CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : The Beginning of Behemoth
Legend, a word with promise of history written in stone. Legend foretold of a land long and far. Its sanctum drizzled with magma, darkness, skies crimson red and mountains cutting through the anxious clouds. It is here on this hellish nadir that legend was born, and would most surely be tested through the Eye of the Beholder.
Long ago lived a symbol of beginnings and ends to our lives. The galaxy brings gifts, and these gifts are spread far and wide. There lived a treasure from unknown territory far beyond legend, one born for archival. Tainted with our very pasts, presents and futures, an emblem only the most powerful could harness. This emblem would be known in myth as the IRIS emblem. It seeks to protect the course of nature by paving neutral peace against divergent chaos.
The emblem originated from a solid foundation floating through our cosmos, a mystical paraphernalia named Ether, plummeting toward a chasm like magma boulder. It is there that a gateway to the afterlife was created, an open breach for the deceased to roam free.
There stood the first two beings to walk this abyss, sent from afar. Two strays from outer worlds in pursuit of the emblem, Father Tyrant and Lady Fate. Born from unknown territories to us, it was here they had scattered the molten field in search of what they desired. Days turned to months, minutes began to feel like a millennia.
Alas what they were destined to find was merely a morsel of what laid among the horizon. Several lost souls roamed this hellscape, darkness engrossed the layers of rock with a sentient and darkened energy. Many of these souls lived with a thickened layer of evil attached to them, emitting vitriol resonance. But of course many projected a more fragile presence, coupled with ones of courage. It so happens that this land has existed for centuries. Devoid of life, it became a field of hopelessness and decay, souls violently swinging for one another. It appears the core was nothing shy of harsh territory for both Tyrant and Fate, a land recalled in tales as the Depths.
There, on the apex of the Depths lived a ruler of these spirits, King Vyson Pavavorey. Exterior like charcoal, interior of bloodshed, Vyson had allowed anarchy to breed throughtout the Depths, and continue the damnation for eons. He is said to have given on peace, as it was a formidable work of fiction and fantasy, and thus order through trials of fire were put in place.
Father Tyrant and Lady Fate climbed to this peak, as night turned to day, without a glimmer of what night and day meant here. Once reaching the top, the warrior from within spoke to their instinct, pushed for ingress between the gates of this fortress, and land prey to a battleground where the trial by fire commences. And so the fight begins, foreign heroes against the Pavavorey tribe.
It is with great haste, suspense, sacrifice and pride, that long after the fight, Vyson had been dethroned, laying on the ground in remnants of ash. Before he could perish, faint and threatening fates were beckoned to the two heroes:
"Pick the fruit from a tree and it will come down,
With no Plato beholding, comes the end to the crown.
As thee cast blindness to the shadows up there,
Lay waste to the paradigm born from blackness' glare,
Not even we of coal may proclaim victory,
As a deep looming manifest will create darker history.
Bypolesian, Claustronoctus, Anxosax, Tormentus and Grief, their immortality would thrive,
As when all would join forces, bring out the Mothohive.
Heed those words well, and prey not go unguided,
Such is the Pavavorey's final smile, when your world becomes surely divided.
We will never be too far, so perish, as you may have already decided".
Fog clouded the room as Tyrant emits one final cast of his staff. A wormhole is opened, where the Pavavorey colonials perished, sent to live in an eternity of nothingness forever. Suddenly, what was once blocked from entry, a liquid substance floods from the fortress, and what was once merely a ring shaped crevice, filled with substance in a matter of minutes, what we would come to call Omen Water, a purification liquid.
It is with this victory Tyrant and Fate built a brand new order for the Depths, new decrees were made to keep order and peace in harmony. They discovered the IRIS was capable of harnessing far more than just spiritual essence, but was driven to bring extra protection and power through the Omen Water. Post haste, Lady Fate combines the river with the IRIS emblem, and is now capable of purification in spirits, and delegation between those that are corrupt, and those who were born for something more. As new spirits came flooding through the lands, more would land in the Omen rivers. Those who were corrupt were banished to the same endless void the Pavavorey colony remained. Those who remained untainted were given entry to the Onyx Colony, and remained there forever in a new afterlife.
