A Shattered Moon

[Aislin 4354]

Here is some shitty lore I wrote for a server once.

 

Time is all that is constant in this world. The eternal dance between the rising Moon and the setting Sun has always been the sole indicator of Time, this dance being the first and truest way for sentient beings to decypher Time’s flow. Though they may forever be ungraspable to one another, the Sun and the Moon may catch a glimpse of one another at dawn or dusk, the mark of a fresh day or night. Rivers bend themselves in new ways, forests grow themselves new trees, and societies raise themselves up and tear each other down, but this eternal dance has always been.

 

Yet eternity is not forever, greater forces came to say, as they robbed the Sun of its Moon in a hauntingly beautiful display of destruction. For the beings of the lands below, it was but a typical night. The Moon’s smile illuminated their plights in the dark, their eyes fixed upon their own matters. But when their gaze was fixed upon the night sky, no smiles were to be shared that night, nor for many nights more. Thalos’ inhabitants knew not what was coming, but feared the force of which it would come.

 

 

The Dagrim were the first to realize Thalos’ fate. A short, stocky and bearded people that resided amongst the lush forests of Thalos, they began to notice the vegetation beneath their boots beginning to lose the vivid tint of green and auburn that was so typical of their woods. Ogrin Greenbeard, the Chieftain of the Greenbeard clan, ran his lumpy fingers through his thick, bushy and long beard as he pondered what the reports of the woods beginning to wither meant. Ogrin sent the tallest and lankiest Dagrim up the trees to reach the top of the forest. Upon his return, what he reported to Ogrin was only grim news; the canopy of the woods had shriveled and turned gray, the very life seemingly sapped from them by the oncoming cold. The Chief furrowed his brow for a moment, then ordered his people to pack their things and evacuate. Ogrin mounted his miniature donkey, and rode away out of the woods with his best riders, in the direction of Sharengate.

 

 

Whilst the Greenbeards rode through the lands, they witnessed the arrival of the Dark Winter. Lush grass began to wither and die, leaves from atop the tallest trees were falling, lakes were being littered by the corpses of fish, and eventually snow began to fall. When they reached the gates of Sharengate, the capital city of the Humans, they were greeted by its King. King Retley Springmane had never laid his eyes upon a Dagrim with as strong a build and as grand a beard as this one. Ogrin Greenbeard wasted no time with formalities and returned King Retley’s greeting with a warning: the world as they knew it was to be cold and uninhabitable. Confusion was what first arose from Retley, as the Sun still shone brightly above them, their crops grew tall and yielded well, and their vegetation was healthy and vibrant in color, as per usual. King Retley escorted his Dagrim guest around his lands briefly, allowing the messenger to observe the surroundings. Upon touring the mountains, Greenbeard took note of the vents in the side of the mountains. King Springmane explained that beneath their grand city was a lake of scalding lava, and that these vents led to it. After but a few short hours, the Dagrim riders had left just as abruptly as they came, with Ogrin leaving the Humans with but one thing to say:

 

“King Springmane, your city is safe. Upon our travels here, I witnessed the slow death of the land that we rode upon, yet your land is nigh untarnished. Your majesty, your lands are an oasis in the approaching wintry desert that is soon to be Thalos. You must open your gates to all, or they will certainly perish in the Dark Winter that approaches.”

 

Retley Springmane watched his Dagrim guests leave his grand walls, then wasted no time. He stormed down to the ravenry and ordered that a message be sent to every settlement of Thalos, detailing that any who fear the aftermath of the “Shattered Moon” may take refuge in his city, Sharengate.

 

 

“Perhaps you should stop to reconsider, your majesty,” The Akari whispered into King Springmane’s ear, his tone of voice tentative. Drelthos was King Retley Springmane’s closest advisor and Viceroy, his second-in-command. The Akari advisor always stood at King Retley's side, tall and lanky as any other Akari, their strength not lying in swordsmanship or agility, but in their intellectual prowess and spirituality. “Not even I could predict what kind of... delinquents... our gates would be opened to, sire.” King Springmane grunted and shoved past his Viceroy, not wanting to hear the logical side this time. He knew what was right, and he knew what needed to be done. Civilization as they knew it would not fall because of his fears and insecurities.

 

A fortnight later, fourteen days past, King Retley Springmane ordered the gates shut. Upon the walls, Sharengate’s protectors stared out unto the frozen wasteland that lined the horizon, a wasteland that they had been fortunate to be spared from. “For now, at least,” Retley thought to himself as he watched the vicious hail storms batter the icy glaciers that were once the lush nature of Thalos. Behind the refuge of the walls, far too many Humans, Dagrim and Akari lined the streets and the homes of others. Overpopulation would be a problem in the years to come, King Retley had realized. Crops would not grow in the cold, and the reserves of the city could only last this starving, freezing mob so long. Fishermen lined the coast, dropping their lines deep beneath the ice, fishing all they could. It would be fish that would have to sustain Sharengate in the future. As long as the glaciers and the hailstorms did not reach the city, they would live on. Ogrin reassured him at every turn that they were indeed safe from the most dire of threats, and that not all hope was lost. King Retley Springmane had little faith, though, for nothing made sense in this world anymore, not even the sensible words of Drelthos.

