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HISTORY

PROPHECIES OF THE WANDERER ...

Recorded in the year 313.

The sun to the east looms larger every day! That which was once shall again come to claim, come Humans, come Hithual, come Leuian, come all....Gems will be plenty should this hammer fall. Unfeeling, historically, you play in too but exactly how grand....err, well, perhaps it will take many eyes to know.

The sun to the east looms larger every day! I can see nothing when I look to the east, so bright is the inferno that my very eyes burn in pain, tears of pure crystalline pour from my veins to a pool of molten silver that runs beneath my feet and traces a path to the east. The steps of the remains rise up high to the sky, and lofty ambitions understate the terms of that which whence was nothing comes again.

The sun to the east looms larger every day! So I can move onwards to the west to escape from its heat, past the waters of blue and the forests of green, to the city of history Iíll hide and will wait. Will the sun find me here, I pray it will not, for the trap of eight lays beneath its feet, and they who once clicked the lock come after. Led forth by the Dragon of gold, a mighty roar they come blazing fire behind its feet. A world of slaves should the run reach the west, even the island of pale ones will burn beneath the intense flame lest they seek shelter beneath the ground. A second bane perhaps upon their existence, that which will change the first, is all they need to bring a stop to the sun, but the chances flow away on a river of silver driven on by crystalline tears dropping endlessly into a lake of time.

The sun to the east looms larger every day...

And I, Murdach, shall be seen only in its shadow, for the rays are too bright for any to survive.

The sun to the east looms larger every day! That which was once shall again come to claim, come Humans, come Hithual, come Leuian, come all..Gems will be plenty should this hammer fall.

The sun to the east looms larger every day! I can see nothing when I look to the east, so bright is the inferno that my very eyes burn in pain, tears of pure crystalline pour from my veins to a pool of molten silver that runs beneath my feet and traces a path to the east. The steps of the remains rise up high to the sky, and lofty ambitions understate the terms of that which whence was nothing comes again.

The sun to the east looms larger every day! I hide onwards in the city of history, crying out for the hands of eternity not to be bound, else the seal of power is began and the sun will burn me even deep below the ground. They return to where it all began, 8 sides of the force held within the shadows of greatness which fell to ruin. Balls of flame explode high above and fly onwards to the southern horizon, past or present I know not any longer, it exists, it lives, and those who catch return unknowing.

Led forth by the Dragon of gold, a mighty roar they come blazing fire behind its feet. A world of slaves should the seal reach the west, deep beneath the rocks of the world I flee, dust and rock settle on the remains of that which was not I, and to the east, in the very heart of the sun, only a rock remains where I once stood. Followers of the nothing, question all and leave no rocks uncovered, worship not the idols and altars of others, yours is a path of that which is not rather than that which is. All shall be revealed in time to those who seek that which is not, for they are the true masters of this plane.

The sun shall set the home of the fleeing lady in a blazing glory of spectatular reds. Ancient, you were, but now you fall to the ground to hold tight to the earth with your burnt bodies no longer reaching up towards the heavens. Rebuild, relearn, consolidate in the center of the ever growing darkness the lady will, and from the shadows of the sun as it moves west, will hope arise in the very iris of its blazing glory. Perhaps, indeed, when the flames die down and the few remain amongst the edge of the world, there will be hope from their courage.

The sun to the east looms larger every day...

And I, Murdach, shall be seen only in its shadow, for the rays are too bright for any to survive.

Follow the immortal faith of your soul and objects of your worship shall be no more. It courses through your blood, fills the air around you, plays on your tounge and wafts about your nose. Just as you reach for it, it slips out of understanding to the darkest reaches of the world, awaiting once again to quickly return and surround you in an invisible armor of faith. Power rests with those who refuse it, for they are the true saviours of our people. Coins, rocks, mists, bowls, and center stones all stand for the nothingness that is the symbols of worship, for the stone can not answer a prayer, the coin can not lighten the soul. Search for the shrines of randomness within nature, for they are the true portals to the world of the nothingness. Behind you, around you, and through you comes the wanderer, and no closer are you to touching it now than you were ever in your life.

Seek out that which is not, and within it you will find understand and fulfillment in a world that lacks it, for the wanderer is neither here nor there, neither outside nor within, it simply is, much like the true faith of the faithful. There is no box to think within, there is an unfathomable realm of nothingness, reaching as far and wide as the mind can imagine, and only when we realize there is no dimension to the wanderers existance will be realize there is no dimension holding back our own.

Deep within the caves of nothingness, seeking shelter from the blazing sun that seeks to ungulf us all,
Murdach Dookem



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