The Epitaph of the Twilight

[Haelos]

You know, I posted a link to this in my other thread on this board, but I don't imagine many people bothered to download it to read it, so I decided to repost the story here. Some particularly important lines are bolded.






Unknown where the Cursed Wave was born…
After the stars doth cross the heavens,
The sky in the East doth darken and air doth fill with mourning.
From the chosen land beyond the forest, a sign of the wave comes.

Riding the wake is Skeith, the Shadow of Death, to drown all that stands.
Mirage of Deceit, Innis, Betray all with the flawed image, and did aid the Wave.
And by the Power of Magus, a drop from the Wave doth reach the heavens, and creates a new Wave.
With the Wave, Fidchell, the power to tell the dark future, hope darkens, sadness and despair rule.
Gorre schemes when swallowed by the Cursed Wave.
Macha seduces with the sweet trap.
Wave reaches the Pinnacle, and escape none can.
Tarvos still remains with more cruelty to punish and destroy.
And with the turbulent destruction after the Wave.
Only a void remains.
From deep within the void arrives Corbenik.

Perhaps then the Wave is just a beginning as well.




Wave soars and shrouds the eyes.
No means to fight an omnipresent force,
The shadowless ones just grieve.
Why must it be a Wave?
Divide, if it would just...
Then retaliate, we may.


Once their magic land did glow,
With vagrant, ever-present light:
When sprites would play in flowing fields, The twilight shining in their wings
As they swam through silky seas of mist,
Before the coming of the Wave.
Untouched by fear or pain they lived,
Each minute with the utmost joy,
Till the cursed Wave did rise, Tearing through the dusky skies;
Consuming light and dark in kind,
And leaving none to mourn behind.

So to the West the sprites did flee,
Though burdened by the tragedy, The truth was all too plain to see:
One by one their kind would fall, Beneath the torrent of the Wave,
If none could stand before its gaze
And somehow fill that endless void.
King of light and Queen of dark,
Apeiron and Helba knew of one,
Who might defeat the Wave:
A mythic beast long said to sleep, 'Neath the edge of the world's end
Sheathed by the Wavering Peninsula, A creature of the greatest might,
The sacred dragon of twilight.

Thus Queen Helba chose Bith the Black,
Her strongest sprite, to join the quest;
While Apeiron sent Fili the White,
To journey with them in his stead,
For Bith and Helba thought it best,
That the king remain behind to rule
And calm the ever-spreading dread, Ere the dragon might appear.

So as the three prepared to ride, Through the aqua gate of Mac Anu
A fourth did come by fate's command: One part Human, one part sprite,
Alone for all his nameless might,
He fell in stride with Helba's steed
As she wordlessly agreed, His will was worthy of their cause.

Through the Fatel Bog they sped, As onyx dust cloaked each in turn
From which arose a blinding pall,
A living shadow born to crawl
Betwixt reality and mind, Till death, within them, was enshrined:
Each was shown their comrades slain;
Illusions of Skeith's mortal game.
Fili wept and knelt to pray,
While Bith did halt in stunned dismay
Ere turning back upon the path, Desires crushed by failure's wrath.
The halfling tore about the swamp,
Searching for the fount of death
Whose noxious fog had claimed the lives,
Of those who'd stand against the Wave.
Alone the dark queen Helba rode, Remorseless through the baneful mire,
Cursing the Wave as she progressed,
Bent solely on her noble quest,
And as she went the darkness lifted, Till she found her friends still living,
Mounted on their stagnant steeds,
As if enchanted by some dream.
Calling forth an ancient rune, The queen dispelled the evil bind;
Thus Skeith's hold was undermined,
And as he slowly evanesced
Each realized they'd been possessed,

While Helba foretold a prophecy
Of eight heralds with demons blood,
Eight phases of the Cursed Wave.

