Will I succeed?Will it turn out to be brilliant or a pile of fail of epic proportions?
I'll leave it up to you to decide.
Please remember that critic is welcome and I'd really love to hear your opinions and thoughts regarding each part (out of 6) that comes out.
Before I begin I'd like to thank certain people for inspiring me or simply because they never gave up on me,and thus,made all this possible:
-Vic (I know you're gone but if your watching...This one is for you,my dearest friend)
-Mark (Your critic has always helped me even in dark times and I hope that this will satisfy you)
-Adelina (For the inspiration and love that you give,I can only hope that whatever it is I'm doing to keep you that it'll always be the same)
-Maria (For trying to understand the ways in which my mind works..."Don't worry,one day you'll figure it out! :P " ... Thank you for being a close friend through all these years.)
And here we go:
Erather's Curse (part 1)
[In a distant land long before our times,
There stood two Empires joined by crimes,
As once there was Sainorad,city of the Saints,
And its equal was Feverei,city of restraints.
Assassinations and wars were bound to come together,
As these two great cities were kept in battle since forever,
And once every 200 hundred years peace returned for a decade,
When their champions battled in a response to give aid.
Now...that final day is close,
For their anger never sloes.
How will it end,nobody knows,
So we are bound to see how the story goes.]
[Erather,High Archmage of the Saints stood in front
With the Council balancing his words with a grunt,
For he demanded peace between the two forces,
A thought shared by none.]
Erather:
Fair men and women of the Great Council,
I speak before thou both humble and ashamed,
For why must our brethren be covered in blood for so many years,
And leave so many behind,shattered and covered in tears?
Does this state please the Council?
Does it make you all shiver with joy alike,
Or do thou feel remorse and wish to end this threat?
The time to battle the Fevereis draws near with each passing day,
And still thou does not seek a meaning or either a peaceful way!
Must blood be spilled through our palaces and homes?
Must it cover our bodies and our loved ones be covered with it?
Surely there must be a way,
So that our seeds could plant and live to see another day.
[The Council listened to the wise mage's words,
Yet after some time their patience grew tiresome,
As there were plans and political schemes behind the curtains,
Thoughts and ideas that could...that would not be shattered be the words of one.
From them all,Onduin stood up to challenge the warning,
His face displeased,his eyes burning,
Son of a champion he had the right,
And so he performed the sacred rite.]
Onduin:
Dear Council that tires in the light of such babel,
Think not of pleasing the ideas that come during the day,
But rather ponder on it during today's night,
When thou shall come to consider who and when to fight.
As for you Erather,wisest of the mage,
If wise be your gift than how dare thee challenge the decision of the Council,
And mock us all in front.
Never have I witnessed in all my years a disgrace such as this,
When one heeds on many to turn their back on the brightest day of history,
When a few must be sacrificed for the good of others,
A sacrifice they chose on their own behalf.
You are strong young boy,stronger than most,
Yet if thee shall not obey our call,then prepare for the worst!
Erather:
Then let that which is worst come in its own shape and time,
But until then I ask of you to consider a brighter future where none must die,
For their deaths are in vain,
And they will be joined by others,as if a chain.
Onduin:
There,there now,little one.
I see no wisdom in the sounds you share with us,
Yet if you cannot be urged to remain silent,
Then so shall it be,and now,your future I shall now see.
Archmage Erather of the Saints,
I,Onduin,son of Cresteto,hereby invoke the rite,
By which the son of a champion may claim the right on another life,
So that the chosen being will fight on my behalf in the upcoming war.
[A moment of panic stirred the council in turn,
For some might have thought of such an idea
Yet never conceived it to turn true.
For what better champion than Erather should there be chosen?
Who better to rise and fight off the enemies than the strongest of the lands.
None have seen the young one's powers in the heat of battle,
At least none have returned to tell the tale,
Yet legends were told of the fire the young mage possessed,
And that when enraged,even demons stood fiery upon their feet.]
Erather:
...
If mutiny would still be a choice I would plunge in such a thought,
For I come before thee with thoughts of peace and you greet a window of sorrow.
