Ulthuan

Rain wakes me,
Thunder around me.
I am injured but I stand.
My griffon is hurt,
it is breathing, it yet lives.

What happened here?
The battle rage.
I challenged
Malekith,
The Witch King.
His dragon Seraphon
batted me away like i was nothing.

I fell,
insignificant.

Nought around me.

I look about.

I hear it first
the wings beating,
then the challenge.

My brother.

My brother.

"Why do you fight?" he asks.
I answer,
"Because he is the enemy.

We have fought him
for six thousand years."

His response echoes hollowly
"He is Asuryan's chosen."

I raise my spear.

His griffon coils.

"This cannot be," he says.

"It must be," I grit.
"Ulthuan must not fall to Malekith."

We fight.

I fall.

As i perish
he says
"I forgive you."








The vortex beckons.

I am dead, yet I live.

I know nothing of this place,
yet I know the vortex is Slaanesh.

I know not how. Only that I fear it.

Others are sucked into the vortex.

I drift for an eternity,
drawn to the maelstrom.

I hear a call.
I will myself towards this call,
Not caring what the call is.

Only that it is better than the alternative.

Anguished screams haunt me as I escape.






Rain wakes me.
The sound on the roof.
I rise,
dress myself.

I am in a house,
The door opens.

My brother.

My brother.

I snarl,
hand reaching for my sword.

I see on his face
confusion.

"It is only me," he says.

I am ashamed.

I apologise,
but he cuts me off.

"They are waiting at the Shrine of Araloth,"
my brother says.

"Malekith will be there."

The name fills me with joy.

I will see the Eternity King.
Alongside my brother.

All is right in the world.

_________________
White Lion * Aestyrion * Griffon Knight

Malekith stepped down from his throne and loomed over the mage. ‘You have always intended for Tyrion to draw the Widowmaker.’
Teclis nodded, defiant. 'By drawing again His sword, the curse of Khaine will be lifted from our line.'

This was originally going to be prose - but when I started writing the outline, I saw that the outline had a flow, dare I say poetry to it.

_________________
White Lion * Aestyrion * Griffon Knight

Malekith stepped down from his throne and loomed over the mage. ‘You have always intended for Tyrion to draw the Widowmaker.’
Teclis nodded, defiant. 'By drawing again His sword, the curse of Khaine will be lifted from our line.'

Not even bad mate.

_________________
Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.
Beastly member of The Mage Knight Guild.

Thankyou Elessehta.

Was it clear what was going on? My only real worry is that there is so little detail that unless you already know what's happening, or can figure it out, it might not make any sense.

_________________
White Lion * Aestyrion * Griffon Knight

Malekith stepped down from his throne and loomed over the mage. ‘You have always intended for Tyrion to draw the Widowmaker.’
Teclis nodded, defiant. 'By drawing again His sword, the curse of Khaine will be lifted from our line.'

At first I just thought it a random poem, but a read it a couple more times and a story appeared ^_^

_________________
Lord Elessehta Silverbough of Ar Yvrellion, Ruler of Athel Anarhain, Prince of the Yvressi.
Beastly member of The Mage Knight Guild.