Epitaph of Twilight

Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by the Wavering God, Aug 2, 2007.

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  1. * not mine, but I belive tis worth showing. its form a video game series titled ".Hack"*

    Once their magic land did glow
    With vagrant, ever-present light:
    When sprites would play in flowing fields,
    The twilight shining in their wings
    As they swam through silky seas of mist,
    Before the coming of the Wave.

    Untouched by fear or pain they lived
    Each minute with the utmost joy,
    Till the cursed Wave did rise
    Tearing through the dusky skies;
    Consuming light and dark in kind
    And leaving none to mourn behind.

    So to the East the sprites did flee
    Though burdened by the tragedy,
    The truth was all too plain to see:
    One by one their kind would fall
    Beneath the torrent of the Wave
    If none could stand before its gaze
    And somehow fill that endless void.

    King of light and queen of dark,
    Apeiron and Helba knew of one
    Who might defeat the Wave:
    A mythic beast long said to sleep
    ‘Neath the edge of the world’s end
    Sheathed by the Wavering Peninsula,
    A creature of the greatest might,
    The sacred dragon of twilight.

    Thus Queen Helba chose Bith the Black,
    Her strongest sprite, to join the quest;
    While Apeiron sent Fili the White
    To journey with them in his stead,
    For Bith and Helba thought it best
    That the king remain behind to rule
    And calm the ever-spreading dread
    Ere the dragon might appear.

    So as the three prepared to ride
    Through the aqua gate of Mac Anu
    A fourth did come by fate’s command:
    One part human, one part sprite,
    Alone for all his nameless might,
    He fell in stride with Helba’s steed
    As she wordlessly agreed,
    His will was worthy of their cause.

    Through the Fatel Bog they sped
    As onyx dust cloaked each in turn
    From which arose a blinding pall,
    A living shadow born to crawl
    Betwixt reality and mind,
    Till death, within them, was enshrined:
    Each was shown their comrades slain;
    Illusions of Skeith’s mortal game.

    Fili wept and knelt to pray,
    While Bith did halt in stunned dismay
    Ere turning back upon the path,
    Desires crushed by failure’s wrath.
    The halfling tore about the swamp
    Searching for the fount of death
    Whose noxious fog had claimed the lives
    Of those who’d stand against the Wave.

    Alone the dark queen Helba rode
    Remorseless through the baneful mire,
    Cursing the Wave as she progressed
    Bent solely on her noble quest,
    And as she went the darkness lifted
    Till she found her friends still living,
    Mounted on their stagnant steeds
    As if enchanted by some dream.

    Calling forth an ancient rune,
    The queen dispelled the evil bind;
    Thus Skeith’s hold was undermined
    And as he slowly evanesced
    Each realized they’d been possessed
    While Helba foretold a prophecy
    Of eight heralds with demons blood,
    Eight phases of the Cursed Wave.

    As the boggy mud grew dry
    Gyle Mountain rose before them,
    A deadly oft avoided peak;
    The swiftest route to Dun Loireag;
    For eons standing as a god
    O’er looking men with its facade
    While hiding at its center true,
    A molten pit of which none knew.

    As they neared the summit’s height
    Something waited midst their course:
    A Chimera of the greatest size
    With sleight blue malefic eyes
    Exuding lust for their demise;
    Then two, then four, then all around
    The aberrations capped the ground,
    Till hundreds stood in perfect stillness.

    Charging forth as one they came
    With rumbling fury at the four,
    Who held a circle back to back,
    Slaying beasts as they attacked;
    Though as the horrors met their deaths,
    Each vanished with its dying breath,
    Unfleshly as a wayward thought
    But for the bloody wounds they wrought.

    Thus the ceaseless battle waged:
    As each fiend fell another came
    Till Bith cried out in dire need,
    A lone chimera must be real;
    The others conjured effigies;
    Doppelgangers born to please
    Their lord and master as slaves,
    Incarnations of the Wave.

