A collection of stories, memories, and lore of the world; not necessarily tied to the Repentant.
Title Date Media Dawn before time Narrative Broken Eternity 1 NR (New Reckoning) Poem The Dragon's Tear 3 KY (King's Year) Narrative The Turning 1 SY (Shadow Year) Poem
The first thing I saw was the smoke rising from the burning ruins of the magnificent city that had stood there only yesterday. We didn't even pause, but continued to advance through the valley. As we walked among the scorched remains of trees, someone drew a sword.
Like the roar of an ocean, all the bladeweavers' weapons came out of their sheaths, and I saw everyone tense as they prepared for battle. I took firm hold of my staff and looked around. Keen Elvish eyes pierced the gloom in all directions.
Suddenly, we saw it above the hills. It was a titanic creature! Its grotesque, outstretched wings blotting out the golden moon of Volliandra; its long, scaly neck stretched towards the sky.
The sight seemed to halt in my vision as, for the first time, I looked upon the destroyer. The moment hung in the air. I had imagined many a horrible visage to accompany the tales I heard of Chaos demons when I was a child, but this sight was more horrible than my imagination could encompass-but I knew, in my heart, that nothing could stand against the great Elvish army when we had so much to avenge.
Then the multitude rushed forward and we were upon it. Our bladeweavers began to dance and twirl, their swords singing as they sped through the air. Elvish magi unleashed hordes of spells, such that the sky overhead was blotted out by fireballs, columns of ice, lightning bolts, and every form of magical energy. The winds beat around us in a great gale, and enchantments bathed the entire army in auras of might, of protection, of vigor.
I lifted my staff into the maelstrom and channeled my energy into it, contributing my own force to what was already an irresistible tide.
What army shall ever compare to the one that battled the Dragon on that Field of Sorrows? Who shall boast of skills that compare to the warriors I accompanied into battle that day? No master shall ever reproduce such power as we mustered.
Yet even as all our sharpest swords beat against the Dragon's scales, and even as all our spells enveloped it and fell upon it in a blinding cascade, the Terror was unharmed. It lashed out with wing and tooth and claw, and the ground shook from his blows as row upon row of our army fell. Fire came from his black jaws and spilled over the field like an ocean wave, and our wizards could not stand against it.
Most perished instantly. A few fled and escaped. I felt my face burned as the fire rolled over me and I fell. The boulders tossed up when the terror smote his assailants pinned me to the ground. After that, all my vision was of fire . . .
Dissonance
Rhythm disappears
A splinter in the mindDiscordant time
Dizzying sights
Shifting lightShadow
Eternity howls
Sun rounds the skyFleeing sense
Proximate lunacy
Utter confusionIncomprehension
Forever fades
Moments seep through cracksBroken rune
Broken hope
Broken eternity
Aztice Ethertone
Eleharr walked down the street with the hood of his cloak pulled over his head, covering his ears and convincing many that his pale skin was just a trick of the light. In the few short years since the War of the Scourge, there had been peace between the elves and humans, but not a friendly one. Upon arriving at a disreputable bar identified by its sign as The Silent Blade, he ducked inside.
A thick screen of smoke assailed his nostrils as his elven eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light. Spotting his contact at a shadowy table near the bar, he moved silently over and sat down.
"You Eleharr?" asked a short human reeking of liquor.
Eleharr nodded. "I was told you had useful information."
The man smiled. "Extinguishing the sun, are ya? That's a mighty tall order."
"Don't waste my time," Eleharr said coldly. "What do you know?"
The man leaned forward. "Ya know the story about the Dragon's wakin' up, and its fightin' with the All-Father?" he asked quietly.
"I watched it." That wasn't quite true, but Eleharr had no desire to hear the human version of events.
He blinked, then frowned. "That's right, ya elves live a long time. I didn't know ya lived that long, though."
Eleharr sighed and waited for him to continue.
"Anyway, I heard a rumor," the man whispered, "that when Kenaryn hit the Dragon's eye - it was the first time it had ever felt pain, ya see - the Dragon cried a single tear, which fell to the ground."
"Please get to the point."
"Don't ya see? The Dragon's all hot inside. His blood's hotter'n fire. Yet the tear's still water, see? It stays water even when it's real hot, like in the Dragon. It turned to ice the moment it touched the ground, and someone picked it up and carried it away."
Eleharr frowned dubiously. "An unlikely story."
"A Dragon's tear can put out a Dragon's fire. Makes sense, don't it?" The man smiled. "It just makes sense!"
"And where is this tear supposed to be?"
"Now, don't ya go rushin' in now. It told ya what the info is. If ya wanna know where it is, ya gotta pay."
