The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
I was actually holding this story hostage until the update. Now, with the crisis resolved, it can once again be free.
There are times in your life when you could swear that youve been here before, that youve done these same actions, uttered these same words. This is one of those times for me. And in a sense, I was right, I had been here before, in this exact place in fact, and I had said and done things very similar to what I am now doing and saying.
It was long ago, that other time. Despite my vehement denials at the time, I can now freely admit I was a boy then. I knelt, in this very chapel, the cold from the stone I knelt on seeping through the thin white shift I wore like rain seeping through a tattered cloak. The chapel was dark, the only light coming from strategically placed candles, their soft glow struggling vainly to defeat the blackness. At the edges of the light grotesque shadows leapt in a macabre dance, turning the familiar into a dark perversion of its normal self.
I wanted to close my eyes. My surroundings were familiar enough that I could picture them more truly in my minds eye than by the faint brightness of the flickering flames. Behind me would be the benches, backless wooden slabs, worn smooth by the ceaseless rubbing of fidgeting sitters. On the outside of these benches, between them and the walls, would be candles, sitting tall and silent as sentinels in their unadorned silver holders. Usually they would be welcomed allies against the encroaching darkness, now they stood cold and silent.
Ahead of me a stone alter rose from the floor abruptly, like the surfacing of some mythical creature of the ocean. It was unadorned, no foreign carving disturbing its dark face. On it rested the two candles which gave the room what meager light it had. Behind it rose up the back wall, swallowing up the light like a starving man in all aspects save one. In the middle of the wall, slightly higher than a mans head, hung a golden sun, light reflecting on its burnished surface, until it seemed as much a source of light as those candles whose light it reflected.
I wanted, as I said, to close my eyes, but I dared not. Not on that night. For that night was my night of vigilance, the time when I would stand alone through the night. I entered that night as a boy. By the favor of Sol, I would exit that night a warrior of the Order of Solaris.
I faced my rite of passage manly that night, and was rewarded with the prize I sought. Now, like day turning to night, only to turn to day again, I was back. And yet as each day is similar, yet different from each other, tonight was different from that night, though eerily similar. I was in the same chapel, in the same surroundings. Though the seasons passed like dew disappearing with the coming of the mornings sun, this chapel remained, as unchanging as the mountains.
This time, however, instead of the thin, white shift, I wore the uniform of a Solarian. My scarlet cloak hung around my shoulders like a second skin, almost completely obscuring the copper armor underneath. My helmet sat a little less than an arms length away from me on the ground to my left. Leaning against the altar in front of me was my shield, its pained sun facing me. To my right, directly beside me was my spear. Occasionally I would run my hand across it, feeling its smooth wood underneath my touch, almost as if it sought to leap into my hands.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the sky around me lightened. I got down on my knees, bending myself forward at my waist, my palms facing down, touching the stone floor.
Behind I could hear steps, thudding softly on the stone floor, yet whose sound traveled around the chapel, magnifying them until they sounded like the roar of thunder. I did not get up as I heard, the approach and then felt the newcomer come around me, coming between myself and the alter. At this, I did lift myself up from my prostrated position, though I was still on my knees.
Ahead of me were three people. All were old, much older than me, though I myself can no longer be called young by any stretch of the imagination. The left most member of the group was dressed similarly to me, as was to be expected since he was a member of my order, the Grandmaster of my order in fact. The right most member was dressed in a simple pale yellow garment, its austerity betraying the fact of his importance as the Grandmaster of the Order of the Lightbearers. The glory of the one in the centre, however, overshadowed them all, as the sun overshadows the stars.
I bowed my head. A blessing my lord, I begged.
I felt two fingers on my forehead, tracing the outlines of a circle. May the Light of Sol shine within you, and through you, now and forever more. I felt the hands leave my forehead, my flesh still warm from the touch. You did well asking for a blessing, for the blessings of Sol will be sorely needed in these times.
The High Priest, for that is who he was, bent down, so that his face was even with mine. Cupping my face in his hands, he leaned in, almost as if he were about to kiss me. Instead, he stopped, so close to me that our noses were almost touching. Gently he blew on me, his warm breath swirling around me like a current of water. The Spirit of Sol make you his suphret, judging the iniquities of his enemies, and delivering his righteous judgment through your right arm.
Letting go of my head the High Priest stood up. Together the three old men bowed, ever so slightly, in my direction. I got up off my knees and returned the bow, stooping slightly from the waist as opposed to their bow, which was more off a nod of their head. They were not, of course bowing to me, rather they were bowing to the rank I now had. The Suphret was the one who, through their military victory, would be the physical tool Sol used to show judgment upon his enemies. We now had an army, and a Suphret to lead them. The Day of Judgment was nigh.
