Welcome to Scribd. Sign in or start your free trial to enjoy unlimited e-books, audiobooks & documents.Find out more
Standard view
Full view
of .
Look up keyword
Like this
0 of .
Results for:
No results containing your search query
P. 1
Ascendency: Prolouge

Ascendency: Prolouge

|Views: 2|Likes:
Published by Ratherion

More info:

Published by: Ratherion on Jun 16, 2008
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
See more
See less





"Bloodless, is the land of illusion. Blood-soaked, is the land of reality." -Çail Kennon, Templar, Brigadier General, Desolation's Legion
never believed in any of it.The constant hush about the city. They call this place a city, they lie to themselves my brother, this place isnaught more than grounds for waiting. Endlessly waiting, some day I will no longer be able to hold myself back. Every day I sit upon the steps of my quarters, looking up to those polishing the statues made in myname, every facet of glass costly crafted. One day I must look down, down unto the statues below, thosecommemorating the destruction of our people. I am a broken man, betrayer of a lost people, leader to arace of murderers....May the gods protect them from themselves......and damn me to eternity.-Exalted Chalice Tassemorn
The scroll rolled closed with the crinkle of ancient paper, as if crying in distress. The scribe translating the piece frowned down upon the conclusion to his month's work. It was a perfect copy, not a single syllable lost or misinterpreted. Yet the message was so degrading, especially considering it was the memoirs of the long-deadExalted. The man had, after all, been a demigod. Loved by all and worshiped by most.With a small exhalation the scribe dried off his kestrel feather quill, returning it to its stand. The messagewas indeed bothersome, yet history had already come and gone, so perhaps Chalice Tassemorn had sinned, was notmurder and torture not necessary to overcome the great Northern Legions? The Black Hand's Crusade had indeedrequired more than a little... excessive shedding of innocent blood.The scribe looked across the room, a musty workplace, stuffed with volumes of history, business recordsand letters. How many history books, the scribe wondered, have been tainted by the victors or war?Regardless, it was not his thought to ponder. Rising from his seat the scribe rolled up the freshly copiedscroll and sheathed it within a leather document case. The leather was treated with oils, it would well shed theconstant rain that had been assaulting the city for the past week. Donning a cloak of the same make, the scribe slungthe scroll over his shoulder, blew out his candles and stepped outside into the downpour. – 
Sigmund, I write to you in grief, I cannot bear it. My son, your brother, is dead. He was coldly murdered by acutthroat in the dark on the way from his quarters. The reason for the murder is apparently a simplerobbery, as he had with him a scripture of great value, yet I cannot believe he was killed for a simple pieceof paper!...The priests have given me slight consolation, apparently the assassin has been caught, they have himlocked away deep within the Crown's holdings. Today I go to speak with him, nay, to
him feel our  pain.Mother shall arrive in the city soon, I have arranged for her to meet with you at the Gable, where you shall be taken via merchant convoy to Crown....Do not weep Sigmund, we must persevere.Your Father,-Marcus

You're Reading a Free Preview

/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->