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Scribe
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: Florida! Woo...oo...
Posts: 90
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The Epic of Rotnemrot
Just looking for a yae or nae on whether this intrests any of you...
Heami, upon mountain of disease; advocate of chaos, and speaker of deceit.
The Rotnemrot, the illment of lands to frozen easts, and reaper Heami to be.
Slain an innumerable legion. Slain the hardened. Spoken in lies; Heami
a malefic tormentor, of evil a guardian, in mountains of disease he speak in tenuous.
Such script that instill, and surmise the dark, that death be read in his red;
that no other tell the same. The legends written in ones name.
Birthed from the char of a burning womb, it once said, came the child that Rotnemrot.
When the Hysorick, weilders of west, slit the veins of Len'nar and smoked the land;
a child born from searing flame collapsed to the feet and by enemy claimed.
As of day, Heami, was thrown a lonesome child to the bones of a charnel bay;
consumed by primal he fed from black flesh, and from there Rotnemrot began.
Spawned from slit vein, from Hysorick blade, the bones of once Len'Nar he gestate.
Three years in the passing this villian would swell, and amongst the bones of his charnel hell.
Till one could claim the one of his name- Rotnemrot, Heami - from the bones of earth, death in his guise.
Held the child by a tuft of his hair, then cringed, eyes with fire they flared!
The child lashed, like a snake it bit, drawn to warm blood for he no longer remembered it.
But this old cloak did not withdrawl, he let the boy taste blood and warm the teeth;
in his webworked rott filled maw, blood trickled and the boy did feed.
Man said, "What a creature! A bastard unmothered? And these teeth they bear the grinds of dreamt murder."
So the man hauled the boy in one hand, as it leeched what one can, and from that day onward
Heami had found an evil worthy of his teeth, an evil that would teach in its wonder.
This man, Heami called Klock, taught the Rotnemrot. The two went on to great cities;
fashioned Heami's intrests to the way of thieveing and to those of murderous beatings.
Klock educated him in the way of the verse, and the black stars of Klock's universe.
Infact as a young boy- Heami - made his first deeds to the wicked and chaos he later employ.
With an infant cunning in the city of Juntel; he tricked the all-seeing eyes of the Oracle.
With Klock to advise young man- Heami -walked amongst the white, and peculate.
So this lost child, became an aberrant young man. Klock continued to travel
with his soon to be graduand. This morbid disciple grew into lengths so tall;
wielding a thousand knives and a ravens skull.
It is said from there Klock took him to Purcu, but be it the wise Heami went a path anew;
where the doom sets shade on a frail plateau, Klock guide Heami to Death's Chateau.
Tempestuous rage flare free in cold sky, where in these lands dark prophet reside.
"Oh Klock, be it my time?" so speak this dark divine.
"Not for Death, do not tempt, but I wish for your receive." Klock said in a way without deceit.
"This child? This boy? Do you Klock wish for mine wisdom in trade for mine time?!"
"If life is the ambrosia for that of Death then that is my trade. Take this boy and from here
may he be instrument to eager services, until grown to that of a new time, and he trade Death with life."
Heami's eyes did grow wide, and at service to Death had Klock devised.
The Chateau, Part 1:
Rotnemrot left in dark quarter sat and gazed through window pane;
the clouds shown red, and lightning of green passed toiled sky.
"To auction my service for ones life, that Klock toys."
Klock and Death engaged with mental voice,
dividing Heami from their discussion.
So he sat at windows pane and reflected on that which pass.
For those should see, Heami was rather lone.
At this point of life he not recognize the set paths.
He did not have the fair bodies of nymphs, the curseing tongue of witches
or red flare of a succubi to fill his night.
Nor did he have much memory beyond Klock's universe.
Heami was told of the yawning space that lie beyond;
the places of fire in its wind, the gaping mouths of open voids torn into the furthest space.
He was told, for evil.
He was told, of hate.
He was told of many, but never was he told of life.
He heard from the Oracle and her white sheet,
but from her poison was said to be received.
Oh what Heami would do,
to obtain the knowledge that she say.
