PICTURESQUE POETICS
Accounts From the War of the Sea of Nothing
Accounts From the War of the Sea of Nothing
'I must be significant. I must be everything.'
The written accounts from the War of the Sea of Nothing are an ongoing series of poetic narratives telling the story of the multiverse's struggle for survival against 'The Void King', the mythical ruler of an all-consuming tide of consuming emptiness, bolstered by deathless slave-soldiers taken from conquered and consumed worlds. When all creation and every reality is destroyed, legend has it he shall remake it all in his own image, free from the gnawing, insufferable presence of anything not created by itself.
But this is only the legend. The source of the all-consuming darkness stretching through the multiverse is unreachable and thus unknowable.
The truth is, worlds die by the thousands every day,
And more Void slaves come forth to replace those we slay.
They strike us ceaselessly with blade, shot, maw and claw.
Mourning with each tormented breath, we end their pain
A legion at a time, but there are always more.
The truth is, we enter the last weeks of a siege,
But hope shall endure… at least so commands our liege.
- Sail-Master's Mate Ivgahlin of Gith Nykajau
Torth-Viesh
A narrative poem covering the story of the Torth-Viesh, and the two wars he fought, 3000 years apart, against his own world; once to destroy it, once to save it.
A boy finds his home in the grip of Demons;
Anguish, betrayal, whispers, these break him,
Foremost of the fallen he must become.
Horrendous schemers contrive to twist him
To bring death, to see his weak people undone.
This is the terrible path laid out for him,
The First War of the Torth-Viesh, Dark King Viynon.
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Millennia follow, betrayal is rife,
With world after world betrayed to their ends.
A foe draws near which craves the end of life,
Leaving none where its empty reach extends.
New hope lies with the chief architect of strife,
Through his devastation, true justice he tends.
The second War of King Viynon, the Torth-Viesh.
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What Little We May Do
The Book of Small Travesties
Ultiana and North-Hill, two nations which have been locked in an unwinnable war for a thousand years suddenly face an enemy which surpasses any power or evil either country could imagine, one which shall overrun the world. It falls to two champions, one from each of these nations to challenge to this evil.
How the weary, bloodied folk of North-Hill might
Soon come to miss their former war and plight,
For such, at least, a mind might hope to judge aright
But not so for the coming blight,
The feasting, faceless, endless blight.
How the merry Ultiks know their bloody way is right,
Yetwish the Hill they plague had more the heart to fight;
Perhaps they'll try to rage against the looming, lingering night,
But they know not the woeful blight,
The cruelty of the coming blight.
And when the last Duke of the Hill and the last Ultik Queen
'Gainst death and madness and much worse vie for a hope unseen,
They'll face such fights and horrors past their strangest, foulest dreams,
And fight to halt the urge to deem
That only doom abounds and teems.
But come what may, they must push through
And do the little they might do.
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