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[Prophecy] The North's Twin


Songwitch
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This is a prophetic vision accessible to seers, naztherak, farseer shamans, vivification clairvoyants, and mystics with hexing per Prophecy lore.

As a note, this is the first time that I have ever done one of these or used Black-speech for more than a few singular words. Errors are bound to happen. Please and kindly point them out if you’re knowledgeable in the language!

The format and structure that I have followed are based on another prophecy shared by @Zarsies

 

Forth is brought a call, ingrained within the back of the mind. A whisper, a song. It tugs closer to an alternate reality – a glimpse, not of what once was, but into the unknown. Sorrow and woe cut through the vision, both in sight and sound.

 

CXckg4-sLKNIbqG49XJktwJEa5lHDTNzICZS9H9d0ZxPCTOx57C14PvaoWFX8tP2ROGqYaNeY_CCOEavYENQRvs6yBtJTHfhRC6j0KcmfRjqlVc2q7ARZsu_y8JMATH5nXRVQFnMvhTPE7KkyDR7gUSHgxwzHnYVe8m5it82Cv63bWu4SAbS6JMRaoyABg

 

“She is forged, borne of a wicked curse.”

 

 


 

 

Boundless potential, unchained magick. Ice weeping bitterly and cold just the same.

 

Yathnz undere yatl daz'zhask al'Rron. Thur'daz’mordu.

“Salt and frost perforate the North. It shrieks.”

 

Sturdy, it looms. An ancient cairn of stone. Eldritch, arctic chills leaking from within.

 

Bhrun-cul-ka undere verthkul-fo.

“Four witches and divine ambition.”

 

The mirror reflects and portrays the tale. Her rebirth is here.

 

Du'bhaktal gathan-kumrn, zu'emregn ozkuhr.

“An antique of unimaginable power, borne of greed.”

 

Blessed as She was, the witch grants a wish. Frost and snow rearrange themselves under Her will.

 

Cries of angst resound loudly within the prophetic mind of the recipient, hailing from a newborn. It surrenders – the North. A silhouette rises from the snow as if magically called upon through the intervention of a cacophonous song. What was it? An unholy canticle.

 

Eve is made. Her grief was deafening, tormenting as though she was forged.

 

Daz’emregn, nal’narg re’sna.

“Reborn, she has been.”

 

Numbingly, the cold engulfs conscience and mind alike. It is bitter and one lucidly brought themselves from this nightmare with little struggle.

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Lynera, as blighted and worn as she was. . . Heeded to the winter's call of a kin, and offered forth her essence in song. The Prophecy rings true in minds of adept, and intermediate telepaths and those inept to visions

 

Their song, it shrieks.

 

The pain and anguish of wintered women, a pink-fleshed sacrifice of youth, and a long-dead coldborn. The witches' agony is felt as they meddled with powers far beyond their understanding of witchcraft.

 

The melody screams sharp,

 

A toll is paid from each of the mothers, and one straggler. . . one donned a navy cowl, the others were too blurry and luminescent to see in the pelting snowstorm.

the song stripped the snow,

it bites.

 

Finally, hailed in the vision is a large, glacial crack. . . One that rang off of the Northern sky, cardinal directions aligned to usher forth a reminder of Winter's Passing. 

 

It feeds.

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Some shaman wakes up, and frown. Throwing a pillow across the room. "With the Inferni back at it, and even worse coming out the gate. Maybe these powers of heat and cold will steam each other out. Heh steam. Get it. Cause..hot and cold..The woman looks around the room, empty and lifeless. "Perhaps, this is why I am alone.."

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An orc shaman constantly plagued by visions of the past, present and the future, would find himself awake and laying in bed, hidden deep within a large tree. As he lay there, he would look up at the ceiling and talk to himself, his thoughts pouring out from his mouth, as they filled the room. "Hmmm....zo now da North ahm aktin up again agh mi grukked dey ull dizappeared after the lazt place fell down." He'd chuckle at his own thoughts that escaped from the shamans maw "But, mi ahm too buzy with mi own trikariz agh teachingz, zo mi will ignore it vur nauw. But zhould it kome to pazz, mi will flat dem, agh put dem back into da ground." He'd grumble to nobody in particular, before deciding to turn around and go back to sleep, without a care in the world.

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