[!] Grand and marvelous
are the contents of
the eldest library,
and yet
for all the virtue within,
insanity looms in great quantities,
in a perverted equilibrium.
‘Aheral who had come
to Silver City not so long ago,
whose mind was far
from keenest, and yet whose heart
beat strong for both
his peers and elders,
bore a perseverance great..
His struggle to be of aid to the
elven militia was to no avail,
and so, despondent,
he had delved
into the farthest depths
of the great pool of knowledge
that have accumulated
in the Silver State over a millenia.
The knowledge was consumed,
like a sponge devours water.
Word by word,
row by row,
book by book…
Much of lore and history
was gorged down
by the ravenous mind.
And yet there was a line.
A limit that he shouldn’t have crossed.
By and by, and the privy
strings of text and tales
of foregone age obtruded him all round.
From envy, a scorn was born, and thence hatred and malice.
Lunacy encroached.
Day by day it waxed,
until became unbearable;
the endless well of spite had to burst,
and so in an attempt to unshackle himself,
to rid of those bonds,
the ‘aheral ventured to
one of the most prominent
once-rivals of Haelun’or.
Along his route,
a peer with an endeavour
of similitude was encountered.
And together they marched
and assailed the city of marble.
Celia’nor.
The approach was swift.
The unexpected ally of
camaraderie was of a powerful foe,
contrary to the elf.
Blinded by his hubris and avarice,
strike after strike, move after move,
his failure became eminent and inevitable.
A shield,
where once an insignia
of his hometown could
be gleaned now lay in debris.
His own sword cloven in two pieces.
One in dirt on the ground,
and the other - the one still attached to the hilt,
in his own neck.
A puddle of blood cradled his limp body;
his cadaver.
Madness claimed not only his mind, but both body and soul.