The Wind Rose Journal

[NESchampion]

*a journal kept of the exploits of the Wind Rose Adventuring Company of the Silver Marches, contributed to by the four Roses: Olaf, Fox, Kaleb and Aalyah*
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*scrawled in smooth, flowing script in large lettering, following with neat, precise lettering for the body of the writing*

The Wind Rose and The Comely King Rat

On a warm afternoon, the Wind Rose set out on our first adventure; a task given, a relic missing, a dank sewer to explore. Words of warning and caution would follow of one King Rat and his many spawn; the King Rat had in it's possession an amulet, that had warped the creature, making it thrice by thrice as large (and twice as handsome, as it would turn out).

This had the air of a dangerous task, and so we four Roses enlisted the aid of another: an elven man named Tahlsun, with sharp mind and sharper blade at the ready for our adventure. Curatives were dispersed, tactics discussed, and then we five made our way into the sewers: a quest to complete, a task to fulfill, a foe to defeat and soon.

At the very onset, the atmosphere was tense; the sewers were so dark that even the eyes of a gnome or an elf were pressed to pierce it. With the aid of Aalyah, our path brightened, and we set out to explore the tunnels methodically. Leftward at each junction until the path came to and end, then back and to the next left, until we had either found the King Rat or exhausted our ability to continue.

Many foul creatures inhabit the sewers, not least of which include rats, bats, and spiders. But as we five did delve deeper in, remains of a Kelemvorite's possessions littered the paths. A soft moaning noise, and the shuffling of feet, led our group to an encounter with a slew of undead. Fortunately we had Tahlsun's able swordsmanship and the true aim of we four archers to support him, striking down foes as they came. Kaleb acted as our eyes, walking at the edge of Aalyah's light to warn us of danger ahead, while Fox, myself and Aalyah provided a volley of bolts and arrows at whatever crossed out path.

Still further we ventured, coming upon an ill sight; a mage, busy at his necromantic workings of reanimating corpses, no doubt with nefarious intent beneath this fair city. Quickly we formed a plan, and set off to engage the foes. Tahlsun made use of a recovered fire bomb, and his throw was aimed true, with a massive explosion and billowing flames doing extensive damage to the necromancer and destroying his altar and raised allies. We joined in battle, and after a few volleys of arrows and bolts, sword swings and a volley of magic, we five stood victorious over our fallen foe.

However, our task still lie ahead, and so we made our way onward. The volume of rats attacking us began to rise, leaping from pipes overhead and scrabbling along the walls. Soon we came upon the King himself, and a veritable horde of his young. A fierce skirmish began, rats and arrows flying as we pushed through to where the King Rat waited in his lair. Battle was joined between he and we, and after a few moments struggle all was still. In the calm that came after the storm of battle, we saw the King Rat... and while we had seen a great many rats that night, none were so handsome as he. Almost a shame to look upon the wrought beauty of his, but our task was true and our purpose good. We set about to locate the amulet... which as it turned out, was inside the good King.

Fox set to work the grim task of retrieving the amulet, and was rewarded in perhaps the worst filth of us all upon his person, and when he managed to retrieve the bauble it slipped from his grasp. Kaleb and I both leapt for the relic, which bounced from my skull into Kaleb's waiting grasp; if that is not the definition of teamwork, then I am not a gnome.

We made our way out of the sewers without further incident, glad to have achieved our task (but gladder still to be in the open air and clear of the filthy must and liquid of the sewers). The reward was worth our expenditures: coins and a bath, both well earned and well needed. I look forward to our next adventure with eagerness and curiosity: where could we possibly go but up?

*signed with a flourish of bold, fluid strokes below, with a small wax seal of a compass beside it*
The account of The Comely King Rat, by Olaforalanon Beljuril of the Wind Rose.

[CloudDancing]

Very funny! And well written the style of Olaf.

[Uniskorne]

The text is written in a surprisingly simple handwriting, very legible without fancy embellishment.

What started as a casual walk to deliver military pamphlets to Rauvinwatch keep with Honey (Aalyah) turned into a complicated and somewhat annoying expedition.
We started out early in the morning to avoid such creatures--both the four- and two-legged kinds--that would seek to accost us at night and to also give us enough light to return by. Halfway to the keep, we were stopped by a soldier who addressed us in a friendly manner. I failed to catch his name, but, later, Honey was informed that he was called Severen. This soldier nearly begged us to deliver a letter to his love, a priestess in the temple of the Red Knight at High Hold--much further than I'd planned to go this day. Honey agreed immediately, and, seeing this (and being a fool for an old-fashioned romance), I also offered my services. Letter in hand, we assured its prompt delivery and headed on our way.

