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L'Aurel's Journal (A Kingdom of Ashes) -updated 3/23
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<blockquote data-quote="Laurel" data-source="post: 2022295" data-attributes="member: 17067"><p><strong>Chapter Five: “A Hidden Kingdom”</strong></p><p></p><p><em>Day Twenty- Hywrl</em> </p><p>On the third day after the body of Edriss burned, I finally made my way into the large library in Link’s tree. Yesterday I had gone through the training room, and his last resting place. Today I wanted to see about finding answers. This is the library were Xath had found the strange prophesy. </p><p></p><p>Even now I can hear her voice reciting it to us, hauntingly, “Screams of the dying filled my ears, and though it shames me to say so, I ran as I have never run before. As I fled through the shattered halls of the palace, the palace of those I had come to serve, I came upon the great Green Man whom we had once worshipped as a God. Fools are we, to have failed to feel the Light upon us, and to have placed our faith in such meager Gods as these. </p><p> </p><p>Nonetheless, he had been mighty, and it was he who brought the Word of the Light to Thane and Pendra (and then from they to us). Thane, who had once saved my life, was across the sea, now. I know not what had happened to Pendra, though her care (and the care of her child) had fallen to me, as her husband led another of the King’s armies north to guard the silvery halls of Albion . I was the most honored among the servants of true heroes, and yet I fled like a yellow dog from the terrors that fell from the sky upon us. Though I had once held one of the runed blades of the old kingdom in my hand, I had fled with nothing more than terror to accompany me. The screams, ever more screams, surrounded me as I approached the old Forest Lord, and it seemed then that he was dying, though he stood before me mighty and tall. The creatures that had come were no doubt the creation of the Traitor, and bodies lay, some still smoldering, at his feet. I regained some of my resolve—I, who had once stood almost alone against a screaming horde of Wolf-Orcs—and slowed, stopping in front of the Old Messenger. It was then that I saw his wounds, great and terrible. There were horrid rends in his flesh, the marks of mortality for one who had given up eternity to imprison the Lady of Shadow (even now, I cannot make myself write her name) once more. He fell to his knees, then, his hand reaching for something that I now believe that only he could see. At the time, I thought that he reached for me. I was wrong then, but he clasped my hand between his, dwarfing my sword-calloused fingers in his grasp. “It is you, Truthbearer!” he grunted, his weak voice betraying some surprise. At the time, in my shock, I failed to recognize it. I know no why he called be truthbearer that day, though I have carried that name as a brand ever since. He continued then, pain still blinding his once nearly omnipotent eyes. As his voice faded as he continued, I begged the Light to take me instead…but we are foolish to believe we can know more than what the Light wills, and it may be that it was simply time for the Light’s Messenger to return to the breast of the Unnamed God, to the Light. “Truthbearer,” he moaned, gritting his teeth through the pain that he had doubtless not felt until he gave up his power to end Her reign. “Truthbearer, there is little time! You must be away from here! The second child lives, and is in the Bishop’s care! The throneless king must be told! The second child lives!” He gasped, then, pain closing his great, emerald eyes. “I see not the world before me, Truthbearer, death comes even for we who tread closest to Light. But I have one more Message to carry for the Lord. I am scribe, now, and you are my parchment! Listen well, and then be off! More darkness comes here at the Betrayor’s will…” “I failed when I tried to destroy the old weapons…Aeres’ will has overstepped my own. I am steward no more, again only Messenger. Thirteen there were, and thirteen there are, near three hundred thousand tomorrows they shall come together to herald this age’s end.” “Thirteen what?” I prodded, knowing that this moment would be forever etched into my mind. He spoke again, then. It was the last words that I believe any heard him say. I write them now, waiting here for Thane or Link or Quarion to come, one who will outlive me. My cowardice has cursed me, and I know that my remaining days are few. Surely they will come here soon, to retrieve this message…they cannot have fallen to the Lichlord! Not when Oberon had foreseen what I now fear to write… But he spoke, and it is my lot to be his parchment. My fingers grow weak as I finish, here. There are tales that Thane has fallen, but I do not believe them. This message was for the blood of Sun and Shadow, and if ever there was a man that was both, it was Thane. He will come; I