En Delfisto Ne Garren De Porhal  

(The Destruction of The Garden of Peace)

Translated by Farah in Dark Ages

Prolouge:

“En-route to Undine one day back in Deoch 12, walking along the coast I stumbled apon a chest buried by the sand.  It was old, rusted, but still looked watertight…able to withstand the fierce ocean tides for quite some time.  Dragging it home to Mileth, I spent two Deochs trying to read it with countless hours in the Library of Loures, for it is written in one of the old Aisling tounges.  Finally, after 2 Deochs of research, I show to you all my discoveries. 

            Written quite some time ago, there is no exact date, although it is obvious that it is the Age of the Aisling.  The original Author’s name is Auturinan De’kel Kobath Unicris Delfisto, which literally translates to, “Eye of Hope, Hands of Destruction”.  I still cant tell but it is my belief that the author is also the Aisling spoken of in the later pages of this tale…

            Now I present to you, The Destruction of The Garden of Peace…”

Farah

En Delfisto Ne Garren De Porhal

            Garren De Porhal, now commonly referred to, as the “Wasteland” wasn’t always like this.  Bordering on the outskirts of East Woods, across from its sister, the Enchanted Gardens, Garren De Porhal was once a beautiful place.  As green as the greenest grass, as lovely as a goddess, as breathtaking as the dawn, it was one of the loveliest places in all the land.  Aislings traveled to it often, just to get the sense and feeling of peace. 

            It was a magical place, blessed by a god without a name, if you entered the majestic place, a feeling of peace and serenity.  Most of the Nomad tribes would have contests here, two warriors would attempt to fight in the blessed garden, and the first to attain peace with the garden and drop his sword would win.  It was truly a magical place, and even the gods could be seen in the garden, enjoying the enchanted air.  I dare not even speak there names for I might invoke there rage, but, many Aislings who traveling through Garren De Porhal said to have seen the Goddess of Love and Compassion dancing there often with the fairies.  The God of Wisdom could be seen there also, constantly working on some idea he has pulled from the infinite wisdom of his mind.  I take it the God of Swiftness was still but a wanderer when he stumbled upon the magical garden, I suppose feeling a sense of peace and serenity, a place where he could go, where he could feel safe.  I have even heard stories of the horrid God of Decay and the headstrong God of War, entering the garden, to experience what peace is like…

            Yes, Garren De Porhal was beautiful…it was for all, Gods, Monsters, and Aislings…magical and enchanted…

            Which is why I still can’t comprehend why it was allowed to be destroyed…

            Pure Evil he was, his soul, heart, mind, and magic was as black as the God of Decay himself…I think even blacker, for the God of Decay would send you back and Scar you, He would not only kill you, but consume your soul.

            His name was Quinntonah, a powerful wizard that was tainted by the powers of Chaos and Evil, his mind now a never-ending vortex of evil.  I curse him and that name, for it will be my dying wish that cursed name never is used again.

            The Eldars threw him out of his nomadic tribe of Aislings for immersing himself in the Dark Arts.  This only gave him more motives to further his knowledge of the Black ways.  He became stronger and stronger by unknown means, until one day he came back to his tribe.  The Elders were unable to stop him, as he forced his way into the pure minds of the Elders, and killed them all.  He then used his black ways to kill and harvest every member of his tribe, including his mother and father.  No mercy, no remorse, just the soul of a mindless killer.

            He then set his eyes on building an empire that would span the known world, and the place for the start of his operation…the place for the resting souls of peace, Garren De Porhal.

            Quinntonah entered the garden, able to shield himself from the magical white powers of the garden, and started to taint everything.  The Flowers began to die, the trees withered and turned black and twisted, the fairies that once inhabited the garden even succumbed to his awesome power, and there once pure white minds were tainted by his power, and became his servants. 

            Within seven days, Garren De Porhal lost its magical ability, and now became known as Garren De Exundle or the Garden of Death.  The magic plants and creatures were either withered or reduced to dust, or were tainted and became twisted black creatures to serve Quinntonah.  There he gathered every soul that was wandering in the garden looking for peace, and he harvested them, forcing them to come back as rotting skeleton, which had to serve there dark lord.

            In the Far East of the garden though, stood a tribe bound and rooted in magic, white magic.  Hence the Dark Wizard saw them as a threat.  Erecting a massive army of Skeletons, he marched towards the tribe.

            It was a merciless slaughter…those who fell were harvested by the Dark Wizard Quinntonah and became his slaves.  Though the tribe put up a valiant fight, they were doomed.  Hours after the battle had started, it had ended, none of the tribe remained…

            Except for one…an Aisling teen that had run off, returned to see his tribe be slaughtered by the Dark Army.  It would be a day he would never forget.

            Thus time passed, and Quinntonah grew only stronger and stronger.  The day then came for him to march his rotting armies over the face of the world.

            Gathering his rotting army, he led them towards the exit of the Garden of Death…

There, standing in his was, was not a boy, but now a man, seeking revenge.  He knew his destiny, it was to attempt to destroy this evil and avenge all those who have suffered under him. 

Unshaken by the figure in the cloak, Quinntonah ordered his army forward.  Raising his arms up and chanting in the old tounge, the figure drew forth-massive flames that seemed to come from the gods themselves, and commanded them to attack the army.  The flames danced as if alive, and surrounded the army, while burning a path through the Skeleton horde.  The path connected the figure in the cloak and Quinntonah.  For the first time Quinntonah gazed into the Aisling’s eyes, and for the first time was afraid.  A white, holy fire burned in his eyes, raging almost out of control, and pierced Quinntonah’s black heart.

Feeling afraid, Quinntonah attempted to invade the Aisling’s mind, to bring about a sudden rush of Chaos and Evil that would be so sudden, the Aisling would go mad, then would die.  As he attempted, the Aisling shut his eyes and again chanted in the old tongue, and Quinntonah flew back, he had been so strongly rejected that it actually caused physical harm to him.  Gathering himself, Quinntonah drew forth-dark spell after dark spell, only to be counter spelled by the Aisling.  Quinntonah then drew forth the most powerful thing he could imagine.  He chanted dark sermons and dark spells, then allowed his body to be taken over by Inkantis, a terrible Titan from the nether-reigons.  Quinntonah’s body literally changed into Inkantis, a Massive dark monster that would make even the God of Nature look small.

Hence, the Aisling again chanted, unphased by the horrid titan in front of him.  The winds blew hard onto the ground, and his cloak was blown off.  White Fire consumed his eye sockets and crackled and flamed, it was also consuming his hands.  As the mighty dark titan drew down its hand to kill him, the Aisling raised his hands to the sky and shouted.

The White Fire exploded from his body, creating a circular dome shape that grew bigger and bigger as it consumed more and more area.  It scorched the ground turning it from black to brown.  It burnt every pierce of evil in the once fair garden, again nullifying it from evil black to neutral brown.  The fire smashed into the dark titan like a giant hammer, instantly killing its host, Quinntonah, and sending the Titan smashing into the ground, creating huge cracks in the earth.

The Bright light was seen from every point of land in the world.

The souls once kept as servants now were set free…and the titan vanished into the shadows with the soul of its summoned.

Although the Garden now had been purified of evil, it could never return to its magical state.  All that remained was a vast, barren land on which almost nothing could grow.  Hence the creation of the Wastelands.  And if you stand in the wastelands and feel the breeze, some of that old magic that still inhabits the winds will bring you a small sense of peace and tranquility…I promise.