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Whirler of Fate

"Whirler of Fate" (1997)

1. Crow and Hooves, Lightningsdome Part I
2. Crow and Hooves, Lightningsdome Part II
3. Arcane Churning Yearning
4. Niobilatika
5. The Sprinkling Snarl Of My Ravishing Blade
6. Beneath, In His Benighted Dwellings, The Paramount Shrieks With Laughter...
7. Be'Eth The Clairvoyant The Whirler Of Fate
8. When Your Dear God Falls To Perishment...

1. Crow and Hooves, Lightningsdome Part I

[Upon our earthly plain of green, a flickering passing of light, then silence, seemingly everlasting silence. Has it come?]

Transcend...the dawn...

Arriving north cold white snow wind...

My fingers tremble, not the cold but their wish, frightful in fear, can I use as I used to?

"Resounding sound of wizardry...upon the white my sign of life, a mighty blow towards the skies, all that matter have heard my return.

Walk towards the south, journey long in this cold outside, the burning darklight beats me, the Flame of Chaos and Order, head for the lightningsdome, the Weiliaon waits."

A streak of wood upon the unrelial road, [a crow,] its glittering glance looking my way...

The Crow: "If it were my own choice, I would not be here, wise traveller, for my ears enjoy the clinging of the swords [more], and the quiet afterwards...where another feast awaits."

Nirion: "What brings you to this desolationscape [then]? Is it premonnition of doom, or do you bring wise advise so that I may outlive myself again?"

The Crow: "Kraa, no, none of those, I bring thee a reminder of what has been told afore, thine destiny concerns us all, and the message I bear comes from the Kizara of H'hen, he bids thee to live in peace and not to cut the festers and unhealed sores of our world open with thine mighty sword. For the gore that will drip when thee doth so, is too porfull for even thine mighty sword to master. And I know that I for me have no special bond , I return no message, nor do I consent with his. I deliver, and that is all I do."

Nirion: "[Ah,] raven of black eloquence, your tongue be filled with deceit and that I enjoy, return to thine beloved battlefields and know for settling of the mind that I shall continue my path as planned.
"And I have good and bad announcings for thee. Yes, there will be battlefields plenty in my plans, but the flesh I shall litter upon them shall be the putrid flesh of warmongring assassins..."

The Crow: "All cannot be well, [kraaa,] goodbye wise traveller, and fare thee as all should be."

The crow flies into the startling snowy whirlwinds, and vanishes into the blackwhite...

[A never impartial intermezzo:
Sleeplow mind, quiet and dark, a universal
Plaguemonger. Set your steps right,
Weiliaonwielder, for many would wish you back from whence you came...Pity upon you,
for there is no from-whence-you-came left.

Poor disrooted wretch, your past too hoorid
to cherish, your future too uncertain to look
forward to.

And yet, a mystic glimpse in your eyes that vanishes whenever I look at it.

Hurry, hurry, for traced you are. And none will flourish from an early confrontation.]

2. Crow and Hooves, Lightningsdome Part II

"Puzzling, the Kizara wishes to interfere with my plans, how can he be fit in the vile works of the fallen? Many things have changed since I left. Time has come for me to learn more. But first, the darkening of the day forces me to beseech rest."

A cavern...magic...stone to

"A presence I sense coming, prepare for battle, lightning blue in my hands."

A large caped man appears, [my hands lower and a smile crosses my face...]

"When ye think of the devil, he himself appears untailed, as if to cut the last threads to the world I have left. Ironic...but nevertheless, Hail to thee, proudest of compag-nons, for ages I have longed to hear your humorous words again."

"Hail to thee, Nirion, ye speak in strange tongue, tis as rolling thunder, uneleganced, as yet still yet true nature ranges aloft, as 'ere yer past lyeth far buried...Wellcome to our world, or call it yer world, if yer plans remain and they should..."

"Hah, thine mispraise for the Fallen doth ring right, and I agree, they've misused thine name for ages, pushing all men's mischief in thine hands, and then blaming thee of the irrevocable errors. If thou were to be evil, the worlds would have been depopulated the first day in time."

"Ah t'is right, yer words may sooth my soul. [I am no more evil than the laundry any peasants wife bleaches in the stream.] T'is mine mystery that man has come to fear..."

[The Nirion turns away and looks into the night outside the cavern:
"Canst though bring me to the lightningsdome?"

A quick wink and a fastly sharp answer:
"Be sure t'is within my power, my friend."

The big man smiles, then turns around, seems to enlarge and utters:
"Ere the] Hooves of thunder, yer Lord doth call."

Blasting thunderous sounds...

"Let the night forever be young, for the Lightningsdome we ride..."

3. Arcane Churning Yearning

Ride, ride, a swirl of darkened blue. The two reach the lightningsdome. Quickly the Weiliaon is retracted from the amber runes, its force having grown for thousands of years. No words sufficient to describe the reunition, so none will we waste. The Nirion and the Lucifer separate and the Wielder departs for the Rainplains. Resuscitating the Tricorn, reborn in white. The Ancient Trinity is as one again. The Wielder sets his path towards the Caverns of Carving...

