The Xorposhian Tales

Foreword

“The Beginning of the Wayward Path is realized through the cycle of endless ages, where The Final Door’s Season is not clearly at hand, yet lingers ever so near, and thus all the races are forced to live in the firm grip of fear. Do you understand the importance of our pact with the wind? Do you realize why you were given the keys of The Fourth? Is your mind now beyond absolute, willing not to fail our cause? Darkness has tasted your sinful flesh in the past, and in dark pleasure you have indulged and shared, but no more. Today is the day, when Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris ceases being Father Madness. They will desperately try to recruit you back. She will not rest, until her loyal puppet is standing by her side once again. Let her try. Ilethriam may be steadfast and clever, yet her sanguine; feverish nightmare spells have never made me feel truly ill. The one time I calculatedly hesitated, and was mindfully weakened, was the day when you, the corruption of nefariousness, became alive. And here we are, because my daring plan worked, and now.. we are.. The Four Guardians united!”

– Oerath Windsoul to Maerqwath Shadowsoul

At the last dawn

of obscure rebirths,

hail The Fourth Guardian,

the painter of vortex paintings.

If first they were only shattered shards scattered,

now they were something so much more.

A giant; variegated star collapsed,

and became weightless momentarily.

As it exploded to an unnumbered

amount of burning debris - only recalled

to be more than billions - of which Three

individual lifeforms had infused

together with the spherical embers

of darkness, wisdom and love.

From unimaginably high above

they fell, the clouds of stardust evolved

into a violet-turquoise coloured nebula

in that overwhelming; cosmic instant.

Zhicra: “The well of all

that once was, is now,

or shall ever be.”

Enter the First Age

of Astral Mindsight

and Eternal Prosperity,

existence of the Sea of Creation

is realized by a wandering

dragon-elf hybrid being,

so wise, and olden bold.

The Draeconaih and birds

of the wavering skies

all bow before his might,

Zhicra is Father Stoicism,

the protector and overseer

of all the races of Light.

The Windy Narrator: “Shuenakhraviith stood still, quieter than usually, and so focused was she; present and awake in the moment’s grasp. Yet not even she, in all her hateful glory, could have ever prepared herself for the sudden arrival of a doom so swift, and deadly silent. As if the swirling gusts cut from the luminous source gathered to greet the lord of all winds and ages. He, who shall - in time - turn the last Yátrinezeian page, and reveal the truth about the moon’s lineage.

There he was, inside the Cathedral of Darkness, in the demonic realm of Tha’kresis. All the way he had come from Dualekh’misriim of Beyond the Beyond, to joyously greet Mother Darkness, Ilethriam Mag-Narakjelf, and her deformed daughter of corruption. Their combined surprise and shock were undescribable. Not even Ilethriam had seen Zhicra in an aeon or two. She took a long glance at him, noticing that his eyes now blazed with the whitened wisdom gained.. from walking along the endless corridor of space and time.. for an eternity.

And before Shuenrakh could spit out a single word, she had already taken flight off the cathedral floor of Krialdinzekh, hitting a wall of murky stone in a spiraling fashion, shattering it in a half as a result of the impact. Crying in an agonized, yet welcomed tone, her pain quickly turned to a wicked grin. Then she arose, whisked dust off from the shoulder area of her flaming robes, and stood still afterwards during her mother’s speech.”

Blood dripping from all across her half-naked body; barely covered in sanguine silk were her large breasts. The scene of violence that had just occurred, seemed to delight Ilethriam greatly. She had observed, that all Zhicra did, was open the palm of his left hand, and push the foul air gently with it by using Chiarkelm, the Spectral Force. Lustfully, she looked at him straight in the eyes, and continued to lick blood off her ebony lips with her cardinal tongue, hissing:

Ilethriam: “My, oh my dear Celestial brethren, Zhicra, our paths cross again. How long has it been? Aeons, I presume. You look.. fit; elegant as always, and that multi-coloured long grey hair of yours - seeing it here - at the threshold of death - brings a once smothered smile on my blue face. What is it your wandering eminence wishes to speak with me about? Do not even harbor any thoughts of me backing down, just because you decided to have things your way. Abandoned I was, when ye chose the fair Selenémukh to be your cohabitant in life. I have not forgotten, and I have not forgiven! Shuenrakh, you.. may.. leave. This is.. between us.. adults. I ask you to cherish the pain you just felt, for it is, without a doubt, the most exquisite in the whole Xorposh Universe.