As the boggy mud grew dry,
Gyle Mountain rose before them,
A deadly oft avoided peak; The swiftest route to Dun Loireag;
For eons standing as a God,
O'er looking men with its facade
While hiding at its center true, A molten pit of which none knew.
As they neared the summit's height,
Something waited midst their course:
A Chimera of the greatest size, With sleight blue malefic eyes
Exuding lust for their demise;
Then two, then four, then all around
The aberrations capped the ground,
Till hundreds stood in perfect stillness.
Charging forth as one they came, With rumbling fury at the four,
Who held a circle back to back,
Slaying beasts as they attacked;
Though as the horrors met their deaths, Each vanished with its dying breath,
Unfleshly as a wayward thought,
But for the bloody wounds they wrought.
Thus the ceaseless battle waged:
As each fiend fell another came
Till Bith cried out in dire need, A lone chimera must be real;
The others conjured effigies;
Doppelgangers born to please
Their lord and master as slaves,
Incarnations of the Wave.
Deeming true the dark knight's words, Fili beseeched her allies three
For time to let her mind's eye see;
Hence minutes passed as Fili prayed
Ere she raised her longbow high,
And let a single arrow fly
Piercing clouds upon the sky, As though the shaft were blessed by God.
Falling with a feather's grace,
The missile knew whom to embrace,
And like a tear from heaven shed, Smote its wrath on the demon's head,
Laying to waste the vile horde;
As Innis' power left the peak
Six words of spite he cruelly gave:
"You shall never stop the Wave."

Past the mount they traveled far,
Through Dun Loireag the highland town
Till they reached the woods of Breade, Where lay a mark for all to heed:
A sphere enclosed by myriad lines,
One of many travelers' signs
Known by the halfling doubtlessly:
A labyrinth confronts beyond.

Foraging down countless paths, Each branch producing two alike;
They hastened forth without event,
Till Helba sensed a foul intent,
And turning, to her wonder found, A creature posing as a man,
Exquisite in his nakedness;
A mold no Human or Elf could possess.
With arms spread wide the demon smiled,
And Helba watched as though beguiled
While fallen twigs grew into trees, Forming fast a wooden shield
Unyielding to the fiercest blow;
Then shrieks about the forest rang
As any beast with claw or fang,
Descended on the narrow trail. Besieged by creatures of the wood,
They battled 'gainst undying foes:
Each pair slain would recompose,
Birthing four at instant pace. As Magus watched with grinning glee,
Entombed within his wall of trees
Which faster grew then could be hewn;
A trait which spelled the heroes' doom.
Thus the exalting onslaught went, Till Nameless conceived a final hope,
And drawing out a flask of spirits,
Hurled it at the barricade,
Then blazed a spark with blade on blade,
Setting to light a rampant fire;
A majestic funeral pyre,
Felling the wall atop its maker.

Soon Breade was but a memory,
O’er shadowed by the floral city:
Carmina Gadelica by name,
Of gentile and aesthetic fame;

Though swiftly too it fell behind,
As Moyra Canyon darkly loomed,
Foreboding in its desolation, Ere the crossing had begun.
Hours aft the presaged end, Of that bleak and lengthy trek,
Moyra's cliffs still stood aside,
Mocking each benumbing stride;
Till Bith remarked in somber phrase,
They'd passed the same formations thrice,
Spun by some malign device,
So deftly one might never know.
Having spoke his solemn fear, A haunting voice then prophesied:
"Your graveyard shall this chasm be
For here you will remain with me;
Helpless as the Wave consumes,
Everything you've ever known,
Leaving naught behind but bone, And fading whispers on the wind."

Searching for escape in vain, They rode the passage once again;
But Fidchell's brazen promise held:
Nowhere could the cliffs be scaled,
And though their course did never veer,
While racing through the corridor,
They came to camp just as before;
Overcome by nauseous dread.
Dispel charms proved fruitless too; Till Bith called for womanly aid,
Requesting they enchant his blade;
Then slowly marching down the path
For hours when he sensed at last,
The entrapping portal's edge;
Driving hard his sword to earth,
Razing Fidchell's sorcery.

Spoken thusly, Fidchell states;
"Like a frenzied horse that is driven. An unseen wind of plague shrieks across the border. Pandemonium, wailing, and stench of carnage fills the air. There is no place to run. No hope of escape. Those who are mourned will never return. The hands of time cannot be turned back."


