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    • It Begin's

      The sun was low and the shadows were long, casting themselves over the heather covered hills and mountain’s in this northern part of the world. There was little shelter in this land, most of the natural trees having been torn from the earth a long time ago, in a savage rape of the land and those that remained were bent as if in sorrow for their kind who no longer stood. Sharp granite was showing through the heather, here and there, like bone from some prehistoric monster. Lichen grew upon granite, trying in vain to cover this bare, naked rock that the elements had failed to tame and there was strange stains on the granite, almost like a trail pointing its way, north west, across the dark klein blue waters of Loch na Seig towards a strange light, coming from the top of Ben Hope. Moving to the top of this proud ben, the razor sharp Craig allowed no place to stand with safety in mind, your eye is drawn down, following the strange stains to the black waters of Dudh-loch na Beinne and there the stains ended.

      He remembered.

      The good times, he remembered them. He remembers the Bard who he placed his faith upon first, AvengerRam. He was a worthy Bard who travelled far in the quest. The “Golden Age” ah yes. Those who followed him, all taking up the sword, fighting for the right to be. He remembers AvengerRam’s prophesy that brought the “Golden Age”

      The Age of Gold, at dusk not yet
      through signs of threes, goals can be met

      On fields of battle, three twins to meet
      Of city and face, scores to complete

      Three mountains' challenge, each born of pride
      One must soon yield, two must subside

      Three men of strength, three brash and bold
      Three fleet of foot, resistance's fate they hold

      Three spirits true, wounds healed, hearts strong
      To fight each day, to start each longs

      Thrice times a summit, left in glory then rage
      Third time completes, a Golden Age

      Awaken now, the time draws near
      Search for the threes, all will be clear

      He remembered.

      The Legion, ah yes. TexRamaes, Elackles, Theoylos, Ramnatorax, Utterlas and many more Captains, more than he wished. It was to many. “Diluted came to mind” He stirred. The Death Warriors, ah yes, he allowed mirth to take him, just for a moment. Windrider, another memory stirred, still to many he thought but still, was it time? Urbanos, yes he remembered them all. The sacrifices, the pain and the joy and there was something else …. The last prophecy, what was it now, ah yes ..

      “Your period of darkness is not yet complete. Others among you will fall. Your numbers will become more restless and down-trodden. However, for those that remain true, a better day will come. Your Captain will return after the time of rest. His guard will see transition as new blood rejuvenates their ranks. Many young ones will mature to become seasoned warriors prepared for any battle that war may bring. While one of great stature will fall, another unknown soldier will rise in power. For those that remain true, the bright and shining glory of past days will be reborn.”

      Was it time?

      He felt the movement, the force, it’s coming. Is it time to show my true shape he thought. Maybe it was. He remembered the final Ballad by the Bard.

      “The sun had set on golden times
      A tale is told within these rhymes
      Gone are warriors of great renown
      Those who remain are beaten down

      And so at last it came to pass
      The Clan no longer, a single mass
      But cleaved in two, and torn away
      The unity of a brighter day

      On one side stood, those who still see
      Redemption through continuity
      Patient and sanguine, is how they strive
      To be, their hopes still stay alive

      On the other side, a fiery crowd
      Their words are sharp, their voices loud
      A path of change, to them, the answer
      The status quo, is but a cancer

      Both sides are true, their cause the same
      And yet their words, now cause disdain
      Passion united, a powerful thing
      But when divided, civil war it brings

      Those who regard, this woeful tale
      Might wish to know, who will prevail?
      That answer, not within these lines
      It will only come, in different times

      The true question, that one should ask
      And face the answer, a daunting task
      Is which side in, this troubled age
      Stands for the Clan, with righteous rage

      The answer, not within this part
      Of this verse, rather, in your heart
      Is where you’ll find, the correct plan
      To support, as a loyalist to the Clan”

      How many years had he lay since that Ballad? Was it five years? Had the time moved so fast? Ah how they forget. How they toss and turn. They have lost their faith, the Legion of the Clan had been diluted.

      Was it time?


      It was time to show them all. It was time for him to take up the sword that so many had held in his name. It was time to call the Clan together. The time for talk and for lost faith was over. It was time for him to call them to him.
      He woke and kicked up towards the light. The darkness that had held him for so long washed away as he rose. The dark waters of Dudh-loch na Beinne fell from him as he stepped onto the shore. He looked at the sharp crest of Ben Hope and a smile played across his face.

      The SpiralHorn is here.
      This article was originally published in forum thread: It Begin's started by RamDez View original post
      Comments 1 Comment
      1. VegasRam's Avatar
        VegasRam -
        ...and the long wait is over.
        A heartfelt welcome back to the SpiralHorn.
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