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[h1][color=yellow]The[/color] [color=gold]Sun[/color] [color=goldenrod]That[/color] [color=darkgoldenrod][i]Fell[/i][/color][/h1]

[h3][color=gray]60 BA[/color][/h3]

[sub][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiuC_CaObbI]Accompaniment[/url][/sub]

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When the onslaught of trolls came crashing down upon humanity, there were those who looked for guidance from the gods. Prayers unheard, lost to the echoes of time, forgotten and uncared for. Even as Oraelia slept, the people prayed to her for help, for compassion from the monsters in the night. They fell upon deaf ears, but such prayers were easily answered. There came a man, whose name was forgotten, remembered, changed, forgotten again. Yet his message remained. He who wielded the Oaken Branch, who could heal grevious wounds of the flesh- He who spoke for Oraelia when she had no voice. 

He told the people of the land, “Does not the Sun Mother answer our prayers with the rising of the sun? Are we blinded in her light? Left fumbling like we do in the dark? No! This is her gift to us! That we might grow in the light of her sun! That we might be healed by her warmth! She gave this staff to my grandfather as a token of her affection, so that we can live! So that we may thrive! She may be silent to us, but her Sunlight never will!”

It took years for his message to take root within their hearts, and long after his flesh was bones did it finally bore fruit. The message of his sermon brought about a beautiful city. Born in the Highlands, built pebble by pebble, stone by stone, all under the light of Oraelia’s sun. For it was her light that banished the Trolls in the day, her light that turned them to stone, her light that allowed life to flourish. They faced many threats, from trolls to the abominations, but never faltered in the face of uncertainty. How could they? The sun always rose. 

Until it didn’t. 

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It was any other day. 

The festival of the Bright One was in full swing. From sunrise to sunrise, the city of Solaria was bustling with merriment in the celebration of life. Beneath the statue of Oraelia, who stood tall over the four, was showered with gifts she could never see. Her gilded statue pointed to the sun when it rose, ushering in a new day. But now, the sun was setting in Solaria and behind her head did it sink on the horizon. Throughout the streets, the celebration continued on. Druids spoke of their travels, craftsmen bartered for goods, artisans created art as children laughed at plays. Common folk and royalty mingled with one another, sharing in drink and food, for all were equal under the sun. 

Solaria had stood as a beacon of light and hope in the Highlands, far removed from the corruption and decay of Keterfa while still maintaining trading routes of goods. It was a city of wealth, for in the shadow of the mountain, they had found minerals and ores ripe for the taking. Chief among that was a silvery metal that could be added with copper to produce bronze. They called it tin. Thus, trade was established with the city to the north, Acadia. 

Long had that trade route been established, for Acadia depended on Solaria for much, and in return, Acadia provided weapons. It was a relationship born of necessity, but both prospered from it. 

It was the watchers on the wall that noticed it first as the sun sank into the night. A nameless mass moving from the southeast, dark shapes large and numerous. A few had their suspicions, and many more just wanted their shifts to end. It was probably just a roaming pack of Quillats, or so they thought. It wasn’t until the mass made a beeline for the city that they realized their mistake. 

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[sub][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I79tVEDL724]Accompaniment II[/url][/sub]

It was the outskirts that came under attack first, before the warning bells could even be struck and when they did, the city quieted for just one moment, before hysteria broke out. Guardsmen began to run off to their homes, for they would be needed. 

Distant fires erupted amongst the fields outside the walls, as masses of people began to flee towards the gates. There was screaming and shouting, followed by the first of the attackers.

The abominations of man.

Iskrill.

Guardsmen boldly defended against the first wave of monsters, trying to save as many as they could, but then the call was shouted.

“SHUT THE GATES!” 

More panic ensued, there were still more people coming!

“SHUT THEM NOW!”

The great wooden doors began to shut, people were forced back as the last few lucky ones got through. With a resounding boom, hope died for those that remained outside. Then the horde came, and they were murdered before supposed salvation. 

A desperate battle began, as the Iskrill began to climb. There were thousands of them, all in various shapes and sizes of grotesque hideousness. Solaria’s guards fought valiantly against the tide, but they were caught unaware with little preparation and the flood of enemies overwhelmed them. Devoured where they fell, broken apart by vicious teeth and claws. For the Iskrill did not care about battle or war, they simply hungered and so the ramparts ran red.

As the tide of Iskrill entered the city from over the walls, the gates were broken by their strongest hunters, allowing the sack of Solaria- No, the slaughter of Solaria to commence. Many put up a brave fight. Druids prayed to their gods for powers, magicians unleashed their powers in climatic force, while normal folk died in droves. The Iskrill were impartial to what they ate, for their hunder induced a feeding frenzy so absolute, not even children were spared.

The statue of Oraelia remained silent as her city was devoured. Eyes ever ahead on the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise. 

But the people of Solaria would never see it. 

[hider=summary]
The fall of Solaria, written by elder Zee, 2020 AA. Recounts the tale of the city of Solaria. Much was lost in the fall and in memory. Such tragedy cannot be written without tears. 
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