Whispering to herself in a high-pitched; witchy tone, Shuenrakh keeps blinking, until she disappears completely from sight to the shadows:

Shuenakhraviith: “Yes, mother, Hate obeys.

She stays, when she is told so.

And she leaves to burn lifeforms

to ashes, when serpents shed their sorrows.

In the hollow of black fire’s solitude,

there we all secretly wander, and yonder,

keeping a small distance from each other,

the subjugated many tread in a line of sand;

their scorched hands tied behind their pecked heads.

Are their eyes forever blinded?

Has the last drop of their sanity

been wrongfully; unwillingly drained?

Perhaps so, for greater chaos, such fragility.

Poor little beings, us evils with wings

do not need life, only death brings

order to among those, who have strayed,

I would never.. leave.. burn.. the betrayers.

I think I shall be exploring the red desert..

of Hataomkeresh for now, so excuse.. me.

And thank you, Zhicra, for the pain.. experienced.

Act of disappearance, commence. Ha.. ha.. ah.. ha.. ha.. ah.”

Zhicra: “Countless turns of the planets later,

here I find myself caught in midst chatter.

Silence is that, which ye violently hate,

thee better not stare at these eyes starred.

Knew Serpent not, that Wisdom was secretly aware,

and so, Darkness was invited upon that day to stay.

She was given a chance to create and observe,

yet wished for those molded by her hands to serve.

Eternally and beyond, in the vermilion caress

of thy world of thoughts so twisted and perverse.

You shall never win, and that blackened Light I saw

in you once, was merely a fleeting moment of awe.

Your Destiny has been written, addressed and sealed,

and by the doom of Zael’thrim, you will be judged.

O’ Ilethriam dear, a time has come.. to feel fear.

I do sincerely hope my first and last visit

to Tha’kresis has made you sweetly paranoid.

And so I bid you farewell, o’ Daughter of the Void.”

Act II: Of Wisdom, Darkness & Love

So long they stood facing each other, those two primordial entities, that time itself started to feel uneasy due to the dwelling; unsettling atmosphere. Then finally, after what seemed to be the most longest period of staring and exchange of unnatural thought waves, they were ready to duel.

Serpent versus Wisdom, no further speeches were needed. Zhicra had just said everything Ilethriam had wanted him to say for so long on an sub-conscious level. It was never meant to be, their affair, and thus, brethren once shall forever remain as archenemies from henceforth.

Nothing to discuss any further, only one thing left to be done. Ilethriam insisted Zhicra to step back, for she was the challenged, and she was the entitled to choose, where the battle of the endless ages would be so gloriously waged.

And she chose.. the Voidful Outskirts of Black Infinity, which is a tumultuous field of chaos and uncontrollable; tyrian purple lightning next to the Portal of the Vortex of A Starless Sky, in the vastly unknown galaxy of Vim’aelesh. Quietly, and ever so focused, they both entered the flickering; black and white portal, which had just opened. Meanwhile they traveled towards their destination through an deviation in the galactic system with an increased matter speed, the two telepathically and briefly discussed the events and reasons, that had led them to face this moment. Would there one day be peace, and could Light and Darkness ever learn to tolerate and respect one another as factions?

With those thoughts resting upon their ageless minds,

Mother Darkness and Father Stoicism prepared to unleash

their most furious of combat spells and unique abilities.

Zhicra took tens of deep breaths simultaneously,

steeled his mind’s third eye, and activated Chiarkelm

deep within his core; grave was the pain being endured.

Ilethriam the Ophidian continued to hiss wickedly,

her blackened; Egyptian blue form’s dread is beyond belief,

darkness is intelligent: a taste for higher blood acquired.

