Pantheon - The Third Age - Story and Writings Thread

Moderator: Xar

User avatar
The Void
Stonedownor
Posts: 38
Joined: Mon Oct 22, 2007 12:35 pm
Location: The bliss of the oblivion.

Pantheon - The Third Age - Story and Writings Thread

Post by The Void »

The vast empty regions of space are a sight to be marveled at. Bright burning stars, colorful nebulae and galactic rings encasing giant planets. If any intelligent creature was to view such a sight, their mind would boggle and strain to find an explanation for its brilliance. Indeed, on many worlds of the greatness of the universe, life had been sent to space, many of which achieved the task of laying a limb, be it a hoof, foot or tentacle upon new worlds or other wonders of space.

However, on the world of Eiran, the minds had yet been turned to the vast expanse of the galaxy. On this small world in the back rifts of space, beings were instead looking for an answer. The Answer. That is, The Answer of existence and creation.

On other worlds, great minds had come to realize that in the beginning there was an almighty explosion, and as such, all that existed came into being. On more worlds still, people had answered the unknown with their imaginations.

On Eiran, mortals had responded with the questions of life, being and existence by creating their own explanations. Otherwise known as The Gods. They attributed many things, such as the seas, life and the weather, on these Gods. The remarkably complex question had to them, a very simple answer. The Gods did it. They created everything.

Now belief is a funny thing. When enough people believe in something, it takes some sort of form. On the confused planet known simply as Earth for example, the general populace had all developed belief based on lies, such as honor, morals and human sacrifice. Their belief in these universal lies had caused them to become a common feeling throughout mankind as a whole. From this rose a being known simply as God.

The same was true of Eiran. The peoples belief and wants for the gods to be true had caused for the most oddest of things to happen in the realm of reality. The gods were coming into being. Old beliefs popped up, beings turning up around the globe. And then suddenly, it was like they had always been there.

Not everyone on Eiran was superstitious and ritualistic however. A great scholar had a rear moment of clarity and had somehow figured out the meaning of existence, of why everything was as it was. He tried to explain it, the beginning of reality, the creation, the age of the universe and the true beginning. But mortals being mortals, they needed some kind of way to label it, explain it. So the undying universe was named The Void. Soon, the name of The Void was used so much that they started believing in it like a being, an entity. Belief is a funny thing.

If someone had been above the world of Eiran, in the moment that belief took hold, then they may have commented how it seemed that a space containing seemingly nothing, suddenly contained less. As if empty space itself had become emptier. However, no one was there to see it, and thus whether it actually happened can be debated.

But what did happen was in a moment, what had always been there, was suddenly there.
speak ov it not as one
speak ov it not as none
speak ov it not at all
for its continual
User avatar
Bel
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 131
Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2007 7:35 pm

Post by Bel »

My limbs stretch and pull hard against the air and I drag the world beneath me, sweep by sweep black feathers draw the world backwards as I hang suspended. Peaks rush toward me, pass under and retreat into distance, while I am still, calm--the centre, the still point around which all the world flows. With my wings I pull the tower toward me, close, then upward until the cold stone of the ledge meets bare flesh of my feet.
Within the halls they are waiting, my people, they have come because I have moved among them and word has spread of my Lord's magnificence, they come to receive his word as all must. Few, now, but more will follow. More will feel the power that compels them to seek Peace.
I walk among them; my Lord walks among them. I open my mouth and the Lord's words are spoken. I touch them, the Lord touches them also. My Lord and I speak, and there is power in our speech: my people heed the words of the Lord, my Lord, my words; we ask them to leave their halls, and they obey, they leave to seek others, to bring word, to begin the Path.
The Lord is with me always, we become one, he is I and I am he. Every day of his presence within me, I am brought closer to perfection. My people hear me and obey, for they are the servants of the Lord, they are my servants; they are my followers, my worshippers. I am the voice of the Great Lord, his chosen vessel, and it is only right that I am ul-zakaru, for who could claim the right to give name to a God?
And now I wait, for we are patient, the Lord and I. The wheels are put in motion; the Path is begun, and I shall steer it toward its inevitable end. For now, I need only wait.
Si vis pacem, para bellum
User avatar
Arcadia
Bloodguard
Posts: 983
Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2007 1:25 am

Post by Arcadia »

Excerpt from Earth Processes written by Stonemaster Among Pullo, Nhruuk Eiranologist:
Eiran is a planet – massive, dense and lifeless and is made of five layers:

The Crust
The Inner Crust
The Middle Earth or Separation
The Outer Calisphere
The Calisphere

The Crust

The Crust is the outer-most ayer of Eiran as well as the most diverse layer. It is made up of mostly basalt, granite, and the soil made up of quartz, silicon, aluminum, calcium, sodium and potassium. It is broken into several large sections called plates that spread across the surface of Eiran. These plates converge toward and diverge away from each other causing what we know as Eiran-tremors.

Soil

It is on the Crust that we see the different types of soil. Soil is made from minerals such as rock, sand, clay, and silt, as well as air, organic matter, and water. These characteristics determine the type of soil, its texture and mineral content and as a result, determine what plants and crops can be grown.

Soil is also made up of layers and is formed by the parent material – rock – that erodes and mixes with organic materials to form soil. The top layer is made up of mostly organic material – leaf detritus and other decomposing matter. The next layer is the topsoil where seeds germinate. The next layer is made up mostly of sand, minerals, and clay that percolates water to the lower layers. Under this the bedrock that allows very little organic material through. The lowest layer is harder, denser bedrock.

