The records of the Elder Scribes, the oldest known men to walk our lands detail events all but passed, dating several millennia before the world was forged.Such is a grace, a privilege afforded to those that hail from and delight in the brilliance of the Silent One.An endless space of EMPTINESS loomed before all things began.It was followed by the emergence of Seven Odd Stars that proudly showered the EMPTINESS with scintillating lights like blinding flares.Each star had a unique presence, echoing in a different pitch, rumbling as it sought to make itself known to the EMPTINESS.Thus, the EMPTINESS knew not a day without the constant primal echoes of the bright Seven Stars that fumed with power.Power they could not use in their primal state.Without an anchor for which time could be dictated, the Elder Scribes detail the second momentous event to occur in our history.The Silencing.An entity whose origins and characteristics are all but unknown bloomed within the loud EMPTINESS

A whip made of dark hair was brought down, falling mercilessly upon a very thin, dark-haired young man who screamed when he felt it crack against the flesh on his back!He stumbled to a fall on the winding rock steps and balled his hands into fists, grinding his yellow teeth while he trembled as he held back anything more he wanted to say or do."Faster you mutt! You're getting lazier with each passing day!" a thick bearded man with a fierce make of a face barked with sprinkles of his foul saliva spraying at the downed young man.He donned a linothorax armour, complete with a polished brown leather breastplate that had the outline of robust chest pad and abs. His shoulders were free, showing the dark hairs that grew from his thick limbs, with his feet wearing brown-coloured leather greaves.The man swung his whip again which smacked the young man's back, scraping his skin as it lashed, staining the filthy tunic he donned in blood. He tried to crawl up the large stone steps but his str

What would emerge from a mix of hunger and fear? What would triumph?Trodden's throat favoured hunger while his mind, aided by his eyes supported the fear, urging him to back away and cower like a rat.Yet, there would be no suspense, for the result was clear.That which was aided by the screeching voice that sang profanity and vanity in his head won, inducing the young 17-year-old to build up strength in his knees and thighs, gazing intently at the short man who walked briskly towards him.Hunger triumphed. A foreign concept to Trodden, but one which he yielded to in reality.He needed to feed.Like a beast, he eyed the brown-coloured ball he saw floating within the head of the short shadow that approached.He saw not the whip that was held, which was a threat to him. Just the eye that he foresaw to taste divine.The slaves wrestling over the long-dead cow paused as a thick tension built up around the soldier and slave.Aneus who had his mouth painted in blood peeked from the crow

Atop a lengthy and sturdy table that extended far beyond the seats of those currently dining over its surface, a lone man stood out as he fed elegantly on the warm and delicious food in his plate, occasionally sipping from the goblet at his side that held a crimson liquid.As for his appearance, his physical stature alone would require a ballad that sang of his lustrous, flowing burgundy hair that only halted their descent at his shoulders, a tall frame that demanded for his seat to be different from that of others even at the dining table, robust muscles that bulged like swells under beige coloured skin on every part of his body that did not taste cloth and rough little hairs with a light red hue which grew atop his flesh like grasses.Over his heart-shaped face, hooded eyes with a marble grey sheen could be seen along with a button nose below that twitched from time to time as he passed food into his mouth that was enclosed by a light stubble.Trodden's saliva slid down his throat a

The full moon that peeked from behind the dark clouds which traced the starry sky, announced that it was time.Desmas felt it.The time was ripe!His grip on the object in his hand tightened as he took in deep breaths as if to swallow the entire Watering Hole through his nostrils.After the feasting of the cow, he had grabbed one of the poor creature's bones and tucked it under his tunic.He shook like a leaf, not only from the cold which was barely hindered from fondling his flesh by the patches of hay he hid in but from fright.With this deed, he could never return to normalcy.Many a dead body had he seen, yet not one of them hailed from the works of his hands.All around the circular expanse that was lit up by the moonlight, the other slaves tossed and turned in their sleep while others simply could not find it within themselves to shut their eyes and retire to the singular fantasy that they had left.Desmas rose slowly, the stalks of dry grass falling from his figure.Thick veins