Histories of the Realm: The Book of the Damned Itself 1.0

This is but the beginning of a series of stories known as the Histories of the Realm. The following is the first installment of the Book of the Damned Itself, a very sacred book to those who live in the Realm, for upon it is based the entire religion of the Realm. Because of this book, the Realm became united in its religion. However, I cannot take full credit for the Realm. No, my friend and colleague, Bickle, must also be given credit. I came up with the Realm, but now, it has expanded to Bickle and a couple of others. Any other stories that are out there, are not quite complete. Also, there is a story that takes place a few years before Once Forgotten. That story is the tale of Flamian and Dylan, about their rise to power and their struggle against the "Dark Lord" Calrius. However, that tale is still under construction, and I have not quite finalized the canon on it. So for now, please enjoy the first of the Histories of the Realm.

If you would like to view just the Book of the Damned then check out logmeoutnow.blogspot.com This is Michael(Bickle)'s blog.
Again, the following belongs to Beck.
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Book of the Damned Prologue



And ye; before the book itself existed, in the time before the
Great Slumber, the time of Magyck, when all was good, it was believed upon death that souls became Magyck, and the Magyck would determine the course of the soul; whether to become the wind or the water itself, to become the currents from which we draw upon for our Magyck, or to become as elementals themselves; it was believed the Magyck equalized us, turning our souls for its own use, as we once used the Magycks soul for our own use.


The Fall of Chiel, as recounted by Lounce, son of Sheraflone, witness and member of the battle of Twin Rivers, recorded and appended to The Book of the Damned at 323 post Sealing

“He pressed his back against a tree, drawing up another arrow. He flung himself out of the cover, firing the arrow at the onrush of the demon. His long, braided ponytail followed behind him, whipping around like a fiery serpent of death.
‘Chiel! Get back!’ I howled.
A sachron rushed towards Chiel like a spider zipping along the side of a wall. It jumped in the air, unfurling it’s two underbelly appendages. Chiel had witnessed these scythes cut fully armored men to pieces. Venom sluiced off the end of the claws.
Cheil back stepped, drawing an arrow, and his ankle glanced off a stone. He went down, sprawling on the forest floor. The sachron leaped above him, maw unclenched, razors thirsting for blood. An arrow caught the monster mid-abdomen, pinning it to a nearby evergreen. Its black blood surged forth, boiling and hissing as it splashed among the pine needles matted to the ground beneath. Chiel hurriedly rolled out from the black rain.
There was no time for word of thanksgiving. Xla’s and relnits swarmed the hillside, thrashing against the brethren; Chiel’s mind reeled in horror as men fell and died.
The sun would set in sorrow this day.
A gruesome xla appeared in Chiel’s path. Its multi-horned skull had seen goring recently, for it was drenched with remains. It wielded the sword of black; for men knew not else to dub it, for the steel was not of their world. It came crashing down as a tidal wave breaks on shore, with thunderous reception it sang. Chiel parried the blow with his own blade, steel of man, extension of his own self, his own will to live.
Man and demon clashed. Attacks exchanged force. Chiel saw an opening and took it, gutting the beast and leaving a stain upon the earth.
‘Chiel!’ Again a voice of a comrade called to him; again it was one he did not recognize.
‘Chiel! The demons return!’
Chiel yanked his sword from out of the xla, letting his eyes linger on the doings of his sword. When he lifted them he saw a wave of fire, a sundering of vision. A heat blur rolled before him, enthroned in flame. It tumbled and made invisible the demons, which departed with a cloud of ashen smoke.
A sizzling as of that on a heated skillet over fire crackled and popped. Sachron blood was upon Chiel. It must have fallen on him when the demon was shot unto the tree. He removed his blackened glove as it caught flame, as the blood is wont to do on the wool of the sheep. Droplets from the cast article flew onto him, splotching his arm. The splotch spread and darkened his flesh.
I was within distance to aid. I flew towards him, running as fast I know how, to sever his arm from his body, lest he become as soot under our feet.
The wave that cleansed the earth rolled onward, lustrating the demons from our realm. The trees buckled as it drew close, and Chiel gripped his arm with an intense fury. His veins were sprouting and coming to the surface. The blackness of the demon spread onward; up towards his elbow joint, when the flaming wave drew nigh.
Chiel grasped his arm at the bicep and looked upward unto the sky as I lurched to remove his affliction and save him from certain death. Just then his eyes locked with mine, and in them, such suffering, and such pain. The wave rolled onto us, and I witnessed our brother Chiel become as ashen smoke that drifted away with the tumbling wave of fire.”