The An-Gho | The World Belongs to the Mad

[Jentos 9422]

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

A black hand reached into the fires, its claws strained against the lashing tendrils of gold, reaching into them, until softly it pulled at one, reached it out from the kiln and read the length of flame. Claws protruded into it, reached, plumbed into the folds of that single flaming wick among a thousand others, and plied its every form. 

 

A dark maw neared it, lips parted into white, sharp teeth - revealing an illuminated throat, as if lit open by a kiln. Slowly, it droned out words; “Idriz uz-uzzur zhak oth.” The words hung in the air, rang against the many chimes of the room. The flame flickered, danced and swayed - sighed into his hand as the imparted spell bound into it – and for a moment, it seemed the quelling of the great fire-mountain upon which the shrine was built, stood, if imperceptibly - that much stronger. 

 

The black claw slid from the flaming, swaying, dancing boughs of the kiln - which parted from him like so many weeds from within the sea. 

 

The An-Gho rose up a hand to his his face, inhaled a sharp and deep breath as he cradled himself to his knees. 

 

The ash swayed at his feet, his robes seeping by their own life into the dead, the spells in-laid to the thick cloth sank deeper… A rose blossomed amidst the reduction of so much, of so many. Asioth, reduced to its ultimate component. A fire, brought to its ultimate culmination. He clutched a handful of the ash, rose it above his head and let it drift above his head in absolution. 

 

A curtain of gray fell over his gaze, he smothered it against his face, gasping –

 

His eyes were rise from the ash and to a small and innocuous set of doors. Rising amidst a dull cloud, the being slithered its way, prying open the doors with both of his hands. 

 

Dust floated in the room, illuminated by the soft light that rained from the ash-clouded sky above. Whispers filled the room. Haunting, hulking, bent figures of stone watched him and his every step. Draconic whispers cradled the air like a mother clutching her child. 

 

“Ahakai, idr! Iszh ko tuur?” The tall stone figure of Aulkhorian called to the An-Gho, dust seething from its calcified jaw, grinning madly. 

 

“Arak shah gyonkar!” he silenced his brother. 

 

He paced further, his bare, clawed feet - akin to a birds, parted into the ash, sinking. He felt a stranger, walking into his own court. The Nephilim were always the true danger - of all the servants of Azdromoth. They were the greatest boon and their greatest weakness. Nothing was so terrible as an unworthy Azdrazi - and nothing was so dangerous as an Azdrazi who simply did not care. The most worthless of them all were those who were freshly risen, complained about the state of affairs, spoke of better days, achieved nothing, and turned to stone – utterly forgotten. 

 

When a man’s worthy soul performed the act of their salvation, what would walk through that gate? They were the bodies, the slithering spirits - the pieces of an immortal idea, birthed to life through Knowledge Incarnate. They were the echoes of dragon, contained to what once was the body of a mortal man. How had Azdromoth done it? Only the madness of a black tyrant could have conjured such an idea, could have made one such as him… And yet it was utterly genius. It was a mad act, a divine and sacred folly… Dragur had earned himself death by the will of Aengulic Light for breathing life into mountains, Azdromoth had committed the sin of bleeding his own fire unto new children. And now, he had cast down his greatest enemy, the genocider of his people, laid low the killing-light of the Golden Lion, Xan - the Justice of Murder. And in it he had taken that mantle, the Order of the World, and he had made it into the duel shapes of Fate - the Eternal Will unchanging, the Law that was and would be - and Conviction, the dream of a will bound and interlinked to all others, and yet free by itself. 

 

He and his kind had seen to the ascension of a Daemon, what they called a god. A god of contradictions. 

 

The Third-Eye stared into the stone face of the Inquisitor Eternal, seated before him – the red light of the Uzothi Rune bleeding into the blank stone face of the ancient nephilim master. 

 

He lit incense before his brothers’ shrine. 

 

“I remember brother.” he said softly in common - at the fashion of his counterpart so long ago. 

 

“How you appraised the body that I would once become… You sought to understand the hate that animated it, but it was our Father who understood it best.” he paused. 