Instead he was gifted with the madness of every niche, of every chasm, of every reach in the star.
Then again Heami did think, from dark prophet, he would learn the worlds make.
He would be told of the finest lords,
the greatest kings,
and be told of the wielders of west. The wielders of west
that Klock had informed, the Hysorick,
the warriors that purge Len`Nar's black lands.
To extricate he shall, soon as his affixing to prophets knowledge;
"Who should need? Who should need the knowing of life, when one knows how life will be stolen."
Rotnemrot's words -Heami- would assure, he spoke it that night not in Purcu.
But upon the chateau, in dark quarter, while mental voices did leave him aside;
Klock had left him to the care of the prophet - then left into the thunders of night.
The Chateau, Part 2:
"Uh hum, uh hem... Rotnemrot. Your name will be Rotnemrot, and Rotnemrot shall call me Grim Dibrom.
Klock be it with time has left.
For my time, he has left without, and that time must be acquired. I have an obligation son, and as my son you're obligated. You're my son now you do understand? You're my son the Rotnemrot. He as Klock may call you boy but by ones feather a different verse, and different tongue, I shall know you as my son.
For you see?
Nevermind your seeing, I shall see for you. I shall teach you as my son, my son. For all things stolen you see, even life, it must be paid for. So I pay for lives stolen with your life, so that you may steal, and you may pay in accordance to his Klock.
Does my son see?
Naturally not, my young Rotnemrot.
Some do assume, as the nus does give light; as the noom cares it's barren face. That I am he that is Death. For son shall see, I am so but not so."
Dibrom had spoke.
"Incoherent it may seem to you. All of this from omnicient view. I am as you shall call Dibrom.
I am of a certain title -a title to Death- for you see I was never born.
As the prophet of Death's Chateau I have been gifted a life without life; for you see I am as the phoenix.
As long as none kill me I am rehashed by world design,
this I confide in few, but as my son you're those that knew.
So from this I will explain, no enigma shall be uncruel,
but I will give the knowledge all the same, so it may later be son's tool."
And so Dibrom had spoke, Heami did know.
"Now Rotnemrot, listen close, for now I tell of the lands.
To the southwest on sooty shores lays the ghosts of scattered moors, this land we name Mursol.
A vein ran deep through charnel hills, till severed wild by Hysorick wield;
that northward land named Len'Nar.
Just past that vein into open plains a fire bed of rose, basking beneath a sun, in eternal automns frail repose;
this land of Dymorselt with many scattered havens - caters to the quiet noble - and is founded over riches.
Then comes the iron melts, built on mountains snowy quilt, with rivers that run like mercury
oh so sweet I assure my son, with metal falls that drip to couldron.
This land they named so well, this land they name is Ril.
On the west lies Hysro keep, under wicked stones, a field of a thousand rock quarry - like serpent fangs they show.
Hysro of the Hysorick, wild men they are.
You know them faintly Dibrom can see... you bear the scars of grounded teeth.
They are the perpetual ones you see, nightmares far beyond those of old Klocks dreams.
They spawned in a blackened tar, carried from depths afar, crawling forth like plasmic ooze
burning land with their fire fluid.
Their city is of wrinkled stones, erected from the quarries mold, with towers which bend and swirl.
Life devoid in either way, from a temple built in ancient caves;
this I know to be the Onch.
Stray far from any path my son, that lead to these unknown ones. I need not expound any further reason
but take a travel, and I'll see it as my sons treason. You understand?
Possibly not, but that is why you have Dibrom."
He took his single breath, in vain Heami supposed, then continued with his lesson.
"Here we are, here we are, Juntel the city of Oracles law.
Astounding and marvelous built of many eyes, circulated with manifested stars casted from celestial device.
It stands betwixt a valley mouth, and always seasoned in greener way;
a monumentous architecture, quite possibly the most wonderous of city-state.
Now before you say you knew, let me cut short Rotnemrot.
Juntel also happens to be... the one place of diviner link. Inside the three straights of divine
lies the portal to inner time. From there dwells the highest beings
and Rotnemrot now knows from where the Oracle has her seeing.
