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The Water Will Not Quench Their Thirst

from Elabrynth by Torii

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In another place... In another time...
There was once a grandiosity that shone before all the heavens.
It's hills and valleys wrapped about its flowing seas with bountiful mirth and might, a continent where man and beast both became sentient as they paved out their short and fragile days amongst the labors of their lives. In that realm, were first the elves; children of an arrogant deity who relish in all things of elegance. Their cities were intricate elaborations, crafted with the finest of skill and by the boldest of tacticians. The elves had lived, just as the other denizens of this world had, without a day's regret from harboring the fruits of this plenteous land.

Yet this story is one that begins unlike many, as it opens with death. For the elves who had once sought the water from the flowing stream now wither at the foul and bitter taste that befell it's once cool and gentle waters. The taste is one of toxin, a poison that breeds like a venomous plague throughout their once prosperous empire. It's almost as if someone wanted them deposed, moved henceforth from the chessboard; whilst a towering city stands high in the distance. As they cry out in muted gazes, the only word that can be read on their lips is one of man's tongue... Elabrynth. It is a word that some know all too well, have seen and read and studied thoroughly the prophecies and signs of the rising empire, the statute of man and his machinations. Within its walls nature also withers, as the thick walls of this structure continue to barricade the ways of old; replacing them with new philosophies of crooked tongue and false virtue. The sharpest of nobles are well aware as to what killed the elves, yet those who dare to mutter its existence will find themselves unable to speak for the remainder of their days.

What exists here is an excerpt from the journal of an unnamed chronicler, a unfortunate fellow who witnessed the lives of those that he once cherished vanish, one by one... flowing ever into dust.

lyrics

My brothers, they're all dead
Something surely served to make them ill
They carried off towards the stream one day, to gather broth for the meal
Though no one heard a word from them, as the horror had soon to be revealed
As I ran towards the water, I saw their bodies lifeless lying there
Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes were pale, their bodies weak and bare

Tears soon left my eyes as I stared into the dawn
I cursed the four Gods of old, why so soon have they gone?
As the sun illuminated the water, I could see it glowing bright
It's crystal blue essence had evaporated with the night
I saw the foul poisons dumped from that structure up above
How could such a radiant architecture spew such spiteful sludge?
This stream is our life
Without it, we will surely die

I spoke to the elders, in the crystal palace high
They threw my words over shoulder and considered them to be lies
In the days ahead, several scouts were sent off to the stream
Yet none of them ever returned, assuring me that this was no dream
Magicians and alchemists were called to level off this curse
Though their words and potions failed, as the effects kept growing worse

In the days that followed after, my people suffered from the drought
Some of them ran into the stream, though never came back out
We elves are stubborn people, so we continued to press on
Yet I knew deep inside myself, that we hadn't very long

The water will not quench their thirst
As they wretch with frozen looks of fear
The water will not quench their thirst
As our genocide looms ever near
The water will not quench their thirst
As this majesty slowly disappears

The water will not quench their thirst
As the venom falls into the stream
The water will not quench their thirst
As they gasp and choke in this foul dream
The water will not quench their thirst
As the Gods were nowhere to be seen

As I writhe here all alone, the last of my kind
The stream has taken all of them, yet I fear I'm going blind
These last words that I inscribe will surely fade to dust
But with my last breath, I'll curse that iron beast
The whore that never rusts

credits

from Elabrynth, released July 9, 2014

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Torii Rogers, Arkansas

Apocalyptic black/death/doom

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