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« Tuesday, October 2, 2001! »

« Dedicated to: Jessica Strong »

Tá Bheàshdusceànn gorg da Hlíemhraàna-Srarísheí

           Ámhedeágcac ní àal…
           Ámhedeágcac ghareàffa mo ruígh na hIluírain sí. Sín à sír berfhorch sír doch, forèchadh - dta hía. Sí phlía sích níc Lhanna an hiluísar. Àal gharuíf peàmh beshíra solaim uáfhoínn saà - gcalleànn sír límòa go ishceàllain dhoàl. Àal ghahachmedía go ríafain rhían, theànn í híacon sír. `Shae, reànna òir,` Gharuíf àal. `Marg go reàshain an òi hichlàu.` Ámhedeágcac thíersha an mo hía go peàglain Shamíerain sí, nharcíl solas gharuíf beshír an bair huílair í aleàraich, go muàdhain sír í go uíshírain. `Òi ber - salàcha Agabhair à bergcaith besh mo uímhair nuátha marg.` Gharuíf àal, go líemhain mhara-gcalashain, hilùfh í sír. Sheígh-gcalash í sír heluír beshírach mo dhoím, í ghafaira hÁmhedeágcacain solas an beshír í àal gcòu. Elleàph phensh an berbhoàgh nínaoth.
           Iluíra Shamíera ber - ghasash fhennaigh àal an hÁmhedeágcacain, go sashain, à eàchaion gcínn, solas sreà ní phíucs haphuá, go meàrchain mo bhí. Níc phíucs, berbhaegach sreàmach tá bhaggainn na Dhuín gNashain í alcaàn, go pedagain an hilùfain à eàchaion go ríafain. Ámhedeágcac pheàdach an míuggainagh bheànain í mhedían sír. Í bhraí Ámhedeágcac beshírach níl hIluíra Shamíerain cúnin an bannàu-hoàrgaich sír, go meàchain mhuíadhain lhímoàth. Àal mhír ghafael mo hIluíra Shamíerain gcínn, an go ghafhorch. Solas-peàdagain à eàchaion, í bercòuadh phàulceàiln solas dhreàch an muíd à lach rí. Ghumheàrchnain sreàm àupha áumhair phàulceàiln, í-far rí-líemh an Phechain. Mo bhí an catta! Go bebhain an gra ghumheàrchnain na hIluíra Shamíerain sí, àal hÁmhedeágcacain nlòigc mheàrch solas an gra. À ghumhaíchnain an bhí.

