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The Dawn of a Black Sun


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'Lo, for as the black dawn settled 'cross hollow abyssal, a weary Elfess would turn her gaze to the roiling smog of the damned. Her lips twisted to a snarl, as the thunder o'er the mountain let out some defiant roar... 

 

"It seems that my friends forget their place - perhaps 'tis time to remind them of their place..."

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Unseen, did this figure remain within the depths of Stygian Hollow's caverns.  Within a chamber unbeknownst to prying eyes.  A prayer spoken, but unheard to those unlearned.  The hearth was black, like his everlasting figure.  A war to be waged and won in his favor. . .  The Dawn was to them, the beginning. . . To him. . . Their end.

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[!] Amidst the jagged cliffs and peaks, a lone grey cloaked dwarf sat atop one of the neighbouring mountains overlooking the Hollow below. The luster of his runic eye peering at the settlement  and as its light casted down upon the shadowed land, a frown formed. For much of the cities shape was disfigured or marred by the unholy blanket, a sickening sight but not unfamiliar.  Familiar to him however was the heavy sigh that escaped him,  for he knew like memories recounted before, that this were but grim portents of the horrors to come.  

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Athanas gazes about the land, his vision blurred. He recognised the city well, although the fog and the darkness loomed overhead. A soft frown upon his lips, noticing the specters and stench of undeath. Concern filled his eyes. "...it almost fits my mother's description of  Ebrietaes - desolate with fog and corrupted souls ever wandering, no sun to light their path. Hrm... mother, if you were still here, you would no doubt investigate this matter with full force. Yet, you and your kin are no longer here, so it would seem I will have to investigate this," he glanced down to the braclet on his only hand, bearing the amulet of a silver kestrel with a teal crystal clutched in its claws.

 

"Yet... what or who could have done this? Necromancers? Mystics? Or is it another greater power attempting to lay claim on the land. I should speak with Kalgrimmor and other members of the Mages' Guild for advice and aid," the elf nodded his head in confidence.

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As the chilling scream was heard R'enar woke up from a horrible nightmare, sweat was running down his temples and his heart was beating loudly.

He quicly stood up ran to the balcony of his villa to meet his gaze with a terrifying view.

As he inhaled violently a chill ran down his spine, he put a hand on his chest violently pushing his fingers onto a fresh stabbing wound situated on his heart, the mali'ker hissed in pain as he looked at the newly acquired scar, not remembering any event leading to it.

He inspected further and found a set of words carved onto his chest near to the unnaturally pure white wound, he furrowed his brows as he raised his golden gaze towards the figure that gloomed over his beloved city and he spoke out loud those words

"A dark cloud looms, and its totem is veiled by masks and metal"

His voice trembled as he put his elbows onto the edge of the balcony fence, laying his forehead on his left palm and running his fingers through his wavy and messy silver hair, he then stood up and went back in the house slamming the doors of the balcony shut.

He searched for his precious cup that he always had on his belt to drink some booze, but is was nowhere to be seen, maybe the memory loss was due to alcohol? it's not to be known.

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The local Ker lord lingered within his home of perpetual night and deep fog he sat within the halls of the Velu'Asath. The entrance now coated in Aurum as he sharpened various daggers and weapons in eternal vigilance during this war of the unnatural. Vival would silently lament the struggle of finding a new home with each blade sharpened. The thought of how far his clans have finally come having founded the Hollow and to all he had already lost upon his journey as he muttered to himself "We shall let them know the Hollow will not fall too specters." the Lord of the Hollow moved to the highest balcony of his home eyeing the city below, wondering if it were time for his peoples resolve to be tested.

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image0.jpg

 

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OLsSan9koAU ]

 

ABOUT ABOUT, in reel and route, fires of UNDEATH ringstraked the sky; flouting the firmaments and welkins with sinuous rills of brimstone and fry, blazoning an ebon nimbus that, if one were to see its spire, would see the breadth of space entire, as the sap of WIDUKIND, THE WIZENED OAK. Votive psalms trilled through and 'twixt the every squalid, cleft and cranny; chasm and crack, of PETRA TURRIS' antecedent halls –– the Ebreitæn canticles, piously impious, rapt unto the mortal coil of a wretched, conjunction-borne, clandestine contingent of the waylaid banner-brothers of RH'THOR, and its gnarled prince-messiah. Pledging their troth in a single psalmody which bespoke the united tongues and voices of seventy-thousand and threescore men, they struck cacophonous chords and musings which rung all the way back into the valley's base:

 

[Cryptic]

i. A'sna urk'emregen sub'Serthek;

ii. Narg re'ate Blovak vireundzord Serthek,

 

[Old Savoyard]

 

i. Tha sinn air ar breith bhon Dorchadas;

ii. Fear dèanta leis an Dorchadas,

 

ALL girdled 'round the maw of HEITH-HEDRAN, Her sable, crepuscular foam and froth kissing the fringe and frame of each necrolyte; from the toenails to'th' naves, in an occult litany, Her ever-abiding bannermen begetting surplus' of tenebrous coalesce from their calluses –– boring the weatherworn flesh of their digits by whit of pins and ribbons of unabated BLACKNESS. For, NIGH had a vast swathe of smog and smoulder cleared and bade its gelid sky farewell, heralding an omen of antediluvian reveries. Alive, and not quite living; deathly, but not quite dead; blacker than black; yet brighter than even an arduous light –– RADIANT WAS THE BLACK SUN;

 

[Cryptic]

iii. Narg jul'ify vireundzord Serthek,

iv. A'sna Serthek.

 

[Old Savoyard]

 

iii. Air a dhèanamh leis an Dorchadas,

iv. Tha sinn an t-Seann Dorcha.

 

FROM fittle, those laymen feasted fervently thus, as wicked sabbath.

For, that night, THEIR FIRKINS WOULD BE BLED.

 

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LeonardoLastSupper.jpg

 

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"Des dawn es jus' es black as meh lungs." Remarked a certain Doomforged, lingering on within his home.

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A fell creature of loathsome malaise and melancholy had heard the call of his kin from far beyond the flow of Aos. It roused his mind of wallowing sorrow into clarity once more

 

"To Serve is Noble, Sister. I would not miss this for the world and all its riches....you grant me purpose, and freedom from myself. This alone is a gift, and I shall use it well."

 

The creature cackled to himself, a hint of real mirth reaching his lips. Finally the works were beginning, and the time to do as he was bidden to would come to pass. It was going to be a very long night.

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"Radiant is the Black Sun."

Commented a lone man as he looked out towards the eastern waters which surrounded the continent.

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A dark knight lurked within the shadows of the dark elven settlement, a hollow gaze set upon the scene as the ethereal fog shrouded over  Stygian Hollow. A grim and bemused chuckle would echo through the figure's maw in a harrowing tune, disappearing between those very same clouds of dark smog. Though not before he'd intone in a cacophony of unison in which would echo eerily through the vicinity of the cavernous expanses he now stood within:

 

"And so the sun shall no longer rise upon this forsaken settlement, the denizens within as well as the world will now come to understand the true extent of our power.. Radiant is the Black Sun."

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8 hours ago, The Great Mongol Khan said:

"This dawn can certainly be no blacker than me" says a Mali'ker.

"Speak for yourself." Says Evar'tir, famed black elf.

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55 minutes ago, Bhased said:

"Speak for yourself." Says Evar'tir, famed black elf.

A Mali'ker recognizes Evar'tir as the blackest of the black.

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