The trip was relatively quiet--one goblin not being cause for alarm to a party of two travellers, well-armed and well-skilled--and, outside of High Hold, we met with Kaleb and a tall, rugged man named Agnar. They joined our party and we entered the hold. While Honey delivered the letter, Kaleb, Agnar, and I socialized, and I came to realize that, sometimes, the road not travelled is the best one. (Note to self: Large and rugged should be an immediate warning flag, not the flag to start the race. Almost getting cleaved in twain by an offended warrior with a huge axe is not good for your health). Honey soon returned with news that the letter's recipient, one Carissa, was not at the Hold and had been missing for some days without word.

It turns out the priestess was supposed to be in Quaevarr for some reason (I failed to catch that, seeing as how I was still getting over a near-death experience). Without hesitation, our group turned in that direction and marched. All was quiet until we came upon a strange tower (Note: Name of tower is the Tower of Gond, so say the locals). By now the day was leaving us at a hasty pace, casting long shadows about the structure and nearby woods, and, from these woods, came the sounds of orcs.

Upon the turn of a corner in the path, we saw several burly orcs standing over what had clearly been a beautiful woman before their attention. We easilly slew the beasts and set immediately to tending the poor woman's wounds. Honey nearly spent every last shred of her talent healing the girl, but even this failed to heal her completely. The woman faded in and out of consciousness, and, with night falling fast, we decided to move her. Agnar carried her easilly, and we arrived in Quaevarr without further incident.

Honey secured a room and the woman was put to bed. I retired downstairs to keep Agnar company, and Kaleb joined us shortly thereafter. However, our casual conversation was halted by a scream from upstairs. Kaleb and I raced upstairs (Agnar deciding that his skills were more suited for the battleground not the bedroom) and found that the woman had gained consciousness (obviously). Honey was attempting to console the woman who she soon confirmed was Carissa, our little lost priestess, but Carissa was unconsolable to what the orcs had done to her. The priestess made Honey swear not to inform Severen of what had happened then succumbed to a soothing song from our beautiful bardess.

In the end, this was a completely disappointing, disturbing expedition. We didn't save the maiden--her life, yes, but her virtue is destroyed. However, I guess it wasn't a total loss--we did deliver the letter as originally promised.

I vouch that this account is as accurate as memory allows.

Fox

[dirsa]

while sitting at the oak and discussing what to do with the nose (fox really should elaborate on this one besides the fact that it's the best conversation starter ever: hey baby! want to see my nose?) we were approached by a gnome (nose in tact, mind you)... what the conversation was i do not know, nor if i did could i repeat it. long story short, to the excitement of many we decided to head out to the house of vice. *word vice is crossed out, instead is written: fun*

now... vice is such a relative term. i myself prefer not to label things, and drink, gambling and naked women hardly sounds like something to complain about, or refer to derogatory. as a matter of fact i will strike vice from the text above in favor of more joyous term...

so as it were, the five of us, from now on to be refereed as the big ballista, nose, da hood, sweet cheeks and the hat (for sole purpose of protecting the innocent), set out to the house of vi.. *scribble* fun.

road was long and uneventful, wind howled loudly on the snow covered slopes, occasionally blowing under my... well, for the lack of better term - skirt. while some (some damned elf named laque even called it a dress) seem to misunderstand the garment, it is the most comfortable damn thing i have ever worn. it doesn't chafe, leaves me free to not wear anything under it, and provides easy access in case of too much wine or sweet cheeks being around... but i digress.

despite my blue balls (and not the kind that are usually meant by this expression, i mean literally from all the wind) we did reach the top of the mountain with just one little altercation of shooting some drunk troll. upon arrival we were confused with some reunion members or some such, which all seemed to have a jolly good time at the inn. so enter the inn.

da hood right away seemed well out of place, pacing around and mumbling. don't think she has had too much fun where ever she's from... the big ballista was our point *in this spot you can see a drawing of a stick figure with long ears pulling a ballista, with bolt pointing at his butt* man and headed down, soon followed by sweet cheeks. whatever they did there is for them to know...