Years had pa**ed, the Depths was colonised, creating societies made from the crimson onyx they stood upon. However, the new world flooded with colony civillians, and the Depths had become overwhelmed. It was decided that many needed to leave. Knowing they could never banish innocent souls, they had trained many up as Arcadian soldiers in the event of an evident overturn, casting them abilities risen from the mystical ent**ies they beheld.
While these soldiers were trained for combat, they were in for far more cataclysm than once thought. The eruption of their wormhole had brought dark matter to life, breeding a new devious energy across their scope, built from unknown origin. Creatures started falling from the sky in the form of paradigm worms, and leeching light from the Depths as they dug underneath its surface, charging straight towards the core. Such a curse had not gone unprepared, as Tyrant had planned for days like this one, as did the headed warning from the fallen Pavavorey. As such he recruited the finest soldiers in the land to help protect what was soon to become the age of calamity once more. 20 of the greatest arcanes and legion soldiers in their few marched alongside Tyrant and Fate, through dangerous territories not explored since dawn began.
Many days and months pa**ed, soldiers, kings and queens still marching through gusts of anarchy, they encountered their first monstrosities blocking their path. Each born from the culmination of paradigm worms leeching off the planet, it seems they needed this essence to slowly become true to life, in the form of chaotic and blackened creatures sizes bigger than our own. The Claustronoctus, feril and feline-esque. The Bypolesian, a venomous and eight legged nightmare, and the Anxosax, an aviator of destruction. Havoc ensued for hours before the soldiers all took their victory lap as the Depth's first threats fled from the scene.
Travelling through the cave of blind fortunes, Tyrant and Fate found a gauntlet, and summoned many to ignite the flames once more, bringing light inside the tomb of unwanted shadows. To their misfortune, they were not alone here. Paradigm worms lurked, on the cave walls and on the ground. Soldiers were tasked in clearing the landscape from parasites, until the time the gauntlet can be reignited. Many took the leap to travel far, and many had chosen to stand their ground, but after time took its course, the gauntlet was ignited, bleeding those flames through the cave. When all became visible, there lay a manifestation of chaos, larger and more hellish than the last. The Grief worm stood tall, boasting millions of jaws surrounding its entire body, capable of constricting several at a time, and using its many jaws to tear through flesh, bones, and even consuming spirits.
The fight was not lost, and while many of the soldiers remained wounded, desperate for health, but sacrificial in other's own wealth of life to keep them alive above all, the Grief worm was defeated, and also fled from the tomb. It appears all had been banished from the Depths, the air grew thicker with silence, the end of the tunnel felt nigh. Tyrant and Fate decided to set camp for their squadron overnight, to heal from their wounds. Day turned to night once more. Many songs were sung in merry cheer, laughter inbound. It was clear in their hearts victory was theirs, and they could safely retreat home.
But unfortunately, hapiness was merely temporary, as a large shriek resonated through the clouds, so powerful it parted the sky, as crimson red bled through the cave. Even stranger, they were heralded with a largely emitted light that shone upon them, distorting their sight. Tyrant and Fate stood atop the cliff as the land traveled beyond mountains and hillsides. There, in the Jaws of Dawn beholdeth the largest beast ever to have swooped the Depths. Wing span doubled its own body, casting its monstrous size as a shadow across the entire peripheral view, to make what felt like night again. Its eyes a rich blood red, and large light absorbing antenni charging closer to the colony soldiers. This was no ordinary encounter, and by no means a threat to ignore. After all, the paradigm worms absorbed enough energy from the Depths, and could finally create its biggest and far from final form, the Mothohive.
Soldiers had their souls absorbed, one by one many had fallen. Sacrificial healing was bestowed from allies, and if not for those sacrificies may have stood the test of time together as one. Trying to keep one alive, meant many had perished all the same. To Tyrant's astonishment however, all but one had fallen, and as the final bow for the soldier was taken, all hope felt lost.
