Cerulean Palace

Celebrations of the Citizens of the Commonwealth;

~ as well as ~

Condensed Stories Passed from the Emissary.

The tales below may balance along the knife's edge of truth - as the palace and its servants have long succumbed to the crumbling of time. Nor has humanity laid virgin eyes upon the crystal wastes of the forlorn empire of Paxl who once inhabited this strange reality.

Consider these stories nothing more than fables. Stories a father tells his children, who in turn tell theirs. A meager glimpse at the history of the Crimson System - eloquently mistranslated through the word of mouth of soothsayers, celebration holders, and the Crimson Emissary himself.

Surely these musings of magic and holy souls is fairytale… and nothing more.


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CERULEAN PALACE RUINS

REALM OF THE WITCH QUEEN


Celebrate resolute 'ere the Allsoul hear our praise

Ne'er cast to oblivion the evocation of Martyr Saints
who spilled their blood upon Cerulean Gates.

Blood which stained the Witch Queen's favor.
Blood for Koælus, rebirth avor.

Praise be the glorious executed - who live even in death



SHATTERED CRYSTALS

HOLY BLOOD

A realm oppressed and ruled with steel
Shattered with contact from souls of zeal
Their blood ran, stained, upon the gates
Stained crimson, crimson, these dire straits

Vraxus: bastard, soulless whore
A Queen whose sins unanswered for
A Witch whose crystal magic fire
Was set against her, whore to pyre

The blood rained down into the ground
Stained crimson, crimson, all around
Into the soil, grass and trees
Tall price to pay, for being freed

A Witch is dead, and day to night
Her wicked curse, condensed to light
The stars alive and watching still
Vraxus, soulless, never killed

So darkness plunged across the world
Earthquakes boiled and cracked and curled
This homeland proud that we once knew
Tall price to pay… this dark subdue

Our Martyr Saints, their souls aloft
Committed one more blessing, soft
As souls coalesce, and find new life
Formed lanterns to protect from strife

Our holy light, destroy the night
Our Martyr Saints whose souls ignite
Hold back the darkness, keep at bay
Terrors, monsters, beasts, we pray

We pray to you this holy hour
And curse the Witch Queen's crystal towers
Her palace, shattered, broken, blue
Cerulean gates, we stain anew.

GRANT US LIGHT


castle.jpg

Here the Witch Queen's cursed ashes lay.

> Tyranny's Stem

It was called Koælus… the land before, when the ides of crimson were untold. In venturing back, the Porter discloses the truth of the realms vestal to the staining of holy blood. We must go back… before the stars had eyes. Before there was salt from the heavens, and death in the fields. Back to the rule of the Witch Queen Vraxus.


To the time of crystal and fire.


Her iron fist, clenched relentlessly upon the throat of the empire, enslaved all Paxl under her rule to toil without respite. Birthed into servitude, the Witch denied mortality to her servants, corrupting them from within with crystal - an unnatural indentured servitude long past expiry - or baptizing in fire those who would deny her dictation. The land was not stained crimson, nor did it fold and twist unto itself. Vraxus oversaw her realm for infinity - spreading crystal perfection ever further with her malice; and her magic.

It was called Koælus: this nation which the Witch Queen would violate and pervert, within which the Cerulean Palace festered and grew like a gangrenous wound. Her arrogance a challenge to God himself, her cruelty a slight against all that is natural. Too bloated, too arrogant, too unnatural - the doom of the tyrant was inevitable in time.


Upon her execution did the world erupt.


The lands of Koælus are of now unrecognizable; blasted and stained. Nothing remains. Nothing, save the ruins of the Cerulean Palace and the shattered crystal empire of the indentured Paxl. Lost to time and upheaved by the curse of the Witch Queen's dying wrath, they are of now desolate and empty. Cold crystal slowly eroded by cold winds, and witnessed only by the stars. Vraxus's immortal hatred - gazing upon her folly for eternity. The Queen, cursed with the visage of the rubble, where once she ruled arrogant and in defiance of the divine.

Such is the fate of such a wretched creature.

In her dying throes did she speak dark evil into the world, cursing with hexes powerful and secret, and erupting forth in undying spirit. A tortured soul, fueled by anger, pierced with white hot pins of hatred, never to subdue. And in this wrath did she upheave the realm - folding the lands upon themselves, crumpling the very world into itself. As she writhed in death, the blood of the Martyr Saints who prostrated themselves upon the gates of the palace did seep into the world and stain it crimson and red, and offer their lives as nutrients for rebirth.

Their death for our life - their sacrifice for our renewal. As arrogant as Vraxus was in ruling, so were they in dying. In all of her destruction did the Martyrs offer creation. In her wrath, did they offer mercy. Such was the hatred the Saints held in their hearts for the evil the Witch Queen embodied - a hatred strong enough to counter hatred.


And so we offer prayers for their sacrifice…


… and wish for crystal to erode to dust. Time swallows all. Even you, you know. The Porter offers us these tales without recompense; the least we can muster is to share these tales should the evocation of Martyr Saints be cast to oblivion. Celebrate those who live even in death - celebrate resolute 'ere the Allsoul hear our praise. In our absolution of tyranny can life flourish anew.

> Location Within the System

The ruins of Koælus have been, as to our current understanding, untouched by humanity. Where it lie in accordance to other Limspaces detailed by the Porter has not been revealed to us. We can safely assume that the ruins of the Cerulean Palace rest within the very centre of the System; far far away from the dark fields that intersect our Baseline. An imagined model of the system might suggest the epicenter of the dark forces - the Palace - is a whole world away from our earthly thresholds.

Perhaps there is a vast crimson ring around the lost Paxl empire… a blasted crater which citizens of the Commonwealth have only found their way into the most meager fringes of. We simply cannot know.

Whether any living human from the Commonwealth will ever bear witness to the expanse of shattered crystal cannot be known. We must wait for the Porter to bring us more tales - perhaps one day we will be blessed with a very special gift from our Crimson Emissary. Perhaps one day we will know that humanity has discovered the root of the Crimson System's history for themselves. What a thought that we could reach so far, and behold such a far off, outlandish concept. One can only imagine.

Until then, the closest we can reach is to join in the ceremonies and share the tales.

May we be granted light.


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