Memorial Tablet Altgard · 160 parole

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My ancestors slumber within the Bulwark. It is time for me to return to the embrace of darkness. As AION's voice forsakes me, I stand alone by the grave. My people are Daeva that have been allowed almost eternal lives, and we have fought solely for the prosperity of Asmodae and Triniel. Alas, dignified Pandemonium. Such beautiful days when I sauntered across the radiantly lit Banahal Street. After the Bulwark was raised, all those left outside were weighed on the scales of a stark era, waiting with bated breath for the verdict. Rich, poor, nobles and commoners alike, even the powerful judicator of silence, were the same flesh and bone in that moment. Alas, nostalgic Pandemonium. Now, I set down this bridle of nobility to walk a ragged pilgrim's path. Rejoice, forefathers! For I have defended our people's name! Even if I become a wandering ghost, my soul shan't be benumbed. I offer this poem to Keiderian, my glorious forebear.

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