Tyrant and Fate were the only ones left standing. In a desolate haste, Tyrant opened up the wormhole to the very same dark abyss the Pavavorey colony was banished, the Damned. Tyrant had come to forge a deal with Vyson to bring these soldiers to life to best the beast again before it can get stronger. To Vyson's surprise, his monologue turned out to have predicted the existence of these beasts of unknown origin. Fearing these beasts were only in Myth, it is now revealed to have come true, and feeling backed into a corner, Vyson decided to bargain with Tyrant in besting the beast once more, so it may not harm again. But a deal was made in return, when the mightiest falls, Tyrant and Fate's first born will be cast away to the damned, never to be released again. A cold hearted deal from an even colder hearted deviant, however what other choice did the world have? One dies for many to live, a sacrifice Tyrant felt was well made.
Vyson begrudgingly pa**ed Tyrant a healing talisman. The deal was also to flip the talisman, and if landed on the right face, will bring everything back. Land on the wrong face, Vyson keeps his regards with nothing to sacrifice in return. With an anxious flip, the talisman landed on the ground. Tyrant looked down, and as a tear shed from his eyes, the soldiers were revived once more, being given a second chance.
The all banded together once more, channeled their arcane energy and charged for the Mothohive. It seems while Mothohive may have been weakened, the beast was capable of bringing one final blow to Tyrant and Fate. They drew blood, and the blood lay waste to Mothohive's claws. Suddenly, from the combination of Tyrant and Fate's blood, and Mothohive's resonant manifestation, light emitted from the t**an, as a rather large and unknown object landed before them. And with this, the Mothohive collapsed in a weakened state. The soldiers banded together in victory once more, collected the remnants of the Mothohive, and left to return back home. Tyrant and Fate however, remained with this new found creation. It was a rather oddly shaped egg, emitting a purple haze wrapping around a dark essence.
Days of concern went by as the travel home felt even more tiresome, but out of surprise, the egg began to hatch, and what was inside came out neither dark matter, nor human, but what appeared to be the amalgamation of both. A new breed had become of the Depths, and was adopted into care by Tyrant and Fate. What felt like a victory to them, gave new inspiration for the name in legend they would write for this new member to the colony. And it was written that Goliath was born.
Long ago lived a symbol of beginnings and ends to our lives. The galaxy brings gifts, and these gifts are spread far and wide. There lived a treasure from unknown territory far beyond legend, one born for archival. Tainted with our very pasts, presents and futures, an emblem only the most powerful could harness. This emblem would be known in myth as the IRIS emblem. It seeks to protect the course of nature by paving neutral peace against divergent chaos.
The emblem originated from a solid foundation floating through our cosmos, a mystical paraphernalia named Ether, plummeting toward a chasm like magma boulder. It is there that a gateway to the afterlife was created, an open breach for the deceased to roam free.
There stood the first two beings to walk this abyss, sent from afar. Two strays from outer worlds in pursuit of the emblem, Father Tyrant and Lady Fate. Born from unknown territories to us, it was here they had scattered the molten field in search of what they desired. Days turned to months, minutes began to feel like a millennia.
Alas what they were destined to find was merely a morsel of what laid among the horizon. Several lost souls roamed this hellscape, darkness engrossed the layers of rock with a sentient and darkened energy. Many of these souls lived with a thickened layer of evil attached to them, emitting vitriol resonance. But of course many projected a more fragile presence, coupled with ones of courage. It so happens that this land has existed for centuries. Devoid of life, it became a field of hopelessness and decay, souls violently swinging for one another. It appears the core was nothing shy of harsh territory for both Tyrant and Fate, a land recalled in tales as the Depths.
There, on the apex of the Depths lived a ruler of these spirits, King Vyson Pavavorey. Exterior like charcoal, interior of bloodshed, Vyson had allowed anarchy to breed throughtout the Depths, and continue the damnation for eons. He is said to have given on peace, as it was a formidable work of fiction and fantasy, and thus order through trials of fire were put in place.
