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The Vul Okaaz Tome

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Lady N's picture
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Joined: 06/26/2010

Author: Art


 

TRANSLATED: The Strong Hook
The baseborne came betimes in wild’s wood, and gnarled was the knot which opened its wooden eye to peek at a babe crawling. A man in wood, spake from knot in tree as a mouth.

“Strong and of health when it crawled, this babe be, but sickly when it sat,” so said the knot, “for a shield this be as well, truest of true.” And a shield is for use and not dust gathering.

So crawled the babe through wood, through vale, until came sea and surf and shallows and sand.

Yet none saw Olde Mudsnapper lurking in the Shallows, murky as it be, for who could see ink in blackness? And the olde fish watched.

Soon came shore, as the babe saw, and with- a fisherson.

The fisherson picked up the babe and spake high, “Would, then, that I find a babe in yonder wood?”

And the babe gripped the fisher’s thumb and pulled with might brute. And the fisherson came back to his village handless-by-one, with babe trailing hindan.

“Men, men! Watch behind- see what I hath found!” shouted the fisher to the village. With a mighty rush came the men, curious and hollering as men do, “Where be this ‘found’?”

And the fisher looked behind to see nary a thing, for a shield must move and the fisher stayed still.

It was then that Olde Mudsnapper chanced upon the babe, sitting in the surf, and, with a mighty kick, it fell upon the babe and leapt to!

But, as all fish do, it leapt without seeing, and such was its doom, as the babe hath fashioned a tool, natural as any skilled man. With one knot and a hook, the babe caught Olde Mudsnapper and with a mighty grip, it strangled the beast with a fat hand.

Finally came the men, and the fisher spoke one-handed, “How knoweth you this?”

And the babe was silent. So the men answered for in his stead, “A natural it be!”

And joy and curiosity was had as they brought the Shield to village in due time.

One by one they shouted as they ran to the seaside, “Fishwife, fishwife! How sayeth you this?”

The Crone, beldam in soul and bod, stood shaky and spake low, “A shield needs a smith.”

And so Weland the Rope-Smith was brought by ye Crone, who muttered to forgotten verse, “That went by, so can this.”

Weland, might and rough as wave, picked up ye babe, and ye babe plucked at his thumb with fat finger, but the SMith’s hand be strong from mending net and stringing thread and catching scale.

Weland stood, mighty and strong, and spake loud and clear, “Hereafter, thee shalt be taught the hook and net. I nameth thee, Harald the Hooking Son.”

And those olde billows spake in a soft crone, a whisper from the Depths, “Knoweth he.”

TRANSLATED: The Leviathan
From the chasm the thought comes, and of the thought, the Deep. How does the unknown come real, came from the abyss, and desire kindled like flame.

And so, the dark abyss hungered, for its chasm brought with it fear, but not with it ichor. This is the truth of things.

Thus what came to pass, indefinite, was fated by that of wise Woodland Man, the riddle unsolvable, the question unanswerable.

Under the icy sea, the chasm, thus, created, from his false tower, a False God, son of scales and murk.
For his is fear given body, darkness given mind, mortal given divine. He is named Ithguleoir, Name and Key, father of leviathan.

That which lurks below reared crown and proclaimed,

"I AM ITHGULEOIR THAT WHICH IS BANE OF THOSE ABOVE I AM ALONE IN MIGHT AND PROWL"

and the abyss was silent, merely, so mighty Ithguleoir again roared,

"YOU ARE OF FALSEHOODS"

and the abyss was silent, again, so mighty Ithguleoir cast out being and saw truth in all its dark form.

Thus the great leviathan bent crown to the deep and wept out,

"I NAME OF ME SERVANT GREAT LORD FOR I DWELL IN THE DEEP HOLD OF YOU AND BODY"

and the Deep laughed, for already this aspect was foreseen clear as scale to fish.

 

TRANSLATED: The Hooking Man
Of phobia and salt heralds Ithguleoir, the great leviathan, in turn reaper of those who dare settle the Isles.

For his rage was so great that he ravaged coast and shallows alike, as from the depths comes horror, and from horror, Ichor.

But so was he fearsome that vanquishers, hoping of merit yet lacking of strength, only came forth after Mighty Ithguleoir reared and swallowed an entire isle of man.

From land came those who Shield, and each were swallowed by the spawn of the deep in turn, and hope of sanctity on the Isles were lost, for a mighty terror lurked and encircled

But from the horn sounding, the Light prickling, came the Sunderer. His be the Hooking Man, for he was without fear, and his grip strong, a true Shield.

At the behest of the old, the Hooking Man prayed to all with choice words. But only a demon answered.

And the Woodland Man, Name and Key, guardian of the unseen, gave to him the knowledge seeked to defeat the beast in exchange for that of a single scale,

"HOLD YOUR THIRST FOR FOUR SEASONS. SUCH WILL THE LEVIATHAN RISE. SUNDER FROM IT A SINGLE SCALE FOR THEN YOU MAY ENTER THE LIVING ABYSS WITHOUT FEAR OF WATERLUNG AND ONLY THEN WILL YOU BE ABLE TO DRINK. RETURN THIS SCALE TO ME"

And in desperation the Sunderer relented.

 

TRANSLATED: A Sinking Man and A Serpent
Forthright, was the Sunderer, in manner and arm, as he sailed sea to find mighty Ithguleoir. Chosen be he who willfully does battle the Gray to meet the Black.

For three seasons the still Gray watched the Hooking Man, and on the fourth's eve, the leviathan tasted Night.

Ithguleoir, Name and Key, raised crown and so roared fearsome,

"FLESHSPAWN THAT OF THE DEEP NE'ER FEARS THAT WHICH COMES OF LAND AND DESCENT IS WHAT SHALL TAKE YOU"

And the Hooking Man looked upon the mighty visage of the abyss without fear and thrust forward, sundering of it a single scale. And the icy waves consumed him, and the scale slipt from his grip, for even the Hooking Man could not grasp Ink in Blackness.

Down the Hooking Man sank, deeper into the Black, past the coral dreugh spirals, until appeared the Chasm, and deeper still, a False Tower.

Such was the Hooking Man's terror that he drank the murk, and, thus, was of the Deep.

And the demon Herma-Mora laughed, for knowledge spawned of desperation was dangerous indeed.

TRANSLATED: Graenvein Texts: A Sermon
Now, brothers and sisters, we are man. And man cast his body into the abyss and the Depths smiled. Know that he is forever his and his body lies cold and free underneath the surf. This is order fate. Our future.

DARK WATER

See, forthright, upon the slope, the horror of murk questioned the man, and the man answered, I am yours, for you are all I know, and the deeps smiled, for this was known to it already. And those olde billows spoke, “Knoweth he.” The slopes of a chasm yawn as the gray becomes more. The gradient of white to black exists between two centerpoints. Two concepts. And between that lies oblivion.

And in curiosity he drank in truth, and grew cold, brittle, and broken, yet free. From the depths came madness, wrought of terror, sired of the Chasmic Murk. A lesson, forthright, to fear that of the Deep. That of the Cold Descent. That of the Frigid Sink. That of RELLE MOR.

BERATU VIR ALTADOON AE RLLMR.

 

Lady N's picture
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Joined: 06/26/2010

This piece was written for our 20th anniversary fan art contest! It is strictly property of its original creator - you may not modify, publish, or redistribute it without explicit permission from the artist.