Qizu 4038 Share Posted January 16 The Flightless Pursuit The Falling Children of Azdromoth A great soaring wind filled the earth. It crawled through the forests of the lands, tearing through withering leaves and shrubbery. It carried on from the forests of the valleys and upwards into the mountains. Rock stirred and snow dispersed; howls sounded off through the night. In the thoughts and visions of the old draconic creatures of the world a darkness sets in place within their complex minds. This darkness covered all of their thoughts, their visions, the sounds that filled their minds. It was this darkness that brought forth the whispers of old. Old whispers of the high draconic and the ancestors that have graced the world before those who linger on it now. Whispers of the fallen dragaars and drakes, whispers of their fallen kin. No words were decipherable, yet they persisted. Fighting against one another for a place in the mind of the nephilim they grew muddy and crazed. “Awaken” This singular word broke through all. This singular word awoke the nephilim upon a dream - a vision. Laying flat in the sky above the world, they faced the infinite stars before them. They felt visible and seen by the God’s above. Their prying eyes digging into their feeble physical natures, a sense of insecurity running rampantly through their form. It was here they were displayed before all that they hid from. It was also here that they began to fall. Like a film, they descended slowly through the moonlight-covered clouds, helpless as they flailed in the winds to their descent on the world that remained below. Few torchlights from the nations of the world broke through the black skies of night. The marching armies and their torchlights danced through this as they traveled below. Though beautiful the world might have appeared, the nephilim fell closer and closer to it. So high above all that the world below could have fit into their hand, yet it would be the world that they sought to grasp that would soon kill them upon landing. Panic set into the mind of the nephilim, the inevitable physical death that they have experienced many times before felt different this time - severe, everlasting. An impending doom that they could not prevent set in on their thoughts. Some take this inevitable end as graceful, though this felt far from such. This terror persisted in their minds as they grew closer, and closer to the grounds. Like a falling comet their descent painted the sky as embers of dragon’s flame trailed behind them. This descent was beautiful to those on the ground as if a falling star had blessed their very wishes for the night. The nephilim fell closer, and closer yet again. The winds slowed and the embers failed to flicker as the cold earth embraced the form of the flailing creature - silence. A painful tearing is felt upon your back. Your scales being pierced and separated as scorching blood began to run down your boney backside. Your back was lifted from the surface you lay upon, something grew painfully behind your form propelling you upwards. Scratching sounds came from behind as the pain continued, though a new sensation occurred. You felt limbs sprawling outwards from your back - tattered wings shrouding your visage now as you stepped forwards. A voice called out… “In the silent embrace of the cold earth, your descent concludes not with a blessing but a merciless transformation. These wings are not marks of rebirth, but harbingers of a brutal metamorphosis. 'Awaken,' not to a world of grace, but to a reality where the fallen stars leave scars upon the earth, and the echoes of your kin linger as a haunting reminder of the cost of ascension.” Spoiler This prophecy is only available to Nephilim who have reached the age of 12 OOC weeks and have taken on the tattered wings physical trait. 9 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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