 

“For he chose the most hating out of all his children to guarantee his own divinity. But you knew this. You knew our Father was mad all along… How did you feel, when you learned that our Father was an insane monstrous serpent, a demi-god that had dreamt up the Asiothic path in a pit of sheer darkness wreathed in chains… Did it please you when you knew? I relished it, when it became evident… What thing can become such thing as a god… A madman, a madman or the worst of all the fools.”

 

There was utter silence in the room, the dust gently drifted. The An-Gho’s voice went on.

 

“What are we, men who dreamed of growing wings?”

 

 What are we before the weight of our own fire?

 

 Mere souls cannot grasp the truth of their own selves - can a god?”

 

The stone features of his brother stared in utter motionless silence. A soft smile seemed almost to have formed over the features of the Inquisitor Eternal. A mere trick of the light. 

 

That night, he dreamed of a Place, named Tor’Azdraeth. He dreamed of an endless chase, down endless corridors of grey hewn stone, after the elusive figure of Eresar… Only ever catching glimpses of the ancient sage as the other vanished down a corner. 

 

The morning light found the An-Gho cast in an embrace against Eluiothnear, his head rested against the stone form of his brother. 

 

His gaze has settled as he slowly broke his grasp over the stone form of his kin. His Eye burned, watchful of his every gaze, his every word, and yet - there was a soft determination in him, that the company of dreams had brought. 

 

And the day after, a blessing was delivered to the doorstep of Tor-Urldar. One of a rumbling mountain, waking. The next day, he would peer into the flames of the highest shrine, and he would ask them a question.

 

"Oh Father, do you hear me weep at last?"

 

@squakhawk

 

 

AZASH SAMN NAGNARIOTH,

 

DOMIUZ UBIL, GAZHARKHILIR GASH, RE’SIKIKAR,

 

AN-GHO AHAKAI’REN, TAUS, AZAAR, GUR, SHIIAZ!

 

AZDROMOTH; HVIN INTRAGAR

 

AZDROMOTH; HVIN UZ

 

AZDROMTOH; HVUN DRAMARZ

 

SHAH UZ’NATH KI’DOMI, VO KI’UBIL ZIFRANG SHARLAT HY-REZS

 

AZ’FA; AZ’VAH; AZ’YUR

 

AZ’SUMBAKAR, AZ’YMLAGAR, AZ’NAGRIOTH

 

IMBAKAR’AT, KIR’AT, YMLAGAR’AT

 

HZAK VAH’ETH ZAH SHARLAT.

 

 

Private letters arrived to many among the Nephilim, signed by the Third Eye

 

Maekar, Regent of the Tor, Ash-Knight 

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother, @Karim

 

Our recent crossings have been few and far between, if by poor habit of our times of sleep. But I must endeavour to restate my utter pleasure at having you. I say without a doubt that you are the best student I have ever had. Do not doubt yourself, if even for a moment. There is a gold in your eyes, like such a light. Never stop seeking, never stop searching for Asioth. I was reflecting on the Parable of Horen as written by Eresar, and I believe it is one of the few “laws” of the Asiothic path, if there is such a thing, for I say “law” with much distance. For Asioth rejects any certainty altogether. It is therefore difficult to make any assertion - why, even to say “I do not know” - is by itself certainty, and we can thereby not even know that we do not know anything. 

 

This posits that every belief of ours holds in it a terrible flaw, naturally. It even goes to defend (albeit poorly!) the thesis of Indilwen and her belief in bending Fate. And yet - our god is one of contradiction, fate and conviction! How could both be true? This is a fact we can put to words, but I believe can only be realized and apprehended by the soul through action. 

 

Let us only never look at the path, lest all should be lost. . . I hope we will have many more times for discussions on Asioth together. Every one of those is cherished by me, and I believe your soul can blossom a thousand times over. 

 

The earth shook, a murmur passed through the world… He is waking. 

 

The fire which burned the moment after is not the fire it is now, so is Asioth ever beyond our grasping hands. 

 

Inquisitor Elathion 

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother, @FlemishSupremacy

 

I never did learn much of your own Asioth - but I dare think yours is found less in the voice, in the writ, in the words. Yours is in the sword, in the act thereof. All things are ultimately dreamed, but not all can shape that same dream. Do not mind my riddling words, but I think you ought to come and share some Ur-Ba with me. Perhaps then you can convince me to wear armour instead of robes when we cast ourselves into some new darkness! 

