Post by moogleman09 on Jul 28, 2011 18:33:30 GMT -5
The following is an excerpt from the Book of Empires, the Fourth Book in the Miniarian Bible. It speaks of the Fall of Glacearis, and the re-emergence of Maore (more commonly known as Air) as a power in the Heavenly Pantheon.
Glacearis was most fair the city,
White lilies lay upon her streets,
Trumpets blew within her house.
For the gods favored this place, their
Humble abode upon the vast and beautiful earth.
But this great peace, it would not last,
For the blood of kings was set to fall,
And roses dropped from Animists’ hands.
A tragedy beyond mortal compare, the fall of
Glacearis began with a prince.
His name was lost among the ages,
An earthly name known naught more,
The name of a man, a child, a prince,
Who sought to knock upon Heaven’s door.
Born to the blood of Kings he was,
Royal as royal can flow unto veins,
But to spill these drops upon the soil,
Was his line’s destined fate in store.
‘Father’, spoke him, to his sire the King,
‘I wish to live in a land of my own,’
For I grow weary of this dreary city,
And thus were the seeds of enmity sown.
His father was a weak king,
His son was far the stronger willed,
And he consented to his ambitious child,
Gave him to him ten thousand men.
And traveled him to unknown lands,
To find him a city of his own,
Arctria was his conurbation’s name.
Prospered it did, for many years,
Until came the ordained time of his end,
As end all things must, all life, all death,
And as Glacearis did years hence,
For the cycle of time spins eternal.
In time in Arctria there arose a King,
Of royal blood lacking royal mind,
Who remembered not the old life,
In Glacearis, pearl of the North.
‘Forward!’ said him unto his men,
‘Lands await our thunderous march!’
‘And we shall be the most prosperous nation,’
‘None shall withstand our mighty arm.’
And forth went him, and his thousand men,
To scour the earth for lands to contest.
Suspected him nothing of Glacearis,
And his father’s line thereof.
Northward went the company,
‘Till tundra’s edge finally they reached,
And up ahead raised a giant spire,
The Castle Glacearis in splendor and sun.
‘What is this,’ cried the magnificent host,
‘A city of size to rival our own?’
‘Never!’ cried their King,
And forward they went.
Arrows and swords met their mighty charge,
The might of Glacearis against his son,
Barely did his army win,
To send the Arctrians back to their land.
But the fight was not lost in the memory of him,
Who ruled Glacearis with an iron fist,
For beauty in cities for him was great,
He loved Glacearis more than his people.
Gathered unto him his men,
And followed the fleeing ones back to their city.
Strike did he at the dawn of the morn,
When none knew of his presence there.
Surprise took the city of Arctria,
And fall it did beneath their might.
Razed and burned was the city,
Victims fled into the night.
Victorious his men returned,
To a welcome of heroes and kings.
But knew him not of his enemies’ plans,
To surround his city that very night.
Fight they did, surprise to surprise,
But again with luck did Glacearis prevail,
But damaged was their fair city wall,
And lost in rage was the King that day.
The losers fled again to the mountains,
Ready for a strike that subsequent day.
But followed were they by the Glacearis army,
To challenge them in the mountains at night.
Knew Glacearis’ King that this move was not prudent,
But care he did not about human life, should his city be at risk,
For battle in the mountains, he thought, his city should survive,
Even if his men should die.
But fate fought against them that darkest of nights,
The clash of kin on kin on the field of honor.
Died did all of his soldiers that day, and the morning sun
Revealed plains of blood, but in the center stood the greatest
Tragedy of all.
Glacearis’ King had slain his kin that day,
His distant brother from Arctria the fair.
And Maore the Changer wept tears of fury:
‘Why has thou slain thy kin this morn?’
And Glacearis’ King was slain there by him.
Took unto him his prophet,
A child of Glacearis in happier times,
And bade him venture to the city up North,
To deliver a message of doom and strife,
To the surviving son in the line of Kings.
‘Thou hast broken the law, this day’, spoke him,
‘Thy father has spilled the blood of his kin,’
‘For this shall doom come down upon thee,’
‘And all this city, and all your people.’
And the new King laughed unto his face,
For believed him not in this prophecy of dark,
And scoffing he send the prophet away,
To return unto his home in the mountains.
But one month hence the divination fulfilled,
And storms of fire came upon the city,
And fair Glacearis tumbled down,
To sleep in dirt forever more.
And Maore spoke once more unto his prophet,
‘Go forth and search among the nations,’
For a man that I shall show you, ‘
‘The true successor to the glory of Glacearis.’
And forth went the Dark Prophet,
And the Animists wept tears of fire,
For from the ruins emerged a darkness,
That consumed all of the land and people.
From the ruins spread this darkness,
And consumed their villages, their women, their children,
For Maore the Death of Empires,
Has never been known to be fair.
