The Draconic Heir. DESTINY.

[kindEmperor 1020]

 

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLjgDDzH0SQ

 

 

Heir remade from Holy Ash of Tor-Azdroth.

Remade.

Reborn.

Destined purpose.

Destined Death, defiled; defied. 

 

Not once more, will it die. Not again shall it sunder, and cry, nor weep or fly ever so high, or again shall it fall until it dies. 

-The Regent

 

A luminous thread of ash with woven strings attached betwixt the Nephilim's crude talons had intricately hovered over the thrumming oval-shaped orb, its intensity boiling as it presence was shakable, nigh tangible even behind that prison-made-shell, those strands of ash waved against it, harmlessly webbing its shield-shelled form, as cinders of ash balanced upon the strings and blew across it.

 

The Nephilims jaw lightly dropped, hanging, balancing at the roots of amazement, constant awe smothered those sharp eyes, a constant reminder, a repeating cause that ushered sweet-iron duty. 

 

Words of a deep-draconic, impossible to understand, they were alien to even the ash and soil it stood upon, the fires themselves boomed with a mad ferocity as it sung their repeated song. 

 

♫Dearest mine kin. Chosen prince. Oh hear my words ♫

♫Taketh the winds, crack and shatter clouds and rest upon our hearts of fire♫

♫Like distant thunder you will sunder, upon our ears.♫

♫Chosen prince, I sing unto you like a sweet-melody will you be born♫

♫Saveth the king from his damnation, chosen hier be his blade♫

♫Thus it is decree, taketh thine titles- It thou devotion; duty to the empire.♫

 

♫ Chosen hier, the sky’s are yours too walk; tread the air- fly and defy the circumstances of our race. ♫

♫ The puissant prince will grow to unmatched heights reveling in the idea of power and knowledge. ♫

♫ Rival a mountain in all perspectives, oh Chosen prince I sing unto thee. - Lead us, througheth the burning path ♫

♫ To victory will you bring us, aid us to our final charge. - Those cowering pests shall sunder, crash and fall. The foundations topple upon the known world. ♫

♫ To victory our chains shall fall loose, then freedom is yet a blink away. ♫

♫ Heir of fire ♫

♫ Heir of trueborn flame ♫

♫ The Chosen Prince ♫ 

 

The Nephilim repeated that old poem which manifested from his lips at the peak of old tor-azdroth, at the summit laid the stone An-Gho, even in death his hums were heard throughout the melody, in complete sync, a mad dyad placed wonderfully together. The song was sung right after the battle between Morur’ei and Vothdrem, the death of Vothdrem, though perhaps deserved, secretly the Nephilim was burdened with a guilt, untold and remaining unknown he would savor the pain for the foe to face. 

 

Yet nothing came of it, the Nephilim had wondered was even repeating the same old song, appealing? No. Of course not.

 

Perhaps the Nephilim lacked understanding, perhaps it was that ignorance, blinded by his dragonic-pride, yet nevertheless, too much wisdom, too much guise did it have to shame itself under guilt. His idea of the orb was a bewildering mystery, he had only a complex variety of theories; some held sense, some had not- yet he was willing to take the chance, willing to sing any blasphemy, any sacrifice to see the odds. 

 

 

 

Tor-Praeth The coming Age of the Dragon.

Age of flame.

 

“Oh you cosmic wonder of creation, I wonder what mantle shall you bear? Who’s name you shall sing, a creature born in this age, to live in the next.” -Azlihessan as he splattered his blood upon a stone tablet, the very blood depicting words upon rock. 

 

“Where will you bring the flock of the Titan? I am sure it will be great heights, greater then what I could ever reach.” The Regent then uttered, after having the Age of Nephilim across Almaris bless the unlived-drake, unhatched, destiny waiting to be made living.

 

I yearn for the day, to be a second witness of a new ascension gift returned unto us, rightfully so, bare the mantle of re-made, made prince under the blood of Azdromoth Herald of the apocalyptic fate of those damned cretins in their wayward heavens. 

 

The day your roar beckons the call, the day this object spurns or toils with anything, something, will be a blessed day, a day where the age of dragonic-kind will no longer merely survive, it shall thrive.  

 

The pillars of the sky dismantled, as the heart of the sky is ripped out and its blood rains a terror that will shake them unthinkably so, they wait for their chance, yet we will them rid of every opportunity, we will reveal them for the cowards they are, their weaknesses exposed, then humiliated for that is their worth.

 

They feared my father before his days of birth- For even then, he peaked the heavens and mused at their decrepit flaws.

 

Dragur witnessed the amusement as your First foundation fell, now watch as this new-age comes and my father's prestige proceeds your own. 

 

Yet he already has, a thousand years ago- When Asioth was discovered, then re discovered, then recovered with a lax tongue, and a crooked pen. 

His sons 

His daughters

The heirs of his coming Empire of fire. 

 

………….

 

Cloudbreaker I await the day.

Service you owe; your duty will be your mantle. 

 

Spoiler

This is not public lol. (just a quick rp post written up too quick lulz nub care! - for some ancient item, perhaps older then me! hehe)