A
Azanulbizare
Guest
A book from The Compendium, one of Ambroses' most famous works. Ambrose is an RP Character of mine, and a writer. I am reflected in him in various ways. I'm doing this for myself.
~ Chapter I.I
“I’ve written many things, told many tales… But I’ve never written of that which shelters me, that which facilitates my production of truth-seeking belief. And so, after hours of deliberation, I have finally chosen those few careful words, those which will manifest themselves into a dwelling for which yourselves may take shelter…
And so, I overcome indolence, and complete that which has fled my conceptual reservoir for ages…
The Manor of Word, my, there is much to say about this architectural stain upon the beauty of the Forest of Heroes. Often have I begged myself to bring the Manor to its foundation, so as to relieve the Forests’ beauty of stress and infliction – but I cannot. Much to both my joy and regret, the Manor stands, and always will, as a testament to the Creator that I have survived his many tempests, whether they be by his will or not. My existence will live on through this body, and when this body has decayed, I will be remembered through my lexis.
Enough of me; to revel in ones own glory, is to make a fool of ones self.
Upon entering The Courtyard, you will find a garden of sorts. Rimmed with black roses, infested with thorny bushes, you should tread carefully when entering through the Ashen Gate. Strewn about The Courtyard are blades whose tips have become naught more than roots – yes, your eyes do not deceive you, though they often do. Steel’s of fallen comrades protrude through the dirt and flower that make up The Courtyard, and if one were to venture ‘round back, he or she will find a Shrine dedicated to those said memoirs. Old and rustic, the Shrine stands firm. I’d gladly lay down my life as armor for the Shrine of Meriana, for it contains the ash of my past – that which has formed the man before you, and that which has shaped his beliefs…
Though, before I continue, I s’pose I should go against the fray and ‘digress’. Finding the Manor is the true task, indeed. You will not find its location hidden within the pages of books, and rarely will you come across and individual whose ventured that deep into the wood – yes, I meant ‘deep’. I constructed this construct (Unintentional, now that I think about it) under the watchful eyes of the Druids – I remember an Elemental as well, who seemed scarce, as if shy. Over time, the grassy knolls upon which I built the Manor grew into a Forest, and much to my delight. The earth beneath my home slowly sunk as the trees around it ascended towards the heavens. Their branches infected the sky, blocking out the sun; the leaves, plentiful, trust me, tickled the low down clouds that slept atop the canopy. And so, hoping to preserve just a ray of light, I built a tower – the Spire.
~ Chapter I.I
“I’ve written many things, told many tales… But I’ve never written of that which shelters me, that which facilitates my production of truth-seeking belief. And so, after hours of deliberation, I have finally chosen those few careful words, those which will manifest themselves into a dwelling for which yourselves may take shelter…
And so, I overcome indolence, and complete that which has fled my conceptual reservoir for ages…
The Manor of Word, my, there is much to say about this architectural stain upon the beauty of the Forest of Heroes. Often have I begged myself to bring the Manor to its foundation, so as to relieve the Forests’ beauty of stress and infliction – but I cannot. Much to both my joy and regret, the Manor stands, and always will, as a testament to the Creator that I have survived his many tempests, whether they be by his will or not. My existence will live on through this body, and when this body has decayed, I will be remembered through my lexis.
Enough of me; to revel in ones own glory, is to make a fool of ones self.
Upon entering The Courtyard, you will find a garden of sorts. Rimmed with black roses, infested with thorny bushes, you should tread carefully when entering through the Ashen Gate. Strewn about The Courtyard are blades whose tips have become naught more than roots – yes, your eyes do not deceive you, though they often do. Steel’s of fallen comrades protrude through the dirt and flower that make up The Courtyard, and if one were to venture ‘round back, he or she will find a Shrine dedicated to those said memoirs. Old and rustic, the Shrine stands firm. I’d gladly lay down my life as armor for the Shrine of Meriana, for it contains the ash of my past – that which has formed the man before you, and that which has shaped his beliefs…
Though, before I continue, I s’pose I should go against the fray and ‘digress’. Finding the Manor is the true task, indeed. You will not find its location hidden within the pages of books, and rarely will you come across and individual whose ventured that deep into the wood – yes, I meant ‘deep’. I constructed this construct (Unintentional, now that I think about it) under the watchful eyes of the Druids – I remember an Elemental as well, who seemed scarce, as if shy. Over time, the grassy knolls upon which I built the Manor grew into a Forest, and much to my delight. The earth beneath my home slowly sunk as the trees around it ascended towards the heavens. Their branches infected the sky, blocking out the sun; the leaves, plentiful, trust me, tickled the low down clouds that slept atop the canopy. And so, hoping to preserve just a ray of light, I built a tower – the Spire.
