[Prophecy] [Player Event] An Approaching Night

[Sonybut7 530]

 

P R E F A C E

[This PROPHECY is accessible to all with the necessary FA, MA or CA that allows them to view Prophecy post..]

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

A CHILL RAN DOWN YOUR SPINE. COLD. DARK.

 

The sensation ECHOES throughout your body.

As if one had stepped into the deepest depths of the North.

Impossible to ignore, with it parted a sensation.

 DREAD, as if clawing from the pits of the Abyss, 

 

FEAR THE OLD DARK
 

꥟꥟﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌꥟꥟

 

꥟꥟﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌꥟꥟

 

AL’PE-ZIN-LIHP SNA’.

 

· · ─ ·𖦹· ─ · · “It feels wrong, Godric..” one could hear, a voice feminine in nature. Spoke to another, stood affront a ruined small keep. Deep within the marshes of Norland. The winds rustled in an eerie, unnatural tone. They were not alone. ‘Think what could rest within.’.    So did a manly tone respond. And the scene shifts, a great shadow clouds your mind. Clawing at your ears, were words spoken but unheard. Yet it felt ear screeching, as if nails were run along a chalk board. And thus you saw the depths within, clouded by darkness. A flayed woman, yet freshly bleeding. ‘Please! Don’t hurt me… I will do anything!’,    The man’s voice once more shot throughout. Yet unanswered it came, but a sickening crack, as a stench of blood filled thine nostrils. And once more did the scene shift. Now the man, Godric, could be seen hobbling outside. An arm broken, treading through the marsh, snow falling softly besides him.   -༄‘Please.’, -༄‘Let me live.’,  -༄‘I want to live.’,  -༄‘Please, God, or other.’,  -༄‘Let me reach safety.’. · · ─ ·𖦹· ─ · ·

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

AND SO ONE SEES A VILLAGE, RURAL, EAST OF THE NORLANDIC CAPITAL. ABOVE IT, A GREAT SHADOW. DARKNESS YET LOOMED.

The very forests churned beneath its weight, the weight of Oblivion,

The distant rattling of bones yet heard, the marching of Undeath. 

Within each step, one could feel the agony these ‘lived’ within.
Each stepped forth by an unseen hand. Hidden from view, hiding, sculking beneath the shadows..

-༄-

The Breaker of Dawn,

The Prophet of the Fifth Path,

 Urk-vyr'adalm

⎝And so it is decreed, by acts of ‘Undeath’, shall ‘Death’ be brought upon the coils of mortality.. ⎠

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

꥟꥟﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌꥟꥟

He shall dig His roots into the depths of the earth and purge it of its illness; and thus all Men shall be purged of their barbarous darkness and ruinous, divisive inflictions; becoming One.
He shall invoke the fire of unified Man, and cast it upon the followers of Gods, and thus banish their masters from the world we walk upon.
He shall take up the broken sword and forge it anew, and then lead men in a battle against the Gods that shall last half a millennium; where Light and Dark shall remain anchored as the battlefield acts as their churning border.

 

He shall be slighted by an unknown Final Sin, where He will call upon the name of the Demiurge before killing the Gods themselves, and thus blanketing All Things in primordial darkness; Calor Mors.

And then Men will take the Light of Gods and consume it, and then stand against the Void.

And so mortal kind was spoken upon,

Given the Four Fates.

 

AND SO YOU FIND YOURSELF WAKING ONCE MORE.

 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

 

A F T E R W O R D

[ Hey, I hope you had a fun read. If you’re interested, this is the start of my first Player Eventline. Do join the following discord:- https://discord.gg/2wU3A9G99V to obtain more information and sign up for it! AND SO IT SHALL BE! STAND AGAINST THE LONG DARK! RUIN!!!! ]

[CREDIT]
[Moumins]: Formatting

 

Edited December 1, 2025 by Sonybut7
Amended Prophecy - Removed mention of Norland Characters Seeing it.

[Cryothane 809]

✦ A RESTLESS NIGHT ✦
“Sleep does not take the watchful.”

 

---------------- [ ✦ ] ----------------

 

Ilse awoke with a start.

 

As the torchlights within the clinic came to embers, only offering light orange whispers. Barely enough to paint the wooded walls with their flickering strokes. And despite the darkness that swallowed the clinic in its deep night, she shifted the furs keeping her warmth from her shoulders as she swiftly stood. 

Every sense locked unto the quiet shape lying nearby.

 

Dragomir.

 

Still tucked within the medical bed he'd been placed in. 

