“Soul of untouchable darkness, realms lost in eternities of obscurity. In the dusk lingers dread, dread is of the mind and is not inside clutch. In dread lies demise, in demise lies gloom.” - Army of Nightfall principle.
The realm is occupied with agony and anguish, the strong rule above the pathetic. Suffering the injustices of the strong, the weak contest not for it shall be in vain. I stand high over the weak and strong. I rule over all. I am the creator, the beginning and the end. No single person rules me I am Strong, powerful, yet servants disobey leaders. They defile my temples my lands they rebel against their god. I am more powerful, and stronger than they could ever be. I deserve to rule, the strong rule the weak and the weak do as the strong say or die. These are the laws of the land.
My throne sits at the conclusion of the epicenter of the urban sprawl of Alici-opi. Busts of my unlimited magnificence border the ridge of the epicenter. This urban sprawl was constructed upon the boundless mount of Vellen-vood. I lookout from the elevations of the highland, while probing the capital, and I am looking forward to triggering the feeble agony. One thousand years I have ruled over theses whelps, these mutinous losers. I tread to the access point of the capital regarding the city with repugnance. “This is how they demonstration appreciativeness to me,” I mock at their meager challenges, “Subsequently all I have completed for them.”
Smoke columns lift to the air in the atrophied capital, but they will not reach me. My sentinels are too devoted, too dominant to be overwhelmed. They stand amongst the paramount and toughest of manhood. And yet as I look out at the skirmish unfolding I see astonishingly. The dissident flag progressing is through the boulevards. How is this feasible? I am sturdier than any of them. I sense the passion in my core crack into vehemence, an unrelenting frenzy driving into my awareness, “Those fools, those weak fools!” Holding up my hands I bellow an incantation, mammoth sized meteors shower the ignorant metropolis. Hazes of filth filled dust are dispersed into the atmosphere from the falling stars crashing into the earth. Rapidly my outburst concludes and I turn, unbeknownst to me the armies of revolutionists arrive at my citadel.
An assemblage of six agents of the races trudges in to the stronghold. The loftiest was a male High Elf he had a conceited air to his appearance, per a sharp snout that was wrinkled up, his jawline was fine. He had long piercing ears that rounded marginally up like a partial arc. Golden eyes gawked at me seeming like they were penetrating my depth, he bore a sophisticated robe and shawl that cloaked his physique with embroidery. I reminisce slaughtering his kinfolk as he watched. I let him go at liberty as demonstration to him I was compassionate. As it stood it was the wrong choice seemingly.
One more elf around three inches shorter than him stared with malice at me. This individual was female, her extended jagged ear that curved to under the earlobe expressed to me that she was a Wood Elf. Her curved striking sapphire eyes bared the splendor of her people. I felt the impulse to peck her soft rosy lips. I felt remorse that I would have to decimate her. Her curved middle lay visible to the realm since the undersized shirt that covered the upper half of her bosom. The huntress’s blouse and skirt she dressed in were produced from the pelt of Seroke hide – a bulky mammal like creature that is near impossible to slay. That pelt spoke of a lengthy account of combat. What I did to her I cannot distinguish maybe she is just testing herself. But then I recognize her hand is clasp around the High Elves hand. I laugh.
The third tallest of the assemblage has an antagonistic stride, along with his dark hide and severely sharp ears along with sharp horns distending from his temple. I identify him as a Dark Elf one of my previous slaves I had rid myself of, he had been too scrawny, and I should have slain him when I had had the chance. His dark gloomy eyes molded a murky oblivion I gawked into them with evident wickedness. He didn’t grimace or turn away so I observed the next visitor.
Succeeding I see the human with a wide menacing sneer crossing his face, which rapidly cracks to loathing as he notices me looking to him. He was a fine-looking fellow with fair golden locks of hair. On his face he sported a golden beard that only stretched half an inch from his chin. He was plainly a lord bestowing to his stance. His saunter was of gallantry and nerve he along with this assemblage would not be a relaxed contest.
A Snow Elf stood erected in essentially the equal summit as the human. His snow bleached skin and insipid aged eyes, his harsh perverted ears warped equally to that of ram’s horns. Baring a polar bear hide. His nose was barely visible to me. He had thick round cobalt eyes.
Succeeding, the shortest and most indignant race ever born on this planet stalks up my halls, a Dwarf. He is four maybe four and a half feet tall. His ling and withered beard speak of wealth among the dwarven people. The assemblage sealed the distance between us.
“How are you my unforeseen guests? I hope the hotness has not been too severe on your tantalizing skins,” I spoke with malice and spite in my voice. The Wood Elf and High Elf step onward just a small number of feet away from me. Mocking me! I elevate my fist then jerk it back and an indistinguishable energy propels them on their rears. The rest of the assemblages draw their armaments.
As the two raise the snow elf steps forward, “I am Trelen Valennz; we are here to end your tirade of evil. The Humans send Kaden Moonstar, the High Elves send Sven’rend Toligen, The Wood Elves send Je’enas Selven, the dwarves send Da’ven Tro, and the dark elves send Wentroenins’val Cen’rilonb. We embody the biddings of six races of Fereldea, it has long sense been time to rebel in contradiction of your tyrannical statute. Our conformist assemblies have overruled your unjust statute.”