Long past the crucible of Moyra,
They sheltered in a citadel: Fort Ouph, so said its denizens
Where mind and body could be cleansed,
Of any hardships one endured
Ere disembarking further north,
Over the barren Veishus Plain,
Where most who crossed it would remain.
The horses thrived on unmarked land,
Rejoicing in those countless miles, Till suddenly in concert halting
As ebon vapours coalesced,
At Gorre's inhuman behest,
Forging whole his grotesque form: A tetra-legged mass of hate
Obscured midst a foul haze.
With putrid limbs the demon lashed;
Immense weight thrown behind each strike: Through both guard and shield alike
The blows did wound unless evaded;
While each assault the heroes launched
Was somehow violently repelled: Sheathed in armour craft of malice
The creature stood immune to challenge.
Battling with their utmost might
Each soon grew weary from the fight,
When Fili grazed the demon's hide
And felt its overwhelming sadness; No longer could abhorrence lie
Within her for the wretched fiend:
T'was but a puppet of the Wave
Devised to delve for each a grave.
As pity laced her heavy heart,
Fili strode towards the beast, Whose crushing limbs were now repulsed
Ere they touched her ivory skin;
When came she nigh with rapier drawn
A single thrust did slay its brawn,
For mercy guided Fili's blade
Where scorn could never penetrate.

In time they reached Lia Fail,
Exhausted to the breaking point,
Where healers did their wounds anoint
While speaking of the land beyond: Knemisys was the desert's name;
Devoid of life's too fragile flame,
Though offering hope ever so slight: The journey's end was now in sight.

Once their strength had been regained
A woman of unmatched beauty came; And standing in the village square
With naught to clothe but flowing hair,
She beckoned with an outstretched hand
As her siren song did ring,
Throughout the quiet frontier town,
Calling both the knight and halfling.
Doused by some seducing force
Helba charged to find the source,
But like Fili arrived too late: Bith and Nameless stood entranced,
By Macha's all-enticing spell
With which she did their blades compel,
To set upon the women with
Whom they'd journeyed for so long.
Knowing well the quest would fail
If any were to perish here, They could but dodge each fierce attack,
Unwilling to counter back;
Neither could Macha be harmed:
Protected by her servants two,
No assault could carry through;
Such was the witchcraft's passion. In desperation Helba cast
A seldom sober sorcery:
The banshee's cry for moments wailed,
Annulling the demon's hymn, And sealing Macha's fate therein;
For that lone unhindered instant,
Was all the dark queen needed
To cut the bare seductress down.


So bidding to the town farewell
They forged ahead through Knemisys; Uncrossed by any to return:
The arid distance was too great,
Yet they went without debate
To find whatever might await,
Knowing one predestined fact: They'd not last the journey back.

Past untold dunes the horses ran
Till any sense of time was gone,
And each grew jadedly withdrawn,
When, rising from the sands ahead,
A small oasis lay outspread;
Water sparkling through the heat,
Beneath a single Godsent tree
Worth tenfold its weight in gold.
First they drank as ne'er before Upon the tiny desert shore,
But found in frantic disarray
Just two fruits about the tree;

Soon both Queen and Halfling claimed
Their sex deserved the greater share,
While Fili spoke with fixed glare:
Equal parts were truly fair.
Bith alone did not take part
For something gnawed upon his heart;
Coming clear as swords were drawn
When words alone would not suffice; Plunging through bark and wood his axe,
A shriek of fury tamed the fight,
As the haven left their eyes;
Thus Tarvos met his swift demise,
Presently the thirst awoke
As the demon's magic broke,
But soon their spirits soared anew:
Sand gave way to fluid ground, A joyous omen that they'd found
The Wavering Peninsula;
Awash with instability
Such as none had ever seen.
Colours shimmered 'round the cape, Blending aimlessly together,
While hoof-beats danced about the land
Like echoes of a mindless band;

But all too soon this chaos paled
In contrast to the final phase: Before the Stone of Destiny
Corbenik stood in mockery.
Titanic was his human form;
Eyes alight with vicious scorn,
As he advanced with roaring strides

And spoke in truly humbling voice:
"You've journeyed far and suffered much
To perish by my flawless touch;
For as you now shall plainly see, No sprite exists to stand against me."

Ere the final word had died,
A pulse erupted from his hand
Which all but one could not withstand:
Nameless stood in disbelief
As Helba, Bith, and Fili fell, Unconscious to the shifting earth;
Saved by halfling blood alone,
He'd fight this demon on his own.
Enraged that any dared resist,
Corbenik charged into the duel
With staggering ferocity,
Bent towards his enemy
Who spun ever-elusively,
Away from each leaden blow,
Requiting with his lustrous blades, Like some pernicious serenade.
Despite the halfling's surest strike,
Corbenik offered no respite,
For even as his steel drew blood,
The lesion seamlessly would heal

Till a voice in him confided: “Your weapons cannot harm this fiend;
Fight with those attached to life,
To break his immortality.”
Unequaled was the dark queen's verve,
So taking up her royal sword
And yearning for true faith's reward;
Nameless vaulted o'er his foe, Driving the blade through flesh below,
And landing on the other side
As the demon fell beside,
Both motionless for a time.

