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Misinterpreted Enlightenment (1 Viewer)


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Misinterpreted Enlightenment
A Tale of Three Kings


Episode I. Dying Flame
Let’s start at the beginning...mouthed a blue substance splattered frame prostrated before a many horn decorated figure.
Another world, rather, another time. Your kind stuck to their own, to caves and deep chasms. Here and there an odd loner dressed in robes hiding their features roamed, but when they were revealed… Fanatic, mindless slaughter followed in belief that they are of abyssal nature. And that continued in relative peace.
Over a century, with the rise of a new generation, these practices changed. Craftsmen, artists, entertainers they became; an odd sort, nevertheless accepted to a degree, but shunned and looked at with eyes full of wary. A rare sight to the realm’s common man, even more so to that of a Noble’s. But, truth be told, beasts they are no matter what. And so are you.

I’d rather end it here, though it must be told that you are not wrong. However, contrary to your beliefs, I embrace this. Any last words?
The small gathering watched with fear in their eyes. They knew that this was the end for this fragile peace there was for them. Still on their knees- for two days straight now, the being shivered visibly and looked around to take in a last glimpse of those who were confidants, comrades, loved ones once upon a better day. A crowd is a crowd. Some stand in fear, some show bits of disgust, then there is hate and the likes. This execution wasn’t the first, but perhaps the last. Yet it was that of an elder’s. A good minute’s silence later, the lilac being aimed its gaze up to the burgundy creature, and spat straight on its face which to the many horned figure flinched and grit their teeth.

If you call this a life, then you better take your shit-smeared hybrid blood and choke on it as you should’ve when you left us all at Rohalast. Here you are, fornicating with- no, marrying an iceborne. You are a disgrace to all that we stood for! The man screamed at the top of his lungs. Let it be known to all of you! Look upon the defiler who you follow!
In center of attention stands that burgundy monster. An alabaster handkerchief is brought out, but instead of wiping the spit away, it is let to lull unto the ground. The crowd rumbles, swords are unsheathed as the danakovs glance at one another. Yet no one acts to stop what is to come. They waited, not because they were about to rush upon the two, but because they knew that this moment was the last the see a leader of the old regime. And their wait is borne fruit soon enough. One by one, swords fall to the ground, armaments, badges, insignias, everything that resembled their ruler's will.

I no longer wish to lie to myself, Elder. Today, I let all of you go. Those who wish to avenge the man, be my guest. I promise no less a painful death than this man's here. We have no place in the North, nor do you belong under my authority or oversight anymore. Bugger off.
And with that, a pillar of flame rose in the midst as the crowd began to disperse and leave. The six horned man stayed to watch how the elder melted away. He questioned himself many times a day now, but to no avail for no answer came. That day, a letter was sent, and Fridsaelt became void of danakov presence entirely.
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Episode II. Soulsplane

Stardust sprinkled mountaintops slide behind the horizon,
Distance only grows between raven and the young mason.
Hatred’s name rings across a newfound valley,
Churches call for the oncoming eve ceremony;
A village opens up in front of the many,
Who- really, by now aren’t a storm of fire and flame,
But instead a spark which was struck into being under a moment’s notice,
And now is fizzling out without tinder to sustain it.
By night, just near a weak light they rested: Huddled up,
Shivering and shaking without the comforts of Nobility.

And that was fine, they took this cold like starving beggar a loaf of bread given free from a kingly dinner’s leftovers. With no riches, no sources of income, there were they and them only: daughter, wife and husband, a free newborn with two slaves of different regimes.
...On a plain, barren of life, painted alabaster and contrasted with hues of a dark-dark demise. “I’ve been here once...” whispered the lonely voice that is of Hyssir’larhaa. Not in the center as one would believe, but rather on the sidelines where none looked for anything. He stood and watched as the world revolved around a shape there and another so far away, but not around himself. An alien feeling so to say, since to achieve whatever he wanted, he had to make himself indispensable in almost all possible ways. Yet as time moved on, this became more than a necessity. He ended up being a prisoner to this craving. So there he stood on the sidelines where none looked for anything, and a rage welled up within. After all, he is what he is… A Prince, the salvation of his people. Or is he really?…
...The Spirit Tree never quite moved his fantasy, especially due to his heavy dislike and contempt toward Inara, and not to mention that Folset suffers a fate so much the same due to Mikael. Not because they are not personable… Rather, one is a pretender. The latter, a meddler that induces fear not due to them being malevolent or so… I wouldn’t know, nor do I want to. But because they are not what they show, nor what they say; A monster in their own natural way…

...Hypocrite…” came a subtle riposte in hushed whispers from within.

