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Events News Post #622

Insult Upon Injury

Written by: Anonymous
Date: Sunday, July 1st, 2018
Addressed to: Everyone


Silence reigned within the cold, dank chamber, deep in the depths of Anzari-tarin. The towering frame of Slith looked down upon the infinitesimal Ama-maalier, a sneer of contempt fixed upon his features.

"You promise much," the darkened utterance resounded after a long moment.

"The scope reflects the deed," the melodic tones of the Tsol language echoed in answer.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we cannot deliver to you what we offer."

"Why would you seek me out with this bargain?"

"Because you are the son of Niena'qamad. And because you are also the son of Ardael."

Blackened power sang within the confines of the enclosure, two burning, rage-filled eyes suddenly fixed upon the Fulcrum.

"You dare much, creature."

"Yes."

Empty seconds ticked by, the visage of Slith at last easing toward a thoughtful consideration.

"Very well, Tsol'teth. I accept."

- - -

He knelt before Them, the Garden's great Amphitheatre rising about him while mortals looked down in breathless anticipation. He had been here before, when Creation was young. He had seen it ever so briefly before that manifestly unjust exile from his home in the highest branches, around the Well.

Gods encircled him, Their faces cast from stone. He knew Gods. He had KILLED Gods. And They thought to judge him?! A crystalline jewel shone within his mind, knowledge protected and secrets safe. He knew what had been offered to him, even if They did not. He would have it, for better or worse, and with or without his father's approval.

His father. He remembered his first breath, he remembered their first breath, every moment of his life and the lives of his ancestors back to the beginning of time. For they were Aldar, and this was their gift. He remembered looking up into the face of his father. And he remembered seeing hope turn to sorrow, love to hate for what his life had cost. His mother had died to bring him into this world. His father would never forgive him for it. And to remember it had been his first and hardest lesson.

The Smith and the Merchant were blathering about agreements and deals. He ignored Them. He felt in the depths of his bones the screams of Yggdrasil, twisted from its purpose by an Elder and a Younger working in unison to steal away its presence from the Prime. He knew this was wrong. Even They must feel the perversion.

But then the pain began.

- - -

The swaying eaves of the World Tree rustled about the figure of Gilrain, frowning as she bent over towards a particular clump of moss. The branches here were thin, stretching out across the planar void to worlds and stars unnumbered by mortal or Divine alike. It was probably, she reflected, why she liked it so much. Peaceful, untroubled. Calm.

Not that she was always like that. Her profession could hardly allow it, and the next outing of the Bazaar would be soon, when they would hawk their wares to those ever-ravenous consumers of Sapience. But sometimes it was nice to dream.

Abruptly she turned, frowning. That was interesting, and something Gilrain knew she had not see before. A small seed, deep violet hues seeming almost to shimmer in the nonlight that suffused Yggdrasil. Yes, very interesting indeed. Strange, but she could have sworn that it had not been there a moment ago. Picking it up, she placed it in her satchel. Maybe it would see a fine price when she sold it.

Abruptly she turned, frowning. That was interesting, and something Gilrain knew she had not seen before. A small seed, deep violet hues seeming almost to shimmer in the nonlight that suffused Yggdrasil. Yes, very interesting indeed. Strange, but she could have sworn that it had not been there a moment ago. Picking it up, she placed it in her satchel. Maybe it would see a fine price when she sold it.

Abruptly she turned, frowning. That was interesting, and something Gilrain knew she had not seen before. A small seed, deep violet hues seeming almost to shimmer in the nonlight...

- - -

He felt the first seed enter the earth of the Prime. He could no longer walk its expanse, no longer visit the jewel of the Aldar, but he could feel it. He knew what it portended.

Yggdrasil had tolerated the work of Those fools long enough. Now it sought renewal, regrowth.

No.

This was HIS realm now. And if the place where he had been conceived would be destroyed to prove that, then so be it. He knew what was promised him, what would set him free. They would come. When they came, he would grant it to them. Not before.

Penned by My hand on the 21st of Daedalan, in the year 775 AF.