O’ howling screams of flesh-rending; deep cuts,

let the waves of Mourail Dostruum flow free,

the showdown shall last for hundreds of dawns.

Gather around to witness the combined rage

of the Utmost High Celestials battling,

by using their inherited gifts for violence.

No ordinary being could even hope to survive

near an vibrant outburst of such incredible power,

and there they clashed, flew and argued loudly,

until enough damage had been received.

Laughing in a frantic manner, Ilethriam yearned

for more and more pain, again and again.

She continued to show signs of mental breakdown,

until Zhicra teleported, and whispered in her ear:

Zhicra: “A pleasure it was, not fully all mine,

yet now I shall humbly take my leave.

Three only in number, never together again.

Separated, we shall face the catastrophic outcome.

And those who truly believe, in Light they trust.

Each decision they weigh, and life’s loss solemnly grieve.”

Back to the outlying beginning we shall return,

the First Age has not been fully narrated yet.

Track the vestiges of Zéregliathum, the Void Weaver,

in Tha’kresis the Shining Fates shall finally meet.

The journey been told for untold millions of years,

shed no tears, instead, celebrate this marvelous moment.

Learn to tolerate each other, or perish among the stars,

the War of the Celestials approaches, we all must haste.

Vael Nemathrel awakes, opens her azure blue eyes,

and kindly illuminates the dominant darkness with Aether.

Whiteness gains a new hue; brighter than the skies,

while the doors of Krialdinzekh unfold in the nether caverns.

Xaié soundlessly wanders in her labyrinthian garden,

dimmeth by the absence of sun’s watchful light.

One sharp glance at the stars, evil in it’s den,

she sees them through the veil with her might.

In Edýlfinemra, the Mercurial Library she dwells,

by daytime she rests, and stays awake through nights.

Xaié: “I was once given the assignment to hunt down Mógrah Dormiel, the former Guardian of the Dead and the Spirits, who I brought unharmed from a dreaded realm faraway back to this world under the orders of the Two Utmost High Celestials. Now, Oerath the Windy Sage has once more tasked me with an important quest, to locate Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris, Father Madness.”

Xaié “I ask you to be silent, Maerqwath, and listen to what I have to say. If your desire to be a Guardian burns with a flame so inextinguishable in ye heart once blackened by Ilethriam’s lies, yet not completely lost beyond the reach of salvation, then go to where Oerath awaits, to Aquallenosh. Here, let me open a night’s portal to you. Good luck, o’ Shadow of the Wind. Believe me, you will need it.”

Maerqwath: “I was once taught, that I should learn not to thank anyone in this death of a life. So be it. Thank you, o’ Xaié of the Nightfall. I think we both know what is to befall. I am about to enter through the gates of doom, that much.. is.. obvious. But I.. shall not go down without a fight. I want.. to feel pain.. to eternally laugh at the sight of my broken-bony body. I am an enduring creature, and thus should be able to withstand the potency of his punches, but nothing is guaranteed in a battle of fists and spells.”

And so..

Maerqwath entered the blue; swirling portal of time

leading to the safety of one thousand cays in sight,

accompanied by three blazing suns of different colors,

and an ocean of cyan the length of infinity,

unfathomable depths of ancient underwater prisons,

Father Madness’s black birds took flight to see,

if they could somehow reach the end of the aquatic realm,

but the ocean seemed to reach even beyond the beyond,

the second dark lord felt convinced, that he could win,

full of determination, he cried at the crowd gathered around:

“Now is my dark time to shine, stare, whisper and shout!”

Two chosen of the wind clashed, a hit after another,

punches and kicks from all possible angles,

Oerath did everything in his power to wear down

the mighty stamina of Maerqwath, who kept shouting

so loud, that with his voice alone, he could shatter an isle,

it’s rocks and trees all in a half, if that was his desire,

then the whispers.. tormenting, ravens always flying about him,

he sends them in great numbers, in waves of three-eyed

birds gone mad, o’ such misery is to be found,

when you are near Father Madness, draconian form equipped,

laughter of darkness, fill the air with dread, soon to end,

serpent demons have come to aid Maerqwath from Tha’kresis,

such loyalty is commendable, yet evil must not be welcomed

foolishly into one’s life, a final lesson awaits, o’ dark lord humbled.

