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Thwarting of the Drakeblight


Valannor
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Over the ruins of the drakeblighted lands that once comprised the Paladin Fortress of Sunbreak, the darkened clouds grumbled idly in discontent - the once-jovial song of nature turned to weeping cries of pain, the earth suffocated beneath the oppressive draconic taint.

 

In the heart of the fortress, something stirred - like tribal drums, a great rift of green and gold appeared in the sky. Like the flames which wrought it, the blight was scoured, consumed beneath the oppressive wrath of the Horned Lord’s adherents. What had been crafted in malice by the hand of the Arch-Drakaar was undone in a matter of mere weeks of effort, foiled by the hand of the Aspect’s Chosen.

 

Stone began to crumble, the fortress began to wither. A great blow struck, to be sealed thereon.

 

The Phoenix had begun to be avenged.

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Nehtamo sat on that burnt land quite often, contemplating the purpose of such destruction. How often he had brought others out there, to show them chaos, destruction, new growth. A gloved hand scooped up healing soil, the shoots of grass and newly budding seeds of bushes that would fill this land once more, once the fortress was gone. "The world does not begin above but instead within. It is as those writings on asioth say:

 

The World was a fruitful womb of red earth: a cage.

Below, a white-gold seed, First-Born, became himself.

 

Thus a sapling of Asioth emerged unseen.

Lively knowledge was as sunlight upon its leaves."

 

Yet, his next visit was not the same. Something was changing. "How we should weep for those who do not learn." 

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