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The Golden Prophecy | The First Toll


Valannor
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"But, one must ask, for whom does the Bell toll for?" - "Ave, Ordo, Ave Ordo, Ave Ordo, Bonnum est Ordo." The Commander raves, seemingly, cleaning the stain left 'pon his axe. "I am an Axe, which Descendant-kinds foes are cleaved with" 

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That sensation of cold dread filled the undead husk of that fallen Lord of the Barrows, adding further fractures to an already sundered mind that lingered on thoughts most profane. The tolling of the bell signaled concern within the Barrowlord of Fog, only hastening their accursed plans..

"We shall see you very soon Maleficar.."

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Whilst drinking heated tea from a cup whilst in the Celia'norian tavern, the armored figure minded her own business - scribing in her journal. She placed the mug down, taking a deep exhale. Upon the ringing of the bell, the book drops from her grasp as her hand began to quiver. Her body froze for just a quick moment, causing the nephilim to glance around her surroundings warily. She said nothing, picking up her fallen belongings before exiting briefly after.

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a dwarven paladin awoke in her stone bed "WHY TEH FECK DO AH ALWAYS MISS COOL STUFF" she roars to her living dolls whom proceed to comfort her

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Wet ash began to toil

The bell rang once soon to be twice
All for what cost? 

 

Saved herald mortal flesh bestowed blessing of he the TITAN.

Dead Nephilim killed with a shining golden axe tool of Xan behead him.

 

Songs were sung fluently the words were fire, gold, and were sweet as they touched the eardrums of those who watched.

But how could he blame those? Who never glimpsed the secrets of open-asioth, their wretched lord has blinded them.

 

How do I save a blind man ? 

I will either let them fall

Or they 

embrace asioth. 

Embrace the warmth of my father.


Heed my words, let me and my people shine the way on the dark stygian path.

All you must do is listen.

 

"I met your bell, once my father razed these lands. It makes me laugh."

 

Cocky and bold his last words were before it erupted into a burst of mad laughter before meeting 

death

 

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The Silver Lubba from the roof of his freshly outfitted workforce HQ looked up to the sky as the golden wave passed by, cracking a light grin "How I have missed the feeling of new crap out of nowhere that just seems right."

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Ilaria was sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, a row of freshly bound books in front of her; that of her writings for The Shore.  She had been working on this set all day, in order for them to be further spread across the realm to lead others toward that path of introspection and redemption.  Yet now as the sun was setting, and her room was glowing with candlelight and memorial wisps wrought of an ancient urn, Ilaria needed only apply the stamps that shall decorate the cover and spines of her illustrious work; a day of careful craft ending in with this simple moment of precision.

 

Tap, tap, tap. . . She readied the stamper and leaned forth to press the mark onto her books, though. . . BONG, BONG, BONG!!! That deific light arched across the twilight sky, flickers of its golden light dancing in her room--filling her with a sudden bout of terror and caused for her hands to jerk and for the elf to scramble back.  "WHAT THE SCALLOP?!" she shrieked while seeking to dive under cover of her quilt.

 

A tense and frightening moment, that left the already fidgety elf a sputtering mess.  Though, perhaps she was more troubled to see that she had spilled her ink all over her books in her moment of fright.  A day of work ruined!

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A Shield sat upon the dry dunes of the south, upon a hill top near a Settlement as she stared at it. The Half

Mali'aherral looked around as walked higher into the hill top. As the bell tolled across the clear colorfully night sky, she felt the wind as she took of her helmet and mask as she allowed her ears to hear such toll with both joy and relief, as well as her doubt and disbelief had at once left her mind. She was at peace.

 

"Mmm... the wind feels nice, time to prepare..."

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━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[!] Feathers molt, grown from a still bleeding wound.

 

Shaded by gently swaying boughs- and something which croaks eerily in their branches- an oracle hears that bell toll. With a glance upwards and some foul muttering, the day's events are ruminated on. Each hollow clang and discordant bong is a reminder of its too-narrow triumphs. Begrudging, that oracle turns back to her work.

 

Scarred palms weave a tapestry of darkness, sighs, and tears. [!]

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image03.png?v=0b718f31

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Hours after the bell had rung, an 'ame would sit down staring out a window in silence. A quill in hand as he tapped idly against a blank page. He finally turned his attention to the page scribbling down a single phrase, Send me the head when it's over. With that he set threw the page to the ground, grabbed his blade and headed off to see where the world would take him next

 

Spoiler

image.png

 

Great Rp! One of the most fun things I have partaken in for a while.

 

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2e01f511c8297c5f360202a0b310512c.jpg

 

It sat,

deep below the ground on a throne of dilapidated stone 

That dimly lit hall cast to the silence of death was shattered by a clamouring toll of an infernal bell.

The Lord of death; the King of the Barrows, was gripped by the horror it commanded.

 

It shrieked,

 and through the quiet halls a sickening symphony played.

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Millasis's Pre-Raphaelite Ophelia Up Close | Daydream Tourist

The tattered soul of a doused Ember Priest warbled in the depths. Roused from their slumber, each toll prompted a new voice to scream. No drowned man, woman or child was spared that moment's shared terror.

 

Iblees had come. Now, to it, another contender had arrived yearning to yet again bring war to their Mortal Plane. In the murk of the pond, it theorised:

 

"They are to make of Almaris a second Abyss. We re-enact the final days of Aegis. The stage is set and

we, their audience, are doomed."

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The An-Gho clapped for the deeds of his brother. Then he wondered, where were his Tears ?

 

He penned a message for Alatariel. 

Spoiler

 

 

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Vanessa stood upon the battlements of that very castle which had heralded the infinitely resounding chimes and light. She stood alone, cloak wrapped about her with clutched hands. Her memories - they dwelled on a distant monastery.

"The realm is much more than you ever warned me of, old teachers," her hushed voice was eaten up by the high winds, "And yet - I've never felt more alive than right here, tonight. If I am not meant to be a weapon, please - tell me so.

I beg of you.

Edited by sincerelyE
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