 

Decades passed, and there was no shining ray of hope in sight. The days were cold, the streets lined with burning corpses, and the people huddled around their measly fires, sustained only by partly cooked fish. Firewood was in short supply, as was everything else, and most of the day was spent trying to stay warm by whatever means necessary. Being caged took its toll, however, and many began to go mad, King Retley Springmane not free of this ailment. After living the duration of his life knowing only absolute power, losing it all crippled his mind. Seeing his city begin to crumble, his people perish and having no means to alter this, he slowly went mad over the years. Paranoia began to set in, and he unleashed the city guard upon select members of his dying city, labeling them as traitors and enemies to their survival. As a result of these sporadic and seemingly random abductions and executions, the people began to turn on themselves. Bloodshed, lynchings and arson ran rampant in the streets; not even the city guard could bring a stop to this brutish violence. It took the King Retley's son, a young Prince who was charming, charismatic and adored by the people, Everson Springmane, bringing the people the truth of his own father’s madness to quell the chaos. With peace in Sharengate achieved, Everson stormed the throne room with his personal guard and abdicated his father from the throne. History does not tell the details on what transpired that night, but King Retley Springmane was yet to be seen again. His son mentioned him living out his days in his room, mad and alone, but none live to remember it, nor does any text confirm or deny this.

 

Time’s tale tells of King Everson Springmane serving as a fair, intelligent and honorable King. Sharengate’s significantly smaller populace was assigned tasks to better their city and way of life. The walls were maintained to the best of the city’s ability, the damage of the riots were repaired, whilst some homes were torn down for firewood. Supplies were rationed effectively, the guard force was trained rigorously and fishermen were constantly being trained and were always at work. Some of the tougher and more generous Dagrim even allowed their beards to be trimmed, for coats, blankets and insulation. Life may not have been ideal, as they now lived trapped, their city surrounded by a cruel tundra above, but the people were as happy as they could be in such a world. Many decades passed, and their way of life remained similar to when their King took power. When King Everson Springmane passed away in the comfort of a deathbed surrounded by his family and friends, it was then that the Kingdom had experienced true melancholy, a first in a very long time. Their spirits remained high for their new King, Frederick Springmane, hoping his extraordinary father would have taught Frederick his ways.

 

Though catastrophe was not found during King Frederick Springmane’s reign, not much was achieved either. After cowering in their city for years, and no sign of the Dark Winter relenting, the people began to grow antsy and impatient. Though several generations had passed since the gates were closed, the current generation wanted to see change. They did not wish to suffer the fate of their ancestors, living with no promise of anything but the promise of death itself. Despite Everson Springmane’s excellent policies still being in place, the populace desired more. A handful of Dagrim and Humans even attempted a rebellion at one point, with a handful of Akari masterminding the uprising, but King Frederick and his city guard crushed this rebellion with ease. After this, Sharengate’s complaints fell silent, the people gaining a new respect for their new leader, but always comparing him to his father’s unparalleled career as a monarch.

 

 

138 years past, four generations later, King Frederick Springmane stepped out onto the streets, the crowd amassing in front of him. He looked down at this relatively small crowd, imagining how large the mob must have been when the gates were first closed. The faces of his people were all pointed towards him, awaiting his word. There was little expression painted across their faces, with most days resulting in the King delivering uninteresting updates and hollow reassurance. Today was not one of those days, he thought to himself as he beamed proudly.

 

“My people! For generations, this city has lived a monotonous and unpromising life, one of perpetual waiting and mere survival. My grandfather opened the gates to our ancestors, and my father saved them from damnation and certain extinction. My ancestors will always be remembered as great men for this, but in my old age I have worried that I would die and fade into obscurity, a name upon a long list of Kings who merely kept this city alive, unable to combat the wintry fate we were condemned to so many years ago. But lo behold, this is not to be. For today, change has finally come. Dagrim scouts were sent out beyond the walls in secrecy last night, and today they have returned bearing the first good news in generations. The ice has begun to retreat, and show no signs of regressing back towards us.”

 

 

King Frederick Springmane laughed a hearty laugh as the sun broke the horizon and beamed upon his city.

 

“Today marks a new dawn in the chapter of our lives. This day shall be remembered as the day the gates were finally opened.”

 

[Draeris 3124]

This story made me throw my novel away.. Dammit Aislin!

 

Itz gut though.

[Lark 2227]

My money, take all of it.

[Rig 17581]

That was. . . Great. Good job.

[Friendly Guy 223]

Where is the drop?

:3 Well done aislin really well written

[Valon (Yokey) 168]

10/10 would read again

[Aislin 4354]

D'aw thanks guys.

[Navin_ 99]

Aready read it :P

[Knox213 10]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.