Tyranny

[TheIchorDruid 1986]

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

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Tyranny

 

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Time had been cruel, a tainted repetition of sorrow that the elfess found impossible to shoulder. It wracked her stature akin to a serpent, constricting the precious air from her burnt lungs. Days had turned to months and Vyasaldris lost track of it all, buried beneath her moments of grief; spent kneeling at her son’s resting place. 

 

A warped coldness rendered her tanned complexion, pale. The woman looked starved, opting to prioritize her woe; for such is all that felt natural. She had lost many friends, family and love. The capricious attachment to those around her dwindled, leaving behind a mere sense of duty. An importance to uphold all that the banner of Farro represented, for such meaning was unchanging unlike all those she had found to adore. 

 

Thus, she began to pen and sob. Cementing the inevitable history that was to come, through ink and parchment. 

 

 

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[!] A large array of letters were left pinned to public notice boards throughout Arcas, namely all the nations and settlements inhabited.

 

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A time of survival has befallen us, 

 

The descendants sit at the verge of an entire extinction, the southern lands of Korvassa having already fallen to the malicious grasps of the inferni and now their forces merely seek to move onward. Until there is not a living soul in sight, trampling upon our corpses as if nothing but meaningless twigs littering the forest floors. Many have already fallen, many more will surely follow. 

 

It is of descendant nature to fear, it is what makes us mortal; living. Yet we must protect our dismay, for those that seek our fall weaponize it for their gain. What makes us vulnerable, they will manipulate. Namely The Titan, those that express their fear he latches upon; moulding it with fanatical fantasies of protection and hope. Though with him, hope fails to flourish. 

 

Those that have accepted his bottomless promises are the most fearful of us all, we mustn't blame them or punish them for striving for anything to merely survive. For it is what any of us would do, an infectious instinct that comforts a weary soul. 

 

However during these darkening eves, we must remember what foes we are truly standing against. The oppressors of inferni, that Azdromoth romantacises with. For the yearning of acceptance drives him, as he will never be upheld as greatly as the GODS. This yearning will drive him to utter madness, the illusion of a united civilization that solely worships him; will be the only promise he shall fulfill to any of us. To achieve this, first he must wipe clean the slate; remove the traces of the four brothers and instead erect his own creation that fits his definition of perfect.

 

When word mentioned Azdromoth being set free from the influence of Iblees, it was never truly complete. For we still see the affiliations he keeps withdrawn, swept under a rug of theatrical commentary and vagueness. He has made no efforts against the threats of Inferni, not once pursued in defence of the southern desserts and will not protect any of us from what horrors are to accompany the loss. I would be more inclined to hold an ounce of belief in his promises of safeguarding if any efforts had been made, yet I still sit in anticipation.

 

Now we must stand united, for in this war there has never been a singular side; the inferni have many allies and The Titan stands as one of them. Prepared to do what it takes in ensuring he gains our realm. Those of you that scoff or question the validity of my claims, seek answers for yourself; yet do so with diligence for the Titan lacks the patience with those that ask logical questions and will rid those he deems as pests.

Azdromoth stands as no saint, nor deserves the opportunity to be revered as a GOD. The beast will merely remain as a coward, wrapped in tethers of greed and lust for credibility. For those that upholds worship in his name, choose to kill innocent lives of descendant, druii and paladins in the name of the Titan. Murder for favour. 

 

Thus, to those that still have a fight left within them, to those that can muster the energy to survive. I implore you to polish your steel and fight a battle that might well be your last. Though one that will protect the living, to sacrifice so that those whom come after us might live another day and praise our valiant battle. Remembering the day the descendants refused to be shackled.

 

To another day,

Ducem Corvus of the Orrir’Ullral

 

[Vocturne 92]

The tattooed priest eyed the missive with a measure of fear. ”Titan preserve us...” He then drank deeply from the bottle of wine. ”Another challenge we will endure.”

[Ryloth 4321]

“The Paladins of Xan yet again spread their propaganda leaflets like a plague on the world as they pretend to be victims to the righteous sword of balance, as if undeserved. Let this distraction fall – the Inferi Menace are next. My mother’s demise will not be in vain.”

[ErikAzog 3575]

The Lieutenant Colonel of the ISA would hum to himself as he read the contents of the poster, a moment after he finished, he went to take one of the posters from the board, he would then continue back on his way to the Bastille, a poster in hand. 

[Security_ 2287]

Arminius Wick makes his way back to Farrador upon reading the missive, “As they have chosen Fiend over God, such a fiend they will revel with in eternity.”

[Junoix 2301]

Sonna Sirame read the letter with a soft sigh, folding and holding it close to her chest. She gazed over to her three children she had just put to sleep before heading back to her room. The druid shut the door behind her slowly, so not to wake her sleeping husband, reluctantly opening the chest at the foot of her bed. Slowly did her hands pull out her bow, red kuila dust gleaming in the lantern's light as she thought to herself...

[rukio 8924]

Lily Greythorn would, as her however many greats grandchild was dead and unable to, roll atop Elene’s grave in despair as yet another woman claimed mothership of a Mournstone they did not give birth to nor raise.

 

“Our family is cursed, Gaius.” She’d exclaim, despite her brother being far off in their homeland of Vyranni, in his preparation to tend to the newest infant Mournstone. 

[MC_BreadStick 203]

Lillian would kick open the door to her room as her arms were occupied with a crate of fresh weaponry. She’d set it into her room and hop over to her desk, shuffling through some papers to write up another order- when she notices the letters. She’d set aside her work and scoop them up taking a read ”Mmm-“ She’d simply nod as she finished the reading. She would stand there deep in thought for a long moment before quickly setting the note down and spinning on her heels to face the exit. In a hurry, she grabs her beret and banner cloak as she exits, on a mission again.