    Deeming true the dark knight’s words,
    Fili beseeched her allies three
    For time to let her mind’s eye see;
    Hence minutes passed as Fili prayed
    Ere she raised her longbow high
    And let a single arrow fly
    Piercing clouds upon the sky
    As though the shaft were blessed by god.

    Falling with a feather‘s grace
    The missile knew whom to embrace,
    And like a tear from heaven shed
    Smote its wrath on the demon’s head,
    Laying to waste the vile horde;
    As Innis’ power left the peak
    Six words of spite he cruelly gave:
    You shall never stop the Wave.

    Past the mount they traveled far
    Through Dun Loireag the highland town
    Till they reached the woods of Breade
    Where lay a mark for all to heed:
    A sphere enclosed by myriad lines,
    One of many travelers’ signs
    Known by the halfling doubtlessly:
    A labyrinth confronts beyond.
  2. sry to double post but its necesary, the original post was too long by about 200 letters

    Foraging down countless paths,
    Each branch producing two alike;
    They hastened forth without event
    Till Helba sensed a foul intent,
    And turning, to her wonder found
    A creature posing as a man,
    Exquisite in his nakedness;
    A mold no human could possess.

    With arms spread wide the demon smiled
    And Helba watched as though beguiled
    While fallen twigs grew into trees,
    Forming fast a wooden shield
    Unyielding to the fiercest blow;
    Then shrieks about the forest rang
    As any beast with claw or fang
    Descended on the narrow trail.

    Besieged by creatures of the wood
    They battled ‘gainst undying foes:
    Each pair slain would recompose,
    Birthing four at instant pace
    As Magus watched with grinning glee,
    Entombed within his wall of trees
    Which faster grew then could be hewn;
    A trait which spelled the heroes’ doom.

    Thus the exalting onslaught went
    Till Nameless conceived a final hope,
    And drawing out a flask of spirits
    Hurled it at the barricade,
    Then blazed a spark with blade on blade
    Setting to light a rampant fire;
    A majestic funeral pyre
    Felling the wall atop its maker.

    Soon Breade was but a memory
    O’ershadowed by the floral city:
    Carmina Gadelica by name,
    Of gentile and aesthetic fame;
    Though swiftly too it fell behind
    As Moyra Canyon darkly loomed,
    Foreboding in its desolation
    Ere the crossing had begun.

    Hours aft the presaged end
    Of that bleak and lengthy trek,
    Moyra’s cliffs still stood aside,
    Mocking each benumbing stride;
    Till Bith remarked in somber phrase
    They’d passed the same formations thrice,
    Spun by some malign device
    So deftly one might never know.

    Having spake his solemn fear
    A haunting voice then prophesied:
    Your graveyard shall this chasm be
    For here you will remain with me;
    Helpless as the Wave consumes
    Everything you’ve ever known,
    Leaving naught behind but bone
    And fading whispers on the wind.

    Searching for escape in vain
    They rode the passage once again;
    But Fidchell’s brazen promise held:
    Nowhere could the cliffs be scaled,
    And though their course did never veer
    While racing through the corridor,
    They came to camp just as before;
    Overcome by nauseous dread.

    Dispel charms proved fruitless too;
    Till Bith called for womanly aid,
    Requesting they enchant his blade;
    Then slowly marching down the path
    For hours when he sensed at last
    The entrapping portal’s edge;
    Driving hard his sword to earth,
    Razing Fidchell’s sorcery.

    Long past the crucible of Moyra,
    They sheltered in a citadel:
    Fort Ouph, so said its denizens
    Where mind and body could be cleansed
    Of any hardships one endured
    Ere disembarking further north
    Over the barren Veishus Plain,
    Where most who crossed it would remain.

    The horses thrived on unmarked land,
    Rejoicing in those countless miles
    Till suddenly in concert halting
    As ebon vapours coalesced
    At Gorre’s inhuman behest,
    Forging whole his grotesque form:
    A tetra-legged mass of hate
    Obscured midst a foul haze.

