[Prophecy] Night Augury

[Zarsies 6115]

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

 

You slip into the snug dark of sleep or a hypnagogic trance and your mind’s eye drifts in and away to distant fathoms. This void is bespeckled with twinkling sands, the dim glow of stars, and their light is consumed as you plunge into a pit. The vision clouds with black vapors, the stringy haze of lifeforce, and through its thin threads you glimpse fragments and flashes of an omen.

Mangled time-gnawed corpses bend out from under rubble and ash while twilit phantoms leak from rough hewn rock and broken skeletal remains. The dead stir in this pit, its walls mountains and its valley abyssal. They whisper in their horrid limp tongue of crackles and hisses which carry on the black winds in moans, their cries slithering through abounding ruins of ancient Aegis. Your perspective flies over crumbs of civilization until the ground disappears at a black beach. Beyond, a vast sea of oil. The dead sing and their quiet chorus ripples past you.

 

A midnight ocean. Frothing. Ripples.

Gurlozgvor daz’tertha. Xion’sek hakav urk’infinst.

“Heaven floods. Xion’s drowned memorial.” 

 

A thin winged frame looms below the surface.

Al’Sanz Grum gurtabrclon ku’sek daz’lutzuta garnak.

“The King Beneath doffs his mourning sartorial.”

Clear waters lap around a distant isle. Below, cries.

Al’dazhkaev kfurl daz’khae, grum nal’ve twezek urk’qaril

“The living guild wails, muted under her Third Bell.”

Hellish and undead figures assemble in shadow.

Du’urkthykzan daz’overrdalk garzu. Al’Fiktmerinek kknotoskhae.

“A horned host rises. The Jailor’s deathknell.”

 

Black limbs amass into a twitching specter.

Dunru ot’zubrikas. Al’Kfurl’sek shai, urk’lakzut.

“End of an era. The Synod’s work, complete.”

 

A crown. A staff. A throne. A seed.

Basul pelosr undere skutur. Al’durngo-lott gathan.

“Soul and bone coalesce. The blackest feat.”

 

The omen repeats as the dead sing its praises. Their chorus melts away as shadow consumes all sensation and you lazily drift back to consciousness. What lingers? Aegis, the harping dead, their King Beneath, its horned host, or the spirit weeping under the sea? Perhaps puzzled, perhaps inspired, the prophecy leaves you nonetheless burdened with a glimpse of occult knowledge. 

[christman 2346]

The stale air swirled about two green stones as a song shook their little cave. It pleaded, 

"Balmak, vokarl a, a'ziltak. Vatukay re'narg'badurz? Vatukay re'narg'badurz?"

[rathat 660]

Heavy breathing escaped the auspex, cracked skin of ash returning to normalcy as they awoke from their dream amidst desolate sands.
"'Al’Kfurl’sek shai, urk’lakzut...'" They echoed, cradling their head as they looked up to the infinite sea of stars. "Where do we go from here?"

 

Spoiler

 

[meowmaxer 519]

Something roused from slumber, a sliver of faith once lost to it; ignited. 

[satinkira 6270]

Spoiler

 

[NLThomas 1088]

Within his shadow darkened room, the mumblings of the scholar echo out betwixt walls of cold pale white stone, for he could not stand the silence. Finally, the mumblings cease and he falls into the cold embrace of the night. As many nights before, so too did this one come with visions and dreams. 

 

Falling deep into that black pit the golden eyes shoot open, turning and shifting around only to find those corpses left to eternally stir and the fallen ruins that plagued the abyss. The chanting of the dead filled the elf at first with dread but quickly he found a familiarity in that language all too well known to him. The chanting to him after some time turned into a irritating ringing noise. His heartbeat and breath picked up until suddenly, it all became quiet. The familiar silence and darkness of his chambers.

 

Silence was broken by a chanting. A chanting of his own. Echoing the foul language heard to himself.

[MunaZaldrizoti 5890]

Through the blackened night, within her drafty nursery tucked away inside of Castle Morteskvan, a babe no less than two begins to shriek and wail in her uneasy slumber, terrified by some unseen nightmare. Even those raiders encamped just down the mountain would hear the eerie tears of the child, chilling and knowing of things they could not fathom.

 

But truly, she could not comprehend a word of it. Barely having entered childhood, how could she? But she did see...and she did remember. A first vision, to haunt the youth for years to come.

 

Spoiler

@GMRO@ContestedSnow@Mady

 

[Morigung-oog 2591]

From beyond, a faithful stirred…

[Apotolofo 1451]

Somewhere in the world, a farseer slowly opens her eyes. The vision meant little to her- but for one detail.

 

The Crown.

[femurlord 2596]

"True Necromancy." A disembodied voice called out from a shadowy corridor, where only flakes of red were perceived in the low light.

[craneia 103]

A pallid shepherd wakes, rubbing blear from her eyes. Along the deck of a ship, she paces, repeating the words obsessively. As the last of them slip into the night, a sifted thought finds its way onto her tongue; Al’Kfurl’sek shai, urk’lakzut... davu badurz-thismi? What to do now?

[Karina 461]

Screaming. It always came with screaming. Countless nightmares burdened to her by the carved marks on her back. It had always been a curse, but rarely a blessing. As Sermi felt herself wake from one dream, only into another; the weight crushing on her shoulders further started to split the woman at the seems. 

Clawing at her face, she tried to commit the words to memory. Harsh, guttural tongue sputtering out in between hysteric laughs. Descendants, much like metal, had a bending point; and one of breaking. Perhaps it was coincidence, or yet further part of his grand design that she would be pushed to such lengths. 

Caught in between dream, nightmare, and prophecy; she awoke in a cold sweat, and immediately went to work turning this inspiration into written work. What did it all mean? Was there ever hope of an answer? 

[Omen Prince 392]

The Omen Prince dreams. In his dead man's sleep, he is accompanied by an ill and dormant thing which had made host of him in older days when he lived as a man. Put to rest when the Abyss once again laid claim to his soul, it stirred here, at this very moment, in the candle-lit cavern he made into his refuge. Dreams of bloodshed and hunger part like red curtains as the dormant thing within him whispered the Night Augury, and forced him to bear witness to this call that reaches few listeners. 

 

When it was done, he awoke without a start, and inside of his old and wretched form he felt the passing sensation of relief gained of a deep and nourishing breath without lungs, and the taste of familiarity without a tongue, and the reminiscence of the long dark past without cerebrum. He rose into a kneel and all of his bones at once creaked in complaint despite the malevolent strength put into them, and his armor groaned as its melted deformities bent to accommodate the new movement. From within his ribcage, he pulled out a long strip of cloth torn from an old red shroud, and used dead and crooked fingers to wrap it around his helmet and over where eyes once were. He looked down toward the ash-stained stone of the ground, and reached out to touch it and felt no sensation of its cold.

 

"What, still here?"
 

 

Edited February 13 by Omen Prince

[tadabug2000 3614]

Within the confines of Valdev, of a house she has not seen the outside of since her birth, a baby - not quite two yet, awakes with piercing wails. Little fingers extend outwards, searching for someone or something there in the darkness.

 

Her gaze fell upon something in the corner, empty to who all else would see it and yet, it seemingly calmed her. The childs gaze lingered, tears slowly calming. She stares, unblinkingly, into that corner for ages afterwards.

 

[Punished_Pup 1392]

A Wanderer already struggling to sleep awakens in terror from this vision once it pasts, her breathing quickens as tears stream down her features in cut off sobs, a book finds itself in hand, as she tortures her waking with the drawings she once made, something she found eerily familiar...

 

 

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