can feel it in my now-shaking bones. The Forest Lord raised his blinded eyes to the heavens then, and called out in a long, keening chant: </p><p></p><p>Spiritblades are come, again In age of Shadow, dark flames rise! Sundered by the hand of Wood Lord, To stem the rising blood tide, they live by Aeres’ will! Thirteen there were Thirteen there are Come again in age Of fallen blood! Rise they shall On wings of Flame and Shadow, Dragon and Phoenix shall war, Shaking the earth with Death and Glory. Aldersblade High in the hands of lost hero, Mansblade in the Lichlord’s keep, Dwarvenblade in the lost stone halls, Sendersblade in Lady Shadow’s tomb! Sendersblade at the builder’s pyre, Forestblade in my daughter’s crypt, Saintsblade at the priest’s secret rest, Drakesblade in the hands of Kings! Deathsblade ‘neath the ruined city,Earthsblade with the Lichlord’s blood, Moonblade in the builder’s glory, Aldersblade True in city of forsaken blood! Liegeblade at the side of rulers, Liegeblade stolen from the sea, Liegeblade as serpent’s salvation, Liegeblade’s capture is the key! Blood of Sun and Shadow,Blood of unthroned Elven Kings,Blood of Lichlord in the North, Blood of Smithlord’s people rise; Blood of northride in throne’s dark shadow, Blood of warlord, ruler’s pupil, Blood of last wardens in fair child’s body, Traveller’s salvation shall ye be!</p><p></p><p>He spoke no more then, and I did as I was bid—I ran, carrying his message as far from Caer Melyn as I could. I understood little then, and perhaps only a little more, now. I know not how long he lived after that, but the tales of Oberon’s last battle have reached me even here, in the bowels of the old libraries at the Citadel. I wait to carry my message to those who can decipher it, now…I simply pray that my fragile life will hold long enough. I wait, a parchment for the last Messenger. Raith Truthbearer, At Citadel Refuge Free Year 9.” </p><p></p><p>A Prophesy three hundred years old, but what of the other books that reside here. Xath may known elvish, but possibly she missed something. Link was too secretive to keep a personal journal, and most of the books look to be manuals on war and fighting. He was definitely determined. I flip through some various books, and stop to read some of the random passages. As I flip through the old pages of one book I stop on a page written in Elvish. For some unknown reason I feel compelled to read: </p><p></p><p>Tarna en i fanyare Heru- Na no heru en i fanyare na saira i ripa en dulin ar na orosta na sina vorondilenga lle. Keluarto lle lav-na saira sina winya kuile. Ne rinke heru en I fanyare, er yeeta ten i taurn aicale na sairakuile. Sina cala rkhalla voronwie ar harya latiten i vorondil na were. Tuuma dos n alaquel i nduunle ar laer e dos fea. “Shalafi en i sul, pen amin bru Rip ereb numa yonta o amin izil dos vorondil Amu o i sul undu dos quesse na amin” Anta wanya guesse ar anta i sul julu sen na dos verondil. “Nellon en i loomis tulya na amin O’kai wille na i Wili o i anas ullume dos raamas na amin” Anta wanya yonta quesse ea i naur en na i lhach na lle dos verondil. Gad izil e-kyerme ango anoron ar en na i oro anar ar tatya i quetta ar en i loo. Saira ta lle no I laa na dos verondil. Lle i gon ta talars ho faila ho i raamas ta anta lle rip. Lle ullume harya dos mel ten os winya verondil ho tuuma e lle. Er mine who turme i serey en i quendelie seere ar naia tare shalati.</p><p></p><p>‘Rites of the Wind Rider: To be lord of the sky is to know the flight of birds and to ascend to this group a faithful friend must admit you. An Animal that grants you worth to know this new life is your faithful friend. To become a lord of the sky, one must search for the highest peak to know their life. This being must show superior patience and must keep a clear mind for the faithful friend to bond. Turn your back on the sunset and sing from your soul.</p><p></p><p>I read aloud in common, “Master of the wind, hear my calling. Fly alone no more with me as your faithful friend. Soar with the wind under your feathers to me.” Let go some feathers and let the wind carry them to your faithful friend. “Friend of the clouds, come to me, Together we fly to the horizon, Glide with the sun on your wings to me.” Let go some more feathers into the fire. Look to the flames to show you your faithful friend. Stay as such in meditation till dawn, and look to the rising sun and repeat to words and deeds of the night before. Know that you must be the counter to your faithful friend. You are the rock that grounds him just as he is the wings that give you flight. You must always keep your respect for your new faithful friend lest he turn from you. Only one who has the blood of the elves can calm and command these masters.’</p><p></p><p>As I read the words aloud, I feel the wind stir and am overcome with a compulsion to try this strange ritual. As I leave the library carrying the book I think to myself, could it make a difference? Do I have the patience and understanding needed? The enemy we know has aerial Calvary, and we must be able to fight them on all levels. So I must try.