Deep in the earth...

"Dwarves of the Cavern of Carving, I am here for thee to pay your debts to me, if all is remembered..."

"Arrogant, what else to expect...we do not forgive so easily as man does, warrior, so do not insult us."

"An admonition or a threat, I see none in my words and I see many in yours. How long will the carving take, if I may ask?"

"You may, twelve nights and one day if you can bear the burder of the dead upon your chest, which I doubt not."

"Swift as an arrow you speed from insult to compliment, let us start the work, no time loss can I afford..."

"Huh, three followed you, they now weigh more than they used to the weight of a dwarven axe between their shoulderblades, so we have all the time we need."

Screams, screams, screams...

Arcane churning yearning

Like drowning in a wishing well, the ultimate power, the ultimost unity, let us combine this with ultimate strife and ultimate love for all that lives, and the black revulsion for those with backward mind...

An intermezzo disfilled with equivalent rash glory:

"T'would be too easy, bereft of common cold sense, are ya? Allow, you frivolous featherhead, like a light'o'love you fool with vital spirits, embracing the gods of death as you do..."

4. Niobilatika

Elated with joy, radiant with energy but famishing for company...the Nirion stumbles from the Caverns, leaving the Dwarves at their endless tasks, and mounts the Tricorn, setting his path towards Niobilatika, the greatest of cities...

Squivering shivering the taste of return, approach the greatest of cities from the West, over the Astonisher "do always come from the West my friends, 'tis where the angels are born"

I stood and watched its splendeur gazing back at me, the dawn over Niobilatika, a return to the roots of glory...

On the threshold to illumination, unnamable its grand appeal...

The Nirion descends from the Astonisher cliff...

And commences his stroll towards the city walls, and around him he sees others doing the same thing, peasants, merchants, all in search of anything Niobilatika offers them to fulfill their wants...

Entering the city, the Nirion soon flood with the flow of people who enter the city...But whilst most of the travelers pass in anonimity...the white tricorn with the warrior upon it soon attracts the attention of many...very soon the murmur has altered to a loud wriggle of some plunge into their knowledge of legend to recognize the sheathed sword and the lightlusting Tricorn, and upon it the caped man, although bodily not a warrior at first sight, a man with the gaze of a warrior and the glow of victory. Soon a crowd of thousands follows the eerie horseman...and the road clears ahead of him, leaving his direction empty.

And then a young lad doesn't clear the way, and stays in the Nirion's path...the young man, shyly but firmly:

"What is thy name, mighty he who wields both the ancient sword and the newborn tricorn? Word spreads swift within the walls of the City of Golden Ice and Silversworded Heroes, and the tongues speak of a Return expected and hoped for but declined by the Unbelievers too many times. The many tongues speak of the darklightborne...
We are in need of him, if thou art who he is, relieve us from the sweet sufferance of expectation."

"Well said, young man, in the well spoken word do we recognize the forger of diplomacy and in the firmly spoken word must we catch a glimpse of the strong at heart. I used to be the One you expect, who I am now is for all of you to judge."

"Then come, mighty One, the City Council await you..."

5. The Sprinkling Snarl Of My Ravishing Blade

The knight: "You quick soldier, your sword halfly as fast as your reputation, would heaven up my amazement. But 'tis not so, is it?"

"Tis with plague in mine smile that I come to mellow thine disenchanting style"

The elders' faces clear with expectation's gratitude for the coming display of Words...

"Insult me not, ye verse monger, a sneer for your smothered cowardice."

The Nirion sighs sorrowfully, looks up melancholously and utters silently: "an end to this befouling." and melancholy turns to glooming fiery rage in the now dark eyes of the Wielder, a recoil on the other side of the room as the youth feels the bundling of force, the Beholder's arms raise and with a mighty magician's thump, the knight is flung to the wall.

The darklightborne swiftly speaks:
"Stronghold we our children in emotion and wisdom, as the old cock crows, the young ones learn, and forgive we his youth, as even now I envy his youth as well as his revolt."

But enthralled in the corner lies the youth with burning eyes, and open as his mind now is to any means to erase the humilations done, and probably unintended by the darklightborne, he unknowingly lets The Many Who Know The Return And Wish To Halt It Now in.

Suddenly a ghastly sigh resounds as the darker take over his mind, the knight hops up, his eyes gazing intensely at the Swordscarrier, and he unleashes a bolt of pure incentive madness at the Nirion, who is now lifted from the soil and recoils in surprise.

The youth, with a gravetrodeen voice, says:
"As a screech owl, I descend from the heavens to bring the white scourge amongst your children, scrutinizing for any and all uncorrumped life to waste, sitting on the Holy See, the shepherd and his sheperdess estrangled. Henceforth I am the Mendacious Meddler, the Provost of Prostitution, the Prosecutor of Puerile Innocence. Atrabilious be henceforth the Seers of Your destiny...

Perish now... (x4)

But mighty an enemy before him, over his initial surprise, bundles the dragondfiend defendspells, breaks the bondings of the Lifterspells and unleashes the ravashing Ti'Ak'Thi.