Father Tyrant and Lady Fate climbed to this peak, as night turned to day, without a glimmer of what night and day meant here. Once reaching the top, the warrior from within spoke to their instinct, pushed for ingress between the gates of this fortress, and land prey to a battleground where the trial by fire commences. And so the fight begins, foreign heroes against the Pavavorey tribe.
It is with great haste, suspense, sacrifice and pride, that long after the fight, Vyson had been dethroned, laying on the ground in remnants of ash. Before he could perish, faint and threatening fates were beckoned to the two heroes:
"Pick the fruit from a tree and it will come down,
With no Plato beholding, comes the end to the crown.
As thee cast blindness to the shadows up there,
Lay waste to the paradigm born from blackness' glare,
Not even we of coal may proclaim victory,
As a deep looming manifest will create darker history.
Bypolesian, Claustronoctus, Anxosax, Tormentus and Grief, their immortality would thrive,
As when all would join forces, bring out the Mothohive.
Heed those words well, and prey not go unguided,
Such is the Pavavorey's final smile, when your world becomes surely divided.
We will never be too far, so perish, as you may have already decided".
Fog clouded the room as Tyrant emits one final cast of his staff. A wormhole is opened, where the Pavavorey colonials perished, sent to live in an eternity of nothingness forever. Suddenly, what was once blocked from entry, a liquid substance floods from the fortress, and what was once merely a ring shaped crevice, filled with substance in a matter of minutes, what we would come to call Omen Water, a purification liquid.
It is with this victory Tyrant and Fate built a brand new order for the Depths, new decrees were made to keep order and peace in harmony. They discovered the IRIS was capable of harnessing far more than just spiritual essence, but was driven to bring extra protection and power through the Omen Water. Post haste, Lady Fate combines the river with the IRIS emblem, and is now capable of purification in spirits, and delegation between those that are corrupt, and those who were born for something more. As new spirits came flooding through the lands, more would land in the Omen rivers. Those who were corrupt were banished to the same endless void the Pavavorey colony remained. Those who remained untainted were given entry to the Onyx Colony, and remained there forever in a new afterlife.
Years had pa**ed, the Depths was colonised, creating societies made from the crimson onyx they stood upon. However, the new world flooded with colony civillians, and the Depths had become overwhelmed. It was decided that many needed to leave. Knowing they could never banish innocent souls, they had trained many up as Arcadian soldiers in the event of an evident overturn, casting them abilities risen from the mystical ent**ies they beheld.
While these soldiers were trained for combat, they were in for far more cataclysm than once thought. The eruption of their wormhole had brought dark matter to life, breeding a new devious energy across their scope, built from unknown origin. Creatures started falling from the sky in the form of paradigm worms, and leeching light from the Depths as they dug underneath its surface, charging straight towards the core. Such a curse had not gone unprepared, as Tyrant had planned for days like this one, as did the headed warning from the fallen Pavavorey. As such he recruited the finest soldiers in the land to help protect what was soon to become the age of calamity once more. 20 of the greatest arcanes and legion soldiers in their few marched alongside Tyrant and Fate, through dangerous territories not explored since dawn began.
Many days and months pa**ed, soldiers, kings and queens still marching through gusts of anarchy, they encountered their first monstrosities blocking their path. Each born from the culmination of paradigm worms leeching off the planet, it seems they needed this essence to slowly become true to life, in the form of chaotic and blackened creatures sizes bigger than our own. The Claustronoctus, feril and feline-esque. The Bypolesian, a venomous and eight legged nightmare, and the Anxosax, an aviator of destruction. Havoc ensued for hours before the soldiers all took their victory lap as the Depth's first threats fled from the scene.
Travelling through the cave of blind fortunes, Tyrant and Fate found a gauntlet, and summoned many to ignite the flames once more, bringing light inside the tomb of unwanted shadows. To their misfortune, they were not alone here. Paradigm worms lurked, on the cave walls and on the ground. Soldiers were tasked in clearing the landscape from parasites, until the time the gauntlet can be reignited. Many took the leap to travel far, and many had chosen to stand their ground, but after time took its course, the gauntlet was ignited, bleeding those flames through the cave. When all became visible, there lay a manifestation of chaos, larger and more hellish than the last. The Grief worm stood tall, boasting millions of jaws surrounding its entire body, capable of constricting several at a time, and using its many jaws to tear through flesh, bones, and even consuming spirits.