meanwhile, your's truly and nose made themselves comfortable on the pillows near the bard, who seemed to know a great deal of songs favored by gnomes. (i still can't believe he did not know the: there once was a man from nantucket) drinks were good, as was the dancer. (note to self: gnomes apparently are not very flexible... nose near fainted a few times seeing shapes the dancer could bend herself into...)

some time later (i roughly estimate it to be about 3 bottles of wine between your's truly and nose later) the big ballista and sweet cheeks emerged from the basement with mister and missus smith in tow (not to be confused with ms smith, she used to be ms johnson before the union). after shooting the mandatory drunk troll we proceeded down the hill.

besides a minor orc encounter which was resolved well before we even broke sweat, the trek down the hill was uneventful as well. that is until we heard a roar...

covering under the trees seven folk tried to pass quiet on the side of the road, until someone looked up the hill, froze, pointed and drooled. upon turning my own self only words your's truly could muster was: holy shit! there it was. bigger than most building in silverymoon, on the top of the ledge, perched comfortably sat a dragon!

now, not to reiterate myself... it was a fucking dragon! real damn dragon!

good for us.. it was a silver one, and from what i hear - they rarely eat travelers. in any case... he.. or she did't eat us. we made it down the hill and back to silverymoon, us, and mister and missus smith unharmed.

and the festivities commenced!

*there are more drawings of stick figures doing questionable things*

[CloudDancing]

bwahaha...ahhh..

[NESchampion]

Very nice.

[Blindhamsterman]

hehe very good read!

[Uniskorne]

I’m writing this for Honey because she is /so/ busy with Hawk. That boy is turning into an eager, intelligent young man, but that means he demands more time from his primary teacher who, herself, is still learning to read and write Common. Needless to say, what free time she has is usually spent with Kaleb, so she asked me to write this journal entry before we all forgot.

Olaf and Kaleb found a map in a kobolds’ cave. That started it all. After much discussion and debate, the Wind Rose, along with several others (Chris, Rando, and Leif) set off from Rivermoot to find the location of the two ‘X’s’ on the map. Our travel led us to the glacier. I guess it should be written The Glacier, seeing as their seems to be only one major one in the area. That’s where we ran into the kobold excavation camp…and that’s where one of the ‘X’s’ was located.

Our opinions ranged from ‘we can take them’ to ‘will we be overrun’ as we viewed the many chittering, yapping kobolds on the island of rock. One thing was for certain: they had fire and we were freezing. As we were debating a plan of attack, Leif approached the kobolds. We thought him dead, swarmed by the little monsters, but, no, he was conversing with them. In a matter of minutes, he’d convinced the kobolds to let us share their fire in exchange for alcohol. A few of us gratefully huddled by the fires, but the majority of our group decided not to—after all, generous kobolds were still kobolds.

However, it seemed these kobolds had a problem (besides being kobolds). They had uncovered a crypt which had “shinies” but also had “deadies”. Leif bargained with them, and the little monsters agreed to let us have some of the shinies if we cleared the crypt. We took their leader to ensure our safe passage down into the crypt and descended.

It was an elven crypt. This became quickly apparent, and it also became quickly apparent that something was definitely wrong. We encountered a spirit deer in one room that repetively asked us whether we were friend or foe, who’d disturbed the ancestors’ rest, promptly decided we were foe, and transformed into a massive demonic beast. We vanquished it only to do battle immediately afterwards with ghosts and restless dead. Our battle led us to a lower level of the crypt which was a massive atrium, now corrupt and covered in snow (not that the snow corrupted it, but it had somehow gotten in underground). There were undead frost giants here—none of them hostile—but, from what Honey could glean, protecting their sleeping ‘Lady’. Following their beckons, we discovered the portal.

And the portal discovered us.

The giants left through the portal. We breathed a sigh of relief. The portal flashed to scenes of Rivermoot and other familiar areas. We debated jumping through. The portal showed us a plane of fire, and, conversely, the portal showed some…thing…on the other side us. We attempted to kill each other, the whole time, in our minds, battling demons. I, personally, don’t know what stopped us from slaying each other dead. One moment, I was battling a demon, next I was dashing my bow to the ground, screaming for everyone else to do the same because I’d just sent an arrow into Olaf’s back. Horrified, confused, and wounded, we withdrew from the now portal-less room (I guess it was happy with what it had wrought and left) to tend to our wounds and regroup.