The Inner Crust

Made mostly of bedrock, it is in the Inner Crust that we see most of the movement and pressure beginning from the Crust. As the movement of the plates from the Crust diverge and converge upon each other, rock, minerals, sand, water, and organic matter are mixed to form new minerals. The movements of the plates break down and grind rock, mixing it with other matter. The weight of the Crust above causes pressure, thus creating new rocks and minerals to be then pushed back into the crust from the Inner Crust. In essence, the Inner Crust acts in a manner that recycles and makes new the material from the Crust.

The Middle Earth

The Middle Earth, also know as the Separation is the middle most section of Eiran. It is caught between the Inner Crust and Crust from above and the Outer Calisphere and Calisphere. It acts as a barrier and shield to the Inner Calisphere and Calisphere yet does have some breaks and cracks from the movement of the plates above that will be discussed further. The Separation is under extreme pressure from the weight from above and the heat from below. As a result, the Separation is extremely rich in minerals and this is where we find most of the precious gems and metals of Eiran.

The Inner Calisphere


Despite the intense pressure and heat, the Inner Calisphere is an area in constant motion. Rock and minerals from the Calisphere are cooled here but are still soft enough to move through cracks in the Separation. This area is denser than the layers above it and mixes with the bottom portion of the Separation. This layer carries more iron and nickel than the upper layers but still has silicon, calcium, aluminum, and quartz amid a number of other minerals.

The Calisphere

This is the hot, molten center of Eiran and it is made up of iron and nickel. It is believed that the Calisphere is hotter than the sun. It is from the Calisphere that volcanoes get lava. The magma makes its way through cracks in the Separation.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
User avatar
Madadeva
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 1240
Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2007 6:35 pm

Post by Madadeva »

Shawlee sat by her little girl. She gently stoked her wet hair and kissed her forehead. Tears flowed down Shawlee's face. It had only been seconds; she had looked away as Sanjay swam. She was such a good swimmer. "Why AllFather? WHY?!", Shawlee demaned of the sky! In those few moments, Sanjay had disappeared. Frantically Shawlee had searched, it was only minutes ... only a short few minutes. But her little girl had caught her leg under a branch at the bottom of the lake. By the time Shawlee had freed her child, the life had left her small frame. She hugged her child's lifeless form close and thought in anguish, "How can I tell my husband? Sanjay's brothers and sisters? AllFather take me!! Take me instead and revive my child!"

A soft voice. A man she had never seen approached. He seemed to glide over the ground. She heard his words; "My good woman, no one should demand such sacrifice from you." He moved toward her child. Instantly Shawlee imposed herself between them. "Leave her alone!", she screamed. The stranger only said softly "Hold", and Shawlee felt herself freeze; she was unable to move even slightly. Gently the stranger knelt by her child. He stroked her forehead and then placed his hands over her heart. A golden glow flowed from his hands and surrounded her daughter! A gasp escaped from her little girl. Sanjay lived!!

The stasis that held Shawlee broke; and she rushed to her girl. She held her close and sobbed. "Thank you, my Lord" she said to the stranger. Softly she heard him say, "I am but a servant. And your daughter is too innocent to lose her life thus. This gift comes from my God!I am AkAzar, first Paragon of Devaguhya, Lord of Life. Tell all that you know that Life now has a champion on Eiran!"

Shawlee watched with gratitude in her eyes as the stranger walked away toward Magythe. Her daughter squirmed, "What's wrong mommy?" she heard. Shawlee laughed with tears in her eyes. "Nothing my love, nothing at all ... now."
User avatar
Arcadia
Bloodguard
Posts: 983
Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2007 1:25 am

Post by Arcadia »

from the journal of Stonemiester Bonifateus Opis :
163rd Day of research study
of the plate boundaries in the desert south of The Style

A herd of centaurs ran close to our camp today. Whipped into a frenzy, they were - as if running from the very thing that was most frightening to them. They noticed us and seemed curious but did not stop, preferring I think, to avoid us altogether. They are interesting looking creatures but I am content that they kept their distance and moved on. We have no time for pleasantries with other races and may not have been received well by the centaurs, in their current state of frenzy.

It has been speculated that the ice walls may not be sufficient to keep the evil within the Abyss. One of the students, Nelius Otto, suggested that perhaps we could fill the cracks in the ice wall with a bonding cement to support and protect the ice walls from the intense sun of the desert. Although it has not been a detriment in the past and the ice walls have withstood the desert heat, it is an idea that perhaps should be brought before the Nhruumadah for further consideration.

I do not relish working this close to the Abyss.

Note: Received word from Stonemaster Among via communication stone that he will be arriving within the fortnight.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
User avatar
Eztlicoatl
Stonedownor
Posts: 31
Joined: Thu Oct 25, 2007 12:50 am
Location: Coiled about the sun

Post by Eztlicoatl »

Letter to the Duke, regarding the explorations of Mercuse di Montressor in the jungles of Malyth, south of the Great Range:

My lord, please find enclosed within the parcel a selection of the artefacts uncovered while digging near the Temple of the Sun at the lost city of Oaxcala. I have taken the liberty, once I had returned to civilisation, to compare my own findings of the instruments with the historical records of Legardo Pholo’s expedition to Oaxcala over a century ago. The contrast leads to perplexing differences.

Within the crate, I have packed:

One Sacrificial Dagger – haft is 4 ½ inches long, fashioned from stone and inlaid with a golden serpent coiled about the handle. The blade itself, excessively rusted, measures 6 ½ inches long. The point, and one face, is sharpened, and the top third curves slightly.