    With putrid limbs the demon lashed;
    Immense weight thrown behind each strike:
    Through both guard and shield alike
    The blows did wound unless evaded;
    While each assault the heroes launched
    Was somehow violently repelled:
    Sheathed in armour craft of malice
    The creature stood immune to challenge.

    Battling with their utmost might
    Each soon grew weary from the fight,
    When Fili grazed the demon’s hide
    And felt its overwhelming sadness;
    No longer could abhorrence lie
    Within her for the wretched fiend:
    T’was but a puppet of the Wave
    Devised to delve for each a grave.

    As pity laced her heavy heart,
    Fili strode towards the beast
    Whose crushing limbs were now repulsed
    Ere they touched her ivory skin;
    When came she nigh with rapier drawn
    A single thrust did slay its brawn,
    For mercy guided Fili’s blade
    Where scorn could never penetrate.

    In time they reached Lia Fail,
    Exhausted to the breaking point
    Where healers did their wounds anoint
    While speaking of the land beyond:
    Knemisys was the desert’s name;
    Devoid of life’s too fragile flame,
    Though offering hope ever so slight:
    The journey’s end was now in sight.

    Once their strength had been regained
    A woman of unmatched beauty came;
    And standing in the village square
    With naught to clothe but flowing hair,
    She beckoned with an outstretched hand
    As her siren song did ring
    Throughout the quiet frontier town,
    Calling both the knight and halfling.

    Doused by some seducing force
    Helba charged to find the source,
    But like Fili arrived too late:
    Bith and Nameless stood entranced
    By Macha’s all-enticing spell
    With which she did their blades compel
    To set upon the women with
    Whom they’d journeyed for so long.

    Knowing well the quest would fail
    If any were to perish here,
    They could but dodge each fierce attack,
    Unwilling to counter back;
    Neither could Macha be harmed:
    Protected by her servants two
    No assault could carry through;
    Such was the witchcraft’s passion.

    In desperation Helba cast
    A seldom sober sorcery:
    The banshee’s cry for moments wailed,
    Annulling the demon’s hymn
    And sealing Macha’s fate therein;
    For that lone unhindered instant
    Was all the dark queen needed
    To cut the bare seductress down.

    So bidding to the town farewell
    They forged ahead through Knemisys;
    Uncrossed by any to return:
    The arid distance was too great,
    Yet they went without debate
    To find whatever might await,
    Knowing one predestined fact:
    They’d not last the journey back.

    Past untold dunes the horses ran
    Till any sense of time was gone
    And each grew jadedly withdrawn,
    When, rising from the sands ahead
    A small oasis lay outspread;
    Water sparkling through the heat
    Beneath a single godsent tree
    Worth tenfold its weight in gold.

    First they drank as ne’er before
    Upon the tiny desert shore,
    But found in frantic disarray
    Just two fruits about the tree;
    Soon both Queen and Halfling claimed
    Their sex deserved the greater share,
    While Fili spoke with fixed glare:
    Equal parts were truly fair.

    Bith alone did not take part
    For something gnawed upon his heart;
    Coming clear as swords were drawn
    When words alone would not suffice;
    Plunging through bark and wood his axe,
    A shriek of fury tamed the fight
    As the haven left their eyes;
    Thus Tarvos met his swift demise

    Presently the thirst awoke
    As the demon’s magic broke,
    But soon their spirits soared anew:
    Sand gave way to fluid ground,
    A joyous omen that they’d found
    The Wavering Peninsula;
    Awash with instability
    Such as none had ever seen.

    Colours shimmered ‘round the cape,
    Blending aimlessly together
    While hoof-beats danced about the land
    Like echoes of a mindless band;
    But all too soon this chaos paled
    In contrast to the final phase:
    Before the Stone of Destiny
    Corbenik stood in mockery.

    Titanic was his human form;
    Eyes alight with vicious scorn
    As he advanced with roaring strides
    And spoke in truly humbling voice:
    You’ve journeyed far and suffered much
    To perish by my flawless touch;
    For as you now shall plainly see,
    No sprite exists to stand against me.

