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last_kalligA Tale Overheard in Tar-Keth:
Once upon a time, and long, long ago, there were dragons. Terrible, monstrous, creatures they were, with wings to soar, teeth and claws to tear, scales stronger than steel, and lightning in their breath! On this, all the tales agree.
But I will tell you a secret, best beloved. No dragon was ever born, for they were MADE, one and all!
As even a little child knows, some are born with a greater affinity for magic than others. Among these, were those called Sith. They used dark power to sate darker hungers, and it twisted them, turned their eyes sulfur yellow, mottled their flesh in strange ways. But they sought more, twisted their flesh, gave themselves wings, claws, fangs, scales, and breath of lighting! They were the first dragons, their draconic body the monstrosity of their heart and soul made flesh.
In time, they learned to take children and mold their hearts and souls with unspeakable horror and cruelties, twist their flesh with dreadful curses as they grew, until the process was nearly complete. But one final act, one final choice, doomed the Sith to monstrosity eternal and granted them the fullness of their power. To embrace the monstrosity within oneself, revel in it, and then seal the dreadful powers warring within them by devouring the flesh and essence of a living person.
Did any chose otherwise? Survive the horror only to turn aside at the very last? Well now, THAT is a very interesting question, best beloved.
Found carved into a cliff face as if by giant claws:
I wanted to live. That's where it began, this cursed and twisted portion of my life. When I was a child they took us, gave us the choice of trying to become Sith or being executed on the spot. I chose to live. I did horrible things, unspeakable things, to stay alive, to avoid being culled for weakness.
In my ignorance, I thought I could hide the Light in me. Present a Dark enough face to survive, but remain myself. The Last Rite, the Last Rite killed that hope. I could not, would not become a monster devoid of humanity, but I did not want to die. In my cowardice, I ran.
But there is no escaping this, the change. I can feel it always, the hunger to devour a living person and their essence, the pain of a transformation almost complete. I am able to assume my human shape less and less often as time goes on. There is a war inside me, and I am losing. I am afraid that one day Ibani will be gone entirely and only the monstrous part of me will remain.
Perhaps cowardice was my sin from the beginning. Perhaps I should have chosen death at eleven years old and avoided this cursed existence entirely, or chosen to fight and die at the Last Rite. But I did not.
I can hear singing, from somewhere deep in the Earth. I have decided that when night falls I am going to follow it, down into the Earth.
Once upon a time, and long, long ago, there were dragons. Terrible, monstrous, creatures they were, with wings to soar, teeth and claws to tear, scales stronger than steel, and lightning in their breath! On this, all the tales agree.
But I will tell you a secret, best beloved. No dragon was ever born, for they were MADE, one and all!
As even a little child knows, some are born with a greater affinity for magic than others. Among these, were those called Sith. They used dark power to sate darker hungers, and it twisted them, turned their eyes sulfur yellow, mottled their flesh in strange ways. But they sought more, twisted their flesh, gave themselves wings, claws, fangs, scales, and breath of lighting! They were the first dragons, their draconic body the monstrosity of their heart and soul made flesh.
In time, they learned to take children and mold their hearts and souls with unspeakable horror and cruelties, twist their flesh with dreadful curses as they grew, until the process was nearly complete. But one final act, one final choice, doomed the Sith to monstrosity eternal and granted them the fullness of their power. To embrace the monstrosity within oneself, revel in it, and then seal the dreadful powers warring within them by devouring the flesh and essence of a living person.
Did any chose otherwise? Survive the horror only to turn aside at the very last? Well now, THAT is a very interesting question, best beloved.
Found carved into a cliff face as if by giant claws:
I wanted to live. That's where it began, this cursed and twisted portion of my life. When I was a child they took us, gave us the choice of trying to become Sith or being executed on the spot. I chose to live. I did horrible things, unspeakable things, to stay alive, to avoid being culled for weakness.
In my ignorance, I thought I could hide the Light in me. Present a Dark enough face to survive, but remain myself. The Last Rite, the Last Rite killed that hope. I could not, would not become a monster devoid of humanity, but I did not want to die. In my cowardice, I ran.
But there is no escaping this, the change. I can feel it always, the hunger to devour a living person and their essence, the pain of a transformation almost complete. I am able to assume my human shape less and less often as time goes on. There is a war inside me, and I am losing. I am afraid that one day Ibani will be gone entirely and only the monstrous part of me will remain.
Perhaps cowardice was my sin from the beginning. Perhaps I should have chosen death at eleven years old and avoided this cursed existence entirely, or chosen to fight and die at the Last Rite. But I did not.
I can hear singing, from somewhere deep in the Earth. I have decided that when night falls I am going to follow it, down into the Earth.