So be it then,
As only sorrow and despair shall be born from this wicked thought.
I,Erather,Archmage of Fire,last of my kind,
Answer to the shout of Onduin,son of Crestoto,
But bow only to his father's right,and not to the blind that stand before me.
[Thus he spoke,and thus he left,
Ashamed as if an innocent accused of theft,
For none had understood his warning,
And all is bound to lie burning.]
Inspiration:
Saltillo- The opening
[In a distant land long before our times,
There stood two Empires joined by crimes,
As once there was Sainorad,city of the Saints,
And its equal was Feverei,city of restraints.
Assassinations and wars were bound to come together,
As these two great cities were kept in battle since forever,
And once every 200 hundred years peace returned for a decade,
When their champions battled in a response to give aid.
Now...that final day is close,
For their anger never sloes.
How will it end,nobody knows,
So we are bound to see how the story goes.]
[Erather,High Archmage of the Saints stood in front
With the Council balancing his words with a grunt,
For he demanded peace between the two forces,
A thought shared by none.]
Erather:
Fair men and women of the Great Council,
I speak before thou both humble and ashamed,
For why must our brethren be covered in blood for so many years,
And leave so many behind,shattered and covered in tears?
Does this state please the Council?
Does it make you all shiver with joy alike,
Or do thou feel remorse and wish to end this threat?
The time to battle the Fevereis draws near with each passing day,
And still thou does not seek a meaning or either a peaceful way!
Must blood be spilled through our palaces and homes?
Must it cover our bodies and our loved ones be covered with it?
Surely there must be a way,
So that our seeds could plant and live to see another day.
[The Council listened to the wise mage's words,
Yet after some time their patience grew tiresome,
As there were plans and political schemes behind the curtains,
Thoughts and ideas that could...that would not be shattered be the words of one.
From them all,Onduin stood up to challenge the warning,
His face displeased,his eyes burning,
Son of a champion he had the right,
And so he performed the sacred rite.]
Onduin:
Dear Council that tires in the light of such babel,
Think not of pleasing the ideas that come during the day,
But rather ponder on it during today's night,
When thou shall come to consider who and when to fight.
As for you Erather,wisest of the mage,
If wise be your gift than how dare thee challenge the decision of the Council,
And mock us all in front.
Never have I witnessed in all my years a disgrace such as this,
When one heeds on many to turn their back on the brightest day of history,
When a few must be sacrificed for the good of others,
A sacrifice they chose on their own behalf.
You are strong young boy,stronger than most,
Yet if thee shall not obey our call,then prepare for the worst!
Erather:
Then let that which is worst come in its own shape and time,
But until then I ask of you to consider a brighter future where none must die,
For their deaths are in vain,
And they will be joined by others,as if a chain.
Onduin:
There,there now,little one.
I see no wisdom in the sounds you share with us,
Yet if you cannot be urged to remain silent,
Then so shall it be,and now,your future I shall now see.
Archmage Erather of the Saints,
I,Onduin,son of Cresteto,hereby invoke the rite,
By which the son of a champion may claim the right on another life,
So that the chosen being will fight on my behalf in the upcoming war.
[A moment of panic stirred the council in turn,
For some might have thought of such an idea
Yet never conceived it to turn true.
For what better champion than Erather should there be chosen?
Who better to rise and fight off the enemies than the strongest of the lands.
None have seen the young one's powers in the heat of battle,
At least none have returned to tell the tale,
Yet legends were told of the fire the young mage possessed,
And that when enraged,even demons stood fiery upon their feet.]
Erather:
...
If mutiny would still be a choice I would plunge in such a thought,
For I come before thee with thoughts of peace and you greet a window of sorrow.
So be it then,
As only sorrow and despair shall be born from this wicked thought.
I,Erather,Archmage of Fire,last of my kind,
Answer to the shout of Onduin,son of Crestoto,
But bow only to his father's right,and not to the blind that stand before me.
[Thus he spoke,and thus he left,
Ashamed as if an innocent accused of theft,
For none had understood his warning,
And all is bound to lie burning.]
Inspiration:
Saltillo- The opening
