LINESII- Into the Darkness- Part II

The Fall of a Tree​

It was a sad ceremony by any standards. It was an agonizing heart wrenching moments for others. Others, but not him showed their emotions crying on each other’s shoulders their tears rolling down their cheeks as inevitably as the setting sun. He had learned from birth that wearing one’s emotions on one’s sleeves was a sign of weakness. Yet even he felt a twinge, and as the funeral went, he felt a thing that he had not felt for years. A drop of water fell on his hands. It was a tear, a tear for the life of a great man. Even as the tears began to fall unable to cease the flow, he remembered...


“As you see, the Guangfei Emperor even in times of war is still merciful and benevolent.” The words were said in a whimsical humoring mood as his companion was still unable to grasp at their complexity. The words themselves were understandable, yet the message and what they conveyed was still beyond his grasp. His companion could still remember walking in, not to the Throne room, but to the informal office of the Emperor. It was a heir of a dynasty who reigned by ties of blood and divine will for five hundred years unbroken, the great enemy of New Veritas but perhaps not the greatest, the upholder of aristocratic and monarchial rule.

Yet, the man was no tyrant. He was a man of flesh and blood, a man when all was said, and still a young man above all. He had all the traits of man, and none of the demon. And when he saw Lao Tzu, his young face lit up like fire finding a cache of oil. He rose and moved towards the elderly man with a benign air before as if suddenly remember he stopped. Stopped, calmed down, and once more sat down awaiting Lao Tzu to enter. And ever the wise one, he did. Striding with a humble aura that befitted him so, he came within five feet of the Emperor and there bowed.

“Your Majesty, I hope that you will spare me the kneeling on account of my age. There are not many that live to the ripe age of 97.” As always, his voice espoused respect, civility, and the manners that a Duke would envy.

“It is all for the better.” Here, the Emperor stood up and walked towards a painting and in a detached tone spoke. “You were once my teacher, you will always be my teacher, your lessons have been well remembered and put to good use. But surely it must be of importance? You rarely appear in Guanzhong, or the Imperial Palace if for not a matter that you believe of importance.” There was a trace of an accusation in that statement, an accusation that was not unfounded.

“Indeed, as always Your Majesty your wisdom and vision is beyond mortal comprehension. A dear friend of mine has a request of Your Majesty, and it is my dearest hope that you will listen and grant his request.”

A few sounds of laughter emitted from the Emperor before he spoke. “There’s no need to pander to my ego Holy One, I am not like the members of the Council of Pax though in all honesty, it is most likely I am greater then them in matters of rank and arrogance. Call your friend I will listen for if his matter was not important you would not bring him yourself.”

Lao Tzu signaled for his companion to come forward and so he did. It was Yong Zhi, the air he once had in Pax was no more, this was a broken old man. He was a defeated old man clinging to his last straws at hope and redemption. He threw himself at the Emperor’s feet prostrating with all the serenity of a man on the brink of death. The Emperor to say the least was shocked, shocked beyond remark.

“Ah… Your friend is ah very apologetic. May I inquire who he is and what manner of petition he brings to me?”

“He, my dear friend, is Yong Zhi. No my Emperor, hear me out, and then make your decision. He is as you may know, the head of the Church of the One in Guangfei, a blood traitor by all reckoning. Yet he was mislead off the Way of the Light, and he knew yet but continued on his path. For he was a man of great spirit and determination. And proud beyond measure, much like a young man I once knew. He comes to ask, no beg you for not a pardon, but forgiveness. To forgive he and those who followed him in fighting the Throne.”

“He asked for much, mercy cannot be given to the likes of him and his as one would pass out copper coins to beggars on the streets.”

“That is true, yet if it was for the mercy of the Late Emperor, a child would have never become the Emperor of today. For mercy is a double edged blade, will you deny a faithful and loyal subject of his humble request? You whisper a word, and thousands are freed from fear. The peace of mothers and fathers, the preservation of the raising of children, do you desire to be the one to end it?”

“Why did you bother coming? You knew my decision long before you came. The Grand Secretary will announce it. I will pardon all followers of the Church that had fled from my righteous armies. Go, both of you. May peace follow you.”