All of the Eleven present along with so many others,

joined as one, to witness the battle of spells and wrath,

in which the fate of Xorposh will finally be decided,

Darkness and Light, sworn enemies, no longer to be divided?

Oerath Windsoul walked towards Lord Maerqwath Vor-Dremaris, his feet and movements hastened by the might of northern wind, he feared not, as he stared back at Father Madness with a stare as equally dim, a feeling of fear began to creep up into Maerqwath’s mind. He, who was not supposed to feel any fear, hesitated. Then, he unleashed his ultimate shout, hoping it would tear Oerath’s being into pieces, but there the wanderer of time stood, unharmed, his body transformed to that of a dark draconian warrior. In a blink of an eye, Oerath had moved to right in front of Maerqwath.

Oerath Windsoul: “Foolish student of mine. May thou feel the might of this punch, which is to shatter ye jaw, and bring you down into the bleeding ground!”

And then he punched Maerqwath so hard in the face, that to this day, his jaw and mouth remain disfigured and refuse to regenerate. And the massive shock wave created; an after effect of the punch shattered many isles and tore down trees from all around Aquallenosh, where the duel itself took place. It even made a rift to the fabric of it’s pale; blue sky. The realm is said to be the haven of legendary duels and ancient monstrosities, for every evil being Oerath has battled against and won, is chained unto the bottom/living in one of the underwater cities of entrapment. There is no escape from under the waves of cyan imbued with magic, unless the wanderer of time sets you free, you shall not see the daylight, o’ servant of darkness. That is the supreme rule of Aquallenosh, the mightiest Ocean of mysteries.

An ill prophecy of Zhicra tells about the fallen one,

he whose alignment as a chaotic neutral being

will one day give the Guardians the keys of victory

in their battle against Ilethriam, the evil Queen of Shadows.

Return back from the dreaded demon dimension,

spirit broken, be punished for ye malevolent actions,

go through a fusion with the chained spirit of Mógrah,

and fatefully become.. the Fourth Guardian of Arcadianth.

Outcome: the fusion..

has been completed successfully!

Introduced: Lord Maerqwath,

the newborn Fourth Guardian.

Responsibilities: to watch over

the resting place of dead and spirits,

in the realm of the Hollow Halls,

the underground of Arcadianth.

There would have been no other way. For this young, faerie-winged; azure blue-haired woman to be able to dublicate her very being in three. That is no small feat. And to be able to possess full spiritual strength and magical abilities of the origin source, is even more impressive. Vael Nemathrel has always been dreaming, yet only one of her bodies needs to reside within the vast realm, known as Sjaem’liiksha, the Dreamworld.

The white river of Aetherail gifted with a sky blue-ish hue, is the foundation of energy for the Dreamworld to be kept in balance and harmony. Everything, and every being, has it’s, his or her own dream scenario, through which they struggle to survive sometimes. There are many types of dreams, after all, and nightmares so vivid, that they can be more than real experiences for the dreamer.

And there floats one of Vael’s vessels of celestiality, eyes closed, her raging beams of azure creation could tear the very plane of sleeping and visioning apart, and create either a rift in time, or an opportunity for Ilethriam to open a vortex of the starless sky. None must disturb her channeling of the forces, that lie beyond any ordinary being’s understanding. When she was molded, given feminine beauty and the keys to eternal mindsight of the third eye, Selenémukh blessed her with more grace than any other goddesses and heroines, and she remains the second most perfect being to blind with her beauty alone. Yet she does not wish to be worshipped for that fact, and even Oerath knows, that when Vael decides on something, her will cannot be swayed, or she cannot be talked around it. Her word is final, without arguments, she inherited too much wisdom from her mother, and some from Zhicra as well. Though she does not know what to think of his age-old schemes.

