Descension & Deliverance

[Qaz_The_Great 1189]

Spoiler

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Descension & Deliverance

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The Northern isles of Thales, a land united as Norland by Vykk ‘the Founder’ Volaren, was in peril. Nature, corrupted by vile Voidal influence, had elongated the length of the winter, as the moon cycled the snows of winter remained, the lakes and shores unmoving as ice, hard as iron, covered the waters which many depended upon. The chieftains of the many clans and peoples would send men South, before the blizzards would completely isolate the Northern isles, to build for the Norlanders a fleet to seek new refuge. With many Norlanders sent South, the rest remained, to survive the endless winter which cursed their home. The first to die were the outsiders, those who claimed no clans nor people and denied Vykk’s efforts for unity, for during the summer months they could only reap the harvest of one man. After two cycles of the moon, the outsiders would either find common cause with the Norlanders or perish. Next were the old or sick, the ones who could not be looked after or continue to feed upon what may better be used by the young. Oftentimes they would depart their homes, giving their families final farewells, and wander into the unending blizzards which had cursed the isles. Eventually word reached the Chieftains of Norland, the fleet was completed but poor tides and worse storms had forstopped the fleet upon the Eastern coast of the Isles, twelve leagues from the Norlandic town. The Exodus began, the Norlandic people sought one to guide them through the harsh terrain and elected one man, Thoromir Armhank.

 

In the land of endless winter, upon the accursed isles, the Norlandic people marched. The people took what belongings they could carry, foodstuffs and valuables, but nothing would prepare them for the greatest peril of the journey East. Halfway through the journey, after one day and one night, the column of Norlanders was beset upon by what many now call the Great Blizzard. It is said that during the height of the misery the harsh winter storm caused the many gods of the North had died or abandoned their followers, as the Night had swallowed them, and their power no longer had any sway upon the mortal coil. Others believed that, rather than the gods, they themselves had been swallowed by the Night, as the day had shortened to but two hours. Whatever the case, we know that the northmen were dwindling in number each day the Great Blizzard blew for the winds were so strong and the ice filled the air, no man could kindle a flame for more than two seconds, and the embers would snuff out before the blink of an eye. In these conditions, the marchers could not survive for long. As the moon stood tall above the Norlanders, the sun had only shone thrice for two hours at a time, babes were starved in their cribs and fathers gave themselves to the Night so their sons may be unburdened by their presence, and Thoromir, tasked with the safe passage of these people could not bear to see any more death.

 

Thoromir set out before the snow logged tent, in the short light of the fourth day he stood before his people and before the gods and prayed. It is said he invoked the names of hundreds of gods, ancient and contemporary, and as the moon gazed down upon Thoromir, he continued his prayers for the deliverance of his people. As the night drew on, the lips of Thoromir quaked, yet he persisted, stammering out prayer after prayer, before coming to the final god he could recall. Some of the Norlanders called Him the Red Lord, others Rethiael, and to others the Dawnlord, Thoromir after these events took to calling Him the Father for, he had given the Norlandic folk guidance and discipline. Nevertheless, as the final word passed Thoromir’s tongue, an ember would fall before Thoromir, then another, and soon before Thoromir a hail of embers, burning little things, would be followed by His descension. He spoke a few words to Thoromir, setting forth His Tenets, now known as the Tenets of the Father, before imparting His glorious boon unto Thoromir and the Norlandic folk. A flame, which melted the snow and ice away, even in the darkest hour of that winter night. He quickly vanished, returning to his Realm, the Father’s Halls which stand about all Creation. The clans rallied about Thoromir and dubbed him ‘the Herald’ as he used the flame to ignite a great many torches and guided his people to the Eastern shores where the Norlandic fleet awaited them eagerly. At their reunion, the story of what transpired but a night previous spread like fire, the sailors would listen well and all who heard would thereon commit themselves to the Tenets of the Father and follow their Herald's teachings; for only the Father answered Thoromir’s prayer.

[_pr0fit 2945]

"Da, this is being very good." Grigori nods after reading the essay "This will be finding its place well in the libraries." he says sliding it into a shelf.