Eleharr looked at him with distaste, but dropped a small pouch of gold onto the table.
After counting it carefully, the man continued. "The irekei," he said disinterestedly. "They've got it locked up in one of their shrines. Underground. No one goes there, so it wouldn't be missed."
"Where's the shrine?" Eleharr demanded.
"Just north of Densbrook. About, I'd say, three days' travel."
Three days' travel through the desert was not a pleasant thought. "Where, exactly?"
"It's under this big temple-thing. Ya can't miss it."
"Pray not."
* * * * *
A week later, Eleharr was in Densbrook.
The first two days of the journey into the desert were unpleasant but uneventful. As the sun went down, Eleharr decided to press on through the night, hoping that the shrine would allow him to escape another day under the desert sun. Yet as dawn crept over the horizon, though, he began to worry, for there was no sign of the shrine.
The stars dwindled in the growing light, until only Morningstar remained. Eleharr watched as the sunlight approached, but just as Morningstar vanished, Eleharr made out a row of tall pillars beyond the next sand dune, and smiled. Morningstar had always meant good fortune.
As he reached it, he glanced about briefly. A row of tall pillars, the same color as the sand, stood in front of an ornate entrance. A staircase led down beneath the sands. Two rows of irekei runes were inscribed above the doorway, but Eleharr made no attempt to translate them. Stepping inside out of the sun, he lay down on cool stone and slept.
* * * * *
It was once again night when Eleharr awoke, much to his pleasure. He surveyed the underground chamber, which was roughly circular, with one portion of the wall covered in more of the irekei script. The stairway leading back to the surface and a dark passage leading in the opposite directions seemed to be the only exits, and two fiery flames atop golden stands bathed the room in red light. Wondering only in passing whether they were kept burning by magic or more conventional fuels, Eleharr gathered up his provisions and began to walk deeper into the shrine.
Almost immediately, the structure of the passage changed, from carved stone walls to what appeared to be a natural cave. The floor grew dusty and the ceiling curved. Muttering about the lazy irekei, Eleharr continued.
Before long, the passage split into two. Without hesitation, Eleharr took the left passage, confident that no series of twists or turns would throw off his sense of direction.
His trek was quickly put to a halt, though, as he entered a large room split by a huge chasm. He walked to the center of the room and peered carefully into it, but could not see the bottom. The ledge on the opposite side was about twenty feet away and five feet higher than the ground he was standing on, but he could make out a large, ornate door set into the wall on the far side of the rift, and a passage with no door leading onto the upper terrace from the right.
Seeing nothing he could do there, he turned back and took the other passage, which also lead, in rather short order, into a chamber. This one was smaller, though, and contained no obstacle. A small waterfall poured down one wall from an opening in the ceiling into another in the floor, and there was a single passage visible to the right, which he took.
This lead to a long, small passage, which Eleharr discovered with surprise was perfectly circular and perfectly straight. The walls seemed to be made of some black, powdery crystal. He had to duck to get through.
Emerging at the far end, Eleharr found another chamber and another chasm, but this one had a bridge spanning it. As he drew closer, he found that this one was filled with a swift-running underground river.
The bridge was in poor condition. It appeared that it had not been constructed well in the first place, consisting only of two ropes and some wooden planks, with no handrails. However, it looked as if it would hold, and Eleharr stepped lightly across it and took the only passage offered, which ran to the left and downhill.
The passage led to a chamber that once again boasted intricate carvings on its walls and bright red torches, and against the far wall was a sight that made Eleharr shudder - a large, detailed sculpture of the Dragon, which looked as if it were prepared to ignite the sun all over again. As his eyes followed it up towards the high ceiling, Eleharr noticed that there was a ledge high above it, with another passageway leading further into the caves.
He looked around. That was the only passage leading out of the room other than the one he entered by, and there did not appear to be any way up. He walked over to the wall and examined it, but aside from some very shallow carvings, it was a sheer vertical rock face and most assuredly not climbable.
Gazing about the room again, his eyes locked on the imposing statue of the Terror.
He walked up to it and examined it. The flatter portions of the statue were worn and dusty, as if they had been walked on. He followed the trail up - sure enough, there was a faintly detectable path, though not one he relished the thought of employing. Apparently the irekei demanded that whoever visited this shrine be an acrobat. No doubt it was one of their ridiculous "tests" of worthiness.
After considering for a moment, he examined the statue itself, which appeared to be composed of some sort of sandstone. Eleharr drew his twin blades and thrust one of them into the base of the statue. It went it without too much trouble, and proved relatively stable.
