Braison Cyrus
Bio
Just a dad who loves to share stories. Follow the wizard Springhill Jack on a journey across the fantastical world of Randós. Check me out on Instagram if you want to book some one-on-one writing workshops with me! @braisonccyrus
Stories (15/0)
To Be In Limbo
to be in Limbo I would rather be in Hell and know where I stand
By Braison Cyrusabout a month ago in Poets
The End of Emblar
Wrothgar threw down his weapons and shouted, “Do not harm them! Storn should have the final say on what happens to the ones we left alive!” Rikka, still holding a sword to her prisoner’s throat, said, “he would not suggest we ransom them! These Shifters are dangerous, far too dangerous for that kind of mercy.” The sky grew darker and things were changing all around them. “You’re right,” said Wrothgar, “but we’ve yet to hear from Jorn or Storn since they left to have talks with the Waning King. Their tongues are sharper than our swords you know.” Rikka nodded at her brother and then slit the throat of her captive. The other Shifters, who were in the service of Elonwye, looked on at them as savages but never showed a glimpse of fear. This world was living its final day and the sun was just near its resting place on the horizon. Blood ran across every inch of ground on Emblar. The other 8 worlds had already met their fate while Emblar itself still gasped for air. “I heard from the others that the ships were almost ready. Elloga crafted these to ride the rifts of Outer Darkness, hopefully somewhere far away from this place,” Wrothgar said hoping to reassure his sister. She was lost for a moment, gazing at a field of stone graves on the other side of the battlefield. She said to herself in a quiet voice, “Look after the place while we’re gone, father.” Wrothgar pulled Rikka by her hand and they ran toward the shipyard to meet with the others.
By Braison Cyrus3 months ago in Fiction
Merfolk of Randos
The first thing that one will notice when they lay eyes on a Mer is the ornate mask that is afixed to their faces. No one is sure what lies beneath it but the mask itself is rather unusual. The mask is crafted from an assortment of shells in the image of a human face. This practice of wearing these masks goes as far back as anyone can remember. The Merfolk have an admiration for humans, seeing them as their protectors. Time and time again, men have proved themselves to be allies to the Merfolk, whether they live in their waters or the seas abroad, men tend to arrive at the perfect time to be their saviors. This has resulted in the custom of mask wearing in their likeness and returning the favor in being devoted allies to the nations of men when they are in need of them.
By Braison Cyrus6 months ago in Fiction
Influences and Inspirations
Hey Everybody! Thank you so much for checking out the stories and engaging with the world that I’m making. This has been super fun for me to experiment with writing creatively outside of the music space. After working so hard on these short fantasy stories, I wanted to take a step back and do a more personal exploration of where some of these ideas are coming from, some of my inspirations and some of the stuff that I really like. Some of these things I talk about in this post may not seem like they connect to the fantasy world of Randos I’m creating or my music but these are the things that I enjoy and make me who I am creatively on some level. Hope you guys enjoy this piece and I will get back to more fantasy content soon!
By Braison Cyrus6 months ago in Humans
Terrador Civil War
The secession of the northern territories is the most contentious event in the recent history of Terrador. The wounds of the civil war are still healing even today. King Hrodulf has done much to suppress the separatist movement and attempted to build back bridges that had been previously burned. The separatist movement was largely led by the well respected and honorable chieftain of Hearthmound, Aethelric, who was backed by the other northern states of Novengrad, Vagen, Harstagg, Solsgard and Kriev. Today, the land of Terrador is still unified under one crown. However, the northern states are still reeling from the damage of the war and the people’s opinion of King Hrodulf is still stained with the blood from the war.
By Braison Cyrus6 months ago in Fiction
Gantamachy Pt 2
The war began and began again and again. This war would never end for it was doomed to be a cycle. Jorn and his siblings would crash their flame-shapes into the crystalline carapaces of the Elvenwyes, the ancestor spirits of Elven kind that followed Elonwye. Jorn led an army of his own, the predecessors of Mennic souls known to him as the Dead-In-Shape. The first to fall in this war was Jorn’s own son, Branni, the youngest and fairest of all his children. The Mennics were born from Jorn’s grief of his son's passing. With each passing cycle the war got more and more destructive but also created more in its wreckage, which was the definition of potential according to the Mennics. The Nine Worlds or the “Piles of Bones,” were the result of the carnage.
By Braison Cyrus6 months ago in Fiction
Gantamachy Pt 1
After the absence of both Ieru and Sheol, Absolon ruled the heavens above in his Aparthenon. The Aparthenon was his temple and also his wife, with which he consummated his love of his own design. This fornication led to the birth of his three sons, Manwye, Anonwye and Elonwye. These broods slept within the prismatic cells of Aparthenon, absorbing the knowledge Absolon had of the universe through her. Absolon understood the whole universe of the above but had no knowledge of the darkness of Sheol below. From time to time, he would gaze down into the darkness to see what was happening but all he ever saw was his own likeness in the mirror that is the below. Yet every time he would look and gaze at himself, his three sons absorbed the knowledge he had of himself, making them more and more like their father. Elonwye, from within his waxy nest, dreamed that one day he would sit in the throne of his father within Aparthenon, so he sipped the nectar of knowledge from Absolon unknowingly over time.
By Braison Cyrus6 months ago in Fiction
Origa Omnicum
The origin myth of Randos is as biased as it is complicated. The Elven and Mennic retellings of the story always seem to be skewed toward their gods being the most righteous and true. Through compiling the different tales, though difficult, it’s possible to reach an unbiased conclusion through shared themes in both of their stories. The men seem to believe that they and their gods were wronged by the ancient spirits of elves and their gods while elves portray it all as a misunderstanding. We will try our best to compile both myths to see what we can agree upon in both cultures and hopefully reach some sort of philosophical and theological bedrock.
By Braison Cyrus7 months ago in Fiction
The Fortnite War
One of the greatest heroes of Kilton culture is King Fionn MacCuel of Clan MacCuel for fending off the northmen of Terrador who were led by Warlord Roark of Novengraad. He and his barbaric troops landed on the northern coast of Kilt and raided down to the central plains. The clans of Kilt’s northern coast fought them off for days before falling back beyond the Forest of 'Fetch. It was the first time a raid like this had occurred in Kilt’s history and the clans and their leaders were not prepared for the battles to come.
By Braison Cyrus7 months ago in Fiction
Who Is Springhill Jack?
A Closer Look At The Enigmatic Wizard And What We Know About Him By Foy LeVanc of the Highcrest Library In the rolling hills of the Green in Kilt, lies the humble village of Springhill. The people here are quiet, respectful and cheery. They are always sure to greet you with a smile, a wave and a “Good mornin’,” or “Have a lovely evenin’.” Travelers are welcome, what few of them there may be. One thing happens to stand out in this remote village. In a small cottage, whose stone chimney is always billowing a cloud of white smoke, lives the reclusive wizard known as Springhill Jack.
By Braison Cyrus7 months ago in Fiction
Larethi History and Culture
Written by Brother Ronan at the Priory of the Three in Nimen Lareth is the beautiful island kingdom and homeland of the Larethi, or Elves as they are called by Men. There are other colonies of Elves throughout the world that derive from the Larethi, though they are far too remote, uninvolved and therefore speculative in nature to include them in this brief history. Lareth, in the native Elven tongue, means “where the sun sets,” therefore making the Larethi the “Sun Elves.” It lies in the west of the world plane in the pearlescent Opal Ocean which reflects the sun with a scattering of dust created from the abalone shells that refract the light into rainbows on its surface. Some sailors say that isles from a distance are nauseating from it's beauty and that it shines so bright that you can’t look directly at it. The most prominent site on the isles of Lareth is the capital city of Elven rule, Elsvid, which sits on the coast and presents you with grandeur ranging from its proudly standing towers and temples that seem to be built from the white cliff rocks that they perch upon. As you get closer and explore, the land and its people seem to leave you more and more amazed.
By Braison Cyrus7 months ago in Fiction