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Events News Post #622

Insult Upon Injury

Written by: Anonymous
Date: Sunday, July 1st, 2018
Addressed to: Everyone


Silence reigned within the cold, dank chamber, deep in the depths of Anzari-tarin. The towering frame of Slith looked down upon the infinitesimal Ama-maalier, a sneer of contempt fixed upon his features.

"You promise much," the darkened utterance resounded after a long moment.

"The scope reflects the deed," the melodic tones of the Tsol language echoed in answer.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we cannot deliver to you what we offer."

"Why would you seek me out with this bargain?"

"Because you are the son of Niena'qamad. And because you are also the son of Ardael."

Blackened power sang within the confines of the enclosure, two burning, rage-filled eyes suddenly fixed upon the Fulcrum.

"You dare much, creature."

"Yes."

Empty seconds ticked by, the visage of Slith at last easing toward a thoughtful consideration.

"Very well, Tsol'teth. I accept."

- - -

He knelt before Them, the Garden's great Amphitheatre rising about him while mortals looked down in breathless anticipation. He had been here before, when Creation was young. He had seen it ever so briefly before that manifestly unjust exile from his home in the highest branches, around the Well.

Gods encircled him, Their faces cast from stone. He knew Gods. He had KILLED Gods. And They thought to judge him?! A crystalline jewel shone within his mind, knowledge protected and secrets safe. He knew what had been offered to him, even if They did not. He would have it, for better or worse, and with or without his father's approval.

His father. He remembered his first breath, he remembered their first breath, every moment of his life and the lives of his ancestors back to the beginning of time. For they were Aldar, and this was their gift. He remembered looking up into the face of his father. And he remembered seeing hope turn to sorrow, love to hate for what his life had cost. His mother had died to bring him into this world. His father would never forgive him for it. And to remember it had been his first and hardest lesson.

The Smith and the Merchant were blathering about agreements and deals. He ignored Them. He felt in the depths of his bones the screams of Yggdrasil, twisted from its purpose by an Elder and a Younger working in unison to steal away its presence from the Prime. He knew this was wrong. Even They must feel the perversion.

But then the pain began.

- - -

The swaying eaves of the World Tree rustled about the figure of Gilrain, frowning as she bent over towards a particular clump of moss. The branches here were thin, stretching out across the planar void to worlds and stars unnumbered by mortal or Divine alike. It was probably, she reflected, why she liked it so much. Peaceful, untroubled. Calm.

Not that she was always like that. Her profession could hardly allow it, and the next outing of the Bazaar would be soon, when they would hawk their wares to those ever-ravenous consumers of Sapience. But sometimes it was nice to dream.

Abruptly she turned, frowning. That was interesting, and something Gilrain knew she had not see before. A small seed, deep violet hues seeming almost to shimmer in the nonlight that suffused Yggdrasil. Yes, very interesting indeed. Strange, but she could have sworn that it had not been there a moment ago. Picking it up, she placed it in her satchel. Maybe it would see a fine price when she sold it.

Abruptly she turned, frowning. That was interesting, and something Gilrain knew she had not seen before. A small seed, deep violet hues seeming almost to shimmer in the nonlight that suffused Yggdrasil. Yes, very interesting indeed. Strange, but she could have sworn that it had not been there a moment ago. Picking it up, she placed it in her satchel. Maybe it would see a fine price when she sold it.

Abruptly she turned, frowning. That was interesting, and something Gilrain knew she had not seen before. A small seed, deep violet hues seeming almost to shimmer in the nonlight...

- - -

He felt the first seed enter the earth of the Prime. He could no longer walk its expanse, no longer visit the jewel of the Aldar, but he could feel it. He knew what it portended.

Yggdrasil had tolerated the work of Those fools long enough. Now it sought renewal, regrowth.

No.

This was HIS realm now. And if the place where he had been conceived would be destroyed to prove that, then so be it. He knew what was promised him, what would set him free. They would come. When they came, he would grant it to them. Not before.

Penned by My hand on the 21st of Daedalan, in the year 775 AF.


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