With genuine glee at the thought of putting so many holes in the irekei statue, Eleharr began to slowly scale the statue, using his swords as movable handholds. He had to make a dangerous leap from the statue to the ledge when he reached the top, but managed.
Another corridor, and Eleharr found himself in a large chamber cut in half by a deep chasm - the first room of the kind he had entered, but this time he was on the upper level. The ceiling was covered with stalactites that had gone unnoticed from the opposite side of the room, and the large, ornate door beckoned provocatively.
Eleharr approached it. It seemed to be made of gold, and was covered with symbols of fire and destruction, like most irekei holy sites. He tried the door and found it locked, but noticed that the golden key was still in the lock. He reached for it . . .
It dissolved at his touch.
Eleharr jerked his hand away in horror as a small piece of the key grip fell to the ground. There was just enough of the key left in the lock to grip, but he didn't for a moment trust it to remain there if he reached for it.
He bent down and examined the piece that fell to the ground. It looked like an ordinary piece of gold. He drew one of his blades and tapped it - and it disintegrated instantly.
Eleharr considered this. He examined the door again - other than the keyhole, it seemed to have no mark or opening that gave any clue as to the area behind it. The hinges were apparently on the opposite side. He checked the rock around it - quite solid and unyielding to his blade.
Quite suddenly, he noticed an inscription above the door. Unsure whether he had somehow missed it or it had appeared since he last looked, he studied it carefully. It was more of the irekei script. Much to his displeasure, he was forced to light a torch in order to read it. After working at it for a while, he managed to translate it, and read it aloud:
THE TERROR'S SORROW SHALL STAY EVER CLOSED
THE TERROR'S WRATH BURNS ON
UNTIL THE DRAGON'S BURNING FLAME
IS QUENCHED IN SILVER NIGHT"That's probably the irekei's way of saying 'forever,'" Eleharr muttered to himself. Closing his eyes to concentrate, he called up all his magical power to try and turn the key through telekinesis, but it was no good - it was too small and wedged too tightly in the door to turn it.
Eventually, it occurred to him that there were more runes in the first room that might yield a clue as to how to enter. Sighing, he turned around and began to make his way out, keeping the torch lit in case it might reveal another hint along the way.
But when he emerged from the small, smooth corridor, he found himself face-to-face with half a dozen humans.
They let out shouts of alarm as they saw him. "Cursed elf!" the one holding their torch snorted. "What are you doing here?"
"I might ask the same of you," Eleharr replied unpleasantly.
"This's our mark. We want everything here."
Suddenly, a red figure appeared behind him.
"You fools!" Eleharr shouted. "You've lured the irekei here!"
They spun around in surprise, and two irekei rushed forward. In one fluid motion, Eleharr spun about, hurling his torch into the waterfall and unleashing a magical wind that put out the humans' torch and cast the room into darkness. He fled back down the corridor.
As he reached the end, he heard a loud noise behind him. Glancing back, he saw flames rushing down the corridor towards him. With a sudden realization, he saw the walls themselves exploding in fire.
He crossed the chamber at a dead run, tearing recklessly across the bridge. When he was halfway across, fire exploded from the corridor and a wave of heat knocked him flat on the bridge. He felt a sickening lurch as the ropes gave way somewhere behind him and he started falling.
He held fast, and the bridge started swinging into the wall. He watched as the wall rushed forward to meet him. A mind-numbing impact loosed his grip on the remains of the bridge, and he was falling again.
He splashed into the water below, and regained his senses just in time to grab hold of the edge of the rope. The current promptly battered him against the wall a second time. Slowly, he reached up with his free hand and grabbed one of the wood planks.
It broke beneath his weight, and the current smashed him into the wall a third time, but he managed to hold onto the rope. Calling up his last reserves of strength, he kicked off the wall for whatever height it would give him and reached up, managing to just catch the lowest remaining wooden plank.
It held. Laboriously, he hauled himself to the top and crawled onto dry ground.
After taking a few moments to recover, he looked around. The bridge was destroyed, and the corridor on the far side had collapsed. Resignedly, he turned and strode deeper into the shrine.
When he reached the locked door once again, he was at a loss. He stood in front of it and surveyed it again. The same runes were displayed on the door, defiantly resisting useful interpretation.
"Infidel!"
He spun around to face an irekei standing on the far side of the chasm.
"You defile this holy site by your very presence, vile elf! You have no right to stand in a shrine of the great Terror of Terrors!"
Eleharr smiled ironically. "And what do you intend to do about it from over there?"
He watched in amazement as the irekei raised his hand, and a bridge of fire sprung up to cross the chasm. The irekei walked across it as if it were solid stone. Eleharr could only stare, dumbfounded.
Impossible!
