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Maelrawn the Tentacular, the Church Begins [Tidehunter]

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  • #31
    Once upon a time all gods lived peacefully.
    Wrenched in a loose alliance they lived forcefully.
    Until a god named 'Morlath' betrayed his kind.
    Soon after that he lost his mind.
    He set on a goal to destroy the day
    And through dark enlightenment he found a way.
    Below the cosmos there was darkness
    And in there he found the power to fuel his prowess.
    Then he forced dark energies into the sun
    And so he thought his job was done.
    But soon enough the gods came
    Causing a feedback of power same.
    And so 'Morlath' burned away
    But he had already brought decay!
    The old gods then grouped together
    And channeled power to seal away night forever.

    But they had failed, their power was not enough to seal it off completely, and so the cycle of night and day was born.


    The memories of Nyctasha tell us otherwise
    Why don't you listen to her last words wise.
    Her old-god blood flows in The Nightmare
    Repent or else you shall feel despair!

    But you must realize, Atropos isn't the only one
    By the time you see this your zealotry will be gone.
    For new evils have risen and now corrupt,
    And soon the darkness of the world will erupt!

    Nightmares will become reality,
    Torments will last an eternity!
    Your sanity will break
    For you shall never wake!


    Espylacopa gnirb dna pu esir lliw, nemesroh ruof eht, su sa, elbmert lliw dlrow eht, noos yrev dna!
    Last edited by setuxas; 03-03-2012, 09:12 AM.
    Brainwashing people is fun.

    Comment


    • #32
      Epic Sticky...

      This is like the Dota 2 version of Flying Spaghetti Monster.
      He's the hero this community deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So we'll hunt his identity, because he can take it, because he's not our hero. He's a silent buffer, a watchful nerfer. An IceFrog.

      My Speedtest Result

      Comment


      • #33
        Ho, Quirt, what's that noise?
        Another mess with room for quest
        Let's hasten there and do our best
        To share the excess and peas
        That tide brings from faraway seas
        Lest, I jest, you've already lost your poise

        Ho, Sithil, are you still so daft?
        I'll take on merchants with golden wares
        Steal horses rather than nightmares
        Does smuggling weeds pay the guild fees?
        Let's nick pearls from necks, not from seas
        You care way, I dare say, too much of adventuring craft

        But with a ship of modern design
        Marvel to make even Kunkka resign
        We'll simply borrow the technology...

        Enough versing.
        [Exit Quirt]

        Oh, Quirt, named for horse whipping
        Made for slipping coins from purses
        Not up to facing malign curses
        What's left for an honest rogue
        When such rapscallionry is in vogue?
        Best heroics, no polemics, he can do is toenail clipping
        Last edited by DeepQantas; 03-04-2012, 07:59 AM.

        Comment


        • #34
          Drama, the short story of Atropos and the king Lakron.

          Characters:
          Atropos
          Lakron
          Yaba Gaba
          Balanar
          Serpetu



          (It's winter. Atropos comes to a village. The village elder Serpetu greets the fiend.)

          SERPETU:
          Blackness? Darkness? Here?
          What can I do for you, me, a mortal mere!
          ATROPOS:
          I come seeking the relic,
          Bring me it else I will spread panic!
          SERPETU:
          By the Gods! For you?
          Not even if where it is I knew!
          ATROPOS:
          Then your death will not be mourned!

          (Atropos saps the life out of the elder and vanishes, leaving the village. A day after, the human king Lakron comes to the witch Yaba Gaba seeking knowledge.)

          LAKRON:
          Another elder died today,
          The Nightmare did it, much to my dismay...
          What does it seek? What does it want?
          What is it that which it has sought!
          YABA GABA:
          A sacred relic, known as the Nightbringer
          So he could stay around and linger.
          If it takes the relic then we're doomed!
          By the night the world will be consumed!
          But there is another way
          If you have the will, shatter it you may.
          Find the stalker of the night,
          Find the beast and end it's blight!
          Before Atropos finds him, it must be done!
          Or else we will never see the sun!
          Combined with the dead goddess' blood,
          The relic's power will be unleashed, and the world will be undone...
          LAKRON:
          Stalker of the night?
          And his blight?
          Where does one find
          Such a twisted mind!
          YABA GABA
          In the Forest of Lashay.
          It is there, that he spreads decay.