One Brass Bowl – depth of 6 inches, with a diameter of 11 inches. Undoubtedly used as a receptacle for sacrificial offerings, most likely internal organs. The base is scorched, indicating the bowl was placed over a fire.

One Mask – made from a variety of precious metals, including jade and gold. Fashioned so that it represents the top half of a snake’s head, with the lower jaw excluded. Having worn this myself, I can attest that the mask fits squarely upon a human head. Most likely fastened at the back with a simple cord.

One steel cord – a curious find. These cords measure about four feet in length and are looped around metal fasteners at either end. Both fasteners allow for another, shorter, cord to be looped within, presumably to hold something securely. The steel cords are incongruous with the simple ropes which the other faiths of Oaxcala use, though what – if anything – that suggests of the Cult of the Sun, I am unsure.

A section of a stone mural – as you will see, the writing on the mural is heavily eroded and near illegible. However, you will observe that the art is easily identifiable. The picture depicts a ritual sacrifice, as carried out by the Sun Cult before its eradication. Observe that three victims are strung upside down to what may be a rotating scaffold atop the temple. A high priest, wearing a stylised mask not unlike that which I have sent you, cuts the throat of one of the victims – evidently a pre-pubescent girl – and allows the blood to drain into a large bowl. A smaller bowl rests to the side, filled with human hearts. In the next panel, the bowl is hefted by two priests and the blood is poured into the mouth of a great snake. In both sections, the sun, coiled about with a serpent, shines above.

Based on an analysis off these instruments of material culture alone, I can reliably deduce that the dagger is for the cutting of the victim’s throats, the steel cord is for hanging them beneath the scaffold device, the mask is most likely worn by the priests performing the dedication, and the small bowl is most likely used for the removal of organs after the corpse is drained. The depiction of the snake in the mural is most probably a simple spiritual abstraction of the idea that the victims were being offered to the Sun God.

However, I submit this extract from Legardo Pholo’s letters regarding a ritual he witnessed in the days before the Sun Cult was proscribed, though I have always dismissed his vain moralising, naïve analysis, and simplistic characterisation:
We came upon them nigh on the completion of their cruelties. About the temple of the heathen were thronged the crazed multitude of this debased faith. Flies crowded just as thickly about the heaped-dead of the sacrifices. A bloody trail from the summit of the temple to the base ended where the eviscerated corpses lay.

Atop the summit the great High Priest and his acolytes indulged in a frenzy of slaughter. Those to die had been prepared for a whole year. They had been drugged, they had been weened on idolatrous creeds, they had been beaten until they knew complete submission. Now, they were being butchered.

The High Priest, garbed in the skin of last week’s sacrifice, and wearing a resplendent golden sun-headpiece, plunged his dagger under the ribs of the victims. From thence he dug out the heart, and with prayers and evil dedications, he held it aloft to the sun, before throwing it upon a brazier. The body was hurled down the pyramid steps, and the next victim was turned to without delay.


This presents a different image than the mural suggests. Firstly, the mode of sacrifice is completely unlike the latter form. According to Pholo, the Sun Cult simply removed the heart, burnt it, and then hurled the body to the base of the pyramid. Evidently, as we can see with his description of the High Priest, some of the sacrifices were later skinned. According to the mural, we have a completely different form of ritual. The victims are held aloft over a great bowl, their throats are cut, and their blood is drained before, presumably, being eviscerated.

Secondly, the motifs have subtle changes. The sun is a common symbol in both ceremonies, yet the snake is only depicted in one. We must infer that, from lack of mention, the imagery of the snake was not used by the Sun Cult in the days of Pholo’s journeys. In the mural I have sent you, we see that the headdress itself is no longer that of a golden sun, but the upper-half of a snake’s head.

Therefore, I ask the question: at what point, and to what end, did the rituals and symbolism of the Cult of the Sun change? Why had the emphasis on the acquisition of blood itself seemingly superseded the burning of the heart by flames? Why did the image of the snake become equally as important as the image of the sun? Regarding the last question, one could argue that it was the presence, in the legend, of the Sun God in snake form that caused the change. However, it is my belief that religion has, as its fundamental focus, human realities. Thus, I find the explanation in the legend unsatisfactory.

The history of the religion fascinates me, my Duke. Accordingly, I petition to return to Oaxcala and examine the culture of the people, as well as unearth the vanished faith, in more detail.

Ever your faithful servant,

Mercuse di Montressor, scholar.
User avatar
Arcadia
Bloodguard
Posts: 983
Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2007 1:25 am

Post by Arcadia »

From the journal of Stonemiester Bonifateus Opis:
180th Day of research study
of the plate boundaries in the desert south of The Style

Stonemaster Among arrived at the camp late last evening with his entourage of scientists and chroniclers. Thankfully, being one of the oldest Nhruuk, he has the ability in his wisdom to calm our anxieties- and anxious we have all been. We heard a horrid commotion coming from the Abyss that began five days ago and has continued unabated. It is the sound of the tearing of flesh - as if a ravenous pack of wolves is killing a lamb over and over again, ad infinitum. It has fairly turned us mad with grief and casts a pall over the group that can only be stifled when we dig our hands deep in the earth. The earth itself succors our fear, draining it from our very flesh, and replaces it with a calm sense of strength and purpose. It is then that we remember the earth is our only care and we can then continue with our studies.

Stonemaster Among’s words to the students – reminding them of their duty to the earth - were comforting and like the earth, kept the fear at bay. It is as if his very presence is the earth for he has an appearance more of stone than of flesh. But, such is the way with the older of our race. They tend to age and look like polished white marble. But, I digress.