 

One topic of interest that has come to mind is the proper training of our heralds and nephilim. I believe we are due to train in some capacity, and I think that the ante-chamber by the gate will do just fine for that purpose. I was wondering thereby if you had any ideas or might help in that regard. We need disciplined soldiers - after all! Lest, the Silverwoods may take us all in their shadow. 

 

I know you are in mourning. I ask, if you will permit, that we should speak together and honour the passed.

 

I burn incense to Nithrakor, may his power bless us all in the days to come. 

 

Immaculate Blade Ar’Yura

 

Spoiler

Dearest sister, @Java17

 

Dragon-risen, it has come to me that the heralds have grown too lax in their training - or moreso in the lack of it. I understand you, not unlike me, have grown increasingly busy with that administrative duty to the Eternal Gardens. 

 

Nonetheless I find it very important that the heralds should be given proper training. In the olden days we were harsher - crueler - only the strong were maintained. And it should be so. Likewise, heralds have been instructed to take on disciples - they are to be treated with great harshness which begets their rightful place among us. Remind them too that the unworthy Ordained must perform 100,000 years of paperwork in the lowest rung of the Gardens. 

 

Let us have tea together soon, there is much to discuss. The Consult must be rallied - it has been too long.

 

Ishirem Ar’Kaan 

 

Spoiler

[The letter is written entirely in draconic]

 

प्रिय भाई। लोग तुम्हें उतावला कहते हैं, पर मुझे नहीं लगता कि वे सही हैं। तुम एक मशीन हो। एक घातक हथौड़ा। तुम हमारे अमर उद्देश्य के परिपूर्ण सेवक हो।

 

कभी-कभी मैं सोचता हूँ कि क्या तुम समझते हो कि मैं तुमसे कितना प्यार करता हूँ? मैं हम सभी से प्यार करता हूँ, यह स्वाभाविक है, लेकिन तुम इतनी ऊँचाई तक पहुँच जाते हो - अपने क्रोध से एक सच्चे ड्रैगन का रूप धारण कर लेते हो। मैं एक ऐसे व्यक्ति को जानता था, जो तुमसे मिलता-जुलता था - लोग उसे मृत्यु का सौदागर कहते थे, लेकिन उससे अलग, तुम अमर हो।

 

तुम आग हो, अर'कान - इसीलिए तुम्हारा प्रहार सटीक होता है।

 

 

 

Chaplain Azmoldraeus 

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother, @Aehkaj

 

The heralds have grown lax, as of late. They need fear in their eyes, pain in their hearts. They take themselves about far too easily and even dare tread into the underhalls without permission. 

 

I have want for you to take up the administration of new oils and blessings. The heralds have been instructed to arm themselves, lack thy implements. A number of shrines are in the making - but likewise lack their blessing. I hope to one day see a shrine to every mountain-top on this realm, and many more sporting the armor of the Wardrom Nahl. It is our age, after all. 

 

The fires must be prayed over, Azdromoth is watching. Our Order, must be bathed in fire. We must go mad for it.

 

Truth is a fire, and in it we have found ourselves. 

 

Azyrioth

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother,

 

I have glimpsed you in a dream. I saw a scarlet monk possessed of a great and long blade that cut through the fabric of the world itself. You must seek the instructions of the Chaplain Azmoldraeus when you can, join his order and his profession - and if he cannot be found, find your own instruction. 

 

I have always imagined us as a group of warrior-monk-poets. We shear the form whence the soul is held, and yet perform our duties with the exactitude which spiritual perfect decrees - and in so doing see the inherent beauty behind every act, even the most bloody. This is a truth - and a form, which must be passed down to all of us. Tor’Urldar is a great monastery, from top to bottom. Under your scornful eye, I would see the heralds polish every bell endlessly. 

 

Be my champion in red.

 

Remember, Truth burns, and in your heart. 

