It is a darker age in the lonely land, It is a time of comforting light, Where what shines within is greater than what glares without, Where it is easier to know and do what’s right. None are commanded, yet one takes command, Embarking on a mission duly just, A shadow of a warrior they seem to be, Skulking in the forests of the south, Waging a quiet war, doing what they must. Few have seen this furious force, Few even believe they exist. Who are they? What are they? Are they man? Woman? Child? What do they want? None know for certain, and yet plentiful whispers persist, Enough tales to be told to make one hoarse, Near legend of one who unhesitantly acts. People tell tales of friends of family of friends, Saved by this bronze, cloaked shadow, Who in righteousness is so exact. A young woman, from the southwest side, Walks alone one summer eve, Attacked by dishonorable rogues, Screamed for help, no one showed — Until General Nyxalian granted reprieve. At the mere sight, the bandits ran to hide, But justice is not something one can escape. Not when it is embodied in so pure a soul, So tenacious a hunter, so determined a hero, They gave chase in their forest green cape. On this, all witnesses can and have agreed. This warrior must be a General, the noblest kind. Their well-worn armor shines like that of a statue, Gleaming breastplate and heroic helm, Only a true general would don armor so refined! Now, all would-be evildoers around, take heed. The General Nyxalian shows little mercy to foes Who have so earned their fate In forgoing Thyria, in choosing evil, In taking the path that they chose. Nyxalian’s justice is swift and right, Their black blade dancing in the wind. A stalwart stance they take, Daring the villainous thugs to attack. With a few strokes, the wicked’s rank is thinned. They restrain not their staggering might, Bashing aside bandits with ease, Always aggressive, deflecting any blows, Overwhelming the people’s enemies, With great finesse they bring villains to their knees. And then, they take but a moment or ten To check and comfort the would-be victim, Take her home safely to her frail father, Who worried for hours, and assure the man His child was alright — the night hath not tricked him. In this blinding joy, Nyxalian disappears into the glen, Surely preparing to save another, another day. Confusing those who they saved, Who so wish to thank them and repay them And honor them — but song is the only way. So we sing this tale of the mighty Nyxalian, So many times this tale we’ve heard. In the halls of our home, In the streets of our land, Singing their praises with our words. So we rejoice, for the greatest warrior in eons Defends us, belongs to us, and us alone. We walk the streets safely Villains quiver in their lairs gravely For one defends us all bravely With strength of stone and softness of paisley The General Nyxalian — the most valorous hero we’ve known!
[Author’s Note: This poem about the General Nyxalian, often considered the first Thyrian hero, was originally written September 13, 2021 and not remastered for release. This account of Nyxalian’s deeds was composed early in the career of the great Old Thyrian bard Kordi’ane, who would later meet the General themself and compose further, more accurate retellings of their deeds. Though I have not yet finished (or, to be honest, started) writing the tale of Kordi’ane and Nyxalian’s meeting, I nevertheless did some concept art a while back about the mysterious General and the different steps they have taken on their journey. It’s kind of a one-off thing since this took forever, but I really enjoy Nyxalian’s character, so please also enjoy this concept art below. Until we have need of one another again.]