After an hour or so, we re-entered the room. Olaf divined that this atrium—trees, grass, and crystals—were a mythal. But, unlike the Gem’s mythal, this one had failed, causing the beings within to fade and die instead of sleep forever, and, also, to let any number of creature or being in to poke around and disturb their slumber. The answer, he said, was to dispell the faulty mythal, but, of course, it didn’t go easilly. As Olaf cast the dispell magics, more ghosts and restless dead attacked. There were explosions and the crypt quaked. We thought to retreat, but, suddenly, it was done and a peace descended upon the atrium. For the briefest of moments, we were rewarded with a…spirit image of what had been. The faded trees were full and alive, the air was warm and pleasant, and cool light bathed the room.

Then, it faded and we left.

Now, when we had first entered, we’d found a throne room of sorts. By the throne was a corpse and a bag. In true adventurer style, a few of us with a knowledge of traps had sought to approach the throne to get the bag, but, in the end, I had gotten a horrible feeling when I neared, so we left it alone. On our return, though, I happened by the throne and the feeling—any feeling—was gone. This leads me to my advice about enchanted bags—seemingly endless roomie bags may seem like a wonderful thing, but you never know the nature of the magicks. This bag seemed to have a malicious side and almost ate the earnings from our loot’s sale.

*There are several dots before the sentence as if the quill were tapped on the page numerous times before writing*

I’d love to write some marvelous insight that I received from this adventure. Some sage advice. I can’t think of anything. Most of our adventures seem to end one of two ways: definitely or hazy. This is a hazy one. Who made the portal? And to what end? What was that creature/being within the portal? Unfortunately, I realize that, probably, we’ll never get answers to these questions. I guess the best way to approach this hazy-ending adventure is to just be glad we’re alive, we left things well, and look eagerly towards the next adventure.

I vouch that this account is as accurate and true as memory allows.

Fox

[NESchampion]

*transcribed just below the account is a small diagram*

[CloudDancing]

I love you stories! I love that you all write! And I love to see this attention to detail. You guys pay such good attention.

[Uniskorne]

*In Fox’s plain, unadorned handwriting*

Where to begin? So much has happened that the details are almost a blur.

Olaf found a will on a dead hin in the Mythal Crypt (as I’ve taken to calling it), and we, of course, were swept into another adventure. The Will was a cry for help, instructions on activating a golem, and the last words of a fellow adventuring soul. Though the former and latter resounded with us all, it was the middle portion that grabbed Olaf’s attention, and we were off to Rivermoot to speak with the relatives of the fallen hin. I’m sadly fuzzy on all that was said, but, in the end, we were told that there was a workshop in the basement of the tavern in town. We investigated and found several parts of a golem.

With no other clues to go by, we traversed to Settlestone, as the Rivermoot hin told us that he had a workshop there, as well, and the Will seemed to support this statement. After wading through ogres and goblins and everything else that sought to kill us, we arrived in Settlestone and confirmed with the barkeep that, yes, there was a workshop of sorts upstairs. There was and it was in horrible shape. Dead mephits littered the floor as well as general disarray and a golem.

This is where it all went bad. Olaf found that there was a compartment in the golem where someone could sit and steer it. Of course, he clambered in and began pushing buttons/pulling levers. The long and short of it is it activated briefly and nearly killed him. He was unconscious when I pulled him from the machine and bore burn marks on his forehead and wrists in some strange arcane pattern (he still has them). Soon after he recouperated, we headed back to the Gem to gather our wits and piece the clues we’d found together.

Rest is fleeting for us, and relationships are made on the fly.

Olaf studied the pieces of golem we’d found (clay pieces as opposed to the metal golem in Settlestone) and conversed with a professor at the Lady’s College. He was told the Tower of Gond was a good resource for golems, so the Roses, along with three new faces (Rani, Janidera, and Shatters/Tahir), trekked off to the Tower.
Which, of course, was a sight of slaughter. Orcs had raided a merchant caravan, slaughtering everyone and looting the cargo. We defeated the orcs, buried the dead, and visited the Tower.

Admittedly, I stayed outside for most of the conversation that went on inside (standing guard with the new three and steadfast Brier, who’d joined us on the road), so I really don’t know what happened. I did peek in at one point and heard something about ‘fire elementals’ (as well as had a cup of tea from an /animate/ teacup), but, alas, I can say no more of the conversation.

