The Archaic Chronicles of Dome-Wyrd

IX: Repercussions of The White Past.  All was quiet but the whistling wind that molested an unseen path, against the caverns walls, moving the water, in an erratic fashion.   The knights, slowly wandered down the icy mountain, careful, to not trip and slip down the frigid path of hidden slopes. Down into the village that was once, a horrendously horrible bloodbath, to these clueless elvan knights on prideful missions by Mondisi’s demand. Brought in by the king’s request, on a later date than the massacre, positively  unaware of the brother’s brutal squabble.   This stroll through a ghost town was pleasant, for them, if it were the brothers, irrefutably, it would have been unfathomably nerve racking. It's always better to be ignorant, than scared of the truth, Manis knew this, and soon, Mondisi would too..  Broodth, was not a ghost town although, it may have seemed so. To these unsuspecting, snow elves, it made no difference.   A young girl, who was now a young woman, screamed from

VIII: A Glass Kingdom’s Prosperity.  The following morning the king approached his new subjects that he found  ever so delightful, he strolled with a joyous hop, bouncing out of the palace doors, before him now stood a plethora of elves. Working on the homes they had promised, honoring their words.   Mondisi glowing like the day before them, the soldiers slung their tools and hammers over their shoulders- taking notice of their suddenly healthy king.   “Aye! our king isn't weary anymore! good tidings sire! And a swell rising we all hope!" The hearty elves hammering on the soon to be liveable homes, shouted.   Everyone else in town whispered, confused and at a loss, how not a soul has mentioned the guards that have yet to return, that the king, if it even was him, rudely sent to their possible death.   "don't worry about these homes, i'll gather some folk to take care of it- all of you however, I have a task, specifically for your set of skills." "Come, c

VII: Waking Nightmares  Mondisi, rubbed his eyes, groaning and adjusting to the blinding light. An unfamiliar elf spoke out-   "Aye! we heard your plea king, and after seeing what the sight has to offer, we'd all be fools to deny such an offer." The king was not only surprised, but amazed, all the different elvan families had arrived.    "All we ask king, is space for housing, for well, all of us, and we are at your command- and may I add your liege, my men and I will gladly build the homes ourselves. They kneeled to one knee, bowing their heads whispering. "My liege."   The king sat up in his bed, he smiled and clasped his hands together,   "I humbly accept brothers, the more pointy-ears I say, the better!” The knights rise once again, and the leader speaks up once again, but not before a dirty air entered the room, all of the elvan families, looked as if they had just lost someone. The king noticed the change of air and asked.   “What did somebody di

VI: The Mystical Anvil: Muurin.  During the next dawn the ominous sun pierced through the glass castle and awoke everyone simultaneously with a chained-yawn. Elves always operated on a wavelength of unison, which only gave them advantages in times of horrid war.      At first light, the king wandered up the stairs to the anvil they spotted during last night's arrival, walking up the spiraling-steps, Mondisi saw a glowing blue hammer, placed atop the anvil, the anvil was covered by a strange gazebo made of glass.   The king slowly examined the hammer and placed it in his palm, it was like no hammer he had ever gazed upon. The hammer itself required the wielder to use both hands, and all of their strength, the size of the hammer only complimented this, standing at roughly three-feet-long.   The actual hammer, was the most peculiarly, accurate cube he had ever seen, and like the palace below him, was also fashioned of glass.   Mondisi lifted the hammer with all of his frail-might, str

V: Behind The Waterfall. Slowly, and quietly he lit a torch that he had pried from an archaic skeleton’s brittle fingers. Mondisi now saw what had lurked in these eerily unlit, untouched caves, with the first spark of flame from the dead-man’s torch.   First the unbelievably huge tongue that was far too big for it’s mouth, giant, black, judging eyes that the king could see himself within. Scaly green, slimy, damp skin, that was in the process of shedding.   As the king’s eyes widened- gripping his sword, the sound of the leather-wrapped hilt between his tensed fingers. The monstrous beast’s obsidian eyes suddenly opened. Eye-crust the size of the king rained down onto the cavern floor, speaking in an elongated manner.   "Hello.. ELF." Jumping backwards the king shouted   "Reveal your identity demon! why are you in my Kingdom!" The serpent, unmoved,      "why I have always lived here, mortal, the question I should ask is why are YOU, in MY home?" The king p

IV: A Hidden, Glass Kingdom.  Without thought they all strolled, one after another, their clanking metal footsteps were harmonious in this terrible monotony, that was only worsening.    Into the dark caverns they repeatedly stomped. They could not see before them, but they all knew where to go, even the limping queen.  The only light they could see, was a pinched cone of light, breaking the ceiling. Wandering through the hall of rock, toward the unknown cone of light, they saw its undeniable beauty and none of them could avert their glare.   Just beyond the rock-hall was a skinny pathway surrounded by a swaying body of water around them. At the end of this dimly lit path- there it stood. The thing this she-demon of sleep supposedly promised them, was not a lie.   Constructed in a strange cubic fashion made of a frosted white glass, there were two floors to the castle, and two towers that stood on opposite ends, to the right, behind the tower was a staircase and a very odd blue light th