“It is with a great and joyous heart, that I inform all of you, once brothers, always brothers, that Emperor Ku has formally pardoned and given forgiveness for all followers of the Church that fled. May this day, the third day of the third month mark a new beginning between our brothers, reunited once more with a common purpose. For the betterment of all, for the prosperity of all. Long Live the One! Long Live Guangfei! To light undiminished in the fading world!”

Lao Tzu finished and his listeners came to speak and shakes hands with the now wizened old man. There were many, for the listeners had not just been Oneists, but of Guangfei’s main faith yet all tolerant and receptive. And in the crowd itself hidden in the throng of the moving masses of people, the Emperor himself was present. And so was Yong Zhi standing side by side with Lao Tzu, comrades and brothers. It was in this joyous and celebratory scene, that death and chaos came. For not everyone had come with well intents. No, they had come to kill.

The first that tried with a knife hidden failed to secure his objective forced to take another whom laid down his life. The second succeeded, and his knife plunged into the heart of the man who died. And a baptism of blood and shock resulted. For there were others, who gathered at the moment at the two fallen men and spoke.

“The Heretic is Dead! Long Reign The Republic! Long Live the Church of the One! Death to the Heretics! Death to the Traitors! Death to Guangfei! Long Live the Republic!”

Young men with nothing to their names, nothing to their achievements but thoughts of glory and wealth within their minds had brought down one of the greatest philosophers the world had ever seen. For Lao Tzu laid dead next to him, his comrade Yong Zhi. Brothers in life, brothers in death they would be. Yet his assassins were fools, for their plot while succeeding would not outlive them. All but a few were hacked dead to pieces, gore and entrails aplenty by the Imperial Guard and the crowd in a frenzy of hatred.

The few that survived would regret not having died that gentle death. The most heinous tortures of all were done upon them, within full approval of the infuriated masses. They were dissected, their chest spilt open and their organs taken out, most notably their still beating heart in front of their own eyes in the great pain. Every organ, veins and capillaries noted and recorded so that in their death, they would do more then in their life.


The bearers of the coffins walked past, the massive crowd dressed in white, the color of purity, the color of the pureness that death would bring. Two coffins, for two brothers, Lao Tzu and Yong Zhi were buried. Yet they knew, that their bodies would be desecrated by those who disagreed. So the tomb was never seen outside of the most fervent of the Way, and the tomb vanished, to remain forever a secret until a new era.

Men are mortal, ideas are not…

Awesome story!

Will write the last story shortly. Good to see many stories now!

It was a sorry sight. A terribly thin and weary man, clinging to a soggy raft barely able to support his weight. It was clear that the makeshift raft had been drifting at sea for weeks, and the starving dehydrated sailor was only able to maintain a weak hold on the ropework that went around the planks. The storm that had come that night had thrown him about violently, and crushed the masts of his ship like twigs. Later, the storm had released him, only to leave him out on the open sea to die a slow and agonizing death.

The man had very dark skin, and curly red hair. His build was tall, and his figure betrayed that he had once been a large man. Now he was reduced to skin and bones, his muscles all but vanished as his body chipped away at his reserves. It was a small wonder he had lasted this long, even though the frequent rains provided him with sufficient water. Still, he was as dead as a live man can be. Stranded on the ocean, unimaginably far away from any human lands, and only drifting with the currents of the sea like a leaf on a river.

His name was Viski Lasi. Apprentice, missionary and traveler. He had given up all of these titles now. They had once been his foremost, badges of honor and calls to duty. How full of life and vigor he had been when he set off from Vael Dash, headed for the mysterious atheists of the Far East. He had been sure this was his intended destination, and that The Red Lady would ensure safe travels in order for him to spread her faith. Now, he didn't even know what nonsense had driven him to undertake this "mission". Why, he barely knew anything of the faith in the first place! How was he supposed to be the new Founder of the Church?

Just as he was lying there, hating everything including his foolish self, he heard cries from above. It startled him, and jerked his head to his left. What he saw was a miracle. A flight of seabirds were flocking around a point on the surface, diving for fish. Birds, that naturally had a nest somewhere on land. This dawning hope was, alas, a faint one. He was still crippled and unable to move, and who said the birds nested anywhere near his drifting pile of planks? Any even if he did reach land, he would only die as helpless as he had been on the raft. No, this was not a miracle, only a sarcastic reminder of his imminent death.

