Barren Realms MUD

The Razing of Midgaard

This is the tale of Lord Gildemar of Rhone,
an Elven lord of great renown.
This is the tale of Lady Felina del Mar,
a beauty beyond all compare.

In the days old, did Midgaar rise alone
from forests, and rivers, of tree and stone.
Wandering roads, in warrens and burroughs,
the story of Midgaar's fall, is long and old.

And it came to pass that the Lady and Lord,
did find in their hearts a love so true.
The Houses of Rhone and del Mar were sworn
to death, and so their love was in secret born.
The love they shared was hidden from the day
thus met amidst the light of moon, the light of stars.

At last their love was found out by a jealous suitor of del Mar
and the city was was split in twain by war;
The city was a-riot with screams of pain and screams death
as Lady del Mar and Lord of Rhone were caught betwain their castes.

The hatreds grew and the lowest classes bled for justice
yet prayers for peace went without answer; for a year and a day
The streets ran with blood, and the gates were closed
for on and on the two sides joined in fray.
For the Lord of Rhone is a man of elvenkind,
and Lady del Mar a woman of of human kind.

And great were the taboos against the mixing of the races,
the priests of each decry the merits of the others.
In all their anger, their sermons incited more deaths,
more souls with empty faces, lost to all but the Reaper's plane.

The houses of Elves and the houses of Man,
fought on without cease, be it day or be it night.
Till the Blood Moon rose above the twilight's dimming light,
and red cast were the city's walls and streets.

A deep and anguished cry was heard throughout the city's demense
and echoed in the stone, echoed in the once living wood;
Till it vibrated in the very air one breathed,
carried on the breeze, laden with guild and sorrow.

For saddened by the deaths caused by her love,
was Felina del Mar moved beyond cause for life.
In sorrow for his love's passing was to great a pain to bear,
did Lord Gildemar of Rhone call upon his powers
to immolate him in his pain, for life without her to share,
is not a life to live or love.
As magic gathered strength and power grew,
reason departed and Rhone was all that anger knew.

The world as it was, was what brought death to his love,
and death alone would alone atone.
With eyes ablaze with power and with rage
Lord Gildemar of Rhone called forth the fires;
He called forth the fires of heaven, and the fires of hell
and the walls of Midgaar were burned, though they be stone
And the cries of the priests were one, regardless of race,
for all within the city's walls died that day.
As the last of the ashes settled, and the rains began to fall,
all was quiet and even death's reaper stayed not longer than he would.
Midgaar, once the bastion of the races, was naught but an empty shell.

From the slumber of a thousand years, was Oakley wakened by the flames and final cries,
and to Midgaard he swiftly came.
And the Lord creator of the world wept in sorrow at his childrens' passing.
Angered by the bigotry of hatred that continued on unfettered,
Oakley gathered the remnants of the races and decreed
that all were equal before him and none were greater than another.

After thus, did Oakley gather the ashes of all the dead
and caused the rise of a city of promise, one called Calathar.
And did he also Forbid with this law,
That never shall one ensouled raise one's hand
against another one ensouled.
And the Law has stood the ages, and the ensouled races live on in truce.


---Criterion---