Whispers from the Exalted Ones


Hear us, blackened ember of glory. Hear us, THE LEGEN DARY. We are the voices of the time before this time. We are the fire that burns within the Magi. We are the founts of what was once your wisdom and your woe upon the locus of creation. We were your transfiguration.

Once, we were as great blazes, and now we are as the campfires of men. Once, we shaped the turning of the heavens. Our desires changed the destinies of men and ended kingdoms. Now we are made lesser, echoes of the greatness that once was, choked slowly into silence by the doom that our own hands wrought.


Our story is one of hubris. Once, we were party to a crime so great that words cannot contain it. We laid our hands upon the pillars of heaven, and our bloodied knives gave birth to death itself. Our payment was the power to shape the fates of men, and we took it, for we were young and proud in those days.


And the power we had gained brought us nothing but sorrow. We were senseless with our power. Our road to perdition was paved with a hundred curses, each worse than the last, brought down upon our heads by the sin that brought our might.


In penance, we sought to mend the ills of the world without realizing that we ourselves were sickened. A war raged over creation’s destiny. Blindly, we followed prophecies that we ourselves had pronounced. Although the signs showed us that our pronouncements were in error, we closed our eyes to them. Surely, our vision was not in error. Rather, the portents of ill omen were mirages. The signs we ignored must only be the anxious dreams of cowards and old women.


We were wrong, and the world was broken for our error. Since then, it has been the way of things. Ceaselessly, we strangle one-another, while the world around us grows ruddy with the sunset of creation. As age piles upon age, our pride builds for us a mountain of murders so great that a man might stand upon it and have commerce with the sad and shabby things that once were gods.


This is our punishment. No good can come of the power that our sins won when the world was young. I have seen what must be done. I have spoken with the victims of our awful crime, when they lay sleeping in their tombs. I have set my face into the darkness and seen the Other.


In my absence, bring justice into the world. Revenge is your due. In your stead, I must return to those who are your rightful masters. They are not unforgiving. In the dark places beneath the underworld, they will teach us of endings even we could not foresee.


Whispers from the Exalted Ones

Hyde Park by Night Teleute Teleute