Dark Crow Rising

Bringing my gaze down and off the sky, I focus on the land all around. I can only wish to see as far as our continent's coastlines, but, I cannot. With the exception of my home and our beloved guardian mountain, I can only see conquered lands. It's not a sight that fills me with pride as much as I once thought it might.

As my armies progress to my end goal, the reality of my path is ever more blatant. The fact the Dual-Republic of Thrurstradutr-Suhurlodst fell through treaties does not bother me. What does, however, is the circumstances that lead to the banner of my home flying here. I dare not consider the word, but, it still manages to slip into the breeze holding all of my thoughts.

Unstoppable.

The scale, the power, the indestructibility of it all, there's something it reminds me of. The divine. In all my time fighting and leading this war against the withering Theocracy, only one detail has left me concerned. In their vaults, within the Great Temple of the Four-Winded Valkinvar, across the lands now under my control. Relics, relics of untold power.

I am no fool, not led astray like so many within my homeland are. Jhrarda the Mighty is not the only god, he is simply the greatest among them, the one who blessed us with the power of wind. My father's throne is built off of our great god's labour. And, the world was built by all the rest of them.

In my studies and times in the archives and libraries, the finest the world has to offer, I found one universal truth. All of us, from the highest metal island of Eusorochii to the core-built castles of Errakur, we're all creations. The gods are very much real and the wise men of the temples know this so very well. So, so very well.

In particular, most of their talents litter our land, our land's name, Jherikra. The Greatest Land for the Greatest People of the Land, Jhermonikra. God Speak, that is the progenitor tongue of all other peoples and their languages. We all can find our earliest ancestors and their traces on the east coast.

Founder's Point, home of the Claymen. Of all Jherikra that drowned in the Time of Liquid Mountains, only there stayed dry. Not even the Grand-Kingdom of Ibenorocco, the undisputed master of the waves dared to drown the holy land. Our most blatant proof of the divine who saved us from the destruction of all reality.

So much of what was meant for worlds beyond ours, in the dream of the god once called Ihtuntar now lies here. I fear, I fear so very deeply that what I have found myself up against is divine. Such power over the world, such indescribable power I have never seen in any burial or wisdom of the ages. The giant is not of mortal hands, not of anyone from this world.

I look skyward again and gently blow my breath against the endless grey. It breaks apart, showing the sky in its false, blue beauty. Looking further up, I focus on what keeps our world safe from the results of the nothing we float in. If we can truly call it that.

The Guardian Shell, the shield that is a fusion of all six God-Mountains and their power. In the space beyond, lighting up our world, the greatest mark of Thurnmourer's hammer. The Orbital-Halo. All of this is to protect us from oblivion.

But, nothing is not the only threat mortal life faces, in fact, mortal life is often its own greatest threat. Like the gods we spawned from, we are able to be above such vile behaviour, we also indulge in it with excited gluttuity. So, as a final sign of their love for what remained of all creation, they left us their artefacts. Most do not know, not even I did for a while, yet, the Valkinvar's departure...

It wasn't entirely for the sake of conquest. They found something, the ancient Valkinvar, youthful as the Seven-Peaks Union of Jherikra was in the first year. Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli and her kin explained it to me in riddles and lies, elusive and blunt words. What heroes of old once wore, the very gear of the God of War himself.

I have done my best to gather what relics I can, but, such power is hidden and guarded well. The holy men who once roamed the land in the open still do in wisely thought secrecy. Burdens of power and the discipline to keep it all nothing more than a story. You hear little of it now, but, to have found such power is to hold the capacity to change the world.

Earlier this year, what struck the scientists as just strange fluctuations meant much more to me. The Emerald Awakening may be coming to an end, a new age of heroes of divine greatness is upon us. Perhaps, perhaps I may find myself Jhrarda's champion or perchance I will guide the one who will be. Nonetheless, if my home is to survive in the future, we must grow strong.

All the wisdom of the Ancients must be found, our heritage and our sole right to grasp magic beyond its elemental spicing. We will depend on it to guide us through the uncertainty of the future. However, until that day comes, only the strength of our blood and souls will guard these mountains. There is no great hero to save us, only the power of a finely honed, veteran army!

"One that needs more than I alone command..." I mutter, breathing in a great, lung-filling huff of air. The magic soaks into my flesh and bones and finds its way back out into the sky, towards my project. On the day my future is decided, I will be ready and the skies shall part for my will. Though, I must consider the present most heavy-mindedly.

The giant is coming and I will need more than what I brought to conquer an empire with. Rather, I intend to save what I can of that force so I still have the means to siege the greatest city of the West. Thurnmourer's Forge, so often abbreviated, you will be my bloodiest battle for some time.

If I cannot secure the Valkinvar's surrender, all of them and their soldiers are trapped in a can. I will put them to death and hold that pain with me until I pass on to whoever commands my soul. I need the Valkinvar to lay their swords down, I need their power for all of Jherikra's future. But, for now...

"I need yours, younger brother." I call out just loud enough for my sibling to hear me in Suhurlodst.