Viski Lasi closed his eyes, and prepared for death. He went back to his comatose slumber, and hoped he would pass away while he was still unaware. He did not perish, however, and opened his eyes yet again but a few hours later. His raft was no longer drifting, and he could hear the distinct sound of wind ruffling the branches of trees. He heard birds and wildlife, and insects were stinging him all over his body. Just what he needed: to be robbed of a calm and oblivious entry to the Netherworld.

He cursed, and tried to wave the insects away. After this proved futile, he tried to swallow those who came into his mouth. He coughed and spat and cringed at their bitter taste, but did not give up his fight. All he wanted was to die in peace! Why would the bugs not let him? Eventually, he let them suck out what was left of his ribbed body. It would hasten his death anyway, bring the end to this madness a little closer. Still, try as he might, he could not sleep. All the noises from the trees behind his head made him stay awake and restless. For some reason, he kept trying to identify the sounds. Birds, animals, winds, a small stream to his left. All these sounds made him feel like he was going insane. And maybe he was?

What chances was there of him suddenly awaking on an island after drifting for several weeks? What were all these noises and sounds, and biting insects, if not only figments of his unfettered imagination? Were they not hallucinations, like all those imaginary ships that had appeared far away on the horizon the first week when he was still able to yell and wave with his hands?

He then heard footsteps. Footsteps. He was mad. There was no doubt anymore. Four or five of them, in the distinct rythm of men walking purposefully. He could hear them coming towards him, as clearly as the bug bites stung. They came beside him, and he could see their faces looking down onto him. Their eyes. They were green. Just like his. They were like him. One of them sat down on his knees and grasped his hand. They were real. They were alive, like him. It was a miracle!

"Wha... Whe..."

Viski Lasi could only make small noises with his mouth. His struggled to keep his eyes focused, to see their faces. He wanted to speak with them. But how? He could not speak with them, only to. If he indeed could speak at all.

"Why?"

Suddenly, his mind went blank as he looked into the eyes of the old War-Cleric that had once been where he was now. He could feel the tears in his eyes, like he had seen once almost ten years ago. He could feel his wasting body, like he had witnessed the old man die away. But he also felt how this miracle was not a chance, and that it would last him through. He rested then, for as long as he needed. He knew he would wake up again, to start his new life. Such serenity was on his face as he lay there on his raft among the five foreign men that they bent down and greeted this alien with awe and wonder.

The brink of death is a strange place, and miracles only occur in the direst of needs, when all hope is extinguished.

Well, my fever's broken. I think that I can post coherently again. Iggy, please let me know when you won't accept any further changes to the orders, so I can post my stories here.

And great stories, everyone. I liked yours alex, it's particularly useful to both of our causes.

Thlayli said:

Well, my fever's broken. I think that I can post coherently again. Iggy, please let me know when you won't accept any further changes to the orders, so I can post my stories here.

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With all due respect, stories can be false you know *points out Kehexou story arc*

alex994 said:

With all due respect, stories can be false you know *points out Kehexou story arc*

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No, technically the Mayanas dynasty hadn't fallen yet, but was merely on its last legs as Khemri intervened, saving it.

In retrospect, the situation was rather confusing in Kehexou pre-war...the Mayanas dynasty had originally agreed to invade Khemri, but only tentatively.

may or may not write a story....

The sinews of war is infinite resources.

Yathai

Cities: Viskas
Leader: Father Viski Lasi / Silver Steak
Religion: Mantea
Government: Theocratic Monarchy
Economy: 2- 2/0
Population: To be determined by me
Army: To be determined by me
Navy: None
Education: None
Technology: Copper Age
Confidence: Tolerating
Culture: None
Wonders:
Description: An island people that gathered together, united by faith under the rule of Viski Lasi.


After the arrival of the Gorimari Viski Lasi to the islands of Yathanai, he was welcomed as an emissary from the gods. None had come to them from across the endless ocean, and his obviously alien appearance meant they believed he was not human at all. They took him to the largest settlement, and crowned him king. All the various chieftains and priests were quick to subjugate themselves to this new God-King. All this time, Viski Lasi worked hard to learn their language and understand their religion and culture.