 

Ithirnaktar 

 

Spoiler

Dearest sister, @Cepheid

 

Our shrines are lessened without thee. May your prayers fill our halls oncemore. Come and speak with me - we have much to discuss. We are a race of ages, and I wish dearly to see insight into your mind and aspirations.

 

Tor’Urldar lacks a proper temple, and I need the scrutiny of your ancient mind in developing a suitable place for the invocations of our King. Notably, that it, and the rest of our hold, should hold the images of the great past of our race, of whom few remain to tell the stories. You among them.  

 

All fires are one, it is why our Father’s gaze is so long. 

 

 

Qahnaarin

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother, 

 

Purpose is what all men die for. They make purpose of themselves, of their surroundings. Always so ready are they to make judgement of one another so that they should stand taller. I have made a ring for thee. I will give it to you, as sure as night follows day - but first, I have a little something to ask of you. I have met your herald, he has a mighty soul, if only it can grow. He needs training. I want you to build a shrine to Azdromoth with him on a tall peak. There, you will show him the meaning of power, and remind him just what it was that made us who we are. 

 

It also comes to me - if you see any libraries of interesting content, please let me, Maekar, or Ar’Kaan know. As you know, we seek Dragur, and we pay any price, and any act for such precious things.

 

I burn incense for you brother, and remember, Truth Burns.

 

 

Azektar

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother, @ferdaboy

 

The fire-jaw of the mountain shakes. Is destiny shining oncemore, or this omen lost to another force altogether? I cannot say… I was speaking with the Inquisitor Eternal last night, and I saw in his stone eyes the hidden fear and wonder that he held when he truly realized what Azdromoth was… But Azdromoth is no longer a body, now, now he is an idea. Isn’t it terrifying? I find it beautiful. 

 

Do not mind my riddling words. If you’d like to join at your convenience, we are planning an assault on the Silverwoods. The scar there seems to be abyssal in the origin, we fear the worst - an Old Lord of Xion, at the very least a wraith of wonderful power. It is said even the Radiant One, Mordring, feared such power that resided in that place. I gasp in pleasure at the thought of the concert of battle. There is Asioth, glistening golden, in that thing men dub war and conflict. 

 

I hope only that you will burn incense for our sake, we are risking corruption, but we hope to burn away what darkness we can before we are too late - it is the least we can do. 

 

Walk with Asioth, and heed this advice; remember the Parable of the Astrologer.

 

Arthonath

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother, @KBR

 

I recall our days in the old red city of Adria - before it was burnt by the mad knight. It was from you the creature known then as Gamling would be born. The days we spoke of Azdromoth, as a distant being – they are not so different to today. For the people are impatient - but they forget the victory won. And yet, trouble is never too far. Your words of wisdom would be priceless in this age - not counting your sword. 

 

I pray I will find the field of battle by your side, and ancient stories to grace the ears of our young heralds eager to prove themselves. 

 

May wings shroud you, and in their shadow the world be your embrace. 

 

Laurent

 

Spoiler

Dearest brother, @Halt

 

Come to me, for I have found thee a name. Come to us, for we would make war by your side. And with our flaming swords, bring new light unto the World. Come to us, champion of old, for your story is not yet writ, but it should find purchase in The Apotheosian, and be immortalized thusly. 

 

And in the fire we shall make, we will kindle a new dawn for men. 

 

Ausar

 

Spoiler

 

Dearest brother, @FoogThe2stnd

 

The company of our people has been most unrewarding to you. Nonetheless, my hand remains out-stretched, for the day you would clasp it. 

 

A blessing, on your heart, guardian of hope.

 

Ysivryn

 

Spoiler

Dearest sister and mistress of Mulnaar, @Gamma

 

I hope you are well on your side of the mountain. I just thought I would write to you and express my best wishes. I know you don’t quite like us (as much as it breaks my heart) or see eye to third-eye with me, but regardless - I think we come from the same source - only we shine a different angle from the same cut gem, and each our own distinctions. 

 

When I learned where you’d settled, I sent a pair of golden-ram wool slippers as a housewarming gift, but I fear they were lost on the way (that or the pigmy drake ate them). Oh well!

 

May wings shroud you, and all of Mulnaar too. 

