A PROPHECY OF WAR

[Milenkhov 4497]

A PROPHECY OF WAR

From the Inquisitor Eternal

 

As the Inquisitor Eternal sat in the confines of his cave, he stared out into a slit of wood; the pyres burgeon flames swayed back and forth. In his journey away from his brothers and sisters, he felt remorse. He felt remorse for being away from his kin and unable to stop the conflicts arising in the continent. He felt remorse for staying his hand against a Xannic Hunt and not indulging in prayers with his brothers and sisters. “O’Father Titan watching over me. You shine bright in the skies.” Eluitholnear muttered, his serpentine-orbs shifting into the night sky. “I miss my brothers and my sisters.” He spoke with despondency.

 

“Antonius, Tytos, Haskir, Alric, Avaeramos, Krendogron, Gamling, Elathion, Midnetora, Keledan, Sand. I pray for your protection.” Oliver murmured slowly, a small tear dropping from his left eye into the flames nearest to him. A mighty roar echoed from the cavern's entrance in the form of gelid air; a streak of light flew by, and so came burning images engraved into the embers. They were fuelled by his tears of love.

 

Staring intently, the drakaar held within the confines of his blade mocked. “You fool. Trust not the words of your Father. Trust in me.” It was hidden news that the influence of the sword had corrupted the dragonkin; the Inquisitor no longer sane. He scrambled to find his quil and began to write incoherently, mumbling crazed words instilled with power. A gout of smoke shifted out of his nostril, swirling around to mirror the images from the flames themself.

 

Upon finishing the letter, he sent out copies - each written in repeat - to his brothers and sisters. An incensed, deranged process that lasted three suns and three moons of nonstop writing.

 

 

First will come darkness; life will turn away.
Second will come Prince; life will return.
Third will come the dragon; death will come.

 

O’Father, to hammer unto death.
Prince will come, one to rule the dragons.
Child to the Titan King; the Prince will rule.
He will lead charge against the darkness.
He will fall corrupt to darkness.

 

Corruption shall take him, corruption shall take him.
Prince will come, one to kill the dragons.
Child to the Titan King no more; the Prince will rule.
He will lead charge against our flames.
He is corrupt to darkness.

 

Mists of green, mists of blue.
Darkness has arrived.
Clad in steel, the dragons shall face.

 

Look to the Sand, look to the Kharajyr.
Look to the horns, look to the Horen.

 

The Horen is Prince, bare child no more.
The Horen is corrupt.

 

What is left?
War.

The Inquisitor Eternal, Oliver Helane

 

TO ANTONIUS; @Milenkhov
Upon my return, I have forged a blade so beautiful it will shine as bright as your heart, Horen.

 

TO TYTOS; @Valaryon
Upon my return, I have forged a longsword so courageous it will instill you with strength, Horen.

 

TO HASKIR; @Ryloth
Upon my return, I have forged a spear so long it will reach the Titan above, Kharajyr.

 

TO KRENDOGRON; @Spoons
Upon my return, you will need nothing forged for you have richness that the Titan admires, Dragon.
 

[OOC: This prophecy is only accessible to the Azdrazi and Heralds]

 

[Ryloth 4312]

 

INQUISITOR ETERNAL,

Brother mine Eluitholnear, do the heavens weep in the light of prophetical vision. Orisons of fire usher the canticles of times ahead, and we prepare afore the scarlet dawn of war. Much progress has been achieved, though stagnancy is evident. Paramount is the course ahead, and I await your rebirth; anew, and empowered.

 

Land of the Titans, Almaris. Land of the Titan it shall become.

 

TO ELUITHOLNEAR, INQUISITOR ETERNAL;

Upon your return, I will bestow unto you my warship Kathivioth, the divine light.

 

SIGNED,

H ~ 

[MRCHENN 3663]

From distance away, a scion of the Firstborn sat upon the mountains of the South. Eyes closed, his digits rest in his lap betwixt each other as he meditated. The scion had only heard stories and tales from his master of the Inquisitor-General, yet he admired him, as if he was his own. Muttering some words underneath his breath, flickers of ash and ember ripple as some semblance of heat did as well - distorting the air around him, a slow trickle of warmth upon his features. Staying there for some time, the herald concentrated, the news of the prophecy already reaching his ears.

 

He would await the return of the Inquisitor.