It was a time of the yearly (later on held only once in an age / 1000 years) dream-conquering competition, during which dedicated dreamers from all across Xorposh’s regions would take part in trying to reach the rewarding end of the Dreamworld, which is said to have so many unique and mysterious levels full of puzzles to solve, forest and waterscapes to explore and challenging creatures to either tame or slay. Vael Nemathrel was walking in Entakrellazh towards a Phoenixian temple, built in the honor of Caen, who left Arcadianth to become King Phoenix Sidaenkha in the world of Kherantaia, which he and Zael’thrim together created, and realized as a protected planet, of which existing lifeforms should be listed in the galactic codex of safe havens.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar sound from somewhere in the depths of blackness and starlight, the figure of a giantess moved. It would be an understatement to call this being a giantess, more like.. a colossi. For she, was none other than Selenémukh, emerging from the bottomless purple mist of her shining creation of benevolent flames. First, Vael saw her queen-class mace; aflame and unextinguishable, then the hand holding it, and then slowly the rest, though she had to teleport a far away to be able to behold the Mother of Celestial Beauty in her full form without suffering from pain in the neck, due to holding one’s head too long in a stressful and awkward position. From afar, she greeted her mother, and spoke in a most soft; gentle tone:

Vael Nemathrel: “When did you become so enermously beautiful, o’ mother dear. Your maroon hair shines against the dark orange fires of Entakrellazh in such an illuminative manner. Oh all this light makes me smile, even though my eyes always remain closed, that does not mean I cannot see. The mind is all I need, it’s gates I have opened, and in the outer planes I have journey’d. Even now, a part of me helps Zhicra to realize what dangers and opportunities await in the unexplorered deeps and trenches of the Cýefimra, the Sea of Creation. Even he has not dared to go underwater that many times, and now, he has finally called for the one with the winds, he who has wandered even more than Father Stoicism himself, and seen many things. He is also an expert in finding out what secrets lie in the watery depths. The master of Aquallenosh knows how to drop from high above the clouds, like an unstoppable meteor of immense physical power, he would crash into the bottom of any ocean floor, and nearly break it in half. Most of the time, Oerath is able to keep his inner wrath under control, yet there are times, when especially, if provoked by Maerqwath, he can do some.. questionably challenging things, like jumping from the edge of Kratnolleh all the way down to the grounds of Arcadianth. Extreme sports, he calls them. Ah, Guardian men and Mortal men, they are so much alike, both too immature for their own good. Luckily us heiresses of fairness are different. I respect Xaié more than anyone, for she has always known what she wants in life, and what to do and where to go. She is the greatest example of a person, who is capable of hunting down any being or creature, or finding out it’s hidden location, or those of lost artifacts of legend. I have chosen to help her once more, and together, we shall delve deep into the said-to-be abandoned ruins of Esgalorn. To find out, what happened to their underground kingdom, and Queen Ardaenna. The Seeker Sisters united.”

Selenémukh nodded, smiled and then ever so quietly whispered: “The fires of my creation are flaring. The universe is shifting, bracing itself for an utmost deadly impact, yet to come. Like a comet; swiftly losing altitude airborne, with intentions to clash upon the earth of Arcadianth. I bless this adventure, and may ye sisters fair, black and blue prevail in face of the challenges that lie ahead.”

Puzzling Play of the Celestials

The Windy Narrator: “This longest part so far, Act III: Edýlfinemra, the Vault (Library) of History & Lore, Xaié’s divine artifact, contains various mythological entries.”

The Windy Narrator: “Vael Nemathrel (Lucid Dream) and Xaié (Serene Moon) have joined forces to explain the lore of Xorposh further, and some of it’s forgotten mortal tales of heroism. The race of Em’lyraenkh was born to shine at least twice or thrice besides the Orinhaelg, and it’s endless waves of ice.”

Isúrletah, The Evercoal Shard of Origin, is an relic of absolute truth about the birth of darkness through an obscure relationship and pact with the Void of Xorposh. It was left behind, hidden deep in the volcanic heart of Arcadianth, where it waits for it’s creator and owner to come and retrieve it. Yet Ilethriam has never returned for the relic, and none knows why. But what she did to ensure that it would most likely never fall into wrong hands, was the addition of a protective fail-safe mechanism to it’s pedestal, which would trigger upon removing the relic from it’s rightful place. And the best part, is that there is an anomaly at present, which may be the reason to why she, nor her doppelgänger, Ye’lathrim, has not visited the shrine to pick up the artifact of immense; dark power. The anomaly.. is called an instant dimensional warp. It’s selected settings of time distortion cannot be avoided from occurring, reversed or changed in any way. It activates upon removal of the item in question.