</p><p></p><p>I warned Inelliron and the Duke of my plans, knowing from there word would spread if someone needed to know where I was. I also wanted the Duke’s permission, since the high point of Hywrl was Link’s tree and his domain now.</p><p> </p><p></p><p>Archonus, Kareth, Farathier, Arfin, and I all gathered that day on the practice field of our slowly growing army. Today the 20 most advanced of the warriors would travel in two groups. One would head out with Arfin, the other with Kareth and Farathier. Each day a few more survivors had appeared from the woods. Some even with tails of being sent away from Crisoth, and with that we knew we had to send people out. Just as we were sending scouts we had to think our enemy would as well. Archonus and I would sweep another portion of the wood. We had already scouted much of the area the trainees would be going into, so could forewarn our co-leaders of the dangers in the area.</p><p> </p><p>Hours into our quiet search, we came across something unexpected. From our hidden positions, I pointed it out to Archonus. In a language we used more then common to each other he motioned me to stay keeping greylocke with me as well. Slowly he edged closer to the pile of ruins. I raised my bow not sure why the small lump of stone and weeds feels wrong and unnatural, but this time it’s my turn to protect and I shall.</p><p> </p><p>At Archonus’ signal Greylocke and I move forward. Greylocke’s panting breath sounding harshly in our silence. Archonus points to a small opening leading into the earth, and drawing his blades he nods the okay. I easily swing down into a crouch and bring my bow up again. Searching for anything not as it should be. My fingers move without lifing from the taught wood and Archonus drops down beside me. As he moves forward I notice his slightly hunched shoulders and realize the dirt tunnel is only 6 feet tall. Squaring my broad shoulders I stand looking around, and finally studying the debrie at my feet. “This is the same as what Mr.Miagi showed us,” Archonus’ voice startles me from my inspection. I move forward seeing that same multi tiered stone and the odd symbols worked into it. “Where we came in…It’s a long dead soldier. I don’t recognize the design, but the bones have been for hundreds of years. Xath may be able to tell if this still works. If it can as the other use of distort magic."</p><p> </p><p>Quickly covering our tracks we make the short journey to Hywrl and let the others know of what we found.</p><p> </p><p>We find Xath with a small group of peasants, and holding a stick draws in the ground a stage and arena. It seems these are to be our future performers. As she looks up and sees us, Arhconus nods solemnly in greeting. As she excuses herself from the group and walks towards us, I smile in greeting. Archonus and I relate the story of what we found as we go to find the others. By midday we are again by the strange stones, with the circle and Randall. Xath had suggested his talents may work better for our purposes. Even more then that however she had found some texts relating to the powers of these portal stones. It seems in there minimal use can simply expand the power of the one who taps into it. In that vein, we hope to simply see if Randall can help us look into Oceanus and what has happened there. From Justice’s report, she could only tell us the main temples had been raised, and a new outer barrier was being created. The palace still stood however, and much of the other buildings through out the city.</p><p> </p><p>Through Randall we learn a little more such the palace is not only still standing, but closed from his magic sight. The statutes once grand are being restructured, but he can not yet tell the final product. The patrol the streets and gather any still inside the walls, but seem less concerned about this then he would have thought. Randall can also show us the docks, and the great work being done to repair the damaged section. He can also show us the many ships in dock and in the ocean. So many soldiers that they still have to unload.</p><p> </p><p>With these grim sights we leave the stones Archonus and I again masking the trail. At least for now we need to keep this hidden, but soon I am sure they will come in value.</p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">That night I climbed out the top window of the upper left rooms of Link’s tree. I continued to climb higher until I felt the wood bowing to my weight. I made sure to only bring my water skin, a small flint, and some of my now days gone by departed companions feathers. I shivered seeing the undead black eyes that had turned on me in Oceanus. If this works I will not let that happen again. I do not need the book since through the day I took care to memorize the words of the ritual. Thus as I find a comfortable secure perch facing out into the far distance, I start the ceremony not knowing if it actually holds any truth.