Post by BlackRose on Jun 1, 2008 0:22:09 GMT -5
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Requiem of Fate[/align]
The centuries have now passed, and there are none who quite remember that fabled Day of Weaving, when the forefathers of their races sprang forth from the joyous dance of the Deities, save, perhaps, the eldest of the three immortal races; the Dragons, the Wynd’Aar, and the Liringlas. The lines of the races have begun crossing, darting away from their customary courses on seeking paths of their own…and trouble lingers not too far away, for the Deities are nothing, if not chaotic.
The Dragons, the first born race of fire, and oldest of all beings, are being hunted to their last ranks, the Humans having forgotten that it was the Dragons who watched over them, like shepherds guarding their flock, in those first days of existence. The youngest children now fear the power that was given to the eldest and seek to snuff it out.
The wild Terren have been poached for the exquisite pelts which they have been graced with, and have taken to hiding. Staying out of the sight of those who would manufacture them as if they were nothing more than stock raised for stylish merchandise. And the Fae, the elven races of the Liringlas, Silvah, and Pique have taken it upon themselves to defend their feral brothers and sisters from those who would do them harm.
The Wynd’Aar, perhaps the most mysterious of all the immortal races, have begun disappearing, fading into the spectral mist which has been so much a part of them for centuries. Their extinction seems eminent, though they would fight ferociously against it.
It is into this world that all beings in existence are being swept up into the swirling, ever shifting torrent that is the foundation of the path of time. And who will survive when the chaos has dwindled and the dust settles, none can know save the Eminent Beings themselves. And the eternal question of truth is being asked; in a world bound by a veil of darkened dreams…who will break through?
Requiem of Fate[/align]
The centuries have now passed, and there are none who quite remember that fabled Day of Weaving, when the forefathers of their races sprang forth from the joyous dance of the Deities, save, perhaps, the eldest of the three immortal races; the Dragons, the Wynd’Aar, and the Liringlas. The lines of the races have begun crossing, darting away from their customary courses on seeking paths of their own…and trouble lingers not too far away, for the Deities are nothing, if not chaotic.
The Dragons, the first born race of fire, and oldest of all beings, are being hunted to their last ranks, the Humans having forgotten that it was the Dragons who watched over them, like shepherds guarding their flock, in those first days of existence. The youngest children now fear the power that was given to the eldest and seek to snuff it out.
The wild Terren have been poached for the exquisite pelts which they have been graced with, and have taken to hiding. Staying out of the sight of those who would manufacture them as if they were nothing more than stock raised for stylish merchandise. And the Fae, the elven races of the Liringlas, Silvah, and Pique have taken it upon themselves to defend their feral brothers and sisters from those who would do them harm.
The Wynd’Aar, perhaps the most mysterious of all the immortal races, have begun disappearing, fading into the spectral mist which has been so much a part of them for centuries. Their extinction seems eminent, though they would fight ferociously against it.
It is into this world that all beings in existence are being swept up into the swirling, ever shifting torrent that is the foundation of the path of time. And who will survive when the chaos has dwindled and the dust settles, none can know save the Eminent Beings themselves. And the eternal question of truth is being asked; in a world bound by a veil of darkened dreams…who will break through?