ID: 45480
iconicon
Legends of the Valkyries
Document
For level 1 or above
No sale value, Cannot trade, This item can't be stored in the guild bank.

A tome created by Omeros the Skald. Use to read stories of the ancient valkyries.

Show/hide full text


Cold silence fills the air,
nothing speaks but the rushing wind.

Glaive held tight,
the last guardian reflects on her journey.

Unearned scars burn on her skin,
a legacy of betrayal and lies.

The devas have fled north,
and Clan Castanic searches for a new home.



Duty. Honor. Loyalty.
Words, nothing more.

Our god is reviled, and our people ashamed.
We must hide ourselves among our faithful.

Pass our stories down,
mother to daughter, daughter to none.

Our pain will keep us together,
wherever our people roam.



Daughter of Zuras, Child of Lok.
My legacy is freedom, but always at a cost.

Carve the runes deep, sisters.
One for each betrayal.

Choose your successor,
and train her well.

Take new names, take new lives.
But never, ever, forget.



The day will come when the devas rise, and dark gods will live again.

When our service is all but forgotten.

On that day, take up your weapons, and fight!

Remember our Mother's words. Gentle, but firm.

"Never conceal, and never reveal."



...and our time in Deva Victrix is surely at an end.

Refugees from Kaiator have similar scars, and the priests all say the same thing.

Balder is dead.

And we are to blame.

The crown was meant to honor him, but somehow...

There is nowhere we can go to escape our shame, and the guardians have abandoned us. Their glaives are gone, their houses empty, and we are left alone.



Lok, why have you abandoned us? Surely you were betrayed as well.

And the guardians, your most strident defenders, have left us without protection.

After so many years, are we to be wanderers again, like the humans?

The Matriarch is dead, and no one will step forward to take her place.

And the firstborn have taken their glaives away...



Secondborn sons are trying to upstage our councils. Have they no shame? Our people need stability and wisdom if we are to survive these times.

Without a Matriarch everyone can trust, the only thing anyone can agree on is that we can no longer trust the gods, or those who follow them.

Kaia herself has offered us a place in her city, but even among the amani we will never be safe.

Wherever we go, one thing is clear.

Our new home must be a fortress, and we will never leave it again.



The new Matriarch is younger than all three of my daughters, and her hands are suspiciously calloused.

No one wants to ask her, but she moves too confidently to be just "a simple runecarver."

She brings with her stories of a new home, and our people are desperate enough to follow her there.

If she is what I think she is, perhaps we have not been abandoned after all.

When we arrive, when we are settled, perhaps Clan Castanic can find a way to forgive ourselves for our own cleverness. Or perhaps...



I hummed the songs my mother's mother taught me under my breath as I wiped my runeglaive clean, but the enemy could no longer hear them.

I remember asking her once how many cultists I'd have to kill to free ourselves of Lok's legacy, but her only reply was a sad smile.

Because even as a child, I already knew the answer.

All of them.



Up the hill from my midnight battle was a city of stones and bridges, and yet another community I'd been tasked to protect from the shadows.

I cut and carved my way across the world to get there, a place where my face and horns marked me as the enemy. East to west, south to north and back again, always hidden away from Balder's seeking eyes.

Inside its walled libraries, I learned of our lost kinsmen's descent into madness behind a wall of storms, and wept for generations of devas who died to preserve a fiction Clan Castanic discarded long ago.

The gods love no-one, even themselves.



I should have returned to Castanica months ago to make my report. But how could I turn my back on these people?

They lived under the thumbs of monsters, yet still held their heads high.

They sing songs of giants, and a world that never was.

They bury the bodies I leave behind, and suffer in silence when my crimes are discovered.

I could not leave them, but neither could I stay.



In the end, as always, my runeglaive has made my decision for me.

Since coming here I've fought one too many enemies with acid in their veins.

And as a member of a secret order long thought dead, I can't exactly stroll through town to get a replacement weapon.

Hopefully it will last long enough for me to return home, with a few of the records I've found here.

I've removed the more dangerous ones, and offer my own story in exchange for those who will come after me.

After all, Never conceal, never reveal.

So I leave you with this, my sister of the storm. The sour smell of blood stays with you, no matter how many times you wash.

The memories of dead, black eyes, of twisted bodies with the faces of friends, will never leave you.

My grandmother was wrong, and most likely yours as well. Patience, tolerance, acceptance...these are not our ways.

We are no longer the guardians of history. We are vengeance, the choosers of the slain.

We are valkyries, and as foretold in prophecy, thrice carved in stone, our time will come again.

Buy price: 5silver00bronze
Max stack count: 1
Login to edit data on this page.

BBCode
HTML
ID     Name Level Location Reward
ID     Name Level Location Reward
Loading data from server


Login to comment
TERA® is a registered trademark of Bluehole Studios. Copyright © Bluehole Studios. TERA logo, images, game content and materials are trademarks and copyrights of Bluehole Studios and its licensors. All rights reserved.
My databases

Privacy Statement