    Ere the final word had died
    A pulse erupted from his hand
    Which all but one could not withstand:
    Nameless stood in disbelief
    As Helba, Bith, and Fili fell
    Unconscious to the shifting earth;
    Saved by halfling blood alone,
    He’d fight this demon on his own.

    Enraged that any dared resist,
    Corbenik charged into the duel
    With staggering ferocity
    Bent towards his enemy
    Who spun ever-elusively
    Away from each leaden blow,
    Requiting with his lustrous blades
    Like some pernicious serenade.

    Despite the halfling’s surest strike
    Corbenik offered no respite,
    For even as his steel drew blood
    The lesion seamlessly would heal,
    Till a voice in him confided:
    Your weapons cannot harm this fiend;
    Fight with those attached to life
    To break his immortality.

    Unequalled was the dark queen’s verve,
    So taking up her royal sword
    And yearning for true faith’s reward;
    Nameless vaulted o’er his foe,
    Driving the blade through flesh below
    And landing on the other side
    As the demon fell beside,
    Both motionless for a time.

    Soon burning with hellish fire
    The fiend rose in satanic form
    As the Halfling heard once more:
    A weapon in accord with death
    Will cleave this monster’s dying breath;
    Thus endowed with Bith’s great axe
    He snuffed Corbenik’s second life;
    Though doubt within him now grew rife.

    From ash the demon rose again,
    Empowered by the pure heart
    And soaring high with angel’s wings
    As Nameless brandished Fili’s bow,
    Firing volleys at each chance
    Till the fiend could fly no more,
    And beaten to its very core,
    Fell to earth one final time.

    Once the sprites had reawakened
    The voice resounded in their minds:
    You have my sincerest praises
    For vanquishing the Wave’s eight phases,
    Each imbued with twisted souls
    Collected by their maker;
    Each a brutal incarnation
    Embodying the psyche.

    Skeith, The Terror of Death;
    Composed of deepest mortal fear
    His morbid whispers silence cheer;
    Innis, The Mirage of Deceit;
    Cloaked within a deadly guise,
    One must see truth amidst his lies;
    Magus, The Propagator,
    In his presence species’ thrive,
    Ever able to survive;
    Fidchell, The Prophet;
    Predicating hopeless fate
    To crush your will beneath its weight;
    Gorre, The Machination;
    Enrobed by vicious cruelty,
    Immune to all but sympathy;
    Macha, The Temptress;
    Manifesting love and lust
    To charm even the most robust;
    Tarvos, The Avenger;
    Envy and vengeance are the tools
    With which he transforms men to fools;
    And Corbenik, The Rebirth;
    First compelled by all life’s riches
    Then drawn towards the reaper’s scythe
    Before ascending to the skies
    On gusts of immaculate intent.

    When this world was barely born
    The Wave and I did battle here
    For eons at same frontier,
    Clashing once with utmost strength:
    Our bodies spread across the land
    Seeding all that now exists;
    Substance did my form provide,
    And he the spirit held inside.

    I’ve waited for your coming since;
    A specter sealed beneath this stone
    Without a shape to call my own;
    Thus I must entreat you all
    To pay this last, most grievous cost:
    Return to me what I have lost
    That I might give my life to save
    Those remaining from the Wave.

    Each laid their hands upon the stone,
    Vanishing as the dragon rose
    In magnificent repose;
    Feeding off his former tomb
    Now serving as a holy womb;
    The peninsula soon faded too:
    Among the saddest kinds of loss,
    Gone ere it could be forgotten.

    In a breath the dragon flew
    Back to besieged Mac Anu,
    Where all the mages of the land
    Had trenched their only stand
    At the battered aqua gate
    To stay the Wave in fervent hope
    That the quest would yet succeed,
    As Apeiron had once decreed.