Honey got some sexy new armor, and Alyra and Kaleb returned from their respective trips. This is the best I can say of this adventure so far. The Will mentions a treasure that can only be reached by a golem, but (and I’ve been labelled a ‘cynical old hag’) after what happened to Olaf I don’t think we should risk another activation. Alyra has offered to hire us for things she can’t personally look into (nothing specific right now, but the future promise sounds good for us), and I’m sure there’s more contracts out there waiting for us. Darkness came too close this time. We shouldn’t push our luck too much.

And I am, as always,
Fox

[NESchampion]

*scrawled in smooth, flowing script in large lettering, following with neat, precise lettering for the body of the writing*

The Wind Rose and The Broken Golems

Some adventures never truly seem to end; those that do end leave marks upon the adventurers who bore them, like notches in a tree trunk that grow over with time but are never truly the same. Not always in ill fashion, of course; adventure has brought me close to three tall-folk, as close as any I've ever met. I would call them kin nearly, for they are dear to me. This adventure seemed as though it would never end however; a mystery going deeper and deeper until finally we have reached what seems to be the end.

It all began in the Elven crypt where we encountered that mythal. Fox touched upon the middle of the adventure in his prior account, but herein I'd like to leave my own summary before going to the heart of a very grand finale.

While in the course of pursuing one adventure in the kobold cave led us to the Elven crypt, so too did the Elven crypt lead us to another adventure. We came upon the remains of a halfling adventurer and his group who had met an unfortunate end there. He had scrawled down his will, bits of it coated in blood and illegible. He described a hidden treasure, work on golems, alchemy and sacrifice, and hands of ice come to claim him. And so we set out, in true adventurous style, to deliver word to his relatives in Rivermoot and seek to resolve the mystery that we had uncovered. In Rivermoot we met with the Mr. and Mrs. Applebottom. The halfling we had found was Mr. Applebottom's brother, but it would seem his son was still missing. We investigated his workshop beneath the Inn, finding a few parts to a clay golem and some clues, but more questions as well. The will spoke of sacrifice, and his journal spoke of various attempts being fruitless.

There was word on the will about a workshop in Settlestone, so that is where we traveled next. That was the location of my encounter with the iron golem armor that nearly claimed my life, and marred my palms and forehead with burns of runic and alchemical symbols. While recovering I took down careful diagrams and notes about the golem, and did some additional research at the Temple of Oghma on golems in general.

At this point we had come upon two golems, more or less in pieces. Reconstructing them would not be easy, but it still made me curious as to what the halflings goal was. What sort of treasure could require a golem to pry open?

------

Ultimately, I would require the assistance of my kin at the Clockwork Tower. Master Duvabiddle and I spoke at length about the golem and the requirements to power them. Two essences from elementals and the remaining clay parts would be needed. Dangerous things, elementals... at this moment now I wonder if perhaps our... perhaps my curiosity is boundless when it ought know some bounds. Nevertheless, having come this far we set out to capture two elementals; one of earth and one of flame for the clay and iron golems, respectively.

Our first destination was the cave near Khelb; we had visited the Cave of Silence before, and found it infested with kobolds as before. But they had also uenarthed a number of earthen elementals and appeared to be worshiping them. It was a gruesome battle, but by nightfall we had claimed a pair of earthen elemental essences to bring to the Gondsman for the task. We stopped at the town briefly to recuperate and gather fireproof containers for the fire elementals, and set out at night for the Blasted Tower.

Upon our approach we engaged in battle with gnolls assaulting the tower, which is guarded by fire elementals and wherein a foul wizard resides. We were once again victorious and captured one fire elemental essence, and quickly retreated lest we overstay our welcome. At this point the pieces were complete, we had only the task of putting it all together left.

We set out for the Clockwork Tower at night, a common theme among our adventures of late. When we arrived, there were a number of angry ogres causing all manner of trouble before the arrival of Duvabiddle in a massive automated siege engine of impressive craftsmanship and size. We worked our way to the third floor of the tower where preparations for the completion of the golems had been made. After a bit of explanation and discussion as to the functions and possible problems, Duvabiddle began the task of binding the earthen elemental essence to the clay golem. A portal opened briefly, with earthen elementals flowing out into the room, but we managed to stem the tide until Duvabiddle could close the portal and complete the clay golem. The iron golem armor reacted as well, growing so massive that it burst through the roof of the tower and causing considerable damage, much to my dismay. At the end of the eve, the clay golem is now restored and belongs to the Wind Rose. In this regard, at least, the task could be considered a success, but rarely are things so simple.