 

Balthazar

 

Spoiler

Dear zeymah, @_Sug

 

War is our essence. Fire is our blood. Our skin is stone. Come to me, come and sing prayers before the shrine of our Father, let all hear our voices as one. And when the Darkness comes knocking at our gates, hideous and leering, let us sing such flames unto them, that their ashes be writ with our names, time and time again, with every new darkness that comes before our sight, and that our names be writ again and again - unto eternity, and cast to the wind.

 

May wings shroud thee.

 

Rumilith

 

Spoiler

Dear zeymah, @Deer__

 

I had not seen thee in our halls for some time, but I know your love for the Helwyr too. They are adjusting well and seem to enjoy our company, as troubling as it must seem for them. I would to have talk with thee, and discuss your path in the coming future. Our Order holds great potential - and I wish to unite us all under common goals - including your very own. I have yet to hear and to grasp the truth of thy soul - let me peer unto it.

 

Let us march and make real the Convictions of this earth, or be made stone trying.

 

Azilhessan

 

Spoiler

Dear and beloved brother, @kindEmperor

 

How I miss thee. I remember yet when you were regent. Much has come to pass, and much yet will occur. I can sense great things that will come upon us. And yet I could use thee - we could all use thee. Your wisdom was a boon to me and I would love to hear it once more - brave and bold and full of hope as it was. Your appearances, are a blessing to us all.

 

You were one of the first ever to join with me, and deep in your loyalties, and deserve your place in our annals, if you would lend thy story to paper and tablet,

 

May wings shroud you, and your fortunes grow.

 

Ahkri

 

Spoiler

Dear brother, @meowmaxer

 

I had not seen thee in some time. I pray that Fate has been most kind to you. If ever you should wander the ash-lands, our house is open for a cup of my tea.

 

I give thee my love, and pray thy fire burns ever hotter before the rising darkness.

 

Ylirim

 

Spoiler

Dear zeymah, @woozerly

 

Fire is an open door. All things come changed by it. The divisons of our time have passed that door - I would yearn for nothing else than to clasp thee for the coldness we had had in the past.

 

Irregardless of thy decision, I pass you blessing, and know Azdromoth watches over us all.

 

Intragar

 

Spoiler

Dear brother,

 

It has been long since I had seen thee, but I wished to extend my best wishes. I hope that your ventures have gone well, and that your fire burns brighter than ever. If ever you wished to discuss the nature of Asioth I would glad to have you over, you ever were one of the better students!

 

Fire is a fount one can drink from eternally, so is the soul truly unending.

 

Utorvioth

 

Spoiler

Dear brother,

 

If thou still wanders this earth, I would have thee over. I am writing a book. A book of all our dreams, all our accomplishments. And, if only you would come for a time, I would write down yours. That you should be known for as long as our race persists upon this cruel earth.

 

I give thee my love, I give thee my regards, may wings shroud thee.

 

 

 

 

 

[FlemishSupremacy 6115]

A Nephilim rose from his meditation. Roused from his mourning by the messenger, golden eyes scan the words, and golden armor is set in motion. He would seek out the An-Gho.

[Conqueror 424]

__

THE SKIES of Alemdrom frequently shutter and boom, the vapor of clouds never having time to coalesce... 

Except for the great plume of Smoke that rises from the Mont when the Consult meets, and when it is their Hour.

 

A single streak of Fire encircles the volcanic peninsula on the morn of each day,

The air hissing above as it is cut, and there is rolling thunder as that Fire surpasses sound.

 

An agent of the Third guards, as is his purpose. 

__

[The Tough Guy 4319]

Intragar, the slothful dragon finally rose from his large hoard of gold.

 

Atop it he lazed for decades at a time.

[Pallodium 3775]

Izel got no letter. :(

[frvma 1014]

[!] A letter singed by fire and dyed in the dust of soot and ash was thrown into the wind and by Fate did it reach the An-Gho. It's contents, written entirely in a scratchy High Draconic read as such:

 

Spoiler

"I care not for old divisions and old pains. The past is the past and the present is now. I do not hold ire in my heart for you. If you desire a meet with me then I will do such. If you desire written correspondence then I will do such. All you need to do is say the word." 

-Y