Now I shall introduce, the nation of Purcu. Just north and west much past two lands-
against the ocean of Jeniterain- lays a frosted port city. It is Purcu, next to two, two plants that harvest the ices milk.
Purcu, Onshu, and Murute... you see their trade is of fresh waters
passed inside of crystal cubes, small and huge, then they distribute
leagues and leagues beyond their ports - to deserts and dryland they still export.
Now let us remember beautiful Narth, built into the jungles and against the marsh.
Founded by dear Limina while ventureing from the deserts of Unsur, not far from this Chateau,
she collected the jungle women, the mudmen, the hole dweller, and the red ones of hells cellar.
She brought these ones together, then tied the trees to the ground, every house now had a floor -
then from many was she adored.
The city itself as I've imagined, is a jungle of many passions,
five cultures that came together with the most animalistic types of pleasure.
The dew that swirls against ones feet, euphorian delight that tickles our fancy,
and music that swells like a burst of wind; charming the gods into a lull of sin."
Dibrom took Heami to the outside, past creaking iron gates, in the the tempest that still rage.
His cloak was like the whipping tendril, outstretched into a sea of electric rays...
inspiring the mind of Heami while still he spoke of the world and its place.
"There are the six mountains of Eeredic, a lord who conquered each peak, and built a castle at each of their feet.
Lanberrn, Marquerry, Juvaila, Orborrine, Abeckvul, and his most proud and carved Whinth.
All are the well natured kind, and whistlers that drink to the dew;
always looking out and feeding eachother or giving out free an open room."
He pointed to the horizon where indeed six even tops rested wakeless in the shadow of red storm.
Ofcourse, Heami knew, that beyond these storms it was surely lit within a crystal snow
that span from field to field glistening and refracting with the illumination of a dimpled moon.
But ofcourse a darker vantage would never reveal beyond, but let us not stray too much on the thoughts of Heami.
"The quarrels of kings and emperors, lay furthest to the east.
A place where royal men will employ the aid of tribal beasts.
A collosal war may rage, but never at any given point - these three intersecting lands - have never sustained a fight.
The empire at the serpents gate, of the Underking, thirty some fortresses under the regents that reign.
Then in the rocky paths that lead away, sits the mountain Kingdom of Uruvei.
Last of this trinity, on a plateau similar to this chateau's, built into lemon rocks are the assembled tribes of Konderot.
So as you see, my Rotnemrot, the dlorw... world... is even in these simple regions a complex place of suffered demons.
Every nook that one observe, and one will find a wicked curve... that lead to different paths, despite all possible first glance.
Even the six merry kingdoms of Eeredic, has become a land of those righteous lethargic
who've fostered the many of vicious and heretic."
Dibrom coast a free thinning hand... outward in the dance of winds,
coruscating redlit night, shooting fires that instill fright.
"A question I grant before your sleep."
"Dibrom... Father... why is it that evil is dark?"
"Evil is of the most potent light, and do not let it deceive. Kard... Dark is the unreachable peace, the cherished aspiration never reached... the wheeling laughter that never cease, the cure to epidemic and disease. Evil exists aslong as light exists, it swarms the universe in endless travel, a seriatim of extirpating warmth so pleasureable and honest to the quiddity of the concious mind that it may resonate without fade. It is good that is subfusc, it is an unattainable outlook of ones life to instill some sort of hollow epoh that may grant reassurance to some poor fool. A delusion... peace, joy, and all of its sort can only truely exist when all those brilliant swells of flame absorb into themselves, and mens clinging hands slip from the edge of a headstone sending mortalality into the spirals of a pugnacious war. Till each is dead and there is no room for the bright, and only then, will darkness the peace be a malleable element. Do not turn stones Rotnemrot, to seek their shade, turn stones to expose them to our wayful ray."
So with this said... Rotnemrot went to his bed. A lesson did he learn, from the wise one answers earned.
What lay instore for Heami? Only with sleep shall he find.
The Chateau, Final.
Days later the Rotnemrot
traveled to Purcu.
There from the chateau did he travel down,
in wisdom his pursuit.
Heami was sent forth
from the thundering plateaus;
sent to find a contagent
the one and only, poison rose.
He returned quickly to Deaths home,
where Dibrom waited listlessly.
Heami climbed the plateau face
as Heami had before.
Lightning cascading black born sky,
thunder rolling in deafening roar.
Heami clung to the rock face
with his paling hands;
holding the poison rose
as best his grasp demand.
And so Heami traveled lone,
through the red beads the Rotnemrot ascent.
His cape swept as a fleshy wing,
his face wept as it stung from frozen rain.
His hands gripped to rocky needles
and his feet slipped on icey shields.
But with this in his contest,
he conquered without shedding a petal.
When finally Heami faced
the iron cores of Grims gates.
When finally he entered the carven halls
mirrored by silver and guided by statue calls.
These gargoyles lead him through,
to the redest rooms.
-
In a room filled with black
columns raised against white walls;
their sat amongst a thousand chalice
Dibrom at head of his dinner hall.
"You wonder, I'm sure, why I'd send you to find such a leaf."
Heami did nod.
"Each petal from that toxin,
shall lay in wine, a finest wine.
Each day before your rest,
Rotnemrot shall take a sip,
from this deathly rose your blood submit.
Rotnemrot shall ache for the taste of its illness,
and shall become immune to the deadliest agent.
Pour yourself a chalice,
and fill your blood with blight,
may it imbibe the wholeness of yourself...
and bring about the nightmares of every night."
Grim Dibrom did take the rose, and split its petals in chalice rows.
The exhausted and unrested Rotnemrot, came forward to drink
from Grims cup.
That Dibrom did move away, his other hand keeping within a stay.
"My sons days will be a swirl of lunacy, and from this madness you will take
every sharded memory engulfed in fire drake. You will swim the miasma
and sing to stentorian thunder. The seclusion of my secret shall dip into your psychosis
and from there you shall learn, my son to be the Nevar, a perilous maelstrom of all.
Virtue will become your vexation, and the iniquitous, the villianous... your comfort.
Now drink...
Absorb...
Confide in me, ally the poison, and we shall show...
the pernicious advicate of Death's Chateau."
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And then it was, the passage of years shown from the glare of acid lenses, and Heami's mind bent
to the strains of dark recesses. Rotnemrot did step from shadows as light did pass through leaves.
Illusions draped within the sewing strings of a crafting madman, pinning souless replications to each ruthless bend.
A surreptitious lurker, a master of subterfuge, a crafter of lies... and majestic Nevar, the stormy petrel, the layer of
this existing substratum.
Dibrom would float amongst the specks of space and call command,
summon forth the shivers of an ice goddesses blowing wind,
and the Nevar, the Raven, the Rotnemrot caught wings against it's chill
brushed the heavens with darkened quills.
Blades in flurry with ghastly shrieks, whipping belts lashed so fierce
raining blades as metal tears.
The torrent of a stronger wind, scicles formed on piercing ends... knives stilled in the specters dark.
Oh and did he fill, infectious embrosia the world surreal
Oh and did he fill, devils in his glass drinking rose dripped spell
Oh and did he fill, quenched the drought that cobbed his heart
Oh and did he fill, a coffin soul torn and ripped apart.
"Night through night wayless and at cost,
broken and shattered with the eternity at loss.
May I taste the sun on my lips,
bite through clouds and latch the leech for a blood kiss;
Who am I... the child without his inamorata...
fathered by the nefarious... scholared by the dead,
loved by a poison petal, every night. Every night."
Heamil; oh Heami, this is the time.
Heami was now becoming what this epic tell, the warrior born from charnel hells.
The coils of a whisping dead
tied effortlessly at the neck,
a noose of wisdom tight
arcane strangle about his light.
And time continued pass...
Battlegrounds in the stars...
A fatality against the pawn, and every night.
Every night.
Rotnemrot fought this fight, fought his spite, continued strong into
Every night.
Until Dibrom had no more to teach,
and as a father he lost new worlds for him to preach.
So the chalices no longer filled
And Rotnemrot slowly reclaimed the world.
The time.
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