Skip to main content

The Chronicles of Dome-Wyrd: 0

Ghloth_AO: Entry #0

To whom the fate of a once prosperous land may concern.
Year: 1700, 
The end of the Third Age.

 What lies before you, is a universe, you have never known, I write to you, lucky mortal. You might even find yourself curious, alas my reader, I know you already have questions, I detect these things like bright balls of tiny light. 

It matters not, who I am, but what I am, although, I will share with you my name. Ghloth, The Astral Observer. As for what my dear human, that will come.. one day.

 The universe I speak of, it’s name, is Dome-Wyrd. All things beautiful come with a heavy-burden. While I could tell you of many things. For example, the great inferno that not only ended, but viciously incinerated the second age. 

 As i have learned from mortals such as, Manis Furin! The miniature-king-of-madness! A boy-of-a-king, but i digress, he was fierce, relentless, and a ravishingly good story-teller. 

And as he was a grand story-teller, he always knew great stories, always have gloriously promising beginnings. 

 even if a miasmic evil swallowed the dark existence of the first moments of creation, coloring the origin of reality. 

In a vile toxin that proved far, far too powerful for even The Gods. The things the mortals were led to worship, were even weaker than they were, throughout the endless horror of the Second Age.  

       -Ghloth, The Astral Observer.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A PREVIEW OF NOVELLA #4 THE FIRST DWARVEN KING

   AN EXCERPT ; SUBJECT TO CHANGE The Fourth Kingdom Of Yore; The Lost King Of The Forgotten Dwarves. In the depths of the mountains over plains and hills, resided a mine worthy of history. Full of riches and ores, and a hearty race known as the dwarves.  No man or elf for that matter, was as heartfelt for their kin as the dwarves. They would fight to the death in the name of honor, and through their stone-like stubbornness a dwarf was never afraid to die for his brothers, and you could never convince them that it was anything other than honorable.  Deep within this mountain's caves, past all the muddy mazes of dark and wet tunnels. was the mine's grandiose entrance that stood stories high  fashioned in an impeccable pristine obsidian marble seemingly Crafted with the love of the mountain. From it's grand archway that stood at the entrance to the ancient mines. Stood two statues of the Garnetcrusher brother's. Myrddin has bright blue eyes, ...

The Chronicles of Domewyrd: 14

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...

The Chronicles of Domewyrd 22

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, w...