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The Thief and the Owl | ANCIENT FOLKLORE


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THE THIEF AND THE OWL

A Folktale of Eld

محاكمة الجن

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WHEN the Wars of the Gods, the Daemons and all, blossomed in the world’s end; there existed two infallible beings – donning wings of both articulate light and ever-black darkness. Formless and incorporeal, existing as ideas and figments of thought, rather than complete beings. One was known as the Thief and the Owl.

 

They bid onto one another a game to fill their void of boredom, one that never ended, wherein the clause was granted;

 

Creation will cease due to the perilous greed of Man, or it shall cease due to their idiocy. 

 

The two agreed, and set out their terms. They would not interfere, only acting as silent onlookers to their pastime, as creation and reality itself broke apart, splintering to allow pure nothingness to envelop the world.

 

This was the Owl’s decree. His wish and rules.

 

The Thief thought not of it, and decided to pervert the laws for his own gain.

 

For when the Wizard came onto the Four Brothers, and corrupted them with their greed, the Thief knew that the game would fall into his primordial comrades favour. The rules were cheated, and with this, were broken, as he tore out a piece of his azure heart and scattered them around the realm – heralding the birth of Aenguls and Daemons, those who deigned to act forever in safeguarding the Descendants, be it with their own interests or a duty that they have long since forgotten.

 

This continued for some time, with the creations of the Thief, aiding the Descendants beyond their own extinction. Alas with every second of his shattered heart, he found himself growing weaker. More frail, allowing his own creations to falter as well. With each part of himself shattering, he grasped a clump of the earth, recreating himself with clay and stone.

 

Time, however, was short.

 

It acted as a final bulwark, an extension of an already failing life. The Thief found his namesake, and traversed to the ruinous world of the Owl whilst it slept upon the eldar-perch, taking from it his own heart – conjured as an eye.

 

The Thief stole it for himself, feasting and gorging on the remains of the unblinking heart, gathering back his own strength. This, however, was not missed by the Owl as he gazed from its unblinking eyes, and saw what it became. In its rage, the infallible being beckoned great talons to wrench from the Thief his very eyes, bidding him the curse;

 

Thief. Liar. Pretender. 

You weave stories with your mind, so let me take it from you. 

 

The curse of the Owl differs from culture to culture, but the simple fact remains, that the Owl is always there. Watching. Peering. Tearing apart the fabrics and the silk of his mind, feasting on it as the Thief did for his own, and with that did the once-powerful being reduce himself onto a mortal – a final bane of the Owl, and the sin that they had committed.

 

With the cursed mark of the Owl placed on his eyes, he wandered from place to place, seeking refuge and repentance for what he had done. Perishing, and letting another one of his blood continue the evil hex sworn onto his vile body.

 

However, for his corpse, the Owl grasped it and the pain of sorrow struck through his body at the fallen cadaver of his once-brother. With his divination and powers, he took the many pieces of the being, and granted to him a new form.

 

A blade, one woven out of an unbreakable material, plagued by eyes and azure flesh – reliving the same moment of betrayal, again and again, until time itself ends.

 

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“You are forgiven, brother of mine.” 

 

A blue-light illuminated the area.

 

The hand was present.

 

The Dark Lord swung from the left.

The Jester swung from the right.

The Smith swung in the middle.

 

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And the 

Mortal Blade of Jophiael 

was grafted from flesh and eyes.

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Thank you spoonius for the help!

 

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18 minutes ago, subatomic said:

THE JESTERS GAME 

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NOOOO! also put your message in a spoiler since its an rp post. 

 

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