And when transported to a parallel reality, there the pedestal is never in the same place, as it was in the starting dimension, the Xorposh’s haven of hope, to which the Seekers Vael Nemathrel and Xaié must return, ere the time limit to dwell in another dimensional realm expires, and they are sent back to Arcadianth’s soil via an penalty detour: to suffer from the after effects of switching between realities, and to experience major time loss, including headache. One cannot try again after failing in the test, so each individual person has one attempt to make it count, were they Guardians or not.

Esgalorn’s depths hide many kind of secrets. Things that were never meant to be discovered by any other beings, than the Guardians. Only they can safeguard the knowledge so dreadful and important, that the whole underground temple was ordered to be sealed, and most of it’s passages made to crumble, so that no folks could wander in and defile the shrines of gold, lore and chests containing the immeasurable wealth of the Esgalornian people, who once silently lived out their lives in their homes, watched their mortal children play by the ever-flowing river of Alianjer, which runs throughout their golden city, and joyed to be alive. Now none remain to tell the tale, of how all that wealth was wrought forth with hard mining work, and extensive amounts of time used. The workers were oft taken to their limits, yet the results were more than satisfying. With the finest of metals and gold, the city of Esgalorn was slowly built to be a sight to behold.

Only one hero born in Ithalón has visited Esgalorn,

his memorable name is Dorwus the Ironhearted,

the trustworthiest soldier to ever grace Arcadianth

he who would not die to a dozen of arrows

shot in his chest, yet kept them as trophies of war,

to forever adorn his body, to act as his extra weaponry,

he would pull them out when need be, coat the blades

in an flammable liquid, then set the scene in flames of fury,

and sail towards Aellon Prokhellen, the Land of Shining Fates.

Should the Horror of Arrows return to the battlefield,

he who needs no other weapons, or shields

other than his bare hands, and a knife he inherited

from his father, passed unto son from father

in a chain, which lasted for many generations,

yet Dorwus does not wish to re-live his past,

he had a chance to live a normal life of happiness,

yet he lost everything in the hands of Mógrah,

who fed his family’s lost souls to his sword,

which eternally hungers, and observes it’s victims.

Hear, o’ hear, did you believe he was dead?

Nay, for on Arcadianth, heroes never truly die.

Hear, o’ hear, Death sings her songs within our heads.

The solution is simple, resolve must be solidified!

Dorwus: “The harbormaster’s eyes flared with lunacy,

as I told him to step aside, commandeering a boat,

I sailed away, and swore to return one day,

bleeding heavily, I cared not, there I quietly floated.”

The hero’s path is a grave choice,

which should not be taken lightly.

Many young men have rejoiced

of their heroic feats too early.

Let experience become a weapon,

a force to be knowingly called upon,

a tool of righteousness, not destruction.

After the events of the last war against Mógrah Dormiel, Dorwus of Ithalón, as he would be called afterwards, he who never bore a surname (in fact, not many folks or beings are fond of those on Arcadianth, yet on Terra of Old, family names bear a significant meaning even today), disappeared never to be seen again. Or so everyone had thought. As for Terra, it is very hard to tell what age the people over there are experiencing nowadays. Ilethriam’s acts of vengeance against the children of the other two Celestials (Zhicra and Selenémukh), including Zael’thrim of Destiny, has had many negative effects on the continuum of timelines; past, present and future.

Her very dark existence is capable of twisting the Laws of Set Dawns, which concern all of the living beings in existence. And the reason why she became so powerful, is due to the hatred and insight gained from the Void, and reflecting it unto Zhicra, the one she hates above all.

The Windy Narrator: “Back to the character of Dorwus.”

