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 ha...
The page you find yourself reading, is the only documentation, the only accounts of a microcosm infected in a state of perpetual terminus. I, Ghloth The Astral, am one of the four, archaic observers, spawned into creation by the grand archaic ones- The Watchers. Three ages have come and passed, the only light that fills the sky, is the hope that some mortal, somewhere, reading this, might just be the next one to light this doomed lands, fading, and hopeless, worldly fire.