Half the spell's power is flushed through the mental gate towards the Darker who control the youth, a quarter of the power crushes the poor youth and another quarter tears through the castle walls...

As with any magician, having indefinate power to use, and no experience for a very long time, an overcast spell...

But the Darker, unwilling to let slip so mighty an occasion, use the link now created to send in five Ta'Rish.

However, the Nirion for once and for all wishes to show the very might he wields and unsheaths the Weiliaon, and gleaming in silverblue, the Chant of the Sword commences...

The room turns damp and dark as the soul of the Dead burnt in the Nirion's chest come to life and as the Weiliaon turns red, the Nirion charges, a chaotic mixture of undead, steel Weiliaon, materialized magic and flesh...

Twenty seconds later, the Ta'Rish are shattered...

6. Beneath, In His Benighted Dwellings, The Paramount Shrieks With Laughter...

All your fucking looking up, all the contempt you hide in your melted-to-a-gentle-form addressingcodes...

Well, tis now wasted on me, the hypocrisy you cannot wipe from your eyes disgusts me as much as I myself am disgusted by my own stupidity for believing this persiflage of an overevolved past...

Fight the gentle fight, risk your life for those who adore you for risking your life for them, lousy bastards, to hell with it, to hell with you...

"Laugh now, shriek now, you won it all the way, Paramount, you unreal makebelieve incarnation of all I did not wish to stand for, I should have taken all the power ever invested in me and sent it back to the investors in the package of their own deceit and blown them all skyhigh, should've blown them all skyhigh, blow you all skyhigh, lousy bastards..."

"Hasth thou understood, weakling Nirion ass, I waited all these years to see you come back and fuck yourself up...fully..."

In a million years I'll be known as the moron who saved the world, and got dumped by it for being so stupid to save it...

Who the fuck wants to be saved anyway?

Below in his benighted dwelling the Paramount shrieks with laughter...

7. Be'Eth The Clairvoyant The Whirler Of Fate

The blackened gypsy princess: "I know thee, thine beautiful and thine vile words I've heard, thine courageous deeds I have witnessed, and for the healing of thine wounds I've prayed. Thine stubbling on the ways of mortal life, thine persevering stubbornness, as the sword vengeance rejected, I was there to see your indecision. As live was given and quickly stolen again, your vague utterings, your longing for anonimity, your desire for someone with the power to absolve you of life itself. But through thine desperation, I beheld the purest of creatures."

Nirion: "You are too kind for my missteps, I cannot fuddle all that has been."

"All that has been?? If thou doth wish to fuddle all that has been[, then in thine pureness stupid thee art. There is more beauty in there than once there was in your entire godlike endlessness. You have made a choice ages ago, why dost thou fear it...]Alone? Yes. Powerfull? Yes. Wise? Yes. What is it then you wish more?

The winning cards are in thine hands, all of them. Cans't thou deny that? I think not. Then seize thine [courage and] sword of life and death and make those of thine own race remember thee 'ere they roam. Make the heavens tremble and the hells fill."

Nirion: "Ahhh, sweet lady, you depict solitude as a winning card. I once used to think occulted whining omen of my downfall it was."

"T'is not what I said, gentlest of warriors, alone in the power that matters amidst the wrongly powered, a simple riddle to solve. And you, of all, should never speak of downfall, you are a wingbeat away from the utmost victory."

"Hmmm, my eyes seem to be opening. The only giver of life, a ravishing delight. So this is the choice you propose. Knowledge suits only the server, a sumptuous knowledge in itself."

"Does this revelation amaze you? The godman's vision must be clouded for he sees not the Imperishable Mystery within his own self and all that surround him...let us rejoice, as this time for once the order of things will not be reversed. If you make the right choice, and I pray you will."

Nirion: "Hah, let your sweet voice mask your wisdom, and know my words, I cannot be the purest, as long as you live, and I need not be."

An intermezzo of the dawning delight and the darkest of depressions:

"Sought in the heavens, and found in the mind of a girl, one of the many mysteries the lassies guard with their lives...never as sweet as aftertime."

And now, abloom his tree of life, once adjust by hate, from the soils it rose, overtowering and glorious...

Some say that everyone is the architect of his own fortune, t'is simplistic and abashing, be your own architect and your palace will crumble.

For if one advice I may give to all who dream of a future new, then it is this: Amalgamate your joy in life with your hope, acervate truth and fantasy, and your bark will be worse than your bite.

You will look as fragile as porcelain and your words as soft as silk will you utter, all true will adore and love you.

But those who breed vile purposes and bedim the fruits of your labour, antlers of pure evilshed silver will tear them to shreds. Then you, sweet child of man, might ask to me if I, of all, live by my words...

My answer: "I am the Loner,
Ne'er someone to live for."

This is the end of Part One.

8. When Your Dear God Falls To Perishment...

Living in the name of the god who failed to survive then, when the day of reality had broken, the truth of existence was hidden to them, who praised him high...Dear god...

The god escaped to his tomb, all the enemies he encountered to him were but an erection of pain, he feared for the first time in his life...dear god...

His power is broken, no more prayers for this god, emptiness calls for the believers of his word, the simple minds shall fade away...


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