"The Awakening"

Cautiously does consciousness resurface from the netherworld, fragmented wisps of memory, disjoined and chaotic. Shards of memory collide in a collage of color and sound that stretches across the span of time.

With the end of time comes a new awakening, where all traditional frames of reference and definitions of reality are cast aside. Beyond the beginning and the ending lies a dimension where time and space are but antiquated theories; where the essence of thought defines the only remaining arena of being. Even consciousness itself is but a fleeting illusion in the spectral kaleidoscope.

In this churning whirlpool of timbre, hue and chaos, the distinction between all we have known and all we have dreamed and imagined blurs. The nightmare, the fantasy, and the whimsical folklore are now indistinguishable from the fact-laden tomes of history’s record.

Myriad voices cry out, a deafening choir of confusion:

The voice of a Saint, sacrificed to the pagan politics of her age, screaming as the flames melt the flesh from her bones. The betrayed cries of an innocent child sacrificed on an ancient stone altar. The seductive laughter of a naked siren, as she beckons the brave Odysseus towards the rocky shoreline. An ancient bard, his words rhyming in satirical questioning of the mores of his day. The shrill song of a blind poet, lamenting a lost paradise and dictating the brilliant colored visions of his dead eyes. A prophet, scoffed by the masses, mixes his magical elixir and takes trusting children on a colorful voyage of discovery. The biting melody of a lyrical jester lofts over the roar of the crowd, teasing of magical swirling ships and skipping reels of rhyme. The commanding voice of the great Caesar echoes, with the marching footsteps of the Legions on the stone highways of the great Empire. A scream sparked by the darkest nightmares of the underworld, as the black creatures of the void creep into susceptible minds.

For each of the competing sounds, a parallel fragment of colorful imagery battles for a fleeting moment of conscious awareness.

The simple nobility of David, captured for immortality in carved granite. Countless visions of heaven and hell, cast on canvas in pastels and primaries, each sharing a unique vision into the personal nightmares and fantasies of artists both renowned and forgotten in time.

All that was, is still. And the essence of all that was only dreamed now assumes a physical presence. The once clearly defined lines between the realm of physical reality and mental imagery have faded, creating a hazy universe of infinite possibility. A universe of unlimited potential lies waiting for a master with the grand vision and courage to forge a kingdom from the sea of chaotic spirits and powers.

From the chiseled marble of Mt. Olympus to the carved wooden table of Arthur’s court, the trumpet of The Awakening is heard, calling to the fallen warriors of the past. Across the span of time, the summons echoes through the graveyards of history and myth.

The gathering of the select, the choosing of the few, begins anew the ageless battle. With the Awakening, the elite warriors are called forth to summon their minions and rally their forces. Drawing equally from the cast of history, the mythical realms of magic and majesty, and the realm of the immortals, each warrior is challenged to assemble a battling legion of any willing to follow him into combat.

Only one will claim the ultimate victory, as the road to the summit will be littered with the dead and destroyed.

Once, in a time long past, the Gods dwelt in a marble palace atop the mythical peak named Olympus. From that lofty height, they dared to play with the mortal souls placed upon the stage of life, mere actors in a play written for their casual entertainment. Now immortality calls to the brave, and to the elite.

Odin’s bellowing voice trumpets the new beginning, the Awakening. The challenge has been issued, the invitation made. The chosen gather anew in Odin’s great hall, watching to see who dares to accept the gauntlet and enter Valhalla.

A handful of souls will emerge from the chaos of eternity. Bold and daring, brave and obsessive, they are those with the strength to dream the unfathomable, to sing the impossible melody, and to read the invisible writing upon the ancient walls of Jerusalem. The ultimate challenge lies ahead, for those few who dare to walk the ancient paths, follow the fated path of the Odyssey, and who are willing to risk their immortal souls in the arena of battle.

Do you dare to reach across time, drawing from the hallowed halls of history and mythology, and assemble a battle-ready army in the likeness of your own imagination? Can you meet the challenges that lie ahead? Are you willing to battle in the Arena of the Immortals for your honor, and do you have the daring skills required to claim a place on the timeless scrolls of the Honored? Many will try, but few will succeed. So be the trials of fire and the treacherous gauntlet that awaits he who dares greatness.

Few are chosen, and only they that proceed willingly may enter the fray. Eternal failure awaits all but a battle-proven few. If you elect to step forward and dare to run the gauntlet, you will face the ultimate test of leadership in battle.

From the viewpoint of the towering pedestal, you turn your gaze downward to the battlefield. In amazement you watch the small figures below move towards one another. As the battle unfolds, you marvel at the majesty of only imagined powers marching and maneuvering under the control of their powerful masters. Such a spectacle was never even dreamed of at the zenith of the great Zeus’ reign. The Gods themselves, once masters of the mortal domain are now reduced to pawns in the most magnificent of marvels.

"Valhalla is the great hall of Odin, wherein he feasts with his chosen heroes, all those who have fallen bravely in battle, for all who die a peaceful death are excluded…

When the heroes are not feasting they amuse themselves with fighting. Every day they ride out into the court or field, and fight until they cut each other to pieces. This is their pastime; but when meal time comes they recover from their wounds and return to feast in Valhalla."

Are you worthy of the quest? Will your heroic aspirations earn you a place at the daily feast of warriors? Or will you lie among the ruined souls that litter the battlefields?