Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Arena of Othemur



Othemur, one of the many gods of war. In his arena, pride counts for nothing. Neither does the glory, fame, fortune, honor, renown, courage, bravery...nothing counts for anything. But only to please. Pleasing the gods...no. Pleasing the pocket of the arena-master...no. Then what...

Quote from the Falor Volume.III, says the Black Mage Korin...

"In his Arena, there stood a tiny pillar with runes written on each side with different context. With each dead, runes would glow and cast a ray of light up to the sky, pointing out the infinity all across the otherworld right to the gates of Caramor. Knocking the gates of keeper, then returns back to underworld where the caster is. And the truth is...pillar was always there. So was the structures around it and we never thought the possibility of having runes all around that structure. I read the runes myself, the foul language used there was so vulnerable yet so compelling and stunningly chaotic. It was an obvious identification."

Tournaments, Duels, Hunts...arena is the place to graciously present any entertaining salvation to whoever desires. Great kings of the time used to wage wars for the possesion of the arena. Heroes used to fight each other for a drink of Horr. Brothers used to backstab each other for the keys of secret doors of the arena. Yet...they didn't know the Runic language and that is what brought their own salvation...

 Kings warred, soldiers won. Heroes fought, swords killed. Brothers betrayed, sisters sworn. In the end, Othemur got it all. He seized everything and devoured all of within the Arena. His endless hunger must come to an end.

So...my boy. Whatever happens in arena, stays with Othemur. And only himself. Only if the Pillar could be destructed...what, then?


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