|Topic Review (Newest First)|
|08-26-13 01:26 PM|
|SonOfStan||Nice short, I liked the imagery your writing evoked (especially the parting lava)|
|08-07-13 06:04 AM|
|Myen'Tal||I like it, Elsaranish reminds me of poor Korlandril(if you've read Path of the Warrior). I especially like the motto of the Sun Fire shrine, something for the main character to reflect upon.|
|08-06-13 12:40 AM|
Here it was, thought Elsaranish, the Piercing Sun Fire Dragon Aspect Shrine now lay before him. The Eldar could see that the shrine was built into a volcano; though tamed by the artifice of Alaitoc, the molten rock that coiled around it was still dangerous to the unwary. Feeling the heated air against his skin, a small sliver of fear and doubt crept into the back of Elsaranish's mind, beckoning the former poet to turn back. No, he thought; his very soul needed this. Rage, explosive and incandescent, thundered in his heart, the briefest surfacing of it sparking his waystone into a crimson light. He pushed it back, desperately trying to maintain control. Breathing deep, the poet walked forth, maintaining his course until his emerald eyes caught sight of a runic inscription.
In burning rage,
you have come.
there will be meditation.
Through the fires of war,
may one find the peace of the Path.
I hope so, he thought morbidly; the poet dreaded to think of what would happen if he could not find that which he seeks. Elsaranish drew closer to door, he reached out his hand only for the door to slide open. A burning light burst through the threshold, pulsing outwards. The poet recoiled, hands raised as if to fend off the incandescent beam that enveloped him. Blindly, Elsaranish dove deeper, hoping to find his salvation in the heart of the Piercing Sun shrine.
If he thought the air outside was hot, the air inside the shrine felt like the inside of the cooking devices he had used whilst on the Path of Service. Sweat poured like waterfalls as Elsaranish stole deeper into the Shrine. The passageway itself was bright, but not due to any sort of artificial light. No, it was lit by lava channeled through forcefields, so as not to harm any passersby. The molten rock was also channeled into runes, Elsaranish would ponder their meanings later; for now je had other concerns on his mind. The path ahead was of much greater significance. As the poet broke free of the passageway, the heat grew more intense as he entered a large round chamber. Streaked North, south east and west were cascades of magma that poured from the ceiling. He stood there looking around, wondering what happens next. As if in response, a booming voice echoed throughout the chamber, Elsaranish could not figure it its origin.
"Who is this? One who would walk willingly into the burning heart?"
Fear coursed through the poet's heart.
"One who seeks answers to feelings he fears most."
In response, the magma cascade before Elsaranish parted in two. From the gap stepped forth a figure, his armour a vibrant orange that stands apart from the lava behind him. From his bright yellow helmet, blazing red eye pieces that pierced deep into the poet's soul. Strapped to his back was a weapon with a remarkably long barrel, Elsaranish dtraded to think of what atrocities the being before him had committed. He cocked his head to the side.
"Ah, another one who has felt Khaine's touch within his soul. Tell me, Dragon-to-be, what filled your heart with rage so as to come to me?"
"To avenge the loss of one who had my heart. It yearns to see them burn, to see them reduced ashes by fiery wrath."
The warrior laughed. Rage poured into Elsaranish's heart.
"What is so amusing? Do you find some perverse delight in the plight of your aspirants?"
The figure stopped laughing, fixing the poet with an intense gaze.
"Do you think you are the first to have Khaine's gift opened by the rage that burns within? No, you are not."
The Exarch drew closer, the fear in Elsaranish's heart grew colder.
"Stay back, I do not wish to..."
The other Eldar laughed harshly.
"Hurt me? Please do not amuse me, for you cannot even lay your hands on a crippled starfin."
The poet collapsed to his knees, terror now overwhelmed him.
"Please help me! This fire within me burns at my very soul, I have found no way to extinguish it."
The Exarch spoke once more, his boisterous tone now more sympathetic.
"I cannot help you extinguish the flame of rage that burns so deep. I can show you how to tame it, to give voice to the song of fury that is to be sung in the fires of war. Tell me seeker, what is your name?"
"Then rise now Elsaranish as a Fire Dragon of the Piercing Sun. Know me as Lithandraech and I will show you the means to temper Khaine's sanguine gift."