance to grow and adapt -- All of you. Just like myself. In the coming days a series of divine songs, a Hymnal of Obsidian Soul shall be released to the public. Words shared, visions deciphered, may it guide those whom choose to seek a path of evolution. ❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓
(Written in words spoken to the winds, papers which arise across the city, and upon books suddenly appearing in libraries and broken stores. All works praising the wisdom of Odella) May all followers of mind rejoice, In the thought of our evolutions all have the worth of priests. The beacons profess the words of the Powers but the word of every follower is their own. Ours is a belief of the individual, the free while we’re not rebels against the systems of order that doesn’t mean we define ourselves by them. I am no supreme beacon but every Evolutionist need not be one to speak on our ways. I speak as a student of Odella, of The Mother, of the Pure Mind. It is time to recognize ourselves and our ways here in Regalia. To long have the halls of knowledge been silent and the scholars content to be limited by the aims of noble patrons or the complacency of waiting. Let us wait no longer for knowledge to be given to us but instead let us search for it, claim it! Act for yourself, persue knowledge that you desire! Persue your improvement and the gifted of Odella will always stand ready to assist. Ready for what ever term is arranged with open minds and mouths closed never to repeat what is discovered if asked. Free the Mind and spark the soul, -Zalia
| A short reply is nailed beneath several of these notices which may have been posted at major spots of interest | ◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤ ◢◣◆◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤ Dearest Beacon, Coren, of 999 Scales Worn in Humility to the All Supreme, Let it be known that you shall indeed be held accountable for the mission you lead and the path you have begun walking. You have walked our roads, you have drank with us, and you have bled for us. Your place in guiding those beneath the All Supreme; Draga Ifrit, should not be questioned. May you not have to walk this journey alone, however. May others rise up and in recognition of the importance of your teachings follow in your mission to improve this world and strengthen its people. Teach them the meaning of growth and resolve. Show us what you have learned so that we may all be better for it. With the aforementioned in mind, let this note be proof of my pledge to see your mission a resounding success, and the encouragement of others to do the same. Osira Braewányir Devout of Draga Ifrit Follower of the Cult of Evolution ◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣ ◥◤◆◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣ ◥◤
The Ordial Embued Lich would roam amongst Crookback. Eventually finding himself both the papers of his dear friend, and a new stranger he had met amongst his journey in The Holy City. Wisps of mint green lightly shimmering from the edges of his bones gently pulsating with Ordial Essence. While he was expressionless due to the skeletal form, Alek would write on a small parchment next to both Coren’s, and Osira’s. The paper written in a crude but legible caligraphy. “I’ll always be in your debt. The Black Rose sails in your name. Your friend and Helpful Stranger, Captain Alek.” @Carlit0o @Anseran