To the elders, Stonemaster Among spoke of the stories he heard on his travel to our research site. Stories of strange things happening all over Eiran - of children being brought back to life, of a tangible difference of the forests. The sun seemed to take on an intensity it never had before and the light danced over the plains. The excitement has even reached the Cluster though none can name its source. He could not explain what was happening but I could see his eyes sparkling with the possibilities. I have known him long enough to recognize his excitement and I can see that something interesting is happening in Eiran.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
User avatar
Brid
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 123
Joined: Fri Feb 09, 2007 11:19 am

Post by Brid »

Childin sat in the corner of the inn, nursing his beer, and trying desperately to overhear the conversation at the bar. He was down to his last coppers, but it seemed like a business opportunity had just arisen….

Regular: Commiserations, my friend, but she had a long life!
Inkeep: Aye! That she did. We knew it was coming – I’m surprised she hung on so long, t’be honest.
Regular: So you are a'right then, friend? The wife, the wee’uns, how’ve they taken it?
Innkeep: The wee’uns are a bit upset they’ve lost their gran, y’know? The wife? We-e-elllll, that’s not so good! Me mam was very hard on her, y’know, she was very demanding towards the end. And with me here all day, not able to help….I think the wife’s relieved it’s over, but guilty to be feeling relieved – know what I mean?
Regular: Aye, fair enough. You watch yourself though – that guilty feeling can soon turn! She’ll end up upset if she can’t grieve properly – and she’ll take that upset out on the closest person! You know who that’ll be, don’t you?
Innkeep: That’s already started!
Regular: You’ll be waking your mam through the night? Will I give you a hand with the barrels?

Childin reconnoitered, as if he was embarking on a military campaign – which he was, in essence, as his life could conceivably be on the line this night. After following the innkeeper and his friend home, he explored all avenues of egress from their house, learning those which offered most cover, and the quickest escape routes out of sight, and cleared them of potential hazards and obstacles. He left his few possessions hidden along the likeliest route, and settled down to wait. After a few hours, he judged that the wakers would have drunken deep, and he confidently approached the front door. The house was open to the night, for the village was small and the innkeeper trusting. He looked for the man from the bar, and having found him, whispered his proposal in the man’s ear.

The Innkeeper started away violently when his friend confided in him, and his narrowed eyes looked Childin up and down suspiciously. A few more words from his friend, however, and the innkeeper motioned for Childin to accompany him outside. A small bag of silver passed hands, the innkeeper left to prepare the ceremony, and Childin retreated into the darkness.

Ten minutes later found Childin striding up the path to the front door. The wakers lined his route, and Childin winced to see that some already had rods and rocks held behind their backs. Only the innkeeper’s immediate family remained in the front room, and his mother’s body was laid out, with the hunk of bread on her chest, as arranged.

Childin, the sin-eater, recited the words of his profession, “I give easement and rest now to thee, dear woman. Come not down the lanes or in our meadows. And for thy peace I pawn my own soul,” and he ate the bread from her chest.

With a quick jerk of his head at the innkeeper and a meaningful glance at his wife, Childin left the room and braced himself. He went through the front door at a run, but one of the wakers managed to catch his ankle and he sprawled in the dust. A kick landed in his ribs, a wielded branch broke on his shoulder. But Childin had been through this ordeal many times, and he found his feet quickly and raced like a hare for the freedom of his planned route, twisting and swerving to avoid the hurled rocks.

Witch”, “Abyss take you”, “Pignut”, “Skainsmate”, “Maggot”, “Gudgeon”, “Dog-hearted bladder” – the usual insults pushed him on his way, and with relief he turned into the ditch which would shelter him from the rocks, and made his way to safety. He could live on the silver for a few weeks in the next village, and when it ran low…..well, death was a fact of life.

He’d put a fair distance behind him by the time the sun rose, and as tiredness blurred his concentration, his thoughts returned again and again to one of those insults that he hadn’t heard before – “Brid-worshipper”. He promised himself to investigate what that meant, in the next village.
User avatar
Cryak
Giantfriend
Posts: 346
Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2007 6:50 am

Post by Cryak »

Momoe's breathe pounded through his lungs. Deep, lunging breathes ripped in and then thrown out in a desperate attempt to keep his muscles working. His legs pumped faster than he thought possible, as the wind surrounding him forced him forward. He ducked behind a tree that was still whole, and peered out.

All was still. Leaves rustled gently in response to his wind, and here or there a small bird flitted through the branches. But there was no sign of his enemy. This was not good. Unless he moved out quickly, he would find Momoe before his trap was set. He closed his eyes and changed the wind around him. Reaching inside himself to the wellspring of himself. His own power. His mana. The air thickened, and dripped. His clothes were becoming soaked and his hair was plastered to his forehead. The fog moved outward in a spreading hoop, a wall of opaque floating water.

Now was his moment, before his enemy fought his way through the fog. Momoe darted to the side, towards a small ditch where he could catch his breathe. He was only four short steps away when the air around him exploded. Only a nearby tree saved him from being cut to ribbons as a granite boulder exploded in a flash of lightning. He's close. No time for movement. Gotta find him....THERE!

Momoe unleashed his power.

A bolt of blue power cracked out from his fist, and lanced through the figure. The sound was deafening, and Momoe could feel a small trickle of blood move it's way down from his ear. The figure dropped to the ground.

And laughed.

Atama Talo waved a small piece of white linen in the air, conceding his defeat. "A good game, brother!" Momoe smiled at him, and walked over. "Four to zero. You might as well give up, Atama."

"Never!"