 

A slow exhale left her lungs in some sort of relief. Yet paranoia raised her shoulders with shrill tenseness. Gazing to the ever open darkness of the clinic, those iced eyes would narrow. And remove the glaive from her back. Stood tall at the aisle entrance, for any further disturbance. As beneath the armor, a soft tremor formed.

 

It would be another sleepless night.

 

---------------- [ ✦ ] ----------------

[frant1c_xr 29]

Fenrick jolted awake, instinctively grabbing the ricasso of his greatsword, his heart pounding as he looked around.

As the inside of the makeshift tent came into view, the snowy breeze of the tundra whispered outside. He let go of his weapon and sighed in relief. Still in his tent—the one he had dug out and built—safely tucked away from any beast or monster that might wander past.
 

He leaned forward and took a quick peek outside through a small slit between the flaps of the tent’s entrance, jet-black pupils scanning the front view and its peripherals, before settling back down. Early morning. Not even sunrise. So much for a full night’s rest.
 

But what was that dream?  he wondered, his brows furrowing. It was so… vivid. Ominous. Deathly. Thinking about it again sent a chill down his spine, his senses climbing back to high alert. He has a bad feeling about this—one he couldn’t shake off.
 

He would definitely need to inquire at the Hearth Temple about the dream once he returned to the capital.
 

Settling into a meditative pose, hands resting on his lap, he closed his eyes. His breathing comes to a steady. He will release all this worry when he swings Vörðr later. The timing was as good as any.
 

But for now…

Back to his isolation training.

[LuckyD 141]

Relad had just been promoted to be a Guard. Guardsman of Norland - what a title. He never thought himself capible of such a thing.

 

His giddiness was nearly entirely smothered by exhaustion from some of his own training, blade slapping meekly against a wooden post vaguely shaped like a man. He was near-hopeless with a sword, pondering then to himself if he should use a hammer. The armor weighed heavier than what he had cobbled together himself, his movements felt slow, sluggish. He had to learn, he was an older brother. He had to get better, to make the world a good place for Revekka and Rori to sleep soundly at night.

 

As Relad fell so terribly hard into bed, sleep took him quickly, as did the terrible nightmares. At first, he expected he might once again see the Demon, the Enslaver of Man who so marked him with the terrible, pale yellow Malflame. Even after removal of the horrible burn those horrid dreams persisted.

 

But this was a reprieve, seemingly. Sadly, that reprieve was under an awful veneer of a terror just as real. When Relad awoke, flinging his pillow across the room, there was no terror in his heart, but anger.

 

He stood up, cursing and pacing about the room. His words fell like hammers upon bronze, his venom spit like acetone on paint.

 

"What did I do to offend you, Messenger? Offer you into my home? Fear you? Of course I fear you, I fear EVERYTHING. Every day!" He fumed, collapsing soon into a chair and allowing his head to fall into his palms that had made their way to his face.

 

His breath slowly turged from raggid panic to slow, deep breathing.

 

When would these dreams stop? He was going to wake them at this rate. Why did the messenger so first appear to him, surely the Allfather knew how unprepared he was? Was it all a test? Had he failed? Would he know if he failed?

 

His hands fell to his hips, his head back as he leaned to look at the ceiling.

 

"...what would you have done, Lorenna?" He asked to no one listening, eyes lulling to the portrait on the wall. Why she had to die and he had gotten to live was beyond his knowing. Even now, years later there was so little he had accomplished. Her life held so much more value than his own had.

 

"I am not ready for this, Allfather." He finally admitted, his once-trembling hands loose at his sides. "A thousand lifetimes will not prepare me, but I- I will fight. Not for you, for them. I have not earned your gaze, I know. I would think there are others better fit for it." Came the muttered words from his dry lips, gazing at the ceiling further yet still. He half expected the candle at the nightstand to go out. Another sin he did not know he had comitted. "I know I've no right to ask anything of you, but I would beg that you give those worthy the strength to stop the dark. I do not expect to be among them, Allfather. If that being of ash was truly your messenger, then I will take any punishment you deem fitting."

 

Of course, nothing came. Not tonight. Perhaps not today. Perhaps even not this year. The truth was that Relad was a simple man trying to be more than he was, punishing himself for inadequacy that was entirely his own fault.

 

But Relad has never been a learned man. Not a wise man. Not a patient man. Why, barely a man.

 

So he sat there, insignificant and waiting for something to take his fear of the dark away from him.

 

Invite the messenger of your god to dinner, survive the attack of a Demon. None of it changes who you are, Relad Orison.