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           Owedæghax proceeded deep into the open desert towards the beckoning whispers of the woman. Come and join with me, she enticed repeatedly to him. Owedæghax's Cognition was inveigled and numb from her sensuous pleas. His focus was narrow and nothing else interrupted his train of thought. Not even his faithful companion, the noble squire, Liám.
           Liám remained by the side of his Mazzaroth for days in the deep desert and he hastened quickly to stay by his side along the way. There were times he nearly dehydrated, but the blessing of Iskàul was upon Liám. Despite the heat, he was not weakened by the overpowering srías, and he believed that Owedæghax, on the other hand, was punished by his god. The srías overpowers him but he does not know it. A week had passed since Owedæghax journeyed into the desert and inspite of the harsh environment, Owedæghax persevered at the hand of another. Princess Iluíra? Strange as it was, but Owedæghax never wavered in his pursuit of the Princess Iluíra.
           Liám did not understand what pulled Owedæghax away from his Cognition and Liám observed that Owedæghax was not at peace with himself. He tunes out the Abjurants! Regardless of his condition, Liám made a solemn oath to his Mazzaroth not to leave his side. He needs me, he thought respectively. I must insure his safety and legacy.
           The Nash Desert was barren in all directions, and the only aspects, which highlighted the sandy, brown surface, were the sand dunes. Some towered over the desert and some created swallowing valleys. Yes, the sand was an obstacle and barrier, but it was the only notable surface to the barren Nash lands.
           Everything else was empty. In all directions, there was nothing, only towering dunes.
           When night fell on the seventh day in the desert, Owedæghax stopped dead in his tracks, but unbeknownst to him, his faithful companion lagged behind somewhere. He was nowhere in sight! Liám was lost in the deep desert...or dead! Once again, this did not catch the attention of Owedæghax. He failed to recognize that his faithful companion was missing, nor did he care. So it seems. He was under the spell of another. Looking straight ahead in the moonlit, blackness of night, Owedæghax saw a woman dancing erotically near a tent. He watched lustfully, as she danced around a campfire. It was his destination.
           The strange woman danced seductively and chanted to Owedæghax, extending her hand and bidding him to come into her. She knew that he arrived from afar, and her plan for reaching him had worked. The woman had fiery, red hair, and as Owedæghax approached her, he noticed that her hazel eyes glinted sharply in the light of pheka. A glint of fire in her eyes. She continued to lure Owedæghax closer, so he could see her better and behold her extreme beauty.
           Continuing to approach the woman, he was overcome by her voluptuous figure. It captivated him while she danced under the moonlit sky. She wore only a two piece garment, which revealed her shapely bosom and curvy form. Owedæghax was completely enticed now. She had set the bait and caught the fish. The woman moved closer to Owedæghax, rubbing the bare skin of her inner thighs against his loins, trying to arouse him. Then, she placed her hands upon his bare shoulders and rubbed them affectionately. She was preparing to initiate the first move. Finally, she spoke hypnotically with a sweet, euphonious voice. It soothed and pacified Owedæghax, filling him with passion. "I am Princess Iluíra," she introduced. "I have my instructions to lie with you and create Aga'abair, the great lineage of the Great Prophet."
           This was the one who would become the Father Historian in the realm of Arden. But, there was more to this pact that Owedæghax was unaware of.
           Owedæghax moved closer to the Enchantress. Her reputation preceded her--literally. She was the personification of Desire itself. He wrapped his arms around her awesome physique without second guess. He desired to cling onto her smooth and flawless skin. "Yes, my dear," he stated. "I know what is required of me as well." Owedæghax did not hesitate to touch or fondle the Princess, because he had already embraced her intuitively, desiring to know her intimately. "I will ensure that this prophet prolongs my legacy," he stated, looking into her fiery, hazel eyes. Her sharp eyes drew him into her deeper until Owedæghax had forgotten about all that he was. An entrance into her Window of Essence.
           Princess Iluíra began removing Owedæghax's clothes, and doing the same unto her, they both went into her tent to make love with one another. Inside the tent, they both layed across the ancient Nash sand, caressing and embracing each other. Owedæghax stroked her bountiful hair and forced himself with gratifying pleasure against her bosom, while Princess Iluíra returned the affection only greater than it was given. Continuing to caress each other, the night had become satiable and pleasing to them. Their lovemaking went on beyond the culmination of pheka, through out the night. A long time. As fulfilling as making love to the Princess was for Owedæghax, he had never experienced love to this magnitude ever, and it was satisfying to him.
           Just before dawn, Owedæghax layed upon his back with the Princess by his side. The fulfilling night had tired him and he was ready to sleep. He hadn't slept in days to begin with. Owedæghax pulled Princess Iluíra closer to him, finally closing his eyes. Ready for sleep.
           Suddenly, Owedæghax began sweating profusely, losing a great quantity of his water, and his only response was wiping his forehead. Heat raged like a furnace in his head, but it didn't seem to phase him with worry. He was sick, and he failed to make the connection of what was happening to him. At this point, he really didn't care, as long as he was satisfied by Princess Iluíra. His conscience and purity was escaping his body. As sweat continued to bead over his body, he layed quietly, not noticing the folly of his ways. It was his final forfeit to his identity. His god, Vínuim, had forsaken him. The morning dew of his god would no longer refresh him each day.
           Just before falling asleep, Owedæghax heard Princess Iluíra whisper in his ear. It was garbled and unclear, because he was tired, but upon hearing her, his insides perked up for the first time, since his departure to meet her. "Thank you for giving me what I needed to deceive you," she whispered faintly. She kissed him on the forehead.
           Still not hearing well, Owedæghax passed out quickly. Did he hear what he thought he just heard?
           The saga of Owedæghax... ^

The Sojourners' Litany of Plíagge:
One may ask me: "Which way is it towards the Horizon?"
Or another may say: "Why do you travel from dawn into
the night?" My response would be: "It is I who am Westbound.
I travel far and wide to search the heart of existence. There,
beyond the stage layers of time lies Plíagge, the heart of secrets.
I am Westbound, and I have come from the east. Follow me on
my sacred pilgrimage. Let the secrets beyond Arden quicken
thee, you who are of the east. Let the Horizon be thy guide!"
Mannoá the Heartfelt--Chieftain of the Westbound Sojourners

The Black Sleep falls!
Sample Stories
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Saturday, September 29, 2001
Tuesday, October 2, 2001
Saturday, October 13, 2001
Wednesday, November 14, 2001
Tuesday, January 8, 2002
Tuesday, January 29, 2002
Wednesday, February 20, 2002
Monday, July 8, 2002
§ Thank you for not nicking my material §

Oakbrook 17-102
Eric R. Chatham
Webelf at Arden
Medina County, Ohio
Copyright © 2003