And so they played again.
From a single Acorn, a mighty Oak
User avatar
Arcadia
Bloodguard
Posts: 983
Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2007 1:25 am

Post by Arcadia »

From the journal of Stonemiester Bonifateus Opis:

183rd Day of research study
of the plate boundaries in the desert south of The Style

I can feel the difference now in the very earth! Indeed, something very exciting is happening. The dirt of earth is twinkling! It sparkles as never before - as if it has suddenly become more substantial. I understand the excitement we have been witnessing all around us – the words of Among, the excited centaurs, and even the Abyss. A very real change has come over Eiran and we are a-buzz with the possibilities.

I received word from the Cluster that a certain Nhruuk named Escalus has undergone some sort of transformation though no one knows for sure exactly what kind. He has become enhanced in some way and he repeats a word over and over – calais, calais. His ecstasy is palpable and according to the Center of the Nhruumadah, Escalus has become one with the earth – he has attained calaisterra
– paradise.
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
User avatar
Arcadia
Bloodguard
Posts: 983
Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2007 1:25 am

Post by Arcadia »

From the journal of Stonemiester Bonifateus Opis
The 1st day of return trip from The Style

We packed up the camp and had begun the trek across the desert to home yesterday when we encountered a group of fellow Nhruuk. They were on their way north to the land of Imray, they said, and were bringing all the Nhruuk with them.

Puzzled I was and looked to Stonemaster Among for his take on this oddity. Nhruuk were at home anywhere on earth but most tended to their own land and were not wont to travel far from home. Like stone, they were solid and unmoving. This nomadicism was highly unusual. He ignored my silent question so I returned my gaze to the group and asked why the move.

Just as I began asking questions, an Earth Venerant- old women who claim special capacities to read grains of sand and tell the future - came forward. She had wild eyes and told us in an urgent, gleeful hiss that she had had a dream in which a beautiful woman with copper skin and a large blue stone around her neck spoke to her and bid her to move the Nhruuk to the town of Nishal on the continent of Ismay. Her entire Cluster – some 100 Nhruuk – were making their way to Imray.

I turned to Among but when I saw the look in his eyes, I realized to my astonishment that he had planned on following this group. I looked around at my students and they too were beaming with anticipation and happiness obviously wanting to go along as well. At that moment, it was clear to me - this was meant to happen. I knew deep in my bones that I would accompany this group to Nishal. It was the right thing to do.

More confused than ever, I startled abruptly when Among clapped me on the shoulder and whirled me to face him.

“Don’t you see, Bonifateus? It has begun.”
Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. There is no fear in love; for perfect love cast out fear.
User avatar
O-gon-cho
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 1441
Joined: Sun Mar 11, 2007 6:36 pm
Location: And closing of the eyes - true vision, The Light within became...Within the Light

Post by O-gon-cho »

It’s not Zandarar, but it will do.

Raucous twisted and turned upon the grassy knoll that made his weyr in the forest clearing. It wasn’t home, but home no longer existed. How he had longed to return to Eiran! And yet…

You can never go home again

Settling his snout down between his forelegs as he splayed out on to the knoll, he watched the Centaur guards circling the encampment. He really needed to address the issue of the guards remembering to scan the night sky more often with Leier…ah, perhaps not. He had yet to hear of any others of his kind since returning, and while he had heard mention of other airborne races, he had yet to see any.

Why so restless tonight, Beloved?” his Lady’s thoughts intruded into his thoughts. It had been several weeks since she had departed from him at the oasis, and he had not sought her telepathic touch while he traveled with and came to know the Centaurs.

Just reminiscing, milady. Immeril – Imray is so different, and yet, every now and then, something strikes me as familiar. It’s a bit…unsettling.

Raucous felt O-gon-cho’s mental nod. “So it is. I see no sign of Yekithii. And the desert has shifted. But we have been gone over 3500 years. We should not expect things to be the same.

I have felt the presence of new deific neighbors. It is my hope that better relations than with our former neighbors may be at hand. I am off to welcome them all to the lands of my hatching. And I have issues to address in other parts of Eiran as well.

Continue to guide the Centaurs. Make me known among all the races of Zendra and the other areas you travel to. As always, I am only a thought away.

Raucous felt his Lady’s mental touch retreat. He hadn’t realized he has missed her nearness as much as he now knew. Taking on the mantle of mortality again had awakened many sensations immortality had diminished for him. Her conversation with him tonight soothed him, and he closed his eyes, and slept.
Image
User avatar
Anaya
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 137
Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2007 8:18 am

Post by Anaya »

In [i]The Journeys of the Grey-Eyed Goddess[/i], Anaya wrote:Concerning the Deck of Dreams

Of all the methods used to reveal the Grey Path as it winds its way through the blinding light and the enshrouding darkness, the Deck of Dreams is at once the most verbose and the most vague, saying much whilst explaining nothing. This unreliability alone would surely have lead other forms of divination to surpass Deck were it not for one other superlative to which it lays claim; of all the ways of reading the words of Fate, the Deck of Dreams is the most accurate.

Often of course, such accuracy only becomes evident in hindsight, and as such a gifted seer, whilst necessary, will ultimately prove insufficient. To make full use of the Deck, the services of a gifted interpreter are also required. This interpreter does need some need some natural born talent as an oracle, however their success if more often dependant on the intimacy of their relationship with the diviner. This was seen in the years leading up to the 2nd Abyssal War and the destruction of the Woven Sphere when the most proficient users of the Deck of Dreams were not individuals but couples - almost always married, or sets of twins - in most cases identical. Whilst the difficulty finding two gifted seers with such a close relationship made Masters of the Deck of Dreams rare, when found they were usually far more effective in their discipline than were Masters of other methods of divination.

