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Jun. 14th, 2011
Not Afraid (part 2)
Jun. 14th, 2011 04:19 pmFreneskae
It was Freneskae where Icthlarin eventually found a people to call his own.
To class Freneskae a Hell dimension would be a cruel jest. It, by the reports of the Mahjarrat and later by the priests of Icthlarin, was an entire realm consumed by war. So wracked by war was the ground where Icthlarin first stepped onto the world that it collapsed under him revealing the molten rock barely beneath the surface, churned into its liquid state by the sheer amount of magic that has bleed into the planet itself over the millenia. The sky was obscured by soot, burning ash fell from the sky. And all around was death. The priests would later tell stories of what Icthlarin saw, of great beasts of war staggering their way across fields littered with rusting machines and fantastic armor, and the bones and entrails of beings of various shapes and sizes. But wars cannot be fought by by the dead or by dumb beasts and machines without masters. The living fought, the undead fought, the unliving fought. Even gods fought, against eachother and against mortal beings so powerful that the words god and mortal almost lost their separate meanings.
The importance of the mysteries of death and life were so central to the existence of Freneskae and its inhabitants that it is little wonder Icthlarin found it and his tribe, the Mahjarrat. Or perhaps, that they found him. The Mahjarrat were a powerful tribe of warriors, long lived, skilled in magic, and natural shape shifters. It is not clear why the Mahjarrat accompanied Icthlarin back to the Kharid but it must have seemed a haven of peace to their eyes. To their eyes the conflict that was just simmering below the surface might as well had been unnoticeable.
To the denizens of Gielinor it was a time of swift and bewildering change. It was around that time that the Sleeping God fell asleep for the first time. It was worshiped widely in the lands beyond the Kharid, but not in the Kharid itself. The followers of the Sleeper perished here, for they did not revere the Sun, and they withered under Tumeken's harsh gaze. But as the Sleeper slept, his followers began turning their backs on it and to follow new gods. In the lands beyond the Kharid, the worshipers of the Old Man emerged from the sea and his Church spread north, and from ancient Forinthry in the North, the worshipers of a new Empty Lord spread south. Reverence to our lord Tumeken and his family also spread, as the Mehkmet tribe ventured beyond the Shantay pass. But as they ventured north, they encountered the hordes of the Empty One, his demons, his vampires, his fiends, his gargoyles, and his dragonriders. It was then that the Devourer's slayers received the first test of their skills as they fought off the overt attempts by the Empty One's forces to take the land the Mehkmets had claimed. But it wasn't until Icthlarin brought the Mahjarrat to Gielinor that there was peace for the Kharidian Empire. With the combined forces of the Devourer's slayers and Icthlarin's Mahjarrat, the forces of the Empty One were pushed as far north as where the Rive Lum bends to the west.
There was a price for this peace, however.
It was Freneskae where Icthlarin eventually found a people to call his own.
To class Freneskae a Hell dimension would be a cruel jest. It, by the reports of the Mahjarrat and later by the priests of Icthlarin, was an entire realm consumed by war. So wracked by war was the ground where Icthlarin first stepped onto the world that it collapsed under him revealing the molten rock barely beneath the surface, churned into its liquid state by the sheer amount of magic that has bleed into the planet itself over the millenia. The sky was obscured by soot, burning ash fell from the sky. And all around was death. The priests would later tell stories of what Icthlarin saw, of great beasts of war staggering their way across fields littered with rusting machines and fantastic armor, and the bones and entrails of beings of various shapes and sizes. But wars cannot be fought by by the dead or by dumb beasts and machines without masters. The living fought, the undead fought, the unliving fought. Even gods fought, against eachother and against mortal beings so powerful that the words god and mortal almost lost their separate meanings.
The importance of the mysteries of death and life were so central to the existence of Freneskae and its inhabitants that it is little wonder Icthlarin found it and his tribe, the Mahjarrat. Or perhaps, that they found him. The Mahjarrat were a powerful tribe of warriors, long lived, skilled in magic, and natural shape shifters. It is not clear why the Mahjarrat accompanied Icthlarin back to the Kharid but it must have seemed a haven of peace to their eyes. To their eyes the conflict that was just simmering below the surface might as well had been unnoticeable.
To the denizens of Gielinor it was a time of swift and bewildering change. It was around that time that the Sleeping God fell asleep for the first time. It was worshiped widely in the lands beyond the Kharid, but not in the Kharid itself. The followers of the Sleeper perished here, for they did not revere the Sun, and they withered under Tumeken's harsh gaze. But as the Sleeper slept, his followers began turning their backs on it and to follow new gods. In the lands beyond the Kharid, the worshipers of the Old Man emerged from the sea and his Church spread north, and from ancient Forinthry in the North, the worshipers of a new Empty Lord spread south. Reverence to our lord Tumeken and his family also spread, as the Mehkmet tribe ventured beyond the Shantay pass. But as they ventured north, they encountered the hordes of the Empty One, his demons, his vampires, his fiends, his gargoyles, and his dragonriders. It was then that the Devourer's slayers received the first test of their skills as they fought off the overt attempts by the Empty One's forces to take the land the Mehkmets had claimed. But it wasn't until Icthlarin brought the Mahjarrat to Gielinor that there was peace for the Kharidian Empire. With the combined forces of the Devourer's slayers and Icthlarin's Mahjarrat, the forces of the Empty One were pushed as far north as where the Rive Lum bends to the west.
There was a price for this peace, however.