Sixth Era. The 429th Year.
Larune, the trade centre of the Twin Continents, in the height of its power had unfortunately run out of luck. Many have their own version of the events that transpired, or their incessant theories. None truly knew what occurred that day, when day and night merged into one, when the Murk engulfed the nation. The Murk can still be seen from the edges of Larune, a constantly shifting seemingly sentient black mist, possessing the faces of those who couldn't escape it, frozen in their last moments.
Once a small area of the West Continent that was typically ignored, Larune had quite the underdog tale. After the Meridean Sea, separating the West and East Continent, had been crossed and contact was made - Larune found itself in the perfect position to expand a maritime empire and so it was. The Runish power and influence stretched so far, that it even made the likes of Zalafold and the Elduirian Empire increasingly nervous. Fortunate for all, Larune's expansion came not from conquest but from elaborate diplomacy, encouraged by the ruling family, the Tybur's.
The country had once been renowned for its architectural and artistic achievements. Ironport, the port-capital, was the pinnacle of this grandeur. Its structures, primarily consisting of pale red marble still stand as testaments to a bygone era. Towers and spires, intricately carved with scenes of myth and legend, soared above what were once bustling streets. Ornate facades bore the mark of master stonemasons and sculptors, while grand arches and domes underscored the city's magnificence. The city itself sat within the world's largest natural harbour, shielded from the high waves of the sea. It was truly impenetrable, until it wasn't.
The last King of Larune was Edarion II, a monarch with a once-great legacy tarnished by the sickness that put great distance between him and his people. Crippled by his ailments, the Pale King was left vulnerable to his peers and so many suspect that the fall of Larune was caused by those eager to jump up the line of succession. Nothing can be proved however, as nothing remains.
The Veiling. That was the name of the event. How the Murk appeared at the very centre of Ironport itself, within the palace. Its first victims: the Tybur's. None knew where the cursed mist had come from, or how it appeared - but those that were able to survive, the very few, swear on the fact that it brought about creatures with it. Demons made from the very Mist itself, their eyes glowing orbs of yellow and their dark bodies shrouded.
However, the last hours of Larune did not echo screams of agony or battle cries. The entities that fell upon the land were crazed and spewed insidious oaths. Yet, no one could hear them, for a great portion of the Runish people in their powerlessness stood high and began to sing. Hymns filled the air during the country's darkest hour and even the bards had assembled, playing their music across the land. This was the result of the Runes submitting fully to their Old God, as they believed that He was the only one capable of saving their souls from the dark.
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Soldiers and citizens on the borders of Larune —from Cleonth, Zalafold, and even sailors out in the Meridean — heard the ballad carried on the winds, words that none could understand. For they were in Old Runish, a language once thought forgotten, yet tens of thousands began to chorus.
The song wasn't up-beat or entirely sad, but it created an atmosphere of hope against adversity, and it was the only thing the Runes could do. They sang to their very last breath, somehow creating beauty in the horror, and it has remained the last beauty that Larune experienced before transforming into the perpetual state of torment it remains today, a land devoid of life and colour. Only here was the world truly black and white.
In the present, what remains of Larune is a wasteland corrupted by dark magic, completely inhospitable to life. As a result, anyone or any creature that remained was contorted into beasts of the unknown. No one dares cross the border, for those who do are preyed upon by the monsters of the Murk, or by the Murk itself.
Yet, I have lied to you; one thing did remain. After extensive study, the true lyrics of the Last Ballad, were translated into a prophecy surrounding an individual it calls "The Riftchild":
"When the twin skies bleed into one,
Shadows will seek to feast on the golden dawn,
In their path, the paths diverge,
Where shadows coil in silent rage,
The Riftchild must walk the line unseen,
And cast the veil that sunders dream from dream.
When the land of light fades,
A child born of two worlds will bring parades,
They who wield the blade of bleeding stars,
Born with the past's invisible scars,
They will awaken the worlds from their slumber long.
When the voice of the void whispers their name,
And the walls of the world begin to thin,
Only they can bridge the worlds' rift,
With the courage to face the abyss within,
And in their hands, the fate of all shall rest,
As the final threads of fate are spun,
The flame will see their work done."
The significance of this prophecy remains elusive, but I have undertaken further research. Unfortunately, their findings will not appear within this text.
- "A Brief History of the Twins" Vol. VII, by Sir Semwick Farely.
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image [Me]