Difference between revisions of "Conrad/Stereotypes"
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| + | [[image:Mortal.png|40px]] Long ago I protected you from the wilds and the unknown, creatures that would bring your little hovels to ashes and scatter them amongst the snow. Now you have built castles that eclipse our own, and have embraced the chill of Autumn to master the world around you. I have always been enamored with your tenacity but the weapons you wield will also signal your doom. Open your mind again, and you will See. I will help bring you back to a time of legend. | ||
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| + | :'''On Fae''' | ||
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| + | [[image:Hsien.png|40px]] Only once did I earn the company of one of these elusive yet strange Gallain, though they do not call themselves such. Enigmatic, riddling in their prose but host a power I have not witnessed since. I hope the Patterns lets us cross paths again, I believe there are lessons I would be eager to learn. | ||
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| + | [[image:nunnehi.png|40px]] There is rumor that old dreams still walk the North American wilds, dreams to which I am unfamiliar. These Nunnehi, the Kithain call them are not natives of where I once called home and as such am unfamiliar. Mayhaps I shall meet one of these elusive Gallain and so I may learn their part of the Pattern as well. | ||
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| + | :'''On Prodigals''' | ||
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[[image:vampire.png|40px]] The Lilim. They are as beautiful as they are carnal. When Time freezes, stagnation follows. Autumn will turn to Winter for these poor creatures and I pray it is not soon. | [[image:vampire.png|40px]] The Lilim. They are as beautiful as they are carnal. When Time freezes, stagnation follows. Autumn will turn to Winter for these poor creatures and I pray it is not soon. | ||
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[[image:mage3.png|40px]] So were the days where these mystics would grace my halls once in a great while. Their stories are splendid, and their knowledge vast. I wonder if in this age of Autumn, as Banality creeps upon the doorstep of all have the mystics hung their rod and staff for calculators and pistols? I certainly hope not for magic in it's purest form is creation. | [[image:mage3.png|40px]] So were the days where these mystics would grace my halls once in a great while. Their stories are splendid, and their knowledge vast. I wonder if in this age of Autumn, as Banality creeps upon the doorstep of all have the mystics hung their rod and staff for calculators and pistols? I certainly hope not for magic in it's purest form is creation. | ||
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Revision as of 15:55, 2 June 2014
Long ago I protected you from the wilds and the unknown, creatures that would bring your little hovels to ashes and scatter them amongst the snow. Now you have built castles that eclipse our own, and have embraced the chill of Autumn to master the world around you. I have always been enamored with your tenacity but the weapons you wield will also signal your doom. Open your mind again, and you will See. I will help bring you back to a time of legend.
- On Fae
Only once did I earn the company of one of these elusive yet strange Gallain, though they do not call themselves such. Enigmatic, riddling in their prose but host a power I have not witnessed since. I hope the Patterns lets us cross paths again, I believe there are lessons I would be eager to learn.
There is rumor that old dreams still walk the North American wilds, dreams to which I am unfamiliar. These Nunnehi, the Kithain call them are not natives of where I once called home and as such am unfamiliar. Mayhaps I shall meet one of these elusive Gallain and so I may learn their part of the Pattern as well.
- On Prodigals
The Lilim. They are as beautiful as they are carnal. When Time freezes, stagnation follows. Autumn will turn to Winter for these poor creatures and I pray it is not soon.
I have only met a few of these creatures in my time, both before and now. They are as different as leaves have different shapes. Their isolation and their lack of presence is welcome, but hints a far more pressing issue. Has the Pattern come so far in it's fruition that the predator kings have lost their strength to roam?
How the Pattern is so smitten with itself that not even death can release one from it's endless antics. I pity the prison they have been placed into and hope they find release sooner rather than later.
I have heard whispers amongst the fae that there are those who claim to be Angels who wander the world now in Autumn's height. I would adore a chance meeting with one of these so-called 'Angels'. Before God created anything, God had a Dream first.
In a time before time, I applauded the humans who readied their sword against me. The courage! the stalwart eyes! Those who stood against me, for what reasons they had earned my respect with their audacity for they were only human; and a human to stand against us was worthy of many a tales and remembrance. I now see you again human, and I no longer see courage. I see fear, behind a veil of powers you do not fully understand. The height of humanity, alas it seems, is no more.
So were the days where these mystics would grace my halls once in a great while. Their stories are splendid, and their knowledge vast. I wonder if in this age of Autumn, as Banality creeps upon the doorstep of all have the mystics hung their rod and staff for calculators and pistols? I certainly hope not for magic in it's purest form is creation.
