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Nalitheledus was also known as "The kingdom of Evenfall". Should you come to it by day, when the sun is at its zenith, it would appeared as an earthly gloaming in the distance, as if the sky was sundered and bled. And should you come to it by night, then you would think the sun had become stuck upon the earth's girdle and the darkness elsewhere would never depart, for this twilight will forever be our only light besides starlight.
It was most unsettling to beheld and many who set eyes upon it did not enter, so strong was its vista of the world's end. Yet Evenfall was, as the brave that ventured forward would soon find, the most wondrous of realms. For though it wore a quietus mantle, all beneath its vaulted gloom determinedly strived to radiate illuminations of their own.
A lowered gaze would finally meet the silver glimmer of the kingdom's encircling wall. It is a breathtaking contrast to the emanating dread looming above. This vision, however, is not benignant until the traveler comes to be about thirteen yards from the egress gates. Ere, a veiling mists ensnares common sight so that the carven lords on the bastion faces become glaring gargantuan monsters whose horrendous stares never falters. It is a journey not befitting the foolhardy. The trickery of the wall and its mist became known as the Colossus' Greyspell or the Greymere in the common tongue. Indeed, the vastness of the walls and its gates hardly dispel the notion that they were, perhaps, shaped by giants.
Once you have passed the gates of Nuril and Durnuril then the realm opens up into a wild countryside of many fair blooms. Here there were no lamps, no fires, or no beacons of any fashion from the ilk of men. The shadows of the eventide was banished by the collective glimmers that came from the terrain's flora. Every flower that blossomed held a faint glow of its own. And where there were no buds to bear then the leaves or the stems or the tendrils were vessels to this divergent light.
To the west, the gleam of the verdure fell into Narande an estuary of Naranduil, renowned as the River of the Gods. It was so deemed as its tributaries flowed from the roots of the Gilgariel mountains in the north where its source is rumored to pass into the heavenly realms of Haethera. There dwells the Haradhir-the Elder Lords. The kings of Evenfall were titled as the Naradhir-The Nether Lords- lowest ranked in the unlighted triversum. It was by these origins that the waters of the Naranduil were believed to have become imbued with such sorcery that the fauna and flora were changed by it. Even the denizens had now come to draw from its powers. So long have the people consumed these waters that its sorcery now flows in their blood as it is in the river.
The powers of the river manifested itself differently in the genders of humans. The men gained great strength and mental faculties whilst the women were able to harness the core energies of elements thus the elements themselves. Together, they created wonders. The birds and beasts too were transmogrified into enchanted beings bearing the mighty forces of both light and darkness.
But the great river has become stricken, it no longer roars as it once did. It has dwindled in vigour and girth- a pale reflection of its former glory. They say the doors to the Haethera in the Gilgariel mountains has been shut. A shadow has fallen upon land and crown and the skies bleeds as a caveat of impending doom. Yet in the gathering darkness, two of the unlikeliest of embers now meet near the shimmering waters of Narande, a grand wiccian's fair daughter and Evenfall's crown prince-from whom a forbidden fire shall spring. Therein, lies the tale of many a great and terrible things.
It was most unsettling to beheld and many who set eyes upon it did not enter, so strong was its vista of the world's end. Yet Evenfall was, as the brave that ventured forward would soon find, the most wondrous of realms. For though it wore a quietus mantle, all beneath its vaulted gloom determinedly strived to radiate illuminations of their own.
A lowered gaze would finally meet the silver glimmer of the kingdom's encircling wall. It is a breathtaking contrast to the emanating dread looming above. This vision, however, is not benignant until the traveler comes to be about thirteen yards from the egress gates. Ere, a veiling mists ensnares common sight so that the carven lords on the bastion faces become glaring gargantuan monsters whose horrendous stares never falters. It is a journey not befitting the foolhardy. The trickery of the wall and its mist became known as the Colossus' Greyspell or the Greymere in the common tongue. Indeed, the vastness of the walls and its gates hardly dispel the notion that they were, perhaps, shaped by giants.