[_Sug 2554]

~Yield Onto Me O' Baser Instinct, So That I May Slay Without Mercy Those In Conflict of War.~

So did sit 'pon yonder shores of Isle of Silver, a man lone and clad in crimson armor. Draconic cape did lick forth at meager gusts of wind that drafted over rippling waters and fauna so exposed over top of clear pools. With deep breath and shaky exhale did the Ordained nod at the words of fellow kin whom he retained the company of. "Cold is the wind on this day, for it will soon be replaced with sweat and crimson as flame shall engulf thine enemies." Croaked forth wretched redeemed to honorable knights. Posture shifted so he knelt towards wind-touched  water with flaming sword that cast gleams within reflective aqua. "I shall be unleashed once more. To slay and reap souls once more, yet for HE who is different, HE who like me is unchained." So did reborn rise, for greater purpose lay ahead and path to Aisoth revealed further.

Edited June 3, 2021 by _Sug

[rukio 8910]

Aobh smiles, nudging Anduin with a knowing look. "Times will be getting interesting soon, llir. I sense it on the winds." 

[Covey 466]

Just now, rukio said:

Aobh smiles, nudging Anduin with a knowing look. "Times will be getting interesting soon, llir. I sense it on the winds." 

 

Anduin glances back. "What an odd thing to say." He'd remark, unsure what evoked such a statement. He continues with his peaceful ignorance for the remainder of the day! 

[rukio 8910]

Just now, Covey said:

 

Anduin glances back. "What an odd thing to say." He'd remark, unsure what evoked such a statement. He continues with his peaceful ignorance for the remainder of the day! 

But thusly, as the book call of the wild has written,

"There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive.

 

And so it was that she would forget what she had just uttered to her beloved friend. "Did you say something, Ani?" she'd Inquire as she bound another worm to her fishing line, watching the shoreline.

[ronin_champloo 5951]

"Our ink became laden in steel, soaked in the ichor of the unliving. Know this, Those of the Dead - War comes, and it will soak us all in its ire."

 

Krendogron mutters, plumes of ash wreathing his spoken words. Smoke drifts outwards, finding it's way onto the radiant sun.

 

"Temper us, O' Inquisitor. Let us reap those who cling onto the living."

[Archangelic 212]

Amalya rested upon the windowsill of her "hidden" place of relaxation, eyes lingering outside of the stained glassed that was destroyed and now in dangerous pieces. Antonius did as he was asked by the Amador, visiting her the moment he got word from his brother, her mentor, her beloved - he never stayed long. She would be a white witch if she did not admit that she was jealous of such brothers and sisters, having received the most word from the missing Inquisitor Eternal, but not once to her.. but not once mentioned.

"... When you get home, you're so dead." Amalya muttered with distain and some heartbreak, looking over to the books of nephilim she had been instructed to study in his absence. Planting thin soles upon the flooring she wandered over to the books that lingered, nails reaching forth to smooth over the leather that bound them, growling lowly with a trembling hand.

"What is left..?"

[Jentos 6813]

The fire dimmed in the eyes of a certain creature of fire - lured and enamoured by the prophecy at hand. His head rose, eyes coming to a close at distant memories of near forgotten prophecies of old. 

 

"Father, give us Fire. Father, bless us with Ire. Father, grant us a new heart, grant us Pyre."  

 

This he cried unto the ashes of the circle he had made. He kneeled, and bowed his head. 

 

"You are our Life, our Fire. With every breath you take our hearts thrum. With - . . ." 

 

He fell silent, and bewitched, peered over the prophecy yet again, hands cradling into fist at that mention of war. He was as excited. So excited it seemed his chest tightened, like an odd pain that settled in his heart. What was that ? Wondered the serpent. Was that terror ? Could it be ? How lovely. 

[Valaryon 513]

"Beware, beware, the Inquisitor comes." said the aged Ser Tytos. He ran his fingers across the surface of the parchment, and looked upon the surface of his digits momentarily. He mulled over the ominous prophetical ramblings from his broodling, unsure of the future before his kin.

[Johann 1399]

A lone Ephoth looked skywards from the idyllic plains of Elysium, towards the heavens that his draconic foes long lorded over. He pondered when the mettle of his brothers and sisters will be tested again, yet he knew of its inevitablity.

 

After all, it was an impending fate he could only anticipate in the current calm.

 

[Honourary 640]

"How I've yearned for war," remarked a Nephilim – to himself – ensconced somewhere within the vast Firelands of Almaris as he awaited the Inquisitor Eternal's return.

[FlemishSupremacy 4930]

The fires of the forges were lit, and impressive amounts of rare materials were brought to the smith. He'd work tirelessly, day in day out, forging small arms for his brothers and sisters in arms to wield, and large, powerful siege weapons to crack any fortifications their foes might hide behind.

 

Little rest could be found for the Nephilim as he spent his time either honing his skills or producing fearsome weapons for use against a variety of opponents. All worth it, to him, for soon he'd be able to put all of them to use. "A call for war, soon to be answered." He'd say to himself.