Board Thread:Fan-made Monsters/@comment-27950421-20181031182158/@comment-30014014-20181104052934

Many before...

''From the past, and present. They came on the swan rites left for the departing worms of scale and brimstone. Their so-long lived eyes on their merits, forever closed off to the reaching hand of the desceased. They lay in bare soils, the last will if those resting in these grounds to be witnessed by any and all. A tale of glory and defeat. The rise...and fall. Triumph and...failure.''

''All to be seen, to be counted in ways only a dragon may fathom, from one to the next. The old and the new. A story and a cautionary tale. This, their last message, closing their gaze on a world they will never see, the queen of requiem washing their immortal bones of the scale and flesh, poised in  the mausoleum, ever expanding, open for those who stomach the travel to watch the prize of ambition...''

''The queen of the requiem, so thorough in her rites, does she gathers the breath of the passage from this world to the next. Effluvium, gray and deathly, stripping the land of its life, as no wanton destruction, but a place for the passed to sleep, as humans sleep in cemetaries, lifeless out of respect for the dead.''

Many before...

''The times have brought heights to wishes and desires. From glory, to wealth, to power. Power comes in many shapes and forms. Weapons, spells, artifacts, buildings, continents. Those that fashion themselves guided by destiny, toil on the land of the dead. Countless before, countless today. They brand great signs of power, bestowed upon them by great acts. Rumors and whispers of one of the Requiem Queens' shrouded converging, to one reaching her final age. The die has been cast, the swarm as they did in her grave absence.''

''They toll with machinery of jewels and gleam, depicted as famous, wrathful, through the Mists of the bygone, the name attached to this requiem queen's grounds of rites. Their magic pretend to unravel the tainted Effluvium, venturing in the deep confines of her sacred land, to be faced with an inverted castle, built from the stalagtites down.''

''The thoughts of these so-called walkers of destiny hunt but one dream. Power. Power in the shape one in control of what many could substance as death energy, the Effluvium. Tapestries of the woman underneath the shroud that sees her form bloated in leather. A beauty which does not belong in the mist of decay, comparable to one walking among quiet halls. Armed with conviction, they seek to bestow a band of union on this untouched maiden of rites, beholden as their rights.''

''The bells toll to her return, the mist acting in her will, immediately warning her of unwanted guests. Her hidden hands carry the awaited sleeper. Her voice is cold and detatched "Your presence is unwarranted. Speak now before I depose each from these resting grounds".''

''Her mind prepares the cycle awaiting the words from the bravest of the wanderers, the land echoing what many have come to desire. One of golden armor takes a step, out of the five. His hand grinds the face-concealing bearings from him, revealing a sculpet visage branded by twin emerald protraying as his eyes. Mason the gilded, arguably the most well-known of individuals daring a trek to this unsavory land. A hand to place upon him, his beating yearn "Mistress! I as many have come to bestow the honor of combat as to demonstrate our worth. Should one prove the better,' 'then you are to relenquish a wish from he who brings his worth".''

''The glow reaching from beyond the shroud dims in size, a wince from her side. Their wish, as many before, to engage in ritual combat. Combat deviced to bring her very person to one of the suitors. Suitors with the rite of might, to best a specter of death.''

''All fail, as they did after so many have tried before. Their eyes, unable to gaze beyond her tattered shroud, forever blind to what lies within. One scourge of her breath, proving to best the sturdiest arms, the most enduring armors, the brawniest of strength and the mightiest of spells. None can hope to outlast what has been for eons, expelled once more from the Mist of the Bygone...''

''Then comes one, branding a wrath unlike its predecessors. A weapon alien to the Hazak known as the Requiem queen, such is its unfathomable power, that slowly, she has been fated to fall before''...

His path, cutting a lavender swath through the continent, in search of the unseen...