“I am your deity you cannot solely discard me, I am too powerful,” I sneer at their mutiny. Their idealistic illusions of liberty from my supremacy were vain there was no way they could subjugate me.
“You suppress us hence we mutiny in contradiction of your fraudulent authority,” Kaden Moonstar quantified. In his fingers he detained an extensive far-reaching blade it was the premium armament menfolk could fashion. The fashion it excelled expressed to yours truly it remained impervious to enchantments, I gaze at altogether the weaponries chosen by my adversaries, the Wood Elf had selected a longbow – how cliché – the Snow Elf holds a war axe, the Dwarf a war hammer. I jeer at the Dark Elf whom ensured not come fortified with an armament he would be the incantation caster.
“For Fereldea!!” the human cries out as he runs at me fluctuating his enthralled steel. Hurriedly I wedge his steel into a rock wall per my raised blade. I knee him in his groin, he squeals in agony. Hastily I dispatch him by way of a pang in the gullet I screw my invented steel amputating his cranium from his carcass. The human dies a sacrifice. Succeeding, I volley harsh combustions as of my right limb. Floods of firestorms border the assemblage. Wentroenins’val Cen’rilonb reputes my infernos per a fabricated safeguard, that drives my violence blandly about the gathering of races. Out of exasperation I interrupt my barrage of blaze, raising my left limb in the air and snatch it down, the pinnacle of the bastion disintegrates down and about the agents.
“What you collapse that easy,” I lark a menacing giggle, “Your unification did you naught…”
Suddenly there is a loud chanting under the rubble. Pardon? That Elf’s buffer ought to have crumbled below the wreckage. My skepticism halts me from countering as the remnants of the ceiling discharge centrifugally; an enormous section sends me off into the partition. I am surrounded by a void of darkness. I transfer my supports in throbbing alternation, but my wrists are bound by a securely knotted cord. I exposed my eyes and see my oppositions surrounding me. Everyone but the human I had gored erected about me. “I resolve to triumph you cannot exhaust me!” I bellow. My capacity to speak is shushed, as piercing vicious sensation parts my gullet, at that time I sense a burning fluid trickling on to the shingle base… Gore, blood dribbled forth from my craw I could impress the fact life was draining from my body. “I resolve to be a reoccurrence,” they have executed me; my conception starts to diminish….
“He is dead! Gabriel is dead! We have done it!” I holler to my spouse Sven’rend, he beams at me and peck my cheek. I laugh happily at that time I turn to Moonstar’s cadaver that rests stock-still on the firm unfriendly grit. “He was a good honorable man,” I publish kneeling reverently to his unresponsive shell. I tread over and pick him up in my influential arms; the collection trails me as I saunter to the steps on the exterior of the stronghold. I position him in a standing pose and shortly his frame starts to mold into dense gold. Human combatants soon trudge up to recompense their admirations of their departed forerunner.
1 year later.
“Sven’rend this unification per a Wood Elf will stand as the humiliation of the epoch, you must not espouse her!” My Fathrer erupts through the entrance of my dressing chamber howling.
“Fathrer you cannot sojourn me we are The Champions. She resolves to stand as my mate for I love her, you will not end my wedding,” I approximate irritably as my forebear paces in front of me. I stand tall in my traditional wedding cloths. A gilded kerchief sitting in my breast pocket, “Je’enas and I have scheduled for this occurrence for years. I’m not about to break it for you or whatsoever.” Quivering my skull fiercely I thrust my fathrer to the side as I perceive the Wood Elf bridal composition start. “Fathrer we are going to have a child soon,” I convey to him as I saunter off.
“That youth will not be permitted in the High Elf Realm!” I heard him squelch.
“Then she shall live per the Wood Elves awaiting the day I obtain the crown,” I counter for he has no more children. I storm off letting the door slam behind me.
After that day my Fathrer and I on no occasion ever communicated. Again.
3 years later.
Sven strolls past me giving me an indulgent kiss on the cheek as I embrace our attractive daughter, Alassea. Her golden-blue eyes glittering as she giggled up at me swaying her arms trying to grasp my face. I kiss the little angel on her temple then the Alicauvi walks up to me and Sven. “I have news from the High Elves. Sven they must have your appearance for your faer’s wedding,” The Alicauvi walks over to him, “You must go to improve our releion with your people.”
Sven nods thoughtfully as he walks to her, “I will go,” it wasn’t unanticipated that his fathrer was attainment marriage again; High Elves habitually wed more than one individual to progress releion –relations – with newer honorable families. It’s like the Wood Elf Clan structure except for our clans are always trusted to join when needed. Likewise we are more excepting of half-breeds than any other elven race.
I nod at him, “I will go too.”
“What about the child she cannot come.”
“I will watch over her. She is welcome in our clan if the ignorant High Elves will not,” the Alicauvi said walking over I hand Alassea to her and me and Sven kiss her the last time in numerous years.
I miss her even now as I walk away.
18 years later
I persist at the abyss of the reappearance of the ancient age, of my statute. I have remained slumbering in this chasm of a world, for eons, at present I have the impression my métier returning. I have finally awakened. I had undervalued the Wood Elves and currently they will recompense for their opposition. The total domain will pay for their upheaval. I sense a passion scorch in my chest soon the realm will writhe at my feet.