Pages

Search This Blog

Monday, February 27, 2012

Master Words of Power


Tales and songs of Dzor Khorenin are typically not the fare of many bards, though occasionally one hears this tale. Bards regard the song about this supposed forefather of their art with a range starting in ambivalence and ending in hatred. Some consider his acts the most heinous of crimes committed while others sorrow at the choice he had to make. Regardless of their feeling, all agree that according to the tales, Dzor Khorenin justly held a reputation of power, subtlety, and spoken presence so intense that none could abide or deny his words. His charisma, once unleashed, was undeniable.

All of the tales and songs agree that lying idle one day, Dzor was surprised by Oolnydragen, the Demon of Whispers. Now the slightest sound of Oolnydragen’s voice was death, it was said, and it hated all other beings. Its utmost delight was in the expression of surprise and fear adorning every victim’s face as they heard its voice. Dzor knew these tales well, for he had sung them myriad times to inspire fear in others, mimicking the stealthy approach of Oolnydragen to strike terror in children and adults alike. Presented by reality, Dzor acted in the only way he instinctively could—he began to sing! Dzor raised his voice in an attempt to drown out Oolnydragen’s whispers as they burned into his mind. Its tentacles and oozing tendrils followed, but as they whipped and whirled around him, Dzor ignored his dread and spoke more powerfully the words, belted out the songs that made him tower in greatness. With each word and song he felt safer, yet at the same time felt a sharp pain as if something was literally torn from him. In horror, he soon realized Oolnydragen was devouring his every word, stripping away each song, forever ripping them from his being! Trapped and refusing to accept such a death, he sung on, feeding Oolnydragen every hateful word, epithet, destructive phrase, and song of death he could produce. As they flowed from him, each departed like a treasured friend, forever leaving, never to return. Yet, no matter what hate-filled magik he spoke, Oolnydragen never wavered in the devouring of his speech and seemed to eternally yearn for more.

With no recourse left, Dzor spoke the words of power that shaped him into the master he was, letting each one go like an arrow at the heart of the Greater Demon. Oolnydragen shivered with each word, each master’s utterance given form in song, but Dzor only sorrowed as he watched the power slip from him forever. In the end, exhausted, armed with only his last word, Dzor spoke and waited, fatigue overcoming him. The silence that fell after this last, final, cogent utterance was a burning razor across his skin, and utterly drained, Dzor could only wait, eyes closed, for his doom. In a length of time where legends melted and time ground to dust, past when he could stand it no more, Dzor opened his eyes and found Oolnydragen gone—blasted perhaps, or just filled to the max of his gullet, drunk in Dzor’s power and mastery over the word and song. Regardless, Dzor sorrowed mightily, for now he was but a shadow of what he was, and words that had defined him were gone—slipped away in the voracious appetite of the Greater Demon. Thus, so went the words of power for bards from the world…

No comments:

Post a Comment