He quickly saw patterns in their grammar, as he had much knowledge on the composition of languages from his many travels and extended study in the Citadel. After that, it was only a matter of continually listening and repeating the Yathai before he could speak with them. He was also quick to discover that the many tribes had many demigods and tribal spirits that were worshipped. Still, they all agreed on a single fundamental spiritual idea, not unlike that of Duality and Balance in Terrania. The Yathai believed that everything in the world is a mix of heat and cold, light and dark, solid and liquid, apparent and hidden, real and unreal.

This meant the two powers, called Shu and Shi, had to be worshipped equally to maintain balance and harmony in the world. In addition, there were countless lesser deities and spirits, all with their domains and power to affect mortals. The smaller tribes also usually had their own tribal patron spirit. This wealth of deities and the religion's heavy influence on their culture meant Viski Lasi had much to work with - and much to work against.

The first thing he did in order to pave the way for the New Church was to go about to the many tribes and gather representatives. They were ordered to gather the totems and holy symbols of their tribal deity to him. Upon gathering them all, the God-King declared that all these were evil spirits that only sought to divert the faithful's attention away from the true gods. He destroyed the idols with his own hands, and burned what could be burned, and grounded what could not to dust. This caused the Yathai to rebel fiercely against him, but he had already planned how to counter their obvious reaction.

In a daring speech to the angered Yathai, he spoke of how the tribal spirits were a danger to them. The spirits were only figments created by Shi so that the Yathai would focus less on Shu. This created an unbalance, since the worship of unreal figments meant they were effectively giving Shi more power than Shu. Thus, the spirits had to be cast out and abolished in order to bring back balance and harmony. This message was surprisingly well received by the Yathai, who partly saw this action as a liberation from the often terrifying characters of the spirits.

After this abolishment of the spirits, Viski Lasi began forming the fundament for the New Church. The administrative and purely practical aspects were not as much a challenge as the forming of the new dogma. Still, his lack of indoctrination back in Shalamari, as well as his now intimate knowledge of the Yathai religion meant he had free hands and plenty of tools to work with. He was careful to write only what he felt was the truth, and his primary goal was to make the new religion as much the Yathai's as well as his Crystalism. He did not feel it was important to hold on to anything but the essential facts of Crystalism, and incorporated as much as possible of the Yathai beliefs into the new.

Shu and Shi, deities of the Day and the Night, were renamed The Red Lady and The Blue Lady. (nyah! I'm not giving up this one! ) Shu was given the title "the Good Mother", and Shi was named "the Temptress". This clear contrast between the two was in order to make sure that the Yathai were not fooled again to confuse one with the other. The two poles also meant there could not be a third deity, and also ensured both were equally worshipped in order to maintain balance and harmony.

Shu was given thanks for blessings, and Shi was appeased in order to avoid or to lighten hardships. If Shu was more worshipped, Shi could call disasters and death to fall upon the Yathai. If Shi was more worshipped, the Good Mother would likewise take away her blessings from the people. The best way to please both gods was therefore to have one temple, one altar and one Church for both of them. This entwined the two so that the religion was one single, despite the gods being two directly opposing ones.

Although this balance was the basest of foundations in the new religion, it was not so that both gods were treated equally. Naturally, the Good Mother was considered more favourable for mortals, as evil gods are seldom embraced. The Yathai did not seek to elevate the Temptress' domains as ideals. It goes without saying that they regarded The Red Lady as their protector against The Blue Lady. Still, it was a cosmic fact that one was countered by the other, and both had to be in balance for the world to be at peace, or even exist.

This idea of a reality composed of two entwined counterparts formed the foundation of the new religion. Viski Lasi named it Mantea, which meant Equilbrium in the Yathai tongue. With the instatement of Mantea as the only true religion in Yathai, he had succeeded in founding the New Church. Only three years had passed since his arrival to the Yathanai islands, and his rule would last for decades more. He began at once the building of a magnificent temple the very coast he had arrived. It was soon a bustling city, and the capital of the new theocracy.

Among the many lesser achievements of Viski Lasi was the development of the Yath alphabet. He based it on the one he learned in the Citadel, modifying to accomodate for subtle variations in vocal sounds in the Yathai tongue. He also taught the people how to build sturdy ships, and the art of mapping. He used all the knowledge he had gathered through his experiences in his old life to teach the Yathai as best as he could.