There are times in your life when you could swear that youve been here before, that youve done these same actions, uttered these same words. This is one of those times for me. And in a sense, I was right, I had been here before, in this exact place in fact, and I had said and done things very similar to what I am now doing and saying.
It was long ago, that other time. Despite my vehement denials at the time, I can now freely admit I was a boy then. I knelt, in this very chapel, the cold from the stone I knelt on seeping through the thin white shift I wore like rain seeping through a tattered cloak. The chapel was dark, the only light coming from strategically placed candles, their soft glow struggling vainly to defeat the blackness. At the edges of the light grotesque shadows leapt in a macabre dance, turning the familiar into a dark perversion of its normal self.
I wanted to close my eyes. My surroundings were familiar enough that I could picture them more truly in my minds eye than by the faint brightness of the flickering flames. Behind me would be the benches, backless wooden slabs, worn smooth by the ceaseless rubbing of fidgeting sitters. On the outside of these benches, between them and the walls, would be candles, sitting tall and silent as sentinels in their unadorned silver holders. Usually they would be welcomed allies against the encroaching darkness, now they stood cold and silent.
Ahead of me a stone alter rose from the floor abruptly, like the surfacing of some mythical creature of the ocean. It was unadorned, no foreign carving disturbing its dark face. On it rested the two candles which gave the room what meager light it had. Behind it rose up the back wall, swallowing up the light like a starving man in all aspects save one. In the middle of the wall, slightly higher than a mans head, hung a golden sun, light reflecting on its burnished surface, until it seemed as much a source of light as those candles whose light it reflected.
I wanted, as I said, to close my eyes, but I dared not. Not on that night. For that night was my night of vigilance, the time when I would stand alone through the night. I entered that night as a boy. By the favor of Sol, I would exit that night a warrior of the Order of Solaris.
I faced my rite of passage manly that night, and was rewarded with the prize I sought. Now, like day turning to night, only to turn to day again, I was back. And yet as each day is similar, yet different from each other, tonight was different from that night, though eerily similar. I was in the same chapel, in the same surroundings. Though the seasons passed like dew disappearing with the coming of the mornings sun, this chapel remained, as unchanging as the mountains.
This time, however, instead of the thin, white shift, I wore the uniform of a Solarian. My scarlet cloak hung around my shoulders like a second skin, almost completely obscuring the copper armor underneath. My helmet sat a little less than an arms length away from me on the ground to my left. Leaning against the altar in front of me was my shield, its pained sun facing me. To my right, directly beside me was my spear. Occasionally I would run my hand across it, feeling its smooth wood underneath my touch, almost as if it sought to leap into my hands.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the sky around me lightened. I got down on my knees, bending myself forward at my waist, my palms facing down, touching the stone floor.
Ever Victorious Sol,
At whose presence the darkness flees,
By your rays you enlighten the whole world,
Illuminate my heart also,
Cause my shadows to flee
So that I may do your work.
At whose presence the darkness flees,
By your rays you enlighten the whole world,
Illuminate my heart also,
Cause my shadows to flee
So that I may do your work.
Behind I could hear steps, thudding softly on the stone floor, yet whose sound traveled around the chapel, magnifying them until they sounded like the roar of thunder. I did not get up as I heard, the approach and then felt the newcomer come around me, coming between myself and the alter. At this, I did lift myself up from my prostrated position, though I was still on my knees.
Ahead of me were three people. All were old, much older than me, though I myself can no longer be called young by any stretch of the imagination. The left most member of the group was dressed similarly to me, as was to be expected since he was a member of my order, the Grandmaster of my order in fact. The right most member was dressed in a simple pale yellow garment, its austerity betraying the fact of his importance as the Grandmaster of the Order of the Lightbearers. The glory of the one in the centre, however, overshadowed them all, as the sun overshadows the stars.
I bowed my head. A blessing my lord, I begged.
I felt two fingers on my forehead, tracing the outlines of a circle. May the Light of Sol shine within you, and through you, now and forever more. I felt the hands leave my forehead, my flesh still warm from the touch. You did well asking for a blessing, for the blessings of Sol will be sorely needed in these times.
The High Priest, for that is who he was, bent down, so that his face was even with mine. Cupping my face in his hands, he leaned in, almost as if he were about to kiss me. Instead, he stopped, so close to me that our noses were almost touching. Gently he blew on me, his warm breath swirling around me like a current of water. The Spirit of Sol make you his suphret, judging the iniquities of his enemies, and delivering his righteous judgment through your right arm.
Letting go of my head the High Priest stood up. Together the three old men bowed, ever so slightly, in my direction. I got up off my knees and returned the bow, stooping slightly from the waist as opposed to their bow, which was more off a nod of their head. They were not, of course bowing to me, rather they were bowing to the rank I now had. The Suphret was the one who, through their military victory, would be the physical tool Sol used to show judgment upon his enemies. We