    Streaming forth in sheer delight,
    The Twilight Dragon met the Wave;
    Twirling ‘round his adversary
    Till inextricably entwined
    They momently shone as one,
    Like a swiftly dying sun
    Whose embers flare with glory bright
    Before it’s taken by the night.

    When the aura dissipated,
    Wave and Dragon both were gone,
    Though joy came not to Apeiron;
    He knew this victory’s true price;
    The last and greatest sacrifice
    Which Helba and her friends had made
    At land’s end so far away
    For every voice that now did cheer.

    Sprites have long since lost their wings
    As they did their innocence,
    The timeless dusk in which they lived,
    And perhaps of all the saddest;
    Of Helba and her servant Bith,
    Of Fili and the Halfling too,
    No memories remain but this:
  3. sry to triple post, same reason as above. More versions of said Epitaph:

    Unknown where the Cursed Wave was born...
    After the stars doth cross the heavens...
    The sky in the East doth darken.
    And air doth fills with mourning.
    From the chosen land beyond the forest,
    A sign of the Wave comes.
    Riding the Wave is: Skeith, the Shadow of Death,
    to drown all that stands.
    Mirage of Deceit, Innis,
    Betray all with the flawed image,
    and did aid the Wave.
    And by the Power of Magus,
    a drop from the Wave doth reach the heavens,
    and creates a new Wave.

    With the Wave, Fidchell,
    the power to tell the dark future,
    hope darkens, sadness and despair rule.
    Gorre schemes when swallowed by the Cursed Wave.
    Macha seduces with the sweet trap.
    Wave reaches the Pinnacle, and escape none can.
    Tarvos still remains with more cruelty to punish and destroy.
    And with the turbulent destruction after the Wave.
    Only a void remains.
    From deep within the void arrives Corbenik.

    Yet to return, the shadowed one.
    Who quests for the Twilight Dragon
    Rumbles the Dark Hearth,
    And Helba, Queen of the Dark, has raised finally her army.
    Apeiron, King of Light, beckons...
    At the base of the rainbow they meet.
    Against the abominable "Wave," together they fight.
    Alba's lake boils.
    Light's great tree doth fall.
    Power - all now to droplets turned in the temple of Arche Koeln.
    Returns to nothing, this world of shadowless ones.
    Never to return, the shadowless one.
    Who quests for the Twilight Dragon.

    The wife buffeted by "waves" turns her back on the field.
    The daughter that waited for the shadows repeated,
    "For sure... For sure I can go home."
    But the girl did not know...
    The truth that waited at the end of the journey
    The eternal mourning of her land.

    In the place of the calamitous, only life was known.
    After the circling stars
    When the eastern dark void, the air full of despair
    In the depths of the divided forest, in the land of Karma,

    Riding fast on the path is Skeith
    Bearing death's shadow, it eliminates all that seek to thwart it.
    The Confusing Mirage, Innis
    Deceives those that see it with illusions, rescues the waves

    The wave soaring high, when its head is smashed,
    A new wave will emerge
    To become Magus's power.
    When questioning the wave,
    Hope's light will be lost when he speaks of the dark future of where
    sorrow and resignation reign.
    Using Fiddlehiem's Technique

    When engulfed by the Waves of Calamity, Gorre will plan
    The sweet snare of conciliation is Macha
    The Waves, an exceeding maelstrom
    Nothing can escape

    When you think you have escaped, Tarvos exists
    To destroy those with his exceeding cruelty
    Upon violent requital, only to remain is the void, the vacant darkness
    is the harbinger that Corbenik is to appear.

