Medieval & Fantasy Minecraft Roleplaying

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Folklore & Song

Elz

hmm
Events Staff
Very Sweet
Staff
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- J I S H R I M -
The Divine have a myriad of tales or songs dedicated to them, be it songs sung in taverns or stories told to children. Some are happier, some more grim, but these examples below are able to be common knowledge to any character, having heard it on their travels or told it in their childhood.

- - - - - - - -​

THE REPEATING YEAR
The year 2307 was lost to Altera Four: stolen by the foul God Jishrim in all his enigmatic greed for power. Upon the passing of 2306 into the year 2307, the scholars were baffled to find the stars did not align. They had, in fact, reset back in time- identical to the year before. Blessed were told and went to their Gods, asking answers.. Some confided within the Figment Know. Others simply caught rumour of what truly happened.
For reasons beyond understanding to any mortal, the year PC 2307 does not exist-- and it may never. Once the double year of 2306 passes, it may pass into 2308 instantly. Nobody truly knows. Perhaps 2307 will be returned to Alterans once the double year ends in Winterfest. Perhaps 2306 may repeat again.
The confusion has caused minor conflict and frustration. Architects cannot place 2307 on their statues. Historians simply write the year as the same. Some minds are simply confused and swear the year never passed over at all.
Jishrim stole the year. He stole time itself. No greater discord could have been expected.
CREDIT: I am Wake

LITTLE ONES
Hush now, my little one
O, don’t you know-
Beware of this fallen son
creeping the dark below

Lower- Sweat, damp, dusk,
No-no, you must flee this place!
Running- beat, beat, musk,
P r e t t y face

Right, yes, of course, of course, that was strange, let me introduce well- me
Which one, questions, answers, a pit of spiders, but which one is it!
I see, I see, I see, I see, I see
There is method to my madness, though not much to admit-

Little one, why are we here, in growing despair?
Spare the dead, let the living die, what-
NO, don’t cry, that’s not fair-
Tug my strings, be my mutt

I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want this, I don’t want thi-
Smile for me, little one,
Come on,
Be vile,
Smile,
And in my warm embrace, why don’t you stay a while

Be my fallen son,
O little one
CREDIT: Jeroxia

PATHOGENESIS
How long did I search of yore?
Your blessings, your favour?
My weeping eyes could not see;
Prostrated as I was for thee.
But You came and whispered.
‘Doth thou feels it absurd,
For a slave to worship his chain,
But He who frees him is insane?’
Perhaps unwisely I mocked the Stranger,
‘Thou cannot be trusted as thy lies endanger.’
With a chuckle, You caressed, ‘Lies?
Cannot thou trust thine own eyes?’
And no longer was I in Thorne’s Cathedral;
But within the Garden, so beautiful.
Asked doth I, ‘Where am I?’
And the Stranger replied.
‘The Child’s realm where Light eternal shines,
For Truth, thou seeks and so shall find.
Where within this place I am thy guide,
And watch the many tears that fall uncried.’
Before me rose a towering throne,
Reigned by Child of Glory shown.
Crowned by Light, a holy master,
Her skin like gleaming alabaster.
So wondrous that She struck me dumb,
Still, She spoke, ‘Thou art welcome.
Walk by me and in the Garden see,
How Order becomes thy destiny.’
Row by row of endless flowers arrayed,
Whose faces see Her Light and turn away.
For how can a Man-Flower be worthy;
Of Child’s tender love or mercy?
She rips out those blemished or bent,
Their unheard screams none lament.
But still, the Stranger sees.
‘Let me heal thy miseries.’
Comes forth Her servant, the Accuser.
Clad in crosses and shining silver.
By thundering voice he declares,
‘The impure only bring despair.’
In softness, the Stranger replied.
‘None art lost or broken, only despised.
Man’s weakness is their birth,
And for this, they’re returned to the earth?’
The Accuser bleats an almighty bellow,
‘Thou leads them astray with promises hollow.
All those deaths, plagues, and chaos,
And thou claims thee art virtuous?’
‘I am a servant of man’s desires,
Should I be faulted?’ The Stranger inquires.
‘Your Order protects power and wealth;
But I advance those that Misfortune dealth.’
Child’s face is like marble stone,
Unmoved in judgement upon Her throne.
Below Her the Man-Flowers bend;
Carrying the weight of Her ascend.
Feeling their pain I turn away,
The Stranger’s shadow in my sway.
I see now as my eyes awaken.
How was I so mistaken?
Endless paths before my feet,
My task yet incomplete.
In the distance comes the rings,
That truth alone sorely brings.
The Warrior of stature tall,
Who takes the Flowers whole;
Who hammers them with vigour.
A flesh that feeds the flames of war.
Discarded limbs fall all around,
Their broken owners make no sound.
Why blame Man that wields the sword;
When a jealous god says the Word?
With that thought, my skin crawls.
A lover’s kiss that saves my soul.
Twitching rot cradles my arm,
Freeing me from lies and harm.
The Stranger gently took my hand,
‘Doth thou see and understand?’
‘Was once lost, but now made whole,’
I replied to the Stranger’s call.
CREDIT: Jase
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