          (Lakron ventures to the Forest of Lashay. There he finds an abandoned fortress and starts taunting the Night Stalker, so that he would come out.)

          LAKRON:
          Beast! We know you're here!
          We come to end your reign of fear!
          Your blood will decorate the grounds!
          My soldiers will hear your dying sounds!
          BALANAR:
          Who dares disturb me?!
          Is that a human king I see?
          What a pleasant surprise!
          For you yourself, to come to your demise!
          But surely it's not me you want.
          Else I would have been long sought!

          (Suddenly, a dripping sound can be heard. Soon after, soldiers start falling asleep and start dying.)

          LAKRON:
          Atropos!
          BALANAR:
          Who are you?
          ATROPOS:
          I come bearing your deaths,
          I can already hear the soldiers' dying breaths!
          The relic will be mine,
          And soon the sun will never shine!
          Give up the Nightbringer,
          Else I will be your death bringer!
          BALANAR:
          You can power it?!
          By the night, just come and take it!
          In the tower, it resides.
          The fate of world it decides!
          ATROPOS:
          I don't need your permission to do that!

          (Atropos puts Balanar asleep and makes way for the relic, but Lakron rushes to it first and breaks the relic in half with his holy sword.)

          LAKRON:
          The world is saved! My job is finished!

          ATROPOS:
          WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!
          I WILL RIP YOUR SOUL OUT, YOU ARE UNDONE!

          (Atropos calls forth the dark powers to tear the king limb from limb and then vanishes in thin air, while all the soldiers run away from the forest.)

          The end.

          I know my artistic powers are kinda weak, but hopefully you like it
          Last edited by setuxas; 03-06-2012, 12:20 PM.
          Brainwashing people is fun.

          Comment


          • #35
            Boats and Hoes

            Comment


            • #36
              Midterms fall upon me, so we must wait,
              Until your hunger for Maelrawn's scripture I can sate.
              Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

              Steam Id: KevinCorporation

              Comment


              • #37
                While my skills in the art of rhyme, might not be worth a dime
                and while this post, lacks the charm of most
                It contains the threads heart, which i am glad to take part

                Comment


                • #38
                  Dizzle Dazzle, you're all frazzled
                  Thinking you can win the battle
                  You might be right, but let me bite:
                  None can dim the Nothl Light.

                  To think that lingering cuttlefish
                  Scrawny stink-fish Maelrawn has a wish
                  To snuff out the proud bright darkness
                  From a cloud of sediment? Right, hear this:

                  Enlighten me, how it's played
                  Drowning the sacred, never dead,
                  Never-resting lifeless soulless shade?
                  It's in you, around you, it's your soul,
                  Decaying ancient, I'm still whole.

                  Atropos? Close in most nightmares,
                  But what's out in the nightly scares?
                  Your power's a show of shadow,
                  A crying mind's unwinding furlough.

                  But light's a mite bit frightening,
                  You're caught distraught and shivering
                  When your shade-play parade unwinds
                  To blind you, entwine you in bright binds.

                  Invoker? What a joke, you weave fancy spells,
                  To leave the weak creeps as frightened shells.
                  Incantation? Demonstration of overcompensation
                  Lame stains of profane, vain impersonation
                  Of true power, the bright light of dark that I have spun.

                  So show your low-grown blow that you call strength,
                  Flaunt and jaunt whatever you want at great length.
                  I mean to scare,
                  Just be aware,
                  The power of the Nothl.

                  Comment


                  • #39
                    The sun sets on this mortal world,
                    The darkness answers being called,
                    By the rising moon, the chilling night,
                    To come in dreams and sow there fright!

                    Atropos rises from the darkness,
                    Bringing you to the edge of madness!
                    Then he calls us, the horsemen four,
                    To strike this world at the very core!