Glacearis was a calamity,
From which the future will rise.
For the clash of brother on brother,
Doth bring the darkness down.
Glacearis was most fair the city,
White lilies lay upon her streets,
Trumpets blew within her house.
For the gods favored this place, their
Humble abode upon the vast and beautiful earth.
But this great peace, it would not last,
For the blood of kings was set to fall,
And roses dropped from Animists’ hands.
A tragedy beyond mortal compare, the fall of
Glacearis began with a prince.
His name was lost among the ages,
An earthly name known naught more,
The name of a man, a child, a prince,
Who sought to knock upon Heaven’s door.
Born to the blood of Kings he was,
Royal as royal can flow unto veins,
But to spill these drops upon the soil,
Was his line’s destined fate in store.
‘Father’, spoke him, to his sire the King,
‘I wish to live in a land of my own,’
For I grow weary of this dreary city,
And thus were the seeds of enmity sown.
His father was a weak king,
His son was far the stronger willed,
And he consented to his ambitious child,
Gave him to him ten thousand men.
And traveled him to unknown lands,
To find him a city of his own,
Arctria was his conurbation’s name.
Prospered it did, for many years,
Until came the ordained time of his end,
As end all things must, all life, all death,
And as Glacearis did years hence,
For the cycle of time spins eternal.
In time in Arctria there arose a King,
Of royal blood lacking royal mind,
Who remembered not the old life,
In Glacearis, pearl of the North.
‘Forward!’ said him unto his men,
‘Lands await our thunderous march!’
‘And we shall be the most prosperous nation,’
‘None shall withstand our mighty arm.’
And forth went him, and his thousand men,
To scour the earth for lands to contest.
Suspected him nothing of Glacearis,
And his father’s line thereof.
Northward went the company,
‘Till tundra’s edge finally they reached,
And up ahead raised a giant spire,
The Castle Glacearis in splendor and sun.
‘What is this,’ cried the magnificent host,
‘A city of size to rival our own?’
‘Never!’ cried their King,
And forward they went.
Arrows and swords met their mighty charge,
The might of Glacearis against his son,
Barely did his army win,
To send the Arctrians back to their land.
But the fight was not lost in the memory of him,
Who ruled Glacearis with an iron fist,
For beauty in cities for him was great,
He loved Glacearis more than his people.
Gathered unto him his men,
And followed the fleeing ones back to their city.
Strike did he at the dawn of the morn,
When none knew of his presence there.
Surprise took the city of Arctria,
And fall it did beneath their might.
Razed and burned was the city,
Victims fled into the night.
Victorious his men returned,
To a welcome of heroes and kings.
But knew him not of his enemies’ plans,
To surround his city that very night.
Fight they did, surprise to surprise,
But again with luck did Glacearis prevail,
But damaged was their fair city wall,
And lost in rage was the King that day.
The losers fled again to the mountains,
Ready for a strike that subsequent day.
But followed were they by the Glacearis army,
To challenge them in the mountains at night.
Knew Glacearis’ King that this move was not prudent,
But care he did not about human life, should his city be at risk,
For battle in the mountains, he thought, his city should survive,
Even if his men should die.
But fate fought against them that darkest of nights,
The clash of kin on kin on the field of honor.
Died did all of his soldiers that day, and the morning sun
Revealed plains of blood, but in the center stood the greatest
Tragedy of all.
Glacearis’ King had slain his kin that day,
His distant brother from Arctria the fair.
And Maore the Changer wept tears of fury:
‘Why has thou slain thy kin this morn?’
And Glacearis’ King was slain there by him.
Took unto him his prophet,
A child of Glacearis in happier times,
And bade him venture to the city up North,
To deliver a message of doom and strife,
To the surviving son in the line of Kings.
‘Thou hast broken the law, this day’, spoke him,
‘Thy father has spilled the blood of his kin,’
‘For this shall doom come down upon thee,’
‘And all this city, and all your people.’
And the new King laughed unto his face,
For believed him not in this prophecy of dark,
And scoffing he send the prophet away,
To return unto his home in the mountains.
But one month hence the divination fulfilled,
And storms of fire came upon the city,
And fair Glacearis tumbled down,
To sleep in dirt forever more.
And Maore spoke once more unto his prophet,
‘Go forth and search among the nations,’
For a man that I shall show you, ‘
‘The true successor to the glory of Glacearis.’
And forth went the Dark Prophet,
And the Animists wept tears of fire,
For from the ruins emerged a darkness,
That consumed all of the land and people.
From the ruins spread this darkness,
And consumed their villages, their women, their children,
For Maore the Death of Empires,
Has never been known to be fair.
Glacearis was a calamity,
From which the future will rise.
For the clash of brother on brother,
Doth bring the darkness down.