    ----Emma Wielant

    "Emma Wielant had studied medical science before experiencing a "psychic phenomenon". After which, she developed an interest in the metaphysical, and started writing poetry. Later, she died in a car crash. Her epic poem, "Epitaph of Twilight", although unfinished, was used by Harald Hoerwick as the basis of his computer game "Fragment". Harald sold "Fragment" to the Altimit company (makers of the only surviving operating system). Several of the Altimit programmers left the company to form CyberConnect Corp., and released the game under the name "The World". Unfortunately, there's been a high turnover at both Altimit and CC Corp., and none of the original programmers are at either company. Further, Emma and Harald were the only two people that knew what the original Epitaph contained; current versions of the poem have been highly altered through the fan-fic process."
  4. Majory apologiez for quadruple posting, same reasons as above

    epitaph fragments:

    Yet to return, the shadowed one.
    Who quests for the Twilight Dragon
    Rumbles the Dark Hearth,
    And Helba, Queen of the Dark,
    has raised finally her army.
    Apeiron, King of Light beckons.
    At the base of the rainbow they meet
    Against the abominable Wave,
    together they fight.
    Alba's lake boils.
    Light's great tree doth fall.
    Power- now all to droplets turned
    in the temple of Arche Koeln.
    Returns to nothing,
    this world of shadowless ones.
    Never to return, the shadowed one,
    Who quests for the Twilight Dragon.

    Unknown where the Cursed Wave was born…
    After the stars doth cross the heavens,
    The sky in the East doth darken and air doth fill with mourning.
    From the chosen land beyond the forest, a sign of the wave comes.
    Riding the Wave is Skeith, the Shadow of Death, to drown all that stands.
    Mirage of Deceit, Innis, Betray all with the flawed image, and did aid the Wave.
    And by the Power of Magus, a drop from the Wave doth reach the heavens, and creates a new Wave.
    With the Wave, Fidchell, the power to tell the dark future, hope darkens, sadness and despair rule.
    Gorre schemes when swallowed by the Cursed Wave.
    Macha seduces with the sweet trap.
    Wave reaches the Pinnacle, and escape none can. Tarvos still remains with more cruelty to punish and destroy.
    And with the turbulent destruction after the Wave. Only a void remains. From deep within the void arrives Corbenik.
    Perhaps then the Wave is just a beginning as well.

    Like a frenzied horse that is driven.
    An unseen wind of plague shrieks across the border.
    Pandemonium, wailing, and the stench of carnage fills the air.
    There is no place to run. No hope of escape.
    Those who are mourned will never return.
    The hands of time cannot be turned back.

    Shunning the field broken by Wave.
    The shadowed girl whispers,
    "Surely, I will return."
    Alas, the truth unbeknownst.
    Awaiting her at journey's end;
    Eternal mourning for her land.

    When the finger points to the
    yonder moon,
    The fool will not look at the fingertip.

    The whole cannot be changed.
    We have already lost that chance.
    Because the time left to us was short,
    We were mistaken in our path.
    But now do we realize,
    We should change not the whole,
    But the parts.

    Wave soars and shrouds the eyes.
    No means to fight an omnipresent force,
    The shadowless ones just grieve.
    Why must it be a Wave?
    Divide, if it would just...
    Then retaliate, we may.

    Over the Keel Mountains,
    Meets an ape with human speech.
    The ape asks,
    "What clings to you?
    Bear it - you cannot.
    Accept it - you cannot.
    But hidden - it is from you.
    Recite its name."

    It should be noted in the final fragment, that when the words refer to "reciting its name", the poem is referring to the person reading it. Think of it like a spell and put it in reference to Kite and the power/curse that comes with his Twilight Bracelet.

    The Keel Mountains traversed at last,
    we met a dragon that spoke thus:
    "Sheraton am I, who interprets the signs.
    An answer to my question, give.
    If you can, complete my role will be,
    and I will leave this land.
    Though equally it exists before everyone's eyes,
    grasp it not one person can.
    Tell me—what is it?"

    Plaird of the Seven Sisters
    Falling in love with a human,
    Became a Shadowed One and
    was exiled from the Dark.
    Hence, her name came to be
    called Plaird the Fallen.
    At her wanderings' end,
    she settled in seclusion
    in Arche Haokar.
    However, Those days
    may not last.
    A reunion may come, or
    may not. Plaird's form
    vanishes at the coming of the
    harbinger of the Wave.
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