Transcript of The Book of Armadyl
Chapter 1 [edit | edit source]
I arrived on this world several sunsets ago. This is a desolate place: the ground is grey dust in all directions; it is cold and light is scarce. I taste the air and know my people could never have survived here. It is a fitting place for me to stay, for a time.
I walk as I write. My wings trail in the dust, a zigzag record of my time here, and my thoughts turn to legacy. There is nothing of me on Gielinor: my aviansie are dead, my staff has been lost. In time, they will forget me. There is something reassuring about that.
A bright light catches my eye, far to the west. I fly to it. It is nothing but a meteorite, smoking in a crater. This world's similarity to the wilderness of Forinthry is inescapable.
Chapter 2[edit | edit source]
There is no land on this world, just wind, water and waves. Nothing stays still. The chaos of it all deafens me. I hunger for peace, stability, growth; so - upon my arrival - I froze water and made an island. A migrating bird still needs a perch.
To pass the time, I flew on the crosswinds and tried to forget my troubles. I remembered that my aviansie would fly about me as I soared, playfully mimicking my every move.
I know now that I cannot - should not - forget...no matter how much I may wish it.
It seems there is no life on this world. I can see the seeds of life, but not life itself. I feel myself reaching for my staff, to give those seeds a spark of energy, a push to catalyse their efforts... But it is gone.
I have wasted enough time here.
Chapter 3[edit | edit source]
The sky is a boiling mass of noxious gas, and the ground seems to be melting. But - by the Elder Gods - there's life here!
I headed southwards, until everything grew colder. I saw what looked like dark stones, fused to the ground. I attempted to move one, and to my surprise it moved itself! These were not stones, but small, shelled creatures. Sharp legs shot out in attempt to repel me.
I have taken to studying them. Weather, temperatures and tectonics conspiring against them, but they hold firm, clustered in their shells. They survive and endure, again and again.
I must continue my solitary pilgrimage.
Chapter 4[edit | edit source]
The air here is toxic; hard, unrelenting gravity pulls me downwards, and even I must struggle to remain aloft. The world is gas, with no ground to stand on. And yet, this world is a paradise for the beings native to its atmosphere: tiny creatures, the biggest no larger than a wasp or beetle.
They circle around me. At first, I thought they wanted to hide in the down of my feathers. But when I turned, they turned. When I stopped, they stopped. They were mimicking and playing.
I feel my old strength - enough to make the journey back to my home. In the hollows of my bones I know that it is time to return, and to shelter my faithful beneath my wings once more.