The Deck's accuracy and it's affects (or possible causes) aside, it possesses one more characteristic - the Deck of Dreams has the ability to adapt itself as the story of Eiran unfolds. This was seen in the Second Age as the appearance of The Warrior changed time and again, mirroring changes in the dogma of Lord Adomorn, and also later in the Age when The Smith vanished from the Deck during the brief captivity of Simjen, God of the Forge, returning when he was released. The departure of the Gods has meant that during the Third Age, connections between cards in the Deck of Dreams and actual individuals have been less obvious. However it is generally accepted that The Virgin was in some way linked to the Lady Nolien, as it was absent from the Deck until she succeeded her father as Grand Duchess of Ramath, and remained highly active until she was able to sit the throne uncontested. After Nolien's death, The Virgin, though inactive, remained a part of the Deck. Whether or not this was to be the card's final Fate is unknown, for it had not yet reappeared in reading at the destruction of the Woven Sphere.
When you reach a crossroad
Fate is the path you choose to walk
And Fate is the path down which you are thrust
User avatar
Brid
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 123
Joined: Fri Feb 09, 2007 11:19 am

Post by Brid »

Lika took another swig from his hipflask and waited for the muse to strike. Halfcut, probably the best way to get himself inside the head of a tribesman. That’s what this job was all about – envisioning the audience: what beat would they find catchiest (military, so a march), what humour they would find amusing (men, so base), what subjects they can understand without thinking too hard (military & men, so fighting and sex).

The artistry of a successful satire is all in the use of irony. But the irony has to develop.

The first verse would be about a factual event, perhaps an individual duel, man against man, one that the audience would know. That identifies the subject (perhaps ‘victim’ is more apt) firmly in their minds. They know who is being sung of.

The second verse a commentary on the first. Larger than life commentary, with comparisons on an almost ridiculous scale: for bravery in this case, and skill.

The third verse to denigrate the opponent, belittle him, and here’s where the irony starts. The more intelligent among the audience will start to laugh at this point – perhaps 15%, and in this type of militant satire, probably mostly the women listeners. (‘If the opponent was so weak, why did the hero have to be so strong – anyone could’ve beaten THAT opponent’)

A chorus next, summing up the first three verses: must be catchy and simple, for one performance is normally all that the player will get, and therefore the ultimate satirical success depends on this first audience singing the song to their friends and family and comrades. ‘The big fight on the hill, the bravest of the brave fights and wins, the scrawny little mouse left dead on the ground’.

The next three verses should have them rolling on the floor holding their sides. Progressively more ludicrous, they will build up the ‘hero’ so much that they are actually kicking him to the floor. Absolutely unbelievable comparisons and situations, regarding his prowess at the fightin’ and the lovin’. With the chorus sandwiched between each verse of course, to drive the tune home.

Lika laughed to himself. The bigger they are, the harder they fall! A well-crafted satire (and Lika was the best!), and the victim would lose all respect among his followers; his words would be taken with a pinch of salt; his authority completely undermined; he would be laughed at and denigrated. With a patron like Brid, how much more effective would his satires be? Of course, his instruction at the moment is only to compose, NOT to perform.

It would be a shame, after all this effort, if the provocation was withdrawn, and no performance ever took place.
User avatar
uKulwa
Giantfriend
Posts: 443
Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2007 5:17 am
Location: The Plains of Opal

Post by uKulwa »

Training The Impis
Part I:

The prophet-king Ulwazi has summoned the regiments to review. A month ago he banned the traditional ox-hide sandals that have protected the feet of warriors of the tribes, demonstrating the superior speed and agility of those who go barefoot. But much ill-will remains, particularly in the older regiments. Now he has vowed privately to us that through him, the will of God shall be done.

Now, the Igazi Isiphuzi, the favoured few, have been ordered to collect baskets of nkunzanas, the devil thorns whose prongs always face up, and to scatter them thickly across the parade ground.

With the regiments drawn up to one side, the King addresses them, and these are his words:

“My Children, it has come to my ears that you have dainty feet, and I am grieved. In my Fatherly kindness, I have decided to help you harden your feet so that you never need complain of them again. Therefore I have strewn the parade ground with nkunzanas which you will proceed to stamp out of sight with your bare feet.

Now, my children, it is my will that you should do this with gusto, to prove how gladly you obey my commands. Those who hesitate, or who stamp gingerly, will be disobedient to my commands, and disobedience merits death. My slayers are at hand. Now let us go to it with a will.”

Chanting a war-song, and led by the King himself, who never orders done what he cannot do, the regiments form up on the parade ground and begin. As he leads the stamping, facing his men, his eagle eye picks out the hesitant. Then still stamping, he approaches them and orders them to step forward. Knowing their fate they do so proudly, with courage, and are clubbed to death.

After no more than a half-dozen examples, the warriors stamp frenziedly, striving to outdo each other, and when every thorn has been stamped out of sight, the King dismisses the parade, saying:

“I thank you, my children, for your zeal in carrying out the will of God, which you will soon learn is the only law in your lives, and the lands He rules. Now take these cattle and eat heartily, and let there be generous measures of beer, which you will find awaiting you. For you have done your duty, and deserve reward.”

And thus the warriors learn that while the penalties of failure are severe, success is noted and plentiful rewards generous and quick in their forthcoming.

--From the Oral History of Khumbula, the Rememberer
All Things Begin and End in Strife.
------------------------------------
Msasi Haogopi Mwiba.

