15th Day of Afefe in the Fourth Month of Wind's Sway
4380 A.G.G. (253 Years Ago)
The Tower of Foresight, Raröԋӕnga
The Eighth Territory of the Dæmönic Plains of Brŭmal
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It should be understood that some of the following passages may not be entirely accurate as they weren't transcribed as they were spoken. They've been translated here for ease of reading. Because of this, unfortunately, some things may be lost in the translation from the original dæmönic to common.
Translated passages will be indicated by the use of bold print.
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Tįlåtħ
The location for the meeting was second to none within the realm; the Tower of Foresight, which also housed 's war salon. It was a structure completely separate of the Lord's citadel which jutted defiantly from the eastern cliff face of the valley's western mountains. Once part of what would have been a massive citadel and adjoining town, the majority of the structure that the tower once belonged to, sat now in utter ruins and wasn't approachable from the outside.
It hadn't been such since the keep had fallen to Drågon's fire during the War of the Drågons.
The town itself however wasn't in as roughshod of a state and was still habitable. In point-of-fact, it was populated mostly by Fallen and of status; insofar as what status allowed non-Fallen dæmönics to have.
Despite all appearances to the contrary, the tower and its immediate surrounding area were still very structurally sound. And once you passed under the mountain town to get to the structure's sub levels and dungeons, it became immediately apparent that it was one of the only places in all of the Dæmönic Realm, aside from the Lord and Lady's citadel itself, that was earnestly warm and in something akin to moderate repair.
The tower's highest reaches poked above the low hanging, snow spewing clouds. And during the moments when the skies were clear, one could see far into the distance in all directions; from the imposing Dark Gates to the south, to the snowcapped Northern Gateway.
Once the quartet made their way past the seemingly endless war-trophy laden passages, countless stairways, meeting venues, meal halls and miscellaneous spaces, they came upon a small labyrinth of passages just below the amphitheater at the structure's summit. It was here that Dåÿvįåd and Tįlåtħ would find themselves alongside their four equals in status and authority. Their brothers and sisters in arms, even if they didn't always see eye-to-eye on things. Together, they comprised Lumå'įl's six commanding Drågoon generals and the eight Fallen Princes of the Plaines. Each of them having earned their dominion over one of six principal domains due to the depth of their gifts, the breadth of their ethereal influence and, sadly, how many others had already died during the war who'd held the position prior.
The first person Tįlåtħ's eyes rested upon in the airy space was a dark skinned dwarf who stood off to herself near on of the pillars closest to where the crowd of attendees were gathered. was the name their Dįvįnë Mother had given her when She made her, and here today, she stood among the Fallen as Lumå'įl's personal scribe to record the proceedings just as she always had. It was a task she'd always taken well to as she was a muse in better days before the war. Tįlåtħ watched her for a moment as Brÿnsëllë's black eyes took in everything around her as she lightly bounced the back of her head against the stone structure she leaned her back against; her billowy raven hair absorbing each impact in a seemingly self-soothing fashion.
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