Post by Pioneer on Oct 6, 2005 11:27:19 GMT -5
Extract from The Book of Ages - Vol. 17 The Age of Struggle (7th edition)
Chapter 9 - Gods among men (author unknown)
ref. Bardic legends
(...) I remember a time, long long ago, when I first started making my way in the world, I saw someone go by with an army, a most powerful host gathered from the four corners of the world. At the forefront of this cohort of powerful and mythical beasts and henchmen was Tiamat, the mighty platinum dragon herself, radiating a palpable aura of strength and power, accompanying her, almost as an after thought, were guardsmen, proud and strong they stood, surely the best of the best, the elites of the profession.
As I stood staring open mouthed at the mighty host like some country peon who just arrived in town to sell his pig, I wondered what kind of being could bend the will of such powerful creatures and make them work together to do his will. So I followed this army (from a distance, a very distant distance) and finally caught up with them in the Temple of the Supreme God.
Wondering if they came here to get his blessing or some other boon, I was surprised and amazed that with a whisper and a small nod from the rather puny looking 'mortal', Tiamat started growling and snarling at Onivel's physical representation! Then with her wings spread wide and a mighty roar she went at him! Sharp curved teeth flashing in the Temple's illumination, the ground heaved from the beating of her mighty tail, her foot long razor sharp claws making deep grooves in the statue of Onivel! After regaining their feet, the guardsmen, not to be outdone threw themselves into the fray, chipping away at the colossal statue, doing their best to reduce it to a pile of rubble. In the meantime, the 'puny' mortal was transforming more and more of the statue's living rock to inanimate granite, chunks that fell off and crashed on the temple's floor with mighty crashes, reminiscent of the sound rocks thrown from a trebuchet make when they hit.
The statue of Onivel fought back valiantly, beating and bashing Tiamat with his huge fists, stunning her a few times with powerful jabs and snapping her jaw closed with vicious uppercuts, then amazingly he started throwing strange things at the guardsmen, some sort of hollow cubes of cast iron!
But in the end, it was for naught, after the dust cleared from the mighty earth shaking battle, where once stood the statue of the supreme being, Tiamat was sitting over a huge pile of fist sized rocks, licking her wounds while the guardsmen were mourning their fallen comrades. The Bard (for a Bard it was) stood there contemplating his work, sweat matted hair falling on his shoulders and a satisfied grin on his lips.
I knew then and there, that I would be a bard one day, I knew music could move the heart and soul, but I never dared imagine such power, music could make you into a.. God!!!
On that day I was born, I ate, drank, thought, spoke and dreamed only of music. And finally after what seemed like an endless eternity, I was finally accepted into the bardic college, where I would learn everything needed to become one of the elites minstrels, one of the proud bearers of the secret songs of power!
And for a while, life was sweet, bardom was everything I could have hoped for, everything I had dreamed of...
But one fateful day, a strange wind blew through the land, the old bard guild masters retired and the new ones knew, taught and cared less. The only things they cared about was their status and position.
'BAH to glory!' they would say.
'That lore is lost, never to be found again!' they kept repeating.
'We do not know of what you speak of.' they said.
So across mountains, oceans and deserts I travel, seeking the old bardic guild masters. In every city, town, cottage and hovel I seek the true keeper of bardic heritage. Here and there I hear of whispered hints but never yet have I found what I seek, so my quest goes on.
Many say it is in vain and others say it is impossible.
But in the mind of an old bard, a mind not troubled by senility or cupidity, still lurks a flickering hope, that one day bards will see the light again, that one day the true bards will once more travel the roads of this land.
So it is with this one hope that I bid farewell to the Age of Legend and enter into this grim new age, where everything is less than what it once was(...)
Note from High Scholar Arindel Bluegaze,
Royal Librarian to the Kingdom City State of Midgaard.
There is no wyrm known under the name 'Tiamat' or any reference to 'platinum dragon' anywhere in The Library, so most assuredly, this account is from a clearly deluded and disturbed mind.
Further proof is the fact no one would ever think of vandalizing our sister Kingdom City State New Thalos' most honored and venerated symbol, the mighty Statue of Onivel (which is indestructible as everyone knows!).
These random bablings are therefore of no historical value what so ever.
The King, Library, Royal Bard College, their past and present representatives in no way recognize the veracity of these accounts and may not be held responsible for the use or misuse of these documents.