The Hunter Does Not Fear Thorns
User avatar
uKulwa
Giantfriend
Posts: 443
Joined: Tue Aug 21, 2007 5:17 am
Location: The Plains of Opal

Post by uKulwa »

Training The Impis
Part II:

When we turned 16, my age mates and I, as decreed by God and King, all joined the newest regiment, the isiHlangu, or Shield regiment, with all other men born in the same year.

We proudly stood to attention as the King himself presented us with our newly forged ikxwa and our shields, white with a pattern of small black spots, before we headed to our military kraal and the training that would forge us into the Warriors of Heaven.

And, though we feared them, though we frightened ourselves at night with tales of their dread initiations, still deep in our hearts we dreamt of being chosen for the elite squads of the Igazi Isiphuzi, with their blood-red shields. Implacable killers answerable only to God and the Prophet-King.

Barefoot, the drill-master drove us over the rough ground at the double in straight lines, as full regiments or smaller groups, until complicated manoeuvres were possible in perfect unison, and our feet were tough enough to crush the heat from coals without betraying our step.

The fastest men were trained as battlefield runners to carry quick and accurate commands, while war-games and manoeuvres with blunt weapons made us proficient in the close in-fighting techniques pioneered by the Prophet, and improved upon by practice.

Over and over the drill-master repeated that what we learned today would keep us alive tomorrow, and the tactics, commands and skills became second nature to us as we progressed, until at last basic training was declared over.

Then our regiment was turned over to the King himself, who, with his generals undertook our field training personally. Route marches of fifty and sixty miles a day, at a 5-mile per hour jog-trot, followed by battle manoeuvres at our destination, before we were allowed to rest.

As we marched, any warrior who fell out without an acceptable reason was instantly killed with his own spear by the specially deputed rearguard and induna, or officer, who followed behind for the purpose.

In this way was the Army of Heaven born…to conquer or die.

--From the Reminiscence of Mdlaka
All Things Begin and End in Strife.
------------------------------------
Msasi Haogopi Mwiba.

The Hunter Does Not Fear Thorns
User avatar
Unzen
Ramen
Posts: 99
Joined: Sat Oct 27, 2007 10:16 pm

Post by Unzen »

The Summonsing

Varmor gathered the twelve riders to him one morning and spoke thus to them: “Remember, travel in pairs to spread the word of the assembly. Tell the Orc clans, but also others with whom in discussion you detect a kind ear, that it is to be held on the day after the night of the full moon of the third month, here in Emrynth. Tell them to send delegations of their wise ones and that Varmor has been chosen as Daimyo by the great god Unzen, Lord of the Bridge, and that Varmor has been sent back from across the bridge that goes to the place of the dead to lead the Orcs with a message of hope for the future. Be respectful within the great forest. Harm nothing there. A word of warning for those who go to the desert, beware of The Stile, for it is said that something stirs there. Speak of this message only to the Orcs in the desert. Now go!”

And so the riders went, towards Ohrir, in the north, to the great forest of Enstorm, to Khes in its mountain vales, to the lands to the south, both the grasslands and the desert, in pairs the riders went; searching for the hidden signs of the wandering Orcs. To tell the elders of the wandering clans the story of Varmor, of his death and return; of the great assembly at Emrynth that he called, and to send embassies to hear the story of redemption.
Nou aru taka wa tsume wo kakusu
User avatar
Madadeva
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 1240
Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2007 6:35 pm

Post by Madadeva »

AkAza and Barlin Mistale met at the “Prancing Unicorn”. It was a well kept establishment that served a congenial clientele of merchants and well heeled working class citizens. It was not as posh as the “Regal Swan”; but the laughter of the patrons was more genuine. It was not uncommon to see families at the ‘Corn.

AkAza was talking good naturedly to Barlin; “Well, master Barlin, it looks like my followers won the race!” The both chortled. “Aye”, Barlin acknowledged, “Ye must have use those damnable wings I hear tell off. My poor men are short of stature, but they still almost beat you!!” The two prophets had learned of each other in the preceding weeks by their reputations. They had met several times and developed a mutual respect and friendship. The camaraderie that the prophets had was infectious and had spread to their followers. They raised their glasses of dwarrow ale in a mutual toast and drank deeply of the bittersweet beverage! “Ahhhhh!!!” both men sighed.

Just then Padur entered the ‘Corn. He walked over to AkAza amd kneeled. AkAza put an easy hand on his shoulder. “Rise worthy one, come sit with us and show us your labors.” Padur took a scepter out of his sack. He held the scepter reverently. “This is the ‘Scepter of Rebirth’; I am not worthy to carry it!” Padur extended the scepter to AkAza. AkAza took the scepter and examined it. It was beautiful and the force of Life that emanated from it was palpable. Anyone who came within a three yard radius of the scepter suddenly felt strong and full of life. And it was clear that if one that was worthy directed the scepter, death itself would be banished!

