Seven tomes of ancient lore
kept sacred by locks and keys
about sigiled Judges and fallen Kings
with mystic Priests and fiery Prophets;
yet, amid them all a hero walked
in that darkened Nephilim age,
ere the world was washed away.
It was in those lost days of Adam,
after Cain’s violent fame was won,
when the immortal Sons of God
took the daughters of lesser men;
from those wives children were born
renown as teacher among the lesser men
called heroic giants, and Nephilim Lords.
From those far off eastern lands
Harad’s defeated forces fled
their war-torn realms for the
Ancient Shores of whispered hope;
there, they met that harbored remnant
of forgotten immortals so gathered
behind their vine-laced walls once fair.
Before Mithar those Bedouins pitched
their weary tents for commerce,
the trade of friendship, not to usurp;
with herds and daughters to give,
they sought their journey’s end
and learn from such tutors
what new skills they may.
In their meeting, that Judge Shadol
humbly came with broken heart, did praise
that fair sea-land King beside the Bay;
on behalf of his tribal father
desired the murderer be imprisoned;
thusly, in that lighthouse tower
was how their alliance was forged.
Under King Vendumar’s fair rule
they grew more subservient
in the secrecy of arrogant might;
as their tent-dwelling kin
were shunned for pagan beliefs
in retaining their skin-art traditions
yet remained free beyond the walls.
In time the lowly Nasil
became as students before
those fair Mitharian nobles;
by ritual lessons in secret rite
were they raised as stonemasons,
ship builders and fishermen,
then masters of elder lore.
A new people had come forth
from a forgotten few and dismayed
beneath the shadowed of a tower,
whose King’s words were law;
they came to be viewed as divine
before a fallen world in need
of their restored Light of Truth.
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