The Third Harrowed Scrawl

[Swgrclan 2682]

 

 

Know the world which you walk.

 

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yL2LXOO0Hj4 ]

 

 

The time has come again where the lands whence Men do not roam are plagued with deccicated flesh bearing a message; the gospels of a godless being which is known only by the shroud set upon his ancient form and the grim truths which he speaks. He bears no name, only an idea; and these ideas last the ages, scorched into the fabric of these leathery scrawls.

 

 

The old forlorn soul has come again.

 

“Names are timeless.

 

Though they can be set in books and lost to pages, they are not only etched into parchment, but the fabric of this plane itself. Names carry themselves like wind does; they may brush against the ear and inspire recollection, melancholy and even zealotry. In this right, they are the same as ideas - and ideas cannot fade. They only tuck themselves under the shadows of Mens’ minds and await the day when they are summoned again, with whatever name they are given. Names teach lessons and they exist in both the present and the past; and thus, they do not adhere to the passage of time. They stand beside it.

 

We regard the world which we walk at a surface level. From the earth we grow our crops, from the sky we witness the rain that heralds this harvest, upon the fields we wage our wars, and atop hills we dig our graves. History is what shapes each layer of earth that we stand upon… and with the passing of ages, the world may too change. What does not change is the idea of what it is, what it can provide, and what happened upon it. When we give the world a name, the name adopts this history. It is shaped by what happens in our world. In a way, no matter how much the mortal perception of this plane’s name deviates, it remains the same by the history invested in it.

 

Long ago, when I knew an existence of the flesh, a very close compatriot of mine told me the name he gave this world; Somnithel. He said to me that it was whispered by Dragons which my people knew as angels, and that the name echoed wordlessly within the minds of Men, yet did not make itself known to those who did not care for names. When this brother of mine told me this sacred, yet feeble ensemble of mortal syllables, the only meaning it had was “this world”. The meaning has changed so much, now that so much time has passed.

 

I will do a service by preserving this name and sharing what it means now, in this very day. Somnithel is now desolation. Somnithel is the cold that overextends beyond the winter, and the rot of life which comes with it. It is the sin that has culminated by the hand of Men and Gods, and the unraveling which the very world has endured as a result. Somnithel now means “this rotten world”, for throughout the passage of time, the actions of many had given the name such a meaning. The name of this world is shaped by what it has become.

 

Somnithel is the formation of the Abyss. Somnithel is the enshackling of Men, by the hands of Gods. Somnithel is the fall of Dragons, and their rebirth by the most dark, extreme means. Somnithel is the countless fall of lands upon this dying earth and the blatant disregard within the minds of all Men as they ruin that which they walk upon, and move on to the next when it grows too fragile to keep upon. Somnithel is the deviation of the Creator’s image, and the undead which have come to rise with its slow ruination.

 

When we find infections embedded in our flesh, we must burn it all away lest it drifts into our veins and strikes at our heart. To purge this poison which encroaches upon our sacred blood, we decimate it with fire. Even when fire is not used to burn it all away, it takes shape as cures concocted by our hands… metaphorical flame, to ruin the illness which grows around mortal wounds.

 

There is a poison - a rot - within our world, Somnithel. We must put it to the fire, and by scourging the darkness which has gathered, we will purify it, and reshape this realm like how the scattering of ash renews life where it was once stagnate. The undead shall be the first rot cast to the flame, renewed to walk among Men by birthright. A great Draught shall be our catalyst,  and it will be the spark which will inspire a great fire, to burn Somnithel away.

 

Fire for Somnithel.

Fire for Somnithel.”

 

Previous editions:

i; https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/152568-the-first-harrowed-scrawl/#comment-1441544

ii; https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/152675-the-second-harrowed-scrawl/#comment-1442736

 

[Wendigo 786]

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