H.S. Arindel
Chapter 9 - Gods among men (author unknown)
ref. Bardic legends
(...) I remember a time, long long ago, when I first started making my way in the world, I saw someone go by with an army, a most powerful host gathered from the four corners of the world. At the forefront of this cohort of powerful and mythical beasts and henchmen was Tiamat, the mighty platinum dragon herself, radiating a palpable aura of strength and power, accompanying her, almost as an after thought, were guardsmen, proud and strong they stood, surely the best of the best, the elites of the profession.
As I stood staring open mouthed at the mighty host like some country peon who just arrived in town to sell his pig, I wondered what kind of being could bend the will of such powerful creatures and make them work together to do his will. So I followed this army (from a distance, a very distant distance) and finally caught up with them in the Temple of the Supreme God.
Wondering if they came here to get his blessing or some other boon, I was surprised and amazed that with a whisper and a small nod from the rather puny looking 'mortal', Tiamat started growling and snarling at Onivel's physical representation! Then with her wings spread wide and a mighty roar she went at him! Sharp curved teeth flashing in the Temple's illumination, the ground heaved from the beating of her mighty tail, her foot long razor sharp claws making deep grooves in the statue of Onivel! After regaining their feet, the guardsmen, not to be outdone threw themselves into the fray, chipping away at the colossal statue, doing their best to reduce it to a pile of rubble. In the meantime, the 'puny' mortal was transforming more and more of the statue's living rock to inanimate granite, chunks that fell off and crashed on the temple's floor with mighty crashes, reminiscent of the sound rocks thrown from a trebuchet make when they hit.
The statue of Onivel fought back valiantly, beating and bashing Tiamat with his huge fists, stunning her a few times with powerful jabs and snapping her jaw closed with vicious uppercuts, then amazingly he started throwing strange things at the guardsmen, some sort of hollow cubes of cast iron!
But in the end, it was for naught, after the dust cleared from the mighty earth shaking battle, where once stood the statue of the supreme being, Tiamat was sitting over a huge pile of fist sized rocks, licking her wounds while the guardsmen were mourning their fallen comrades. The Bard (for a Bard it was) stood there contemplating his work, sweat matted hair falling on his shoulders and a satisfied grin on his lips.
I knew then and there, that I would be a bard one day, I knew music could move the heart and soul, but I never dared imagine such power, music could make you into a.. God!!!
On that day I was born, I ate, drank, thought, spoke and dreamed only of music. And finally after what seemed like an endless eternity, I was finally accepted into the bardic college, where I would learn everything needed to become one of the elites minstrels, one of the proud bearers of the secret songs of power!
And for a while, life was sweet, bardom was everything I could have hoped for, everything I had dreamed of...
But one fateful day, a strange wind blew through the land, the old bard guild masters retired and the new ones knew, taught and cared less. The only things they cared about was their status and position.
'BAH to glory!' they would say.
'That lore is lost, never to be found again!' they kept repeating.
'We do not know of what you speak of.' they said.
So across mountains, oceans and deserts I travel, seeking the old bardic guild masters. In every city, town, cottage and hovel I seek the true keeper of bardic heritage. Here and there I hear of whispered hints but never yet have I found what I seek, so my quest goes on.
Many say it is in vain and others say it is impossible.
But in the mind of an old bard, a mind not troubled by senility or cupidity, still lurks a flickering hope, that one day bards will see the light again, that one day the true bards will once more travel the roads of this land.
So it is with this one hope that I bid farewell to the Age of Legend and enter into this grim new age, where everything is less than what it once was(...)
Note from High Scholar Arindel Bluegaze,
Royal Librarian to the Kingdom City State of Midgaard.
There is no wyrm known under the name 'Tiamat' or any reference to 'platinum dragon' anywhere in The Library, so most assuredly, this account is from a clearly deluded and disturbed mind.
Further proof is the fact no one would ever think of vandalizing our sister Kingdom City State New Thalos' most honored and venerated symbol, the mighty Statue of Onivel (which is indestructible as everyone knows!).
These random bablings are therefore of no historical value what so ever.
The King, Library, Royal Bard College, their past and present representatives in no way recognize the veracity of these accounts and may not be held responsible for the use or misuse of these documents.
H.S. Arindel