Once you have passed the gates of Nuril and Durnuril then the realm opens up into a wild countryside of many fair blooms. Here there were no lamps, no fires, or no beacons of any fashion from the ilk of men. The shadows of the eventide was banished by the collective glimmers that came from the terrain's flora. Every flower that blossomed held a faint glow of its own. And where there were no buds to bear then the leaves or the stems or the tendrils were vessels to this divergent light.
To the west, the gleam of the verdure fell into Narande an estuary of Naranduil, renowned as the River of the Gods. It was so deemed as its tributaries flowed from the roots of the Gilgariel mountains in the north where its source is rumored to pass into the heavenly realms of Haethera. There dwells the Haradhir-the Elder Lords. The kings of Evenfall were titled as the Naradhir-The Nether Lords- lowest ranked in the unlighted triversum. It was by these origins that the waters of the Naranduil were believed to have become imbued with such sorcery that the fauna and flora were changed by it. Even the denizens had now come to draw from its powers. So long have the people consumed these waters that its sorcery now flows in their blood as it is in the river.
The powers of the river manifested itself differently in the genders of humans. The men gained great strength and mental faculties whilst the women were able to harness the core energies of elements thus the elements themselves. Together, they created wonders. The birds and beasts too were transmogrified into enchanted beings bearing the mighty forces of both light and darkness.
But the great river has become stricken, it no longer roars as it once did. It has dwindled in vigour and girth- a pale reflection of its former glory. They say the doors to the Haethera in the Gilgariel mountains has been shut. A shadow has fallen upon land and crown and the skies bleeds as a caveat of impending doom. Yet in the gathering darkness, two of the unlikeliest of embers now meet near the shimmering waters of Narande, a grand wiccian's fair daughter and Evenfall's crown prince-from whom a forbidden fire shall spring. Therein, lies the tale of many a great and terrible things.
To be continued.
Towers of moon, Dungeons of Dragons
"Umraculo factum sidere, imperium hoc auteum ostium revertere ,nisi tetigit me aut die!" The bolts barred themselves, closed by the shadows cast from starlight only to be undone by her touch or be overcome by day. The spell's power would preserve bolt to door and door to wall, wall to adjoining walls, all encompassing such that mere force or any force could undo its command.
Command, if only she could exert such power over all else then the towers of moon and the dungeons of dragons would cease their war and be in peace as one. But the fates did not grant her such sovereignty, so now she must build secret bridges over dark waters and call up
Dark River, Black Crown!
Who knew if it was in the waters whose deep ebony was as malevolent as the green it nourished in the trees? Who knew how it had reached the birds in the air to make them drop so sudden? Mind can only ponder, eyes can only stare. Something restless frightened the goats, stalked them in the night, until one by one they disappeared. It was something bodyless that felled them, something the hunters could not snare.
Its not unheard of to have still bodies at birth, but in more than a score of piglets, could life no longer come from the earth? The drums ceased their beating when a mother began to wail, the silence deepened, the fear thickened eve
The Secret Ones!
They are robed in beauty beyond measure,
Perfected bodies' promise of endless pleasure,
Wicked passion burns in bedroom eyes,
Pellucid blues in which the red secret hides.
Of the Erotes touch they had but one,
Himeros carnal beguile, erotic smile, come-hither, wanton form,
But when Eros saw below their sultry mantle what was spun,
He bore his gift away upon a mighty storm.
Caress upon thighs and kisses below navel,
With every moan you enter deeper into their fable,
Strength cannot defy the desires their lips can muster,
Ecstasy tightens grip in softest hair, rich in lustre.
Lips of a God upon your bosom,
Upon your nape, your lip
Grim Benefactions.
It was soothing to hear the drops patter,
The slow drip of velvety soft splatter.
It almost cooled the burning at the wound,
The smooth breathless flow of a human doomed.
The quilt was covered in leaves of forest litter,
Their white fading to the red delving deeper.
The pillow snuggled my head like a fluffy cloud,
A silent figure crossed the moonlight bridge in a darken shroud.
Silver beads dripped like dew from my eye,
The wind gently brushed my hair as it went on by.
He strung my tears like crystal jewels upon a golden thread,
They briefly mirrored the dreadful hooded face besides my bed.
The bed soundlessly began to float,
T
© 2017 - 2024 michaelhardcore13
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