Lastly, he spoke to the of the world outside the Yathanai islands, and how he had been sent from there by the gods to guide them to the true faith. This knowledge was largely abandoned by the Yathai, because it was difficult for them to accept the existance of distant lands as large and wide as entire oceans. Still, it was not entirely forgotten, as all of the teachings of Viski Lasi were recorded and stored for future generations. For Viski Lasi knew he would die one day, and that he needed successors...

Leader: Father Viski Lasi / Silver Steak

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plain hilarious...

your story is fun to read when I think of that name in it's finnish meaning

hey what about Dula! and Blue Face! Gorin demands you include them

*looks for a picture of a generic angry mob*

@andis: The joke is rather old. If you look in the first thread, you might notice that the first Father of Yath al'Shanaal was indeed called Viski Lasi. And yes, I named him so on purpose.

@Kentharu: I don't care. Viski Lasi is Gorimari, but was still a Crystalist, not a follower of Masra. If you insist, I can portray Dula as Shi, the evil counterpart of The Red Lady.

You know, what's with this usage of Chinese/asiatic names? Shi and Shu?

I only picked them because they sounded alike. Plus "shi" means "death" and "shu" means "lord" in Japanese?

EDIT: Not that it particularily fits Mantea, but anyway.

dont do that, then our nations probably won't be friends

ICwise i mean

Doesn't matter. We won't meet for the next, oh say, four or five centuries anyway. That is, if Gorin even lasts that long.

EDIT: Off to boot camp once more. Only this week, and I will move to Oslo again!

Dedication​

Oss was excited for today. Today was his ordination into his new life. It was his gateway into spreading the good word. It was the full realization of his dreams. For Oss Tregader was about to become a Missionary of the Gifts, a Soldier of Peace and Bladeism. In short, Oss was being Ordained as a Missionary-Preist in the Soceity of Gifts, its members called the Wilipites.

The Soceity of Gifts was created by mandate of the Ascendant Master Evern II, on August 15, 1501. Its founder was Saint Igngy of Jarade, a fighter in the end of the Lengel Wars and the reconstuction who saw the need for Peace, Justice, and Bladeism. The Soceity was Consecrated under the Master Uni Creatomi, a title of the Blessed Ascendant Master, Wilipo Chipa. Thus its members came to be called Wilipites. It was lead by the Superior-General, and stressed obediance to your superiors and the the Ascendant Master above all. It is focused on education, human rights, social justice, but most of all foreign missionary work.

Oss had long dreamed of this moment. This moment when his family would finally be proud of him, when he could finally be proud of himself. He had study long and hard for this, to be come a Brother Missionary. He would be held in high regard by others. He would travel the world and spread Bladeism, true Bladeism.

By true Bladeism he ment what would be later called Wilipianity. Though the people of the time didn't recognize it as a sect, historians trace its roots to the founding of the Soceity of Gifts. Wilipianity was no different than Bladeism but it added new books and gospels. It taught that if people worked and served their nation and superiors tirelessly and without question, then they would reach salvation and be loved by the Blademaster in Peresofo. It also taught that by be meek and serving, your nation would be blessed with Great Leaders who would bring prosperity and great Temporal Power. These Great Leaders were called Gifts and can be considered SuperSaints. At this point in time there were 3 Gifts that were held in the highest regard by the Wilipites and thus the people they preached too. They were Wilipo, Diva, and Evern(politcally Evern I, but just called Evern). This was a trinity of sucess and faith to them, and thusly the adherents of Wilipianity held triangles in high regard.

The Superior-General, Gufidi, sucessor to Igngy. Oss steped up to Gufidi. The leader made Oss make the vows, and he did. He made Oss swear allegiance to the Ascendant Master and too the Society of Gifts. Then Oss was given his first mission.....

your story makes my eyebrows twitch so....

few examples:

Saint Igngy

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for obvious reasons

on August

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August...seriously why use the same months make something up

Igngy came from Ignasius. and Iggy. COMBINED INTO A SUPER SAINTLY MOD SOLDIER!!!!

He's obviously making a Bladeists version of Jesuits