[FATE] CLIPPED WINGS

[Pallodium 3775]

Spoiler

 

 

Within the villages of the northern frontier, another sickening howl pierced the clouds, the noise of chains impaling one after another within a wrought titan. A corrupt dragon, wrought and impaled downwards, pulled to the floor, chains reeling within. Their soul, once-infernal, had oncemore been reclaimed by the corrupt- by the infernal, through chains of flame and hellfire.

 

A missive, one common to many, had flooded the worlds. Flooded Aevos, by a litany of macabre creatures, from twisted bats and horrendous corrupt pygmy-drakes, it made it throughout- to all beings, all infernals, and most critically- all dragonkin. For another had fallen.

 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

 

Iconoclast of the Soul.

You have embraced the thrill.

 

•• ━━━ ••𒋝•• ━━━ ••

The Eye Sees

The Hand Acts

Might is Right

•• ━━━ ••𒋝•• ━━━ ••

 

You wandered the lands, proud that you shall vanquish me. Howled into the skies that you shall be the first to sever my flame, cull this war before it even began. Believed you could escape your past, that it was the destiny of the forsaken to be free. How veritable. You were forsaken, and I have freed you. For, such is FATE.

 

You challenged me in wrath, burned your sibling, harrowed her tavern in flames. You howled with fury, howled in anger and bitterness. You still fell, in the end- returned to your origin. Laelia- welcome back unto the halls you have forlorn, oncemore free- oncemore reborn. Eshonai smiles oncemore, in your return.

 

Dragonkin, of Aevos and beyond. Nephilim, drakes, and greater effigies. My writ is destiny, my words mandate, and thus the hells unite in this war of FATE. The weak die, the strong remain, and none need suffer ever again; through clipped wings, your kin await you, liberated from all. Your kith await you, reborn through pyres anew.

 

Dragonkin.

Fated of the realms.

Embrace the thrill.

 

KRODHĀ

 

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[Java17 2216]

A variety of figures stood across dancing flames, snow giving way to bark, and then flame. All in the upper-north.

 

 

"So called honor, she insisted to indulge the impure with purity."

A dragonkin spoke to one of her well-known brethren, her eyes bearing disappointment more often than rage.

"A lesson in anguish."

[RedeemedAidan 1125]

A Herald’s face, which was riddled with joy at the restoration of one, abruptly grew grim at the notice of the corruption of another. “One rises and another falls, the astray is restored and the righteous stolen away. . .” said Herald then journeyed off to his quarters, smitten and stricken with grief.

 

[Frostdrop1 1843]

A four-horned devil sat in the aftermath, basked is the glory of The Thrill and the Dread that pushed him to action. His mind flashed with images of blackened ichor - his vision blinded by white as malflame seared his very soul - his mouth ran with rivers of saltwater. Gargled, strangled he was under the weight of it all. There was hope, once. Not once had he turned traitor to those he loved now, but twice. Once a mere agreeance; now an act of violence. Lost was the love of one father; lost was the security of another; lost was the illusion of control; lost was the trust in people; lost was the hope to break fate. Lost was everything.

Cursed, alienated, neglected, drugged, carved, poisoned, burned, maimed, tricked, drowned, manipulated. Betrayed.

And so does betrayal beget betrayal as that felled dragonkin shrieked at him in its need of violence.

All his heart did was fester.

[ivery 590]

Distantly, Deia can hear the screams of her children echo outside, held back by other onlookers. The wooden walls around her splinter and crash onto the floor, blocking possible exits from the all-consuming inferno. She smells burnt hair and skin through lungs full of smoke - her own - and though she is weak she tries to escape. She tries, but her skin is scorched and she is so tired.

 

She wakes to the guttural roar of a dragon. There are footsteps of something approaching, past the other slumped bodies of her friends. The arms that lift her are covered in blighted scales, but they are gentle. They cradle her head and her legs, avoiding her wounded back like one wrong touch might shatter its coveted treasure.

 

"Deia," she thinks she hears the miasma around them whisper. "Your sister has returned."

 

The thing holding her snarls like a beast, but she relaxes anyway. Her sister has returned. When her mind is pulled to darkness again, she feels safe.

 

 

[Suzzie 866]

Back in Redmont, the missive reached a certain Herald in her study. A single eye poured over the letter, her gaze growing narrower with each line.

 

In a rare display of outward anger, she shred the paper and reduced it to ash, leaving nothing left.

 

”I foretold that this would happen, warned you, and yet you set forth anyway. All because you wanted to be a hero. And look where it landed you, I am left to clean up your mess.”
 

And so she sent out a missive of her own to that of the rest, one of rallying. After all, there was work to be done.

 

She would not accept this FATE.

[Holyland 3650]

The eyes of an anguished one turn away. He who witnesses sight within his own blindness; verily, do his eyes close to the cruelty of this irony.

 

Still, does a tribesman question, in ways of prophets alike.

 

"Professer of freedom, o Laelia. Is this the freedom you sought?"

 

 

Still, then, does he bring his hands together - weeping, as though his eyes might.

 

"They who claim themselves free know not the weight of their chains."

 

And so, he prays for a woman most forlorn; in return, he is met with a silence most blessed.

[Karina 1879]

Somewhere, a whetstone came to be dragged across misting steel. A warriors practice, and medication. Some blistering gutful of hate boiled in his chest. Corruption borne of this manner, he had seen. He remembered. 

Sorrel wasn't going to let them languish in this tepid state. They were needed for far greater things. They were a key, a weapon, an ally. Salvation had shed across their form before, burning away the rotting muscle. As he came to rise, the same promise was made once more. 

They would not keep her in chains, long.

[Gamma 812]

A low rumble echoed deep within the depths of the temple ontop of a sand-covered arch, followed by silence after. Purification was to be preformed, no matter the cost.

[winterblessing 1800]

Cliffside meditation was disturbed by a low stirring deep within the monastery. Though she had cast out rage a long time ago, Myleres could feel an inkling brew within her core. A gritting of teeth was met alongside hushed conversation -- a promise soon vowed. Purification was inevitable.

[Rig 17579]

4 hours ago, Gamma said:

A low rumble echoed deep within the depths of the temple ontop of a sand-covered arch, followed by silence after. Purification was to be preformed, no matter the cost.

 

For the first time in many years, something stirs from its slumber deep beneath Mulnar.

[Schneebo 1593]

Cruelty, but it will always be her fate.

The farfolk heard the tears of that familiar elf spatter onto the floor of that quiet home as he worked on a set of jewels after the evening’s events with that one he ‘fondly’ knew as Laelia.

“You knew it would come to this, dearest. You waste your tears,” he called out to her as he seemed unbothered by the woman’s state.

“I know. I just wish things could be different,” she responded as her wounds were tended to.

“And yet they are ever the same. Those who cross my path are intertwined with my fate. She will be in the Hells among my legions as I foretold her.”

And yet, despite these cold words, there was a certain tinge of forgiveness in his heart for Laelia, the Betrayer. Perhaps, in this form, she could be around forever with her true family - us wretched followers of the Black Faith.