Soon burning with hellish fire,
The fiend rose in satanic form
As the Halfling heard once more:
“A weapon in accord with death
Will cleave this monster's dying breath”;
Thus endowed with Bith's great axe
He snuffed Corbenik's second life;
Though doubt within him now grew rife.

From ash the demon rose again,
Empowered by the pure heart
And soaring high with angel's wings,
As Nameless brandished Fili's bow,
Firing volleys at each chance, Till the fiend could fly no more,
And beaten to its very core,
Fell to earth one final time.

Once the sprites had reawakened,
The voice resounded in their minds:
“You have my sincerest praises,
For vanquishing the Wave's eight phases,
Each imbued with twisted souls, Collected by their maker;

Each a brutal incarnation,
Embodying the psyche:

Skeith, The Terror of Death;
Composed of deepest mortal fear
His morbid whispers silence cheer

Innis, The Mirage of Deceit;
Cloaked within a deadly guise,
One must see truth amidst his lies;

Magus, The Propagator,
In his presence species' thrive,
Ever able to survive;

Fidchell, The Prophet;
Predicating hopeless fate,
To crush your will beneath its weight;

Gorre, The Machination;
Enrobed by vicious cruelty,
Immune to all but sympathy;

Macha, The Temptress;
Manifesting love and lust
To charm even the most robust;

Tarvos, The Avenger;
Envy and vengeance are the tools
With which he transforms men to fools;

And Corbenik, The Rebirth;
First compelled by all life's riches
Then drawn towards the reaper's scythe,
Before ascending to the skies
On gusts of immaculate intent.

When this world was barely born,
The Wave and I did battle here
For eons at same frontier,
Clashing once with utmost strength:
Our bodies spread across the land, Seeding all that now exists;
Substance did my form provide,
And he the spirit held inside.
I've waited for your coming since;
A specter sealed beneath this stone
Without a shape to call my own;
Thus I must entreat you all
To pay this last, most grievous cost:
Return to me what I have lost
That I might give my life to save, Those remaining from the Wave.”

Each laid their hands upon the stone,
Vanishing as the dragon rose
In magnificent repose; Feeding off his former tomb
Now serving as a holy womb;
The peninsula soon faded too:

Among the saddest kinds of loss,
Gone ere it could be forgotten.
In a breath the dragon flew,
Back to besieged Mac Anu,
Where all the mages of the land,
Had trenched their only stand
At the battered aqua gate, To stay the Wave in fervent hope
That the quest would yet succeed,
As Apeiron had once decreed.
Streaming forth in sheer delight, The Twilight Dragon met the Wave;
Twirling 'round his adversary,
Till inextricably entwined
They momentary shone as one,
Like a swiftly dying sun
Whose embers flare with glory bright,
Before it's taken by the night.

When the aura dissipated,
Wave and Dragon both were gone,
Though joy came not to Apeiron;
He knew this victory's true price;
The last and greatest sacrifice,
Which Helba and her friends had made
At land's end so far away,
For every voice that now did cheer.

Sprites have long since lost their wings,
As they did their innocence,
The timeless dusk in which they lived,
And perhaps of all the saddest;
Of Helba and her servant Bith,
Of Fili and the Halfling too,



Over the Keel Mountains,
Meets an ape with human speech.
The ape asks,
"What clings to you?
Bear it—you cannot.
Accept it—you cannot.
But hidden—it is from you.
Recite its name."



Shunning the field broken by Wave.
The shadowed girl whispers,
"Surely, I will return."
Alas, the truth unbeknownst.
Awaiting her at journey's end;
Eternal mourning for her land.



The Keel Mountains traversed at last,
we met a dragon that spoke thus:
"Sheraton am I, who interprets the signs.
An answer to my question, give.
If you can, complete my role will be,
and I will leave this land.
Though equally it exists before everyone's eyes,
grasp it not one person can.
Tell me—what is it?"


No memories remain but this:
The whole cannot be changed. We have already lost that chance.
Because the time left to use was short, We were mistaken in our path.
But now do we realize, we should not alter the whole, But change only the parts..