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The Just Ones

Like thunder they come and lighting they ride, upon the backs of howls, the roar of lions and the
fire that only a dark night can describe. As beams of light and great torrents of shadow, out of the
Earth, from the sea, and from the depths of darkness that One only gawks at. A great evil, A great
good, they all come to this place, the place of creation. For it is here, and only here, that Gods are
made; and made by the hundreds. With this soil, with this wind, and with this fire is now cooked
with whitened wine and blessed water. As righteousness is upheld they still clamor.

“More”

Thousands now descend, hundreds rise above. More Gods to the fray, more blood, more death
and more life to pay the toll. And great the toll is.

“More”

A great injustice they have seen. The old ones run rampant, tales told by imbeciles who adorned
their heads with silk turbans. Claiming the desert, they spread their evil.

“More”

But the sin is not theirs alone. More have sought their treasures, and in their glimpses, corrupted
the words written upon holy bark.

“More”

They are here.
Where love once sired greatness it now sires pain. Where a craft was more than its domain and a
word was held with meaning. Where the ancients played, now they mourned.
For the Just Ones have come. Great beings all and Tyrants to Servitude. Our Beacon of Light
on a perilous morning, she shines the greatest, Where evil may not thread its weave. And darkness
is no longer a curse, and can be given sweetly back to our maiden Moon. And Fire is no longer
feared, but cherished. Where death walks naught, but flies, upon wings of dragons and delivers his
message swift and firm. Where angels ascend and come back, to reap upon this world the Just,
The Wise, and the Merciless. For tainted is their name, by lesser creatures that mock upon the
weave of the Gods. Old, no regards there, yet old all the same. Before the Gods they are nothing.
Before the Just Ones, they will cower.

Be without fear.
All they want is to kill the myth. They want their Honor back.. This is, after all, The Internet. And
tales are all we have.

-A Tale from Yinufrgreth, written by The Anariarchs Pen.
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November 20, 2012
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