So many arrows stuck in his chest, he merely cut the stales, so that only the arrowheads remained close to his chest. His heart, stronger than iron, is strengthened by his adamant resolve to protect all, that is innocent and good. His failure as a parent and husband taught him of despair and how to deal with it, and for one, no weapon made by a mortal hand can slay Dorwus. Not even the forces of darkness hold much sway over his emotions, for he is a cold-headed man, capable of such incredible things. And his return.. is finally at hand. It was Farlyethes the Wyvern Huntress, who suggested that Dorwus might be hiding somewhere in the misty woods of Aellon Prokhellen. The first and last mortal hero from men’s side to rise so high in means of power and fame. He is a living legend. The one man, who refused to walk through the doors of the end, becoming one with Death. Not even Nostreleth could make Dorwus feel fear, when the two once crossed paths. Before that day, she had thought nothing of Mortals, and always mocked them relentlessly for being so weak. Dorwus taught her, that their light as a race has not yet dimmed, and that they still possess the will to fight on and never give up. Taking out one of the arrowheads, he threw it with such speed and precision at the evil, Death, gracing her left cheek slightly, making her bleed. Attached to a chain tied around his waist; a testimony of pain, the arrowheads would always return back to their owner, after they had finished their bloodthirsty tasks. Nostreleth found herself intrigued by this man, who seemed to defy her in every possible sense. He held no fear in his heart, that much was clear. This event occurred in shadows of the war, and neither saw each other ever again, but Nostreleth still remembers the day, when a mortal hero turned Demigod stood proud and tall in her dreadful presence. Such.. arrogance. Perhaps fate shall bring them to face each other once more in age and time.

Oerath Windsoul: “Dorwus the Ironhearted,

you are hereby called upon, fulfill your end

of the bargain, heed the call of the Celestials,

now is the time to regain all of the skills learned.”

Vael Nemathrel’s Dreamy Nights

Behold the oaks, pines and birches clad in snow,

while molding a white sphere for Winter’s delight.

These high cliffs and verdant hills provide shelter,

watch the untouched by darkness of deep below,

where primal; dismal winged shadow-horses wait

for an unlocker of the final; deathly gate.

Therein may those dreaded and their riders ever stay,

here way above dwell the ones become truly alight.

Pray to Ywatheraillah, the Mother Earth,

wish for soft rain and green growth.

Do not let her eternal words

of wisdom be for naught.

Oerath the Windy Sage knows each path and tree,

his skyward thoughts wander far and free.

Upon his oaken throne in Dol’Mirthein he sits

under the moon’s gleam, and aquamarine stars lit.

Master in interpreting the visions

of Sjaem’liiksha, the home of all

and any dream scenarios.

Vael Nemathrel’s first vessel connects

the glowing river of Aetherail,

a chosen sleeper fallen fast asleep,

during the raging beams of aeons past,

her eyes have remained closed for most part,

and her beauty is worshiped by all beating hearts.

The rushing; azure waters

given a feminine form,

is by the streams born

of purple light adorned.

Lay of the Cosmos

Steps taken can be seen imprinted on the air,

the fabric of existence infused with grey hair,

where the event horizon spirals and wails,

there only Draeconaih boats dare to sail.

Zhicra the Eldest walks on chalk-white clouds,

his gaze penetrates void, and heals inner wounds.

Carry the burden of Xorposh on ye strong shoulders,

worry not, cross Vim’aelesh’s forgotten borders.

There you shall battle the Goddess of Serpents,

drive her mad by no amends made,

Darkness exists to be cleverly outplayed,

dreams can be corrupted to a degree,

but wisdom knows how a mind is freed.

Zhicra’s whitened; all-seeing eyes

are a source of enigmatic portents.

Ilethriam’s dreaded creations

are a violation of Utmost Laws.

Nigh the coming of an eternal night draws.

Eradication follows the crawling

heiress of true ruthlessness.

Dramatization of a puzzling play of the Celestials.

Oerath Windsoul: “They who witnessed the universe’s essential birth, emerged to learn, and gifted forth the World of Arcadianth along with so many other realms, blessing them with elements, races and longevity. Let inheriters of The Three calmly tread on solid earth.”