                    Go back to your pathetic Nothl realm,
                    Else your life with burn like the tree elm.
                    DO THAT NOW OR ELSE WITNESS THE COMING FLOOD
                    AND SEE YOURSELF DROWN IN YOUR OWN BLOOD!


                    *laughs like a maniacal zealot*
                    Brainwashing people is fun.

                    Comment


                    • #40
                      Maelrawn is actually the name of my hometown :O

                      Comment


                      • #41
                        Stay together, my fellow warriors,
                        Don't let it chase you in your dreams.
                        And even if one of you falls off,
                        There I will be to guard that sleep.

                        Bane, they call you. Elemental, in another life.
                        We've been promised pain and sorrow, but still.
                        To the call of "fear no heresy" we'll advance,
                        Across the darkness, through fiery nightmares...

                        Never without this iron will!
                        Last edited by ZShock; 03-08-2012, 09:31 AM.

                        Comment


                        • #42
                          If it is a story you want, it is a story you get,
                          About the state of beginnings that most did forget.

                          The world created, fresh and new,
                          Covered in salt waters, it is true,
                          Not an ounce of surface left untouched,
                          Land, by water, all was clutched.

                          Then one day, mysteriously, the Tentacular does spawn,
                          Into the oceans filled with nothing, it was a new dawn.
                          So the legend goes, he did survive,
                          At the beginning of time, immortality did thrive.

                          Alone in the seas (at the time one),
                          An Abyssal God, alone, needed someone.
                          His tentacles reached, and with much strife,
                          He assembled materials to create first life.

                          A beginner of creatings, Maelrawn was,
                          An imperfect life created, a lost cause.
                          For woe as it was, its life was cast,
                          The air of the surface required, its life could not last.

                          In anger and rage, emotions first spent,
                          To the deepest of deeps, beak-first Maelrawn went.
                          To the increases of pressure, darkness, and depth,
                          While all the way Maelrawn did wept.

                          He needed dry land for his creations to thrive,
                          He cursed this world and plans he did contrive.
                          His mind distracted, he did collide,
                          With the center of the planet, and to his mind, a plan did arrive.

                          He would crack the world and drain a portion of the sea,
                          Then life will thrive and happy he would be!
                          The highest peaks of the mountains and mesas submerged,
                          Would form the land to practice, Maelrawn's loneliness would be purged!

                          To the surface, once more did Maelrawn rise,
                          So that he could smite the feelings he did despise.
                          Down to depths once more,
                          To crack the planet, straight at the core.

                          His beak, long hardened from the pressure of deep,
                          Broke a hole that water in did seep.
                          Thus so did the first spirals swirl,
                          And a smile upon Maelrawn did curl.

                          When sufficient water did drain,
                          And the first lands were sands of dry grain,
                          He eased the flow of the water's stream,
                          And he burst to the surface with a triumphant scream!

                          Success was his, the first lands created,
                          Now his desires could be sated.
                          Free to refine the skills for life,
                          But learn did he that it took pain in rife.

                          The first lives he did create were green,
                          He made the nature that is easily seen.
                          Years more he practiced his skills,
                          And managed to create insects and birds with bills.

                          Animals, create did he,
                          But none to speak he did see!
                          Maybe it was the land and the surface air,
                          Thus came aquatic life, the waters he now would share.

                          His tendrils long with millennias of age,
                          Yet no intelligent life he could create from his sage.
                          What was the ingredient he did miss?
                          That left him still without bliss?

                          Years did go, and his creations died out,
                          But then they did reborn, there was no doubt.
                          Nothing created was as immortal as he,
                          Their life in cycles, the thing missing, he could not see.

                          Then it came within the night,
                          How he could end his blight!
                          To create real life, immortal and free,
                          He needed pieces of him, what else could it be?

                          And so comes is the tale of creation's first lights,
                          The true immortals, with whom the kraken shared amazing sights.
                          Pieces of his infinitely long tendrils he cut,
                          And added his mind along with his gut.

                          First to be came the ones from nature,
                          From his tentacles arose their stature.
                          He spread his tentacles over the land he created,
                          And cut off chunks and spread them elated.

