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Thread: Arasthe - One Shot

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    Default Arasthe - One Shot

    It's been in my head a couple of days now, at least the only spoken words have. It reads very much like a story past down or a random tablet you might find in a game perhaps. There are elements that might be explaining something in a culture be it what they worship or how something came about.

    Either way, it is wtfable

    Not sure what to rate it to be honest but I'll say PG-13

    ---


    Arasthe



    During the time in which mortals were still within their youth and beginning to look upon the skies with simple thought, a human man, wandering lost in exile came across a sacred place. It was hidden, deep within the rich earth with a collar leading towards its depths by a simple trail barely worn by feet. Amongst the ruin of rune and rock encrypted in marks, images of ancient times far older than his generations, he would come across a hidden casket sealed with nothing more than whimsical paint marks.

    With his eyes widened, lacking any fear for the strange treasure that lay before him, he acted as though a child, reaching out to touch. When his fingertips little more than grazed the smoothened surface, the image of a female much like he appeared before him though she stood tall and clearly more than the simple man that summoned her presence. Clear as it was, her eyes were full of colour yet lank at the same time, different from his own but he refused to see anything beyond the majesty of her form.


    She spoke without extravagance or superiority towards, but the softness and the protecting touch you would expect from a true wife.

    "I can give you anything," she said. "Everything you ever desire or will do, I may grant it. But I ask you this, what would you give to have everything you wish for?"
    "A child," was his reply with the thickest of taints and the darkest of grins, "The one thing even you cannot have."

    Upon the casket skilfully kept from his prying hands, a blood oath was written by the man as a mark of responsibility that when he returned to this location upon his leavage he would never ever look inside. If he would keep to this, the agreement would forever remain solid and bound between the two.


    Within a week the no longer mortal man left in more fanciful clothes than simple rag, stealing away the casket under his left arm. But too absorbed was she with her own affairs of what was to come that she took no heed to what was done nor the disappearance of the man she had granted to, the chance to be, for even an immortal, is all engulfing to duty.


    As time continued to pass, the man steadily turned himself into a God to govern for his own world, ruling over his former friends, allies and enemies as one and favouring and casting those who once praised and hated on a constantly changing whim. All the while, these instances of his power are destroying all of what she herself once guarded over.

    And still she did not notice.


    Eventually neither shortened nor lengthened beyond a mortal’s term, the child was brought into the world for her joy before it swift turned to her agony. For you see, when her child came, it was still lacking any trace of life. The flesh covering the infant glazed in the colour of death, the word "Arasthe" traced across the tiny arms in thick scarlet turning ebony.

    This grief caused her to cast aside further all her duties for her sorrow at her loss that she was now forced to suffer. Her sight turned to void and herself frail and withered with every passing day, week and month as she continued to cradle the child in her arms hearing nothing more.


    Year after year drifting into century had passed before she finally decided that she could go no longer bear staying with the infant or even do the small life justice with her endless mourning. With this thought as her remaining vision, she cast the body of her precious child into the sky before summoning the grandest of fire around the body ignoring her own weakened state. Consuming entirely leaving not a trace within the heavens, ash began to fall upon the world in a deadly rain that would lead to the great barren wastelands and mortal bodies a breeding ground of her nightmares.

    So upon this task to offer a final bow, she took it upon herself to tear out her own heart to end her longing and torment so that her pain may be eased. However, being as she was and not of our plain, she did not die straight away as we would from such a feat. By sending a simple servant as her own life waned in the form of a black fox, her precious casket long stolen was retrieved from the man she had met in this uncountable years past. Just as a candle fades, struggling to cling to those extra seconds, she too clang to give it time to return before she also fell into the dark.


    Though the trek was long and wrought with the world’s weeping tears, the servant struggled with its teeth to bring it close enough to her so that her heart could be placed within it and continue to beat for as long as it would remain sealed. With her own final breath whispering a blessing to the creature, her body fell to the ground from the greatest of heights turning to dust on impact to leave her skeleton untouched except for the growing shadowy white.

    Curiously, within one of the hands the casket still beat, its meaning remaining untouched.


    Elsewhere did not feel the sorrow for her plight nor passing, the man grew to become greedy, selfish and corrupted by his own gifts. Not caring of what happened to either her or the child, he went to steal back the casket seeing it only as an endless power in which to reign over his little world.

    After many years of fruitless searching, he came across bones amongst rock surrounded by the tallest of all, the Grave of Souls she had now become. Standing as a macabre gift as something her life alone could not give, the shadows gave respect in their purity. The souls were drawn by the casket to respite in this place, under a watchful eye of one before making their final journey to their own true resting place.

    But the man did not care for this or the reasoning behind such a spectacle and stole the casket from her remains and tore away her grasping hand. Satisfied. He took to return to his kingdom not noticing the black fox mark over the lid base or the way the finger tips enclosed tighter.


    Within hours of his plunder, the Soul's Graveyard began turning into a desolate place for without the casket as they tried to move on, they became trapped in a limbo void. After a time however, the souls began to once more feel the beat of her heart and sought to follow it and find their guide towards their final paradise.The man himself had placed the casket into the very depths to hide it from mortal and disillusioned hands, ignoring the wisps as mere tricks of light visiting him to bow.

    The heart did not die despite how it may have seemed for he was known to call upon it whenever he saw fit to show off his power before the world. Her hand he had wrenched away became the new throne upon which he sat in an ever-impressive ivory colour in its protective grasp.

    The greed and power of this one man still remains, awaiting, those who dare try to find him and be tempted to take the stolen casket away and return it to the souls, to take up heir in rights of legacy, to be as he.

    He does this, for his name is, Arasthe.
    Last edited by Zephyr Flare; 9th August 2009 at 6:53 PM.
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