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Laurel, post: 2022295, member: 17067"] [b]Chapter Five: “A Hidden Kingdom”[/b] [i]Day Twenty- Hywrl[/i] On the third day after the body of Edriss burned, I finally made my way into the large library in Link’s tree. Yesterday I had gone through the training room, and his last resting place. Today I wanted to see about finding answers. This is the library were Xath had found the strange prophesy. Even now I can hear her voice reciting it to us, hauntingly, “Screams of the dying filled my ears, and though it shames me to say so, I ran as I have never run before. As I fled through the shattered halls of the palace, the palace of those I had come to serve, I came upon the great Green Man whom we had once worshipped as a God. Fools are we, to have failed to feel the Light upon us, and to have placed our faith in such meager Gods as these. Nonetheless, he had been mighty, and it was he who brought the Word of the Light to Thane and Pendra (and then from they to us). Thane, who had once saved my life, was across the sea, now. I know not what had happened to Pendra, though her care (and the care of her child) had fallen to me, as her husband led another of the King’s armies north to guard the silvery halls of Albion . I was the most honored among the servants of true heroes, and yet I fled like a yellow dog from the terrors that fell from the sky upon us. Though I had once held one of the runed blades of the old kingdom in my hand, I had fled with nothing more than terror to accompany me. The screams, ever more screams, surrounded me as I approached the old Forest Lord, and it seemed then that he was dying, though he stood before me mighty and tall. The creatures that had come were no doubt the creation of the Traitor, and bodies lay, some still smoldering, at his feet. I regained some of my resolve—I, who had once stood almost alone against a screaming horde of Wolf-Orcs—and slowed, stopping in front of the Old Messenger. It was then that I saw his wounds, great and terrible. There were horrid rends in his flesh, the marks of mortality for one who had given up eternity to imprison the Lady of Shadow (even now, I cannot make myself write her name) once more. He fell to his knees, then, his hand reaching for something that I now believe that only he could see. At the time, I thought that he reached for me. I was wrong then, but he clasped my hand between his, dwarfing my sword-calloused fingers in his grasp. “It is you, Truthbearer!” he grunted, his weak voice betraying some surprise. At the time, in my shock, I failed to recognize it. I know no why he called be truthbearer that day, though I have carried that name as a brand ever since. He continued then, pain still blinding his once nearly omnipotent eyes. As his voice faded as he continued, I begged the Light to take me instead…but we are foolish to believe we can know more than what the Light wills, and it may be that it was simply time for the Light’s Messenger to return to the breast of the Unnamed God, to the Light. “Truthbearer,” he moaned, gritting his teeth through the pain that he had doubtless not felt until he gave up his power to end Her reign. “Truthbearer, there is little time! You must be away from here! The second child lives, and is in the Bishop’s care! The throneless king must be told! The second child lives!” He gasped, then, pain closing his great, emerald eyes. “I see not the world before me, Truthbearer, death comes even for we who tread closest to Light. But I have one more Message to carry for the Lord. I am scribe, now, and you are my parchment! Listen well, and then be off! More darkness comes here at the Betrayor’s will…” “I failed when I tried to destroy the old weapons…Aeres’ will has overstepped my own. I am steward no more, again only Messenger. Thirteen there were, and thirteen there are, near three hundred thousand tomorrows they shall come together to herald this age’s end.” “Thirteen what?” I prodded, knowing that this moment would be forever etched into my mind. He spoke again, then. It was the last words that I believe any heard him say. I write them now, waiting here for Thane or Link or Quarion to come, one who will outlive me. My cowardice has cursed me, and I know that my remaining days are few. Surely they will come here soon, to retrieve this message…they cannot have fallen to the Lichlord! Not when Oberon had foreseen what I now fear to write… But he spoke, and it is my lot to be his parchment. My fingers grow weak as I finish, here. There are tales that Thane has fallen, but I do not believe them. This message was for the blood of Sun and Shadow, and if ever there was a man that was both, it was Thane. He will come; I can feel it in my now-shaking bones. The Forest Lord raised his blinded eyes