                          Over the nature's greens she first rose,
                          Verodicia, an immortal of woods to be, she chose.
                          But more than he bargained for Maelrawn did get,
                          When his blood spilled in lands he did not with nature beget.

                          Over sands undeveloped by Maelrawn's will,
                          The sands did raise, no longer still.
                          A being that spoke as the soul of the sand,
                          By the name Crixalis to be called it did demand.

                          Unexpected but not undesired,
                          A celebration still was required!
                          Fun times were had, until the immortals grew weak,
                          For Maelrawn found his friends fatigued.

                          His interests perked, he could not sleep,
                          So more immortals he did reap.
                          Inspired by the moon, Selemene came to be,
                          And for the times while asleep, Nyctasha was free.

                          Happiness was had for times long yearned,
                          Until for more company his Gods desired he learned.
                          So Maelrawn did reach to the sky,
                          And enter Raijin of which lightning did rely.

                          But once again an accident did transpire,
                          To which TWO more immortals did aspire!
                          For he split a tentacle in his work,
                          And so came the Flayed Twins whose interest for blood did perk.

                          The Twins were a problem, for their thirst never was quenched,
                          With the blood of the animals they were always drenched.
                          Problems did arise between the others and the flayed,
                          And thus a referee was then made.

                          The Omniscience by name it did go,
                          To regulate the quarrels of immortals so.
                          And so it came to Maelrawn once more,
                          That concerns for the fallen, hearts were sore.

                          So Maelrawn did create the Death God and to the afterlife it was lend,
                          It did not have a name, this immortal represented the end,
                          "But this is not enough," said the All Seeing One,
                          "We must separate those deserving from those who deserve none."

                          And so it was declared and Maelrawn made,
                          Zeus for the just and Lucifer for renegades.
                          And with this all were pleased,
                          But something plagued Maelrawn as if he was diseased.

                          None knew how to cure the riddled father,
                          So together the immortals created another,
                          The Ancients, ones given the ability to traverse realms,
                          So that they may find a way so that the disease they may overwhelm.

                          The Abyssal God cannot die,
                          But he may still feel pain, whither, and cry.
                          But many a year came and went,
                          The Ancients yet to return, Maelrawn's strength all but spent.

                          One last effort they had yet to try,
                          The dangers of it were very high.
                          To cut out the tumor and from it make,
                          Another immortal, but what would they wake?

                          Avilliva Scree'auk was what she was called,
                          The immortal that was carved from Maelrawn's fold.
                          An immortal blight full of vengeance and hate,
                          Who introduced the emotion to creatures of late.

                          Now all beings knew the feelings we now know,
                          Everything from anger and joy to the ends of woe.
                          And so this is where emotions evolved,
                          Taken from pieces of the ones of old.

                          Exhausted this left the original one,
                          And he slid into a slumber under the sun.
                          Thus the children let him rest,
                          But not until a cradle created, a gentle nest.

                          A mighty Loom was wrought,
                          To weave mighty yarn to make a many strong knot.
                          Made for Maelrawn, a bed,
                          So that he may rest his head.

                          Lowered to the spirals of deep,
                          The lulling swirl of the whirlpool, a calming sleep.
                          Lurker of the Whirlpool, a title designed to mislead,
                          Those who may try to take advantage of Maelrawn for an evil deed.

                          Years upon years the great one slept,
                          And into the minds of the immortals, something crept.
                          An idea, a notion for power,
                          Brought on by lies of which they did devour.

                          For during the sleep of Maelrawn, the Ancients, from their journey did return,
                          With emissaries from the Nothl Realm, the Nether, the Underscape where passions burn.
                          But it was the one from a land of the pointy head,
                          Who told of a King Damathryx worshipped as a God it was said.

                          So entranced by this notion, the immortals were,
                          They went to create races of beings to conquer.
                          Intelligence was decided to be given to them,
                          So that they spoke and knew where their lives did stem.

                          But unlike Maelrawn, they could not bestow immortality,
                          And so these being, in time, did die as is reality.
                          But their thoughts developed as the cycles grew,
                          And they began to worship some things new.

