A Prayer Unto The Heavens

[FlemishSupremacy 6115]

A prayer unto the heavens

(Credit: Jules Tavernier)

 

A trio of figures found themselves up high, having made a perilous climb to the top of the volcano. The one in the lead kneeled by the edge of the crater, and the duo behind him soon followed.

A pang of loss was stuck in the foremost figure’s throat as he sought to speak, though he soon opened his mouth and spoke loudly unto the lava. 

“Ekess sia opsola, Azdromoth, ir di douta tepohaic confn ekess dolruth mojka. Vi Alashir. Vi chikohk sihe. Vi ‘jumoko’, lae jaci ornla relgr coi. si l'gra for jacida seoyl.”

 

The words echoed down the mountain, draconic speech audible to the foot of the mountain. The two heralds behind him repeated his words, their voices straining to keep up with a language that their throats were not built to speak. 

“Si relgr unto wux naeck, zyak batobot wux janik gewj, kagh ahfven wer seoyl di ir zyak xihuuliup de wer jilg di wer stecovat. Jaci tepohaic wapha mrith tyrskiilv, kagh zhina wer aurixtor donoap. Jaci tira ti wielg ekess wer siliti di stecovat cadilani, hefoc zyak throden di jacida kol. Ysik, jacida jahus vi tobor elamapha ekess trothi jacida treskri de wer steco, kagh ekess maulkir astahi. Tepohada jaci coanwor majaktor throdenilt tairais persvek nomeno treskri, jaci ornla surely tepoha xikdinan xihuuliup ekess xkhat ir di dout deevdrui."

 

The lead figure spoke, and the Heralds behind repeated again, the occasional cough of ash and blood escaping their lips. 

 

“Ibleuavi, si tor, draw jacida seoyl ekess wux zyak batobot jaci janik ehtah Asioth persvek wer gardens di luyos, ysik loupon drekim mere hrekim persvek wer designs di hesi wioti throdenilti lpuul. Si majak wux wer rasvim di hesi dryica maulkic, lae quilins di jacida nokglaur ekess hesi donoap.”

 

With those words, he revealed a Warlock’s grimoire, captured in one of the many battles against the servants, and then cast it into the crater. The book landed on a piece of floating rock, and promptly caught fire, as the rock and the book upon it slowly sunk beneath the bubbling lava. 

 

“Jacida ominak jahus Telemachus, kagh jaci jahus dout xihuuliup katima. petranas, troth jacida seoyl lae jaci saved lyriki de Nagnorioth.”

 

The lead figure fell silent after those words, his solemn gaze locked onto the lava below him. The grimoire had been fully consumed now. The others joined him for a moment of quiet contemplation, before leaving back down the way they came. 

Left alone now, the Inquisitor looked up, and spoke a few quiet words in high draconic, heard by no one except for his Father, if he was listening at all. 

 

Spoiler

@squakhawk @ReverseNebula @wowj @xo31

Translation to the prayer:

To my father, Azdromoth, one of yours has come to pass away. A herald. A cursed child. A ‘Jumoko’, as he would call it. I fear for his soul.

I call unto you today, so that you might intercede, and pluck the soul of one so worthy from the grasp of the demonic. He has lived with virtue, and walked the golden path. He did not fall to the slavery of demonic pacts, like so many of his kin. Instead, his was a life devoted to protecting his world from the demon, and to hunting them. Had he been afforded more time in this world, he would surely have proven worthy to become one of your sons. 

Humbly, I ask, draw his soul to you so that he might find Asioth in the Gardens of Fate, rather than being mere currency in the designs of our foes most foul. I offer you the spoils of our joined hunts, as proof of his dedication to our path.

His name was Telemachus, and he was your worthy servant. Please, save his soul as he saved others from damnation. 
 

 

 

[King_Kunuk 3022]

A Prayer and Offering

"Ash, it is what was, what has, and what will be for all," a Red Clad Monk said as he splayed to sit within an empty field. His eyes gleamed up towards the sky above in rapt attention. News of his brother's death had hit him hard as any other. Yet he was of the Adar sin Ylir-Salar, Order of the Ash Knights, and it was his duty to remember for the Ashes of the Dead.

 

"His soul was dark, King who Is, yet blossomed like a raging tempest of Fire. If you truly wish to aid us in overcoming our Doomed Fates, wise teacher, then send thy Warriors of Desolate Soot whom guard your Fated Grove to save Telemachus from the clutches of Hell he had worked hard to deny. Honour this Cursed One's Convictions as you honour all of us with our own."

 

The Ash Squire then used his dagger to draw forth blood from his palm. He splattered it upon an unlit pyre of wood before Draan was channeled through his body. Like a golden torch he stood before the small pyre burned with his offering to the Daemon of Fate.

 

"Let Fate be Denied and Fate be Changed"