There was pure, unadulterated hate in the irekei's eyes. "You must pay!"
Eleharr's blades were out in an instant, and he began to weave. His blades cut the air in every direction, and slowly he began to spin. Quickly, he hurled himself at the irekei.
But the irekei was gone. Eleharr quickly caught a glimpse of him in another direction, and charged again.
He felt a sharp pain in his side, and found himself sprawled out on the ground. The irekei's hand was extended in a fist, but Eleharr's blades had touched nothing.
The irekei had struck through his blade weave? Unthinkable!
He sprang to his feet and began to weave again, in a more defensive pattern. He began to move towards the irekei more cautiously this time, and when he saw the irekei about to launch a kick, he leapt into the air. The irekei ducked, but Eleharr felt his blades make contact.
Eleharr landed on the far side of his opponent, and the irekei was bleeding from two shallow cuts in his shoulder and arm. The irekei spun and kicked high; Eleharr leapt backward but didn't manage to dodge the blow, and he felt the wind knocked out of him but he managed to stay on his feet.
The blades began to weave again as Eleharr started to spin, then he changed directions and started another weave. He began to move towards the irekei, but spun into a third weave.
With a sickening thud, his blade impacted something far too hard to be flesh and he was knocked out of his weave. He turned to face his adversary, and to his horror saw the irekei's fist burning red, with a small flake of steel embedded in the fire, but no sign of injury to his enemy's hand.
Inconceivable!
Eleharr dropped his blades and uttered the fastest enchantment of his life, releasing a bolt of magical energy at the irekei, which he easily dodged. Eleharr chanted again, and shot out another charge from each hand. The first, directed at the irekei, was poorly aimed and would have missed even if the irekei had not moved. The second, in a moment of clarity, was aimed at the ceiling.
The stalactites shattered into a thousand pieces, and rained down like knives. Eleharr threw himself backward to the ground and covered his face. When the dust cleared, there was a large pile of debris and no sign of the irekei.
Slowly, he staggered to his feet and retrieved his twin swords, then took stock of the situation. He was apparently in no immediate danger, but he was still trapped, unless he was willing to trust the bridge of fire. The door was unchanged -
But the key was now silver.
He almost missed it, and he had to look again to be sure he hadn't imagined it - but sure enough, the key - or at least what was left of it - was no longer gold, but silver.
Warily, he read the inscription again. "Until the Dragon's burning flame is quenched in silver night."
He looked from the key to the runes and back to the key. On a whim, he reached out and grabbed the key.
It was solid. He turned it; the door opened.
Behind it, Eleharr saw a small chamber lit by four torches. In the center of the room, atop a pedestal, there lay a large blue crystal.
Eleharr simply couldn't control himself. He let out a shout of jubilation, ran forward and grasped the gem.
The moment he touched it, flames engulfed his body. He fell to the floor, writhing in agony as his flesh was consumed.
Just before he died, another set of irekei runes flashed before his eyes:
THE TERROR'S WRATH BURNS ON
The sun is high, the woods are bright
The lake reflects the radiant light
I see Braialla's robe of flowers
The trees are filled with birds in flightAnd not a thought have I to spare
For subtle tensions in the air
To intrude upon my wand'ring mind
No melancholy thought would dareA battle rages fiercely, though,
Some place quite far from here, I know,
Where many an elf or man today
Will lose their life by blade or bowBut still I sit and watch the wood
I might yet help - I know I should
But gazing, I see perfect peace
I can't deny - whoever could?That wondrous sight doth change so soon
To darkest night from brightest noon
The sky is riven when I look
I see not even silver moonThe mightiest and fiercest drake
Such a sound could never make
As when the archons' cries of rage
Aerynth to its core do shakeI feel the ground beneath me move
And quickly there appears a groove
The waters trembling in the lake
No effort of the gods could sootheThe crack then parts the deepest stone
A horrible sight to me is shown
As the waters disappear
Of a volition all their ownA chasm opens, dark and deep
A young deer makes a frantic leap
I realize then that everything
The earth will swallow it will keepI quickly turned and quickly fled
Filled with sudden doubt and dread
From behind there came a glow
That lit the landscape all in redI knelt in prayer, and yet heard naught
Though help was desperately sought
Then with monstrous pain and grief
Suddenly there came a thoughtAs I thought, I became sure
Sure as the sky had been azure
To this curse that plagued us all
I knew the one and only cureSooner, I knew, I should have left
The time I spent was mine by theft
Was it from me the Father turned,
For my delay the earth was cleft?I left at once with greatest speed
For suddenly I saw the need
Together His children must stand
I cannot leave undone this deed
Aztice Ethertone