                          The Wind, the Earth, the aspects of Nature were their Gods,
                          Then they created their own set of heavenly frauds!
                          Thus came the Pagan Prophecies of old,
                          Then the scriptures of the Fold were as they foretold!

                          And in this new age of technology was wrought,
                          The mortals began to worship their alchemy, science, and thought!
                          Even the Loom of old was claim,
                          As some religious icon, where was their shame?!

                          And when Maelrawn woke, he flew in a rage!
                          What happened to the world in this unholy age?!
                          And now Maelrawn sets out to make things right,
                          And here I am to bring you to light.

                          The humble among us, his tentacles spare,
                          A gentle world, he is willing to share.
                          The world must be cleansed of those deceiving and unjust,
                          Unity and peace is for what we all lust.

                          And this is the tale of then to now,
                          To the greatness of Maelrawn and his tentacles, we bow.
                          Last edited by KevinCorporation; 03-09-2012, 12:07 AM.
                          Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

                          Steam Id: KevinCorporation

                          Comment


                          • #43
                            You speak of truth, but also of lie,
                            By the end of this poem, your religion will die.

                            As I said before, there was a god of evil
                            Known as Morlath, it brought upheaval.
                            First of the 'Five Shadows', it spread darkness,
                            Until the God-Alliance stopped it's plan heartless.

                            Then the rest of the Shadows came:
                            Leranda and Sothara, of stature same -
                            Akirrion, the god of fear,
                            And Nyctasha, the nightmare.

                            Leranda and Sothara were twins,
                            Being godesses' of torments and sins,
                            With their avatar being,
                            Akasha, the unholy being.

                            Akirrion split from the old god Maelrawn,
                            The darkness of it's mind, a foul spawn.
                            But later it turned out, Morlath was alive,
                            It was Nyctasha's cursed mind, that kept it alive.

                            Lurking in there like a parasite,
                            It's influence blinded her foresight!
                            And so her mind rot away,
                            Putting her under Morlath's sway.

                            But then the nightmares have begun!
                            And Morlath's influence was undone!
                            Atropos rose, exploding from her blood -
                            Causing a new darkness flood!

                            And then there were four shadows,
                            In an alliance known as 'Five Shadows'.
                            The fifth one came not long ago,
                            Known as Bathar and madness it did sow!

                            The alliance has one goal - to bring eternal night,
                            So they could gather up, and sow unholy fright!
                            Once, a fool known as Verodicia thought to intervene!
                            The nerve! - loudly did she scream!

                            But there's one thing true about the twins,
                            They truly came from Maelrawn's fallen limbs,
                            But then you must guess - who cut them off?
                            It was Akkirion! - on the beast's blood it later did quaff.

                            Maelrawn itself, is but a shell,
                            Weakness was the reason why it fell.
                            Plummeting into the depths it now there resides.
                            While the shadows plot it's long awaited demise.
                            Who thought, that final keeper of the light is an overgrown fish,
                            Nothing can save it now, not even a wish!
                            Last edited by setuxas; 03-09-2012, 08:24 AM.
                            Brainwashing people is fun.

                            Comment


                            • #44
                              The depths of the sea, a thought all should dread,
                              To worship Maelrawn... I'd rather be dead,
                              Powerful of course, but a god he is not,
                              Strong in the sea, but that is his lot!

                              My beliefs have been tested, I rejected your science,
                              With faith alone, i will stand in defiance,
                              At violet plateau, you angered your god,
                              For a so called genius, you are a silly sod!

                              They call him atropos, a manifestation of fear,
                              How he came into being, remains unclear,
                              Nightmares and ghouls go bump in the night,
                              But I fear no evil... I stand for the light!

                              Comment


                              • #45
                                Light? It will be gone soon.
                                Very soon, there will be no noon.

                                Many failed attempts have been done:
                                Morlath tried to destroy the day, but was undone;
                                Lakron destroyed the night artifact,
                                We have all failed, that's a fact.

                                But underestimate us not -
                                Or else you shall forever rot!
                                We came up with a plan,
                                Which involves the horsemen clan.

                                So very soon, the light will be gone,
                                And you won't stand for it - today is the last dawn.
                                Brainwashing people is fun.

                                Comment

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