The task could also be considered a failure. The halfling boy has not been returned to his parents in Rivermoot. The treasure the boy's uncle sought is in a cave apparently under treatise with the Druids, of which I'm not willing to break for the sake of possible riches. The iron golem armor cannot be made into a golem. We nearly died many times over in this adventure, and it gives one pause to consider how luck could have been less generous to us all.

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This story began with the explanation that some adventures never seem to end. This one has reached it's conclusion. A new adventure begins, and the Wind Rose will move on. For me, however... things are not yet complete. There is yet more to this tale, though it may take months, even years to conclude. The part of the Wind Rose in this is done. The burn marks on my hands and forehead are a reminder to me that my part in this.... it has only just begun.

*signed with a flourish of bold, fluid strokes below, with a small wax seal of a compass beside it*
The account of The Broken Golems, by Olaforalanon Beljuril of the Wind Rose.

[danielmn]

*claps* Looking forward to more lowland tales of daring do!!!!!!

[NESchampion]

*scrawled in smooth, flowing script in large lettering, following with neat, precise lettering for the body of the writing*

*this entry seems different in format, more introspective than storytelling*

What does a Captain do, when the compass spins and gives no course to plot, when the winds gust and the clouds roll in, when the thunder booms and the lightning cracks across the dark sky, when the stars are hidden and the seas swell around you and yours? No direction is visible to escape from the dangers that have suddenly engulfed my vessel, and not just at the peril of me and mine. The winds converge around us all in a tempest of conflict which it seems few will escape without great effort.

The crew holds together, the best that it can, but crews are made up of individuals, and the individuals have their own battles to wage in this storm. Some look for vengeance and retribution; others seek safe haven and purpose; still others seek peace with their pasts and answers with their present. Even the Captain seeks things for himself, for he too is an individual. But these things occur to him in the lulls of the storm, not in the height of the waves and the roar of the winds as his vessel is buffeted on all sides.

"What will happen to my ship and her crew?" the Captain wonders to himself. Will we be lost at sea? Dashed upon the rocks? Stranded somewhere that we cannot return to the old waters we loved to travel? Will we be stuck in this storm forever, spinning without purpose and merely hanging on to our existence? "No," proclaims the Captain boldly into the frothing sea and menacing darkness, "I will take the helm, I will move the rudder and cast up the sails, and see us through this ill time until we can see the stars once more and our compass points true."

Perhaps the crew will decide they are ready to strike off their own paths, and the ship will have no one to man it, save the Captain. Perhaps the Captain desires to man a new ship, one made not to explore the seas but to tame them, with fire and steel. We spin in this tumultuous sea, our future unclear, and as we do, each of us looks for what we lack. I will find my destination, even if I do not yet know what it looks like.

I will take the helm.

*signed with a flourish of bold, fluid strokes below, with a small wax seal of a compass beside it*
Olaforalanon Beljuril of the Wind Rose.

[ravin]

The Story of How the Sun Nearly Set for Good

(translation from Mulhorand hieroglyphs by Fox)


Into the depths of the Netherworld, the gods of Light descended
God of Wisdom and the River, Olsirus commanded
'A great evil threatens to climb from these dark depths...
'And it is our duty to drive it back down the blackened steps'
So Night and Day, Sun and Moon adorned armor and blade
And, with the Sun at the fore, 'Caution,' he did bade
Twas not long before the shadows gave up their deadly hosts
Scythe-like wings whispered upon the air, making deadly boasts
The Sun stood unafraid before the scarab swarms
Inspired, the Moon, the Day, and the Night took up arms
As the last of the enemy was felled by weapon and will
The Sun swooned into his Love's arms as his blood began to spill
The stars blazed red with Night's fury as the Moon did attend
With ivory light, Moon's blessings made the grievous wounds mend
And with voice soft, Day eased the Sun's troubled brow
'Let us leave this cursed darkness,' Olsirus soundly did vow
In fevered sleep, the Sun twisted and dreamed
His soul still held captive in the Netherworld, it seemed
Night refused to leave her Love's side
But no visible tears were cried
A silence held the gods of Light in its velvet embrace
So to the Ancients they each prayed for grace
As dawn neared, breath was held and hearts shivered
Beyond Hope, answers to prayers were delivered
For, by the lightening of the morning skies,
It was seen that the Sun slowly opened his eyes
To all who read this, let it be known as true and right,
No greater power exists than those of Love and Light

*in flourishing script*

Aalyah