to the heavens then, and called out in a long, keening chant: Spiritblades are come, again In age of Shadow, dark flames rise! Sundered by the hand of Wood Lord, To stem the rising blood tide, they live by Aeres’ will! Thirteen there were Thirteen there are Come again in age Of fallen blood! Rise they shall On wings of Flame and Shadow, Dragon and Phoenix shall war, Shaking the earth with Death and Glory. Aldersblade High in the hands of lost hero, Mansblade in the Lichlord’s keep, Dwarvenblade in the lost stone halls, Sendersblade in Lady Shadow’s tomb! Sendersblade at the builder’s pyre, Forestblade in my daughter’s crypt, Saintsblade at the priest’s secret rest, Drakesblade in the hands of Kings! Deathsblade ‘neath the ruined city,Earthsblade with the Lichlord’s blood, Moonblade in the builder’s glory, Aldersblade True in city of forsaken blood! Liegeblade at the side of rulers, Liegeblade stolen from the sea, Liegeblade as serpent’s salvation, Liegeblade’s capture is the key! Blood of Sun and Shadow,Blood of unthroned Elven Kings,Blood of Lichlord in the North, Blood of Smithlord’s people rise; Blood of northride in throne’s dark shadow, Blood of warlord, ruler’s pupil, Blood of last wardens in fair child’s body, Traveller’s salvation shall ye be! He spoke no more then, and I did as I was bid—I ran, carrying his message as far from Caer Melyn as I could. I understood little then, and perhaps only a little more, now. I know not how long he lived after that, but the tales of Oberon’s last battle have reached me even here, in the bowels of the old libraries at the Citadel. I wait to carry my message to those who can decipher it, now…I simply pray that my fragile life will hold long enough. I wait, a parchment for the last Messenger. Raith Truthbearer, At Citadel Refuge Free Year 9.” A Prophesy three hundred years old, but what of the other books that reside here. Xath may known elvish, but possibly she missed something. Link was too secretive to keep a personal journal, and most of the books look to be manuals on war and fighting. He was definitely determined. I flip through some various books, and stop to read some of the random passages. As I flip through the old pages of one book I stop on a page written in Elvish. For some unknown reason I feel compelled to read: Tarna en i fanyare Heru- Na no heru en i fanyare na saira i ripa en dulin ar na orosta na sina vorondilenga lle. Keluarto lle lav-na saira sina winya kuile. Ne rinke heru en I fanyare, er yeeta ten i taurn aicale na sairakuile. Sina cala rkhalla voronwie ar harya latiten i vorondil na were. Tuuma dos n alaquel i nduunle ar laer e dos fea. “Shalafi en i sul, pen amin bru Rip ereb numa yonta o amin izil dos vorondil Amu o i sul undu dos quesse na amin” Anta wanya guesse ar anta i sul julu sen na dos verondil. “Nellon en i loomis tulya na amin O’kai wille na i Wili o i anas ullume dos raamas na amin” Anta wanya yonta quesse ea i naur en na i lhach na lle dos verondil. Gad izil e-kyerme ango anoron ar en na i oro anar ar tatya i quetta ar en i loo. Saira ta lle no I laa na dos verondil. Lle i gon ta talars ho faila ho i raamas ta anta lle rip. Lle ullume harya dos mel ten os winya verondil ho tuuma e lle. Er mine who turme i serey en i quendelie seere ar naia tare shalati. ‘Rites of the Wind Rider: To be lord of the sky is to know the flight of birds and to ascend to this group a faithful friend must admit you. An Animal that grants you worth to know this new life is your faithful friend. To become a lord of the sky, one must search for the highest peak to know their life. This being must show superior patience and must keep a clear mind for the faithful friend to bond. Turn your back on the sunset and sing from your soul. I read aloud in common, “Master of the wind, hear my calling. Fly alone no more with me as your faithful friend. Soar with the wind under your feathers to me.” Let go some feathers and let the wind carry them to your faithful friend. “Friend of the clouds, come to me, Together we fly to the horizon, Glide with the sun on your wings to me.” Let go some more feathers into the fire. Look to the flames to show you your faithful friend. Stay as such in meditation till dawn, and look to the rising sun and repeat to words and deeds of the night before. Know that you must be the counter to your faithful friend. You are the rock that grounds him just as he is the wings that give you flight. You must always keep your respect for your new faithful friend lest he turn from you. Only one who has the blood of the elves can calm and command these masters.’ As I read the words aloud, I feel the wind stir and am overcome with a compulsion to try this strange ritual. As I leave the library carrying the book I think to myself, could it make a difference? Do I have the patience and understanding needed? The enemy we know has aerial Calvary, and we must be able to fight them on all levels. So I must try. I warned Inelliron and the Duke of my plans, knowing from there word would spread if someone needed to know where I was. I also wanted the Duke’s permission, since the high point of Hywrl was Link’s tree and his domain now. Archonus, Kareth, Farathier, Arfin, and I all gathered that day on the practice field of our slowly growing army. Today the 20 most advanced of the warriors would travel in two groups. One would head out with Arfin, the other with Kareth and Farathier. Each day a few more survivors had appeared from the woods. Some even with tails of being sent away from Crisoth, and with that we knew we had to send people out. Just as we were sending scouts we had to think our enemy would as well. Archonus and I would sweep another portion of the wood. We had already scouted much of the area the trainees would be going into, so could forewarn our co-leaders of the dangers in the area. Hours into our quiet search, we came across something unexpected. From our hidden positions, I pointed it out to Archonus. In a language we used more then common to each other he motioned me to stay keeping greylocke with me as well. Slowly he edged closer to the pile of ruins. I raised my bow not sure why the small lump of stone and weeds feels wrong and unnatural, but this time it’s my turn to protect and I shall. At Archonus’ signal Greylocke and I move forward. Greylocke’s panting breath sounding harshly in our silence. Archonus points to a small opening leading into the earth, and drawing his blades he nods the okay. I easily swing down into a crouch and bring my bow up again. Searching for anything not as it should be. My fingers move without lifing from the taught wood and Archonus drops down beside me. As he moves forward I notice his slightly hunched shoulders and realize the dirt tunnel is only 6 feet tall. Squaring my broad shoulders I stand looking around, and finally studying the debrie at my feet. “This is the same as what Mr.Miagi showed us,” Archonus’ voice startles me from my inspection. I move forward seeing that same multi tiered stone and the odd symbols worked into it. “Where we came in…It’s a long dead soldier. I don’t recognize the design, but the bones have been for hundreds of years. Xath may be able to tell if this still works. If it can as the other use of distort magic." Quickly covering our tracks we make the short journey to Hywrl and let the others know of what we found. We find Xath with a small group of peasants, and holding a stick draws in the ground a stage and arena. It seems these are to be our future performers. As she looks up and sees us, Arhconus nods solemnly in greeting. As she excuses herself from the group and walks towards us, I smile in greeting. Archonus and I relate the story of what we found as we go to find the others. By midday we are again by the strange stones, with the circle and Randall. Xath had suggested his talents may work better for our purposes. Even more then that however she had found some texts relating to the powers of these portal stones. It seems in there minimal use can simply expand the power of the one who taps into it. In that vein, we hope to simply see if Randall can help us look into Oceanus and what has happened there. From Justice’s report, she could only tell us the main temples had been raised, and a new outer barrier was being created. The palace still stood however, and much of the other buildings through out the city. Through Randall we learn a little more such the palace is not only still standing, but closed from his magic sight. The statutes once grand are being restructured, but he can not yet tell the final product. The patrol the streets and gather any still inside the walls, but seem less concerned about this then he would have thought. Randall can also show us the docks, and the great work being done to repair the damaged section. He can also show us the many ships in dock and in the ocean. So many soldiers that they still have to unload. With these grim sights we leave the stones Archonus and I again masking the trail. At least for now we need to keep this hidden, but soon I am sure they will come in value. [font='Times New Roman']That night I climbed out the top window of the upper left rooms of Link’s tree. I continued to climb higher until I felt the wood bowing to my weight. I made sure to only bring my water skin, a small flint, and some of my now days gone by departed companions feathers. I shivered seeing the undead black eyes that had turned on me in Oceanus. If this works I will not let that happen again. I do not need the book since through the day I took care to memorize the words of the ritual. Thus as I find a comfortable secure perch facing out into the far distance, I start the ceremony not knowing if it actually holds any truth.[/font] [/QUOTE]
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L'Aurel's Journal (A Kingdom of Ashes) -updated 3/23
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