A Broken Nation, An Ancient Bloodline

[Narthok 10416]

 

A Broken Nation, An Ancient Bloodline

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A large man, clad in a woolen cloak trods slowly through an empty field. Surrounded by burnt trees, hewn corpses and sundered trappings of war. The remnants of a dead nation, its corpse strewn about the lengths of a dead land. Its sons, it's daughters forever sleeping in its fields. A single tear traced the length of the man’s face, his shoulder shaking in quiet sobs as he took in his surroundings. The children of the Father had been laid low once more, led to their destruction by those lacking the Father’s holy fire in their hearts. How had this happened, how had it been allowed to happen. This was not a sin, a blemish upon the conduct of those blind to the holy light of the father. Rather this was the folly of those who were supposed to defend the light, defend the children of the Father. Those that had turned from the glory seated in the glowing heavens and pursued their own selfish ambitions. Their own hubris laden actions had destroyed all that the children had built.

 

For them, there could be no forgiveness. But now was not the time for retribution, The Father demanded only service, he asked of those in his service that they walk the righteous path, that they weather the storm of blades, of anger, of the wroth of the blind. He asked that they walked the path of fire. The man turned his eyes to the sky, populated by clouds pregnant with the coming storm. Their downpour would wash these lands clean. For now was the time of the rising sun, what was sundered would be mended, what was lost would be reclaimed. There was only one answer to the doom that had been visited on the Kingdom of Norland. Faith. Utmost unbreakable, unquestionable faith in the light. Impiety and madness could no longer be tolerated by those that bore the All Father’s mantle.

 

Tilting his head towards the sky the man began to speak, despite the large scroll held in his left hand he glanced at it, not once. As the text of the scroll was second nature to his tongue, engraved in the depths of his soul. “From the Book of Hope, The Hope. You will know when the Hope comes unto ye. His light shall illuminate the path. In your time of need he shall come, he shall lead the children unto salvation. For the Dark comes, and in its presence, he shall know no fear. I seek the Hope” muttered the man, my search will begin here. With those words he planted a large standard in the soft earth of the field, a simple cross of wood bearing a pennant of red leaves, bound together by small iron rings. Drawing a large crozier, bearing within its depths a flame he held it to the leaves until they caught fire. Pulling a large black horn to his lips he sounded a single deep note, pausing to allow its echo to fade. As the first drops of rain began to fall he smiled, only the merest hint of sadness gracing his features. It was time to rebuild.

[Malgonious 2758]

Hakon would stare at Thoromir from the Halls of Valkyria

"Seems all is not lost for your line, Thor."  He would point down below the skies to the war-torn swamp toward figure who had blown the black horn, a smile across his face.

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.