III:  Three Trials of Royalty  The path winded up a good few miles into snowy cliffs that seemed to have no end. After what seemed like a fortnight of traveling, there it stood, gawking at them. There lied a stone archway, built from the products of earth, but not for man, nor elf, the entryway seemed to be so tall that it was built for beings of a certain enormity.   The wind howled as all of the Snow Elves slowly entered, the king’s emerald circlet began to glow even brighter than it was before, leading the way for the Elves that marched in front of the king, cautious.   The eerie gale from outside moaned its way through the caverns-The wind continued to howl, whispering past all of them, and whistle, practically shrieking until it revealed a distinctive whisper, they all heard it. It, was her... Mondisi shouted, “I-I-I-It’s her! The one from my dreams! I know her!” His soldiers and sons shocked, all-repeated in synchronization,   “Aye, me too, my King..”   A foggy light revealed its

II: The Unbeknown Massacre of Broodth. The brothers arrived on Dome-Wyrd's shores, a sandy sizzle, with the piercing dawn. Disrupting the tide, all of the royal-Elvan brothers stood side-by-side, behind their father, heads depressed. Eyes shut and silence filled the room as they faced all of the kingdom’s guards.  a few dozen filled the room, standing attentively below the stairs.   A storm rolled in, with the cue of crackling thunder, occupying the ship’s quarters, were the brothers, whom previously were arguing. The Elvan king shouted with a freshly poured stein in his hand.  “My sons! Our perilous journey is being heavenly rewarded! I'm sure of it! The premonition I had.. the moon shines down on us." He slowly states as he limps his frail frame toward a window in the cabin, with a perfect view of the moon. Illuminating the sea below- perhaps it was the angle, or the alcohol, but the illumination from the moon made the water glow like an ethereal bridge to an unknown pro

The Second King of Yore:  The Rotting Kingdom Of the Plagued Snow Elves. I: A Haunting Odyssey   As one calamity rises-and-falls, another is only bound to transpire, ever too soon. Little did the mortals know, they would cherish these simple days, in dark days to come, they will pray to have these days back in their arms. Ah, alas, foolish dreaming won't stop the sun from rising, that none of the poor mortals happened to hope for.   Far to the north of the bubbling bogs, past forests that have no end, past hellishly deep desert canyons that know only the driest, most physically testing of climates. There lies a mountain range, unlike any other. The daunting peaks were undiscovered, penetrating through the gloomy rain-bloated clouds above.    Vaea, snapped her flawless fingers of starlight, and yelped,   “astral eggs!” Weaving her hand in a circular motion around an invisible point on the center of The now repaired balcony. No repairs can erase the memory.   In her mystical oscillat

Epilogue: The Wandering Coliseum & An Elven Presence    Manis was not only lost, he did not want to be found. He had become a husk whose only actions became frightening cackles that penetrated the unlit and empty halls of his wandering throne room.    They were harmonious as he danced around in his own madness. Manis had become nothing more than a shell, a vessel of madness and all the horrifying things it implies. Sealing his fate as not only the youngest king in all of Dome-Wyrd, but the first to fall to the ever reaching hands of Vaea.    To think he was once a boy full of wonder and aspiration, if grief is ignored, there’s no telling what monstrosity, or reality you’ll find yourself in. Grimace wandered the lands during the nightfall, feeding on any unlucky traveler who found themselves just close enough to the coliseum. During the bleak depressing days of boorish sunlight, rumor and talk began to spread. Telling outlandish tales of a moving coliseum that devoured mortals for p

XI Manis’s Big Day. The big day had finally come, the sun rose with all those souls already lost. A dead-heat combed the skies. Manis was dressed up in a fancy, quilted-doublet, It was red and undoubtedly matched his flowing red cape, outlined in a golden lace, it was velvet and silky. Although, like always, his pants were the same tattered linens he refused to change ever since, the tragic aftermath of Jaykob. His confidence shone as he walked out onto the wide-oval stage. Granted it took his subjects months, and many gruesome deaths later. The longer Manis seemed to rule the higher the body count seemed to rise. Even though the sun was hot and rising over the forest just beyond the coliseum, there was a dreadfully dead air passing through the morning light. There were torches scattered about the edges of the stage all dimly lit. The seats for the audience rested just beneath the stage and were all eagerly, not to mention surprisingly filled.     The only thought that had dawned in Ma