AkAza handed the scepter to Barlin. Barlin looked at it carefully. He stroked the fine craftsmanship and looked at Padur. “Are ye sure you are not part Dwarrow!? This is outstanding workmanship!!” “Oh, what we might have done if we had found yon star rock first!”; Barlin chuckled. He handed the scepter back to AkAza who returned it to Padur. Barlin looked closely at Padur. His passion for his god was evident. As was his awe at being in the company of two prophets! Barlin spoke; “I am commanded to grant you this gift from my Lord, as a token of our peoples friendship”, and with a little smile and wink, “and in recognition of you racing success!” “Behold, your scepter will have the metallic strength of ages! Nothing will ever damage or even tarnish your work! It may even survive the rending of Eiran itself!” There was a slight glow covering the scepter, and you could almost sense the increased strength in the metal. Padur bowed deeply to Barlin. “Thank you master”, he stammered to Barlin. And then to AkAza, “To whom should I surrender the scepter, master?” “Why to no one!” AkAza exclaimed, “It is yours!” “NO! I am unworthy!” protested Padur. AkAza turned and placed his hands on Padur’s shoulders. “You are more than worthy!” Then a glow … a warming glow of Life enveloped Padur. “You are the second, Paragon of Lord Devaguhya! While there will be more eventually; you will be second only to me!” Padur rose reverently and gently put the scepter back into his pack. In farewell, AkAza told the new Paragon; “There is much work to be done. Rest now and we will plan tomorrow.”

After Padur left, Barlin looked at AkAza and winked, “Damned young are so serious, are they not my friend!?” AkAza gave a hale laugh and drained his cup of ale. “More ale!!” Barlin bellowed to the buxom serving wench!” As the men talked about their plans to support each of their Gods, and their growing friendship, AkAza informed Barlin that he had ordered the small amount of remaining starmetal, left over after the scepter’s forging to be given to the Dwarrow in recognition of the friendship between the two deities and their followers. Barlin bowed, and then said with a friendly twinkle in his eye; “Now ye will see what Dwarrow craftsman can make of such metal!”
User avatar
The Void
Stonedownor
Posts: 38
Joined: Mon Oct 22, 2007 12:35 pm
Location: The bliss of the oblivion.

Post by The Void »

Haze from the Dwail weed expanded in Nahrums view. Pupils dilated as the sweet drug took hold of his body. Utter relaxation, he slowly started to drop into his own private universe.

”Received an interesting letter from Imray today. Seems that a possible war may be brewing.”

Mind sloshing, Nahrum slowly turned his head to address Makhes, the warmaster scholar of the university.

”That’s nothing new, the Impis tribes have been fighting amongst themselves for generations.” Nahrum took another long drag of the pipe.

Makhes turned over on his bed of pillows and faced the ancient studies scholar.

”But that’s the interesting things Nahrum, they aren’t fighting one another anymore, but rather, joining together and preparing to fight the Centaurs. They want all of Imray and the Centaurs won’t budge.” Makhes grinned as his friend choked on the Dwail smoke as he started laughing.

”Oh the irony Makhes! A race who’s one boon is their nomadic life style, preparing to fight over dirt with one of the planets best warrior people. The Impis are equaled only by the warrior tribes of the Thelessian islands. Surely someone is playing a joke on you.”

Placing the pipe to his lips, Makhes took a long puff before replying.

”Oh no, this is dead serious. Anyhow, it seems the Centaurs have some misplaced sense of homeliness in Imray. Some races are weird, I will never understand it. And there’s rumor that they have a pet dragon.”

”Ill believe that when I see it. Dragons, overgrown skinks, blown out of proportion by dreamy eyed students. Things like dragons belong to the literacy department.”

Makhes smiled and sat back, holding the pipe to his lips for another smoke, ”The world is a certainly a strange place, full of stupid people with stupid ideas. Land locked nomads, powerful gods and majestic dragons. Soon people will be stupid enough to think that perfectly natural things, like weather or the sun have their own personalities.”

”Oh don’t get me started on gods!” Narhum threw down his pipe in disgust. "Ignorant fantasies or ignorant masses. We can only hope to educate them one day. Do yourself a favor and avoid such idiotic folk.”

Smoke filled the room as the two chuckling scholars happily smoked themselves into oblivion.
speak ov it not as one
speak ov it not as none
speak ov it not at all
for its continual
User avatar
Unzen
Ramen
Posts: 99
Joined: Sat Oct 27, 2007 10:16 pm

Post by Unzen »

From The Compiled Conversations of Varmor:
Marzon came upon Varmor, gazing out the window, gazing upon the setting sun.

“Are you thinking about the rumors from Imray, my lord.”, asked Marzon

“Yes. Interesting.”, replied Varmor.

“The War Prophet strikes an uncompromising tone?”, asked Marzon

“He cloaks ultimatums in fair words and calls them generous. 'Relocate the Light Prophet’s followers'. That’s not really generous at all, he merely bows to reality. For you see, the War god walks a solitary path. He does not partake in the fellowship that some of the other gods and the Lord of the Bridge do. He therefore only gains marginally, if at all, with a conflict with the Light goddess since they both partake their power from the same source, the element of fire. A victory over such a foe would be nearly worthless for the War god.” said Varmor.

“And of the other gods or their followers that are said to be taking the side of the War Prophet?”

“They either walk a solitary path, like the War god, or they have noted that the War Prophet’s training regimen apparently includes walking on thorns, but not walking on water.”, Varmor chuckled.

“What of the War Prophet’s armies?”

“The Light Prophet’s people are said to be Centaurs, Varmor continued. It would be a poor band of Centaurs that couldn’t see the approach of the War Prophet’s impi’s by the cloud of dust and other signs that such a host would inevitably raise, and evade them. They could go on that way for some time, evading pitched battle with the War god if they so chose, though it does neither side that much good.”

“What do you think will happen?”, asked Marzon.

“For now... nothing. Too much is risked by conflict. I wouldn’t want to speculate beyond that, though something may yet be arranged.”

“Anything else on your mind?”

Varmor chuckled, “My, your inquisitive this evening! I think I have said enough for one time.
Nou aru taka wa tsume wo kakusu
Post Reply

Return to “Pantheon”