Tyre’Negoth:Prophecies and Dreams
The eight now were known to all and their allies, too,
Thus, the sun kissing the land with early morning rays,
Baelorik dismissed the joyful revellers from the hall,
All leaving in a cacaphony of secret whispers,
While the warriors remained for Baelorik to command.
Two others stayed within the haloed banquet halls,
The general of Baelorik’s great forces, Monmoth,
A tree of a man, his hair white from battles and wars,
Solid face with stubbled jaw and desolate grey eyes,
Red leather armor with silver plates guarded his chest,
While his gnarled, old hands held flamberge by his side,
How opposite the other in disposition was, even in age,
Young as the morning yet crippled and shuddering
As if afraid of an unseen beast that stalked him,
Garb of Baelorik’s house wrapped him tightly as he sat,
But hidden was his purpose in dark shadows of silence.
Baelorik rose as light crept through the great windows:
“Time moves quickly against us my heroic brothers!
We shall dally no longer than needed before you depart,
But as always, a few more things need dealing before,
First, we must speak of this quest’s final goal,
For none would deny that it’s achievement is arduous!
Have faith! As Hell created beasts to bind us to the fire
God made creatures to warn and to save us from the heat!”
Baelorik stood before the writhing, young wretch,
“This is Uri Gimnal, a monk from Venely who sought refuge
Within these halls, not on accident but for purpose,
For God granted him a powerful dream, made him oracle
Of the prophecy that shall slay Tyre’Negoth and end
The tyranny of Mt. Zeras and the corruption of the Earth.
No more can he speak save the prophecy, thus as God does,
He leaves to us the solving of the riddle posed. Speak.”
With that Baelorik’s last word commanded, Gimnal rose,
All gasped as he opened his tight-shut eyes to reveal
Nothing but empty white and his voice, though human
In quality and sound, rang of emptiness and mindlessness:
“Eight blades bathed in blood,
Striking hard shall do nought,
Lest blood be true and good.
Strike not head nor brow,
But where corruption starts,
No other shall bring it down.
Immortal lies this demon king,
Save ironic twist of fate,
That it’s goal’s reward return,
To end it’s life in bitter hate.”
Gimnal collapsed quickly from his speech as if possessed,
Muttering the four last phrases ‘gain and ‘gain,
The eight mulled the words within their heads,
Not Acumenius, nor the others could make head nor tail,
Little bits they perceived with ease, yet the final words
Perplexed and puzzled them for nothing could they find
In its meaning, thus they pushed it back in mind,
And listened to the Monmoth, who rose next to speak:
“I’ve long served as general with patience beyond my age,
No gargantuan beast nor twisted imp has addled my brain,
Yet, I swear, a dream of deepest reality set upon me
Two nights ago, I knew it true and what is worse,
It pertains not to my life but to all of you! Listen:
A messenger came, a seraphim with wings of solid gold,
A great blade in hand that blinded me so my eyes burned,
He was adorned in white and golden armor for yet I saw
All these things though my eyes did pain me to gaze
Upon the figure whose face was shrouded in dark abyss.
“Monmoth, I come to thee brother who serves as I did once
So long ago. My name is Tarimundus, general long before
You rose to power at Baelorik’s throne, I served him too
With equal fervor, no man was more loyal than I, save
My brother who shared my rank and role, he was called
Alistaire, ironic that his name meant “loyal heart”
In Baelorik’s everlasting barbarian tongue, for cruelty
Was God’s game indeed, for we with army tempered well,
Sought the end of Tyre’Negoth without knowing how to slay
Such great, corrupting power spawned from eternal hell!
Our warriors valiantly lashed out with bow and blade
But all for nought! In a rain of rock I was crushed!
Sent high to God’s right hand where I now sit in sorrow!
For the mercy granted me did not befall poor Alistaire!
The dragon burned him with its corrupting, bilic fire,
And Satan, who so fondly turns the tables with cruelty,
Cursed Alistaire to rise again with loyalty born anew!
But not to God nor our grand king, but to Tyre’Negoth!
And every soul he hath slain, his blade grows stronger,
There bodies cursed to rise again and serve to shield
The cursed beast! Now I’ve revealed all that I can,
For God detests angels dabbling in mortal lives,
Now I depart, but leave with you, a course unspoken
But well known for you to take the heroes on!
Because of OD’s entry limit, I’ve got to do this one in parts…..I cut it into seemingly coherent chunks so there go to next entry for the chapter’s end.