The fight was not lost, and while many of the soldiers remained wounded, desperate for health, but sacrificial in other's own wealth of life to keep them alive above all, the Grief worm was defeated, and also fled from the tomb. It appears all had been banished from the Depths, the air grew thicker with silence, the end of the tunnel felt nigh. Tyrant and Fate decided to set camp for their squadron overnight, to heal from their wounds. Day turned to night once more. Many songs were sung in merry cheer, laughter inbound. It was clear in their hearts victory was theirs, and they could safely retreat home.
But unfortunately, hapiness was merely temporary, as a large shriek resonated through the clouds, so powerful it parted the sky, as crimson red bled through the cave. Even stranger, they were heralded with a largely emitted light that shone upon them, distorting their sight. Tyrant and Fate stood atop the cliff as the land traveled beyond mountains and hillsides. There, in the Jaws of Dawn beholdeth the largest beast ever to have swooped the Depths. Wing span doubled its own body, casting its monstrous size as a shadow across the entire peripheral view, to make what felt like night again. Its eyes a rich blood red, and large light absorbing antenni charging closer to the colony soldiers. This was no ordinary encounter, and by no means a threat to ignore. After all, the paradigm worms absorbed enough energy from the Depths, and could finally create its biggest and far from final form, the Mothohive.
Soldiers had their souls absorbed, one by one many had fallen. Sacrificial healing was bestowed from allies, and if not for those sacrificies may have stood the test of time together as one. Trying to keep one alive, meant many had perished all the same. To Tyrant's astonishment however, all but one had fallen, and as the final bow for the soldier was taken, all hope felt lost.
Tyrant and Fate were the only ones left standing. In a desolate haste, Tyrant opened up the wormhole to the very same dark abyss the Pavavorey colony was banished, the Damned. Tyrant had come to forge a deal with Vyson to bring these soldiers to life to best the beast again before it can get stronger. To Vyson's surprise, his monologue turned out to have predicted the existence of these beasts of unknown origin. Fearing these beasts were only in Myth, it is now revealed to have come true, and feeling backed into a corner, Vyson decided to bargain with Tyrant in besting the beast once more, so it may not harm again. But a deal was made in return, when the mightiest falls, Tyrant and Fate's first born will be cast away to the damned, never to be released again. A cold hearted deal from an even colder hearted deviant, however what other choice did the world have? One dies for many to live, a sacrifice Tyrant felt was well made.
Vyson begrudgingly pa**ed Tyrant a healing talisman. The deal was also to flip the talisman, and if landed on the right face, will bring everything back. Land on the wrong face, Vyson keeps his regards with nothing to sacrifice in return. With an anxious flip, the talisman landed on the ground. Tyrant looked down, and as a tear shed from his eyes, the soldiers were revived once more, being given a second chance.
The all banded together once more, channeled their arcane energy and charged for the Mothohive. It seems while Mothohive may have been weakened, the beast was capable of bringing one final blow to Tyrant and Fate. They drew blood, and the blood lay waste to Mothohive's claws. Suddenly, from the combination of Tyrant and Fate's blood, and Mothohive's resonant manifestation, light emitted from the t**an, as a rather large and unknown object landed before them. And with this, the Mothohive collapsed in a weakened state. The soldiers banded together in victory once more, collected the remnants of the Mothohive, and left to return back home. Tyrant and Fate however, remained with this new found creation. It was a rather oddly shaped egg, emitting a purple haze wrapping around a dark essence.
Days of concern went by as the travel home felt even more tiresome, but out of surprise, the egg began to hatch, and what was inside came out neither dark matter, nor human, but what appeared to be the amalgamation of both. A new breed had become of the Depths, and was adopted into care by Tyrant and Fate. What felt like a victory to them, gave new inspiration for the name in legend they would write for this new member to the colony. And it was written that Goliath was born.