 

You took the coin from selling the farm and left your siblings to fend for themselves. Housing them now does not change that, does it? It does not erase your failings.

 

The thoughts grow louder, still. The ember flickers in the winds of doubt until morning.

 

Work time comes again. A distraction from himself. An excuse to feel like he had meaning.

 

Sins cannot be so easily burned away by toil.

 

The dream leaves another impression on the impressionable.

 

Relad finds his gaze wandering East throughout the day.

 

Dread.

 

Longing.

 

Fear.

 

Uncertainty. 

 

He was a man whose best had not been enough.

 

He needs to be enough, this time.

 

He must.

 

Hope.

 

Resolution.

 

Responsibility. 

 

Devotion.

 

 

These will be his blade and shield.

 

The Dark cannot smother his Will. If his life leads to nothing else, it will not be spent to benefit the evil who lusts for it.

 

Tend the cattle.

 

Pull the weeds.

 

Swing at the post.

 

Dream of horrors.

 

Repeat.

Edited December 1, 2025 by LuckyD

[Iulius 206]

It was a peaceful night in the capital city of the Kingdom, the wind gently carrying the rustling of the leaves. The sleeping form of the Thegn laid to the side of his wife, his expression calm despite the worries of the past days. Then his brows furrowed, and the prophecy came. His eyes opened, but there was no terror in them. His muscles were tense, his blood pulsing in his veins. They had harmed his son, causing a fury that even the very moon couldn't quench. He silently stood then, taking his blade to sharpen.

 

A thought dominated his mind:

 

"I will kill them all"

 

Edited December 1, 2025 by Iulius

[Smoketheknight 285]

It was a peaceful, silent night at Grenzstadt. The whistling wind hitting the pine needles and the sounds of the fire heating up the cabin was all it could be heard

 

Tazusko woke up in a cold sweat. He couldn't quite understand what had just witnessed in his dream, despite this he knew something was wrong.

 

"GOLLY FATHER OF THE FLAME!!!"

 

He raised up, looking after his daughter. Alice was still in bed, the scream didn't seem to wake her up, as she still slept peacefully, nothing out of the ordinary. Tazusko was hiperventilating but soon he was able to calm himself. 

 

"What in the darn hells was that all about. . ." He mutters to himself as he returned back to bed. 

 

He couldn't sleep all night, so he wielded his excessively big warhammer and conducted his daily training outside. Swinging it over and over without rest. He was a soldier, a guardsman for the Kingdom of Norland and he would follow his duty either if those dreams were premonitions for something greater or not.

 

Because his flame burns brighter than never before.

Edited December 1, 2025 by Smoketheknight

[prophetisms 982]

In an abode beneath the gnarled mangroves of Norland, Jorena wrestled against her blankets as she woke abruptly. Her hands patted and pinched at herself, as if testing whether her senses deceived her. Surely, they did not. 

 

Sat in bed, Jorena turned her gaze towards the glaive that rested against the walls of her room. Although uncertainty knitted her brows upwards, her spirit bore a newfound resolve. Now seemed no better time to put her beliefs into practice. 

It was time to fight.

[Metamancy 1763]

DEEP IN A PLACE WHERE LIGHT DID NOT SHINE,

 

Mazgûl, the Black Cleaver, and Servant of the Master, stirred.

A deep, deathly breath was drawn in.

A cold, lifeless exhale was drawn out.

Peace.

There was peace.

And there would be peace, for all to see.

 

 

 

[Frawlic 1602]

Dima was not unfamiliar with nightmares, but the way this one had crept into her lack of consciousness stirred something that had long been foreign to her. Fear poured from her tongue as she rose in her sheets, clutching a hand at the barren space beside her while misty eyes peered into the darkness beyond those shuttered windows. She listened for a time to the heartbeat in her ears, wondering now if it was her own she heard, or something else.

Before returning to her slumber, the window was left open so the chill would be real, not the odd sensation that now overwhelmed her.

. . .

Just down the road, a young girl lay wide awake in her bed, hands clutched over her mouth and eyes wide in terror. The sounds, the colors, even the smell dared to taunt her. A distant memory of metal clanging and the stench of death reeking afterwards was a reminder that one day she may have to defend herself. Pika's horrified gaze settled on the axe that lay atop her pile of pillows, and something told her it would not be long before it was put to use.

[Morigung-oog 5697]

An ancient, once revered Lord and Herald stirred, their mind swimming with memories of the Sunless Sanctum.

 

"o' daz'ulde.."