“...I’ve been here before...” realization slowly solidified within him. “And in fact… I never left Aeklast. It’s been a standstill ever since.” As he stood there, the world continued without a moment’s worth of notice given to him. Empires rose, empires fell. People gained power, ascended, became what they beheld within their deepest desires, yet he, he stood and watched with an ever paler countenance. All that work is in vain, every droplet of blood has been drawn to no end.

Stardust sprinkled mountaintops slide behind the horizon,
Distance only grows between raven and the young mason.
Hatred’s name calls from beneath the veil,
Screams of the Fallen beg for reprieve at a stand still;
The courtroom is full, and the judge is about to enter the hall...

And the words which followed felt sweet and warm. Eyelids lulled, his being felt at an odd, exhausted peace. The blue seal on the scroll lies broken, and the book beneath seems to radiate dark-dark visions of another future. By now, he cannot really care. What is done is done and cannot be unmade, not even by any of the time mages. In the end, power did seem to cost everything, even the life of his dearest daughter.

“Liar. A fool no less, yet Judge, Jury and also Executioner at the same time-- You built quite a kingdom upon unfounded fantasies.
"You’ve made the gains, son, don’t you think fun’s been had and it is about to be enough?”

"Now, open the book. And you'll join your ancestors high in the sky. With me, you will rule without the need to fear any contenders. I will assail all your wrongdoers. I will keep you safe, and give you all you would ever need. Open the book, Hyssir."

“...And I will...”



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Episode III.

A long-long journey for such a young creature. Still so youthful, yet doing what adults do; and so it appears that it does not matter whether he comprehends... Or if he wants to comprehend at all. Soft whispers nimbly rush down the stream, memories leap fro and to trees in an obscure tribute to olden memories. Where is the old fire, where is that old smoke that rose everytime when the festivities began. By now, there is no cheering, there is no happiness, nothing to cling to. All those became what today is that barren field without barley or wheat. Though, such is fine as is. Whether there is want to hear the deafening blow that the silent winds bring, whether there is respect for another entity within him, all those appear rarely so... out of pride perhaps?- maybe due to some odd and obscure reason that no one can comprehend? Either, or... Something. No one can tell. Still, semblances of what remains of another time within him re-resurface and chip away at others openly, without care to their feelings, emotions or beliefs. To him, for the longes t time, there has been only one way to see things, and that was his way or no way.

What have we come to then?- you'd ask, if you cared. And I'd respond: Here. Do you think I care for you? {I don't, but I do.} Do you believe me to be powerhungry and non-caring should it benefit me? {I am, but I am not.}

There is a myriad of answers that you'd love to hear, but he cannot provide because of his tutoring. But hopefully, one day, there will be someone who recognies good will hidden beneath the filth and inhospitable greed that is him. Hopefully, there will be a day when he understands that society does not always mean that everyone intends to use all those who are exploitable or gullible to an extent... However, until then... This is what you get. Though there are creatures who understand the rigid nature of the dragonman. There indeed are a few. Not many, perhaps one or two... Though, they too would ask you the same should you question them about his methods and way of thinking.

And now, we arrive to present time. There's a corrupted spirit supposedly to aid him on his way to become what he so desires to become... It perhaps benefits him, but to some extent, this endeavor feels... different. Had we encountered the same scenario a year before, there would be no Goslynn, no Sigal. There would be himself, Hyssir'larhaa alone.

There is only one thing to remember:

Even diamonds can be reduced to dust.​

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