sirannon

Pale, cold moonlight streamed in through the window, shimmering on the iron bars that prevented escape. It fell in a silvery patch on the floor, glittering in the violet eyes of the young man who was lying in it. He idly stared at the ceiling of the cramped prison, his expression vaguely pensive. His raven black hair was fanned out around his face, blending with the shadows. The young man sighed, closing his eyes and thinking about his predicament. He had been imprisoned for at least four days, perhaps more. He had been knocked out before being put into the cell and had no idea how long he had been unconscious. The villagers, lacking a proper

1334/ Traconia Stillborn. Oh, how the babe's mother had wailed when she heard the pronouncement. Her newborn son, her fourth child, lay in her trembling, weary arms. The boy was cold and pale, and neither drew breath nor had blood running through his veins. He had never known life, or tasted the air or his mother's milk. Born still. Stillborn. The mother sat for what seemed like hours, cradling her lost child in her arms and sobbing hysterically. Her banshee's cry only grew when it came time for the usual ritual for stillborn babes: the village priest would take the body and burn it as an offering to the gods. It took all of the burly blac

A rather large crowd had gathered in the town square, despite the freezing cold that would normally have driven people indoors. They were all chattering excitedly, and staring expectantly at the gallows that had been set up just for the occasion. After a few minutes three guards emerged from the prison. Two of them were dragging a prisoner along with them as they strode towards the gallows. The prisoner's sandy blonde hair was now dark brown, having accumulated quite a bit of dirt in the filthy, cramped cell. Bruises and cuts covered his face and arms, a testament to the torture he had suffered at the hands of his guards. He scanned the fac

Rising up against the sky A raven 'mongst the trees Church bells toll for those who die Their souls are never free The thunder and the dark wind moan The voices carry still Telling us we're all alone Telling us we have no will Down into the villiage travel Spirits of forgotten dead Cathedral spires all unravel Storm clouds gather overhead Fallen angels spread their wings Draw their swords, soar into flight Following are ghastly things Monsters, demons, born of Night Send your prayers up to your God Keep hope on this night of fate Heed the warnings, lock the doors Help cannot come, it's too late.

I've forsaken what I know. I've given in to my fears. I've weeping bloody tears. As night closes in. For one sin I was cast out. Forced to live my life anew. I lost hope as humans do. I've turned my face away. Long in darkness, I can't see Any hope or light ahead. Living, silent as the dead, I wish they'd just slain me. Falling all over again, Reliving it in my mind. No use looking behind. What's done is done, and I have fallen.

Night Sweet silence Echoing eternal Moonlight Bathing earth In cold embraces Dark Take refuge Hope shall come Day Harsh light And shadows fleeing Sunlight Burning land Parched throat Light Time to run, to hide The burning time

Wreathed in darkness There it stands A reminder of Forgotten lands Columns black An altar wide Memories grim Are stored inside Blood consecrated Hallowed ground Stone placed upon The burial mound Lasting through The endless years A testament to Our earthly fears "An altar, cloaked in chills of night Long hidden from the folks of Light. What lives were lost upon this stone? That secret's mine, and mine alone." –Inscribed on an altar in the Traiden Province, Traconia.

Ugh. Morning. Time to go to work again, damn it. I crawl out of bed and walk into Louis's room. "Get up," I croak. He doesn't move. "Get UP!" Still nothing. Grumbling, I throw open the blinds and flick the lights on. Louis buries his head into the pillow, nearly howling in pain. He mumbles something savagely. "Time for work," I counter sweetly. "Fuck you, Veradan! Bloody son of a bitch, get out!" My, aren't we cheerful this morning. Rolling my eyes, I get dressed and grab a bowl of Lucky Charms. No leprechaun cracks, please. Louis trudges downstairs soon after, black hair a matted mess, his shirt not touched and hanging open, and his tie

What would I do if I saw you again? Would I laugh, would I cry, would my heart truly mend? What would I give to cross over the sea? To visit the home that's been calling to me? And what do you say to a ghost who can't hear? Do you wisper your hopes, your sorrows, your fears? But what would I pay to see worlds fade to black? To cross over the threshold and know: 'no coming back'? To hear blessed silence after my fall? For that, my dear friend, I would give it my all.

Come to me, my angel My sweet life, come back to me Come waken into the cool night Come dance with me, my love And I shall heal your wounds and ease your pain Come to me, the Angel of Death.