imported_Daerk
07-07-2003, 10:10 AM
The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance as the shadows deepen in the ruined Pantheon. A whispering sigh weaves it's way between the columns as the wind whips icily past. Upon a singlet altar an inscription, half hidden by dying moss, seems to catch the wanderer's eye.
Scéal duibh,
óig dar mhuir,
mile laoch líonfas ler,
barca breaga bruigfidid,
bása uile aisnedid,
áes cach dána dícheadal,
siabra dothrú saibscince,
séanfaid tráigte sithchura,
cacha treasa maidfidid.
As the wanderer brushes a fingertip across the inscription, the susurration of a woman's sigh startles him. He turns, seeing for the first time a woman of leucous pallor, enshrouded in a black gown of midnight silk worn with the infernal allure of the virtuous. Her countenance is that of the Virgin Mother, yet the smirk on her scarlet lips construes defiled innocence.
With the grace and celerity of the animated dead, the Mother of Whores approaches the wanderer. A voice of ancient power rolls from her lips, intoning in some unknown ancient language that seems to flow through the very thoughts of the wanderer, forming and translating the words spoken with deathly clarity.
-- I am the storm across the sea --
-- I am the flood that ravages the plain --
-- I am the roar of the tides --
-- I am the stag of seven tines --
-- I am a shard let fall by the darkness --
-- I am the fierceness of boars --
-- I am a hawk, my nest on a cliff --
-- I am a height of blood --
-- I am the lust among flesh --
-- I am the snake of poison --
-- Who but I is both the tree and the lightning that strikes it --
-- Who is the dark secret of the dolmen not yet hewn --
-- I am the queen of every hive --
-- I am the fire on every hill --
-- I am the shield over every head --
-- I am the spear of battle --
-- I am the ninth wave of eternal return --
-- I am the grave of every vain hope --
-- Who knows the path of the sun, the periods of the moon --
-- Who gathers the divisions, enthralls the sea, --
-- sets in order the mountains. the rivers, the peoples --
-- It is I who hinder the sand from choking the secret chamber --
-- Know you this, and embrace my kiss! --
A murder of crows flew about in restless unease and hunger at the anguished cry that echoed from the ruined Pantheon under the twilight. The scuffling noises of something heavy hitting the stones and rolling were accented with an odd squishy su.ckling noise, that was soon joined by other su.ckling noises, and the scrabbling of taloned limbs across the stones.
-- Daerk Ildatch
*.sig file off to continue modding...
(Scene 2 should be posted by tomorrow)
Scéal duibh,
óig dar mhuir,
mile laoch líonfas ler,
barca breaga bruigfidid,
bása uile aisnedid,
áes cach dána dícheadal,
siabra dothrú saibscince,
séanfaid tráigte sithchura,
cacha treasa maidfidid.
As the wanderer brushes a fingertip across the inscription, the susurration of a woman's sigh startles him. He turns, seeing for the first time a woman of leucous pallor, enshrouded in a black gown of midnight silk worn with the infernal allure of the virtuous. Her countenance is that of the Virgin Mother, yet the smirk on her scarlet lips construes defiled innocence.
With the grace and celerity of the animated dead, the Mother of Whores approaches the wanderer. A voice of ancient power rolls from her lips, intoning in some unknown ancient language that seems to flow through the very thoughts of the wanderer, forming and translating the words spoken with deathly clarity.
-- I am the storm across the sea --
-- I am the flood that ravages the plain --
-- I am the roar of the tides --
-- I am the stag of seven tines --
-- I am a shard let fall by the darkness --
-- I am the fierceness of boars --
-- I am a hawk, my nest on a cliff --
-- I am a height of blood --
-- I am the lust among flesh --
-- I am the snake of poison --
-- Who but I is both the tree and the lightning that strikes it --
-- Who is the dark secret of the dolmen not yet hewn --
-- I am the queen of every hive --
-- I am the fire on every hill --
-- I am the shield over every head --
-- I am the spear of battle --
-- I am the ninth wave of eternal return --
-- I am the grave of every vain hope --
-- Who knows the path of the sun, the periods of the moon --
-- Who gathers the divisions, enthralls the sea, --
-- sets in order the mountains. the rivers, the peoples --
-- It is I who hinder the sand from choking the secret chamber --
-- Know you this, and embrace my kiss! --
A murder of crows flew about in restless unease and hunger at the anguished cry that echoed from the ruined Pantheon under the twilight. The scuffling noises of something heavy hitting the stones and rolling were accented with an odd squishy su.ckling noise, that was soon joined by other su.ckling noises, and the scrabbling of taloned limbs across the stones.
-- Daerk Ildatch
*.sig file off to continue modding...
(Scene 2 should be posted by tomorrow)