RPGaDAy 2024: War Of The Silver Plains (battle + write a legend or rumour)

[taichara]

It is said that the Silver Fanged Palace is built atop the very centre of a battlefield's worth of death.

No, not merely a "battlefield".

A blood-churned expanse that swallowed the Plains and more, painting the churned earth crimson with the blood of the fallen.
Conflict so great that
-- in the end --
two great kingdoms were both laid low by the loss, never to recover their power or the faith of the pitiful survivors.

None know these kingdoms now.
They are only Night and Moon.

The blood of the fallen, they say, is the source of the rich red soil of the Silver Plains that brings forth so much bounty for people and Palace.
The blood, and the spilled lives.

Except.
Except.

Except the bones.
The pale broken bones.

It is, also, murmured that the great curving rise,
that broad hill-top,
on which the very Silver Palace itself was raised stone by stone,
was itself raised from the fallen of that ill-fated, monstrous conflict.

That the Great Crescent is, beneath its pale terrace-walls and hanging gardens,
beneath the veneer of rich red earth,
not earth and soil but pale and broken bones uncountable.
Packed like a jigsaw of war and waste, empty eyes staring, bare jaws silently pleading.

And the daring whisper that the Silver House of Llruaer draw their power from the countless dead upon whom they
literally
built their fountains upon.
Perhaps within.
Perhaps devoured.

The mad --
-- or the hopeful --
whisper, quieter still, that the dead may yet rally and break the chains of dead and living both
if only a means to reach them, to draw them, might be found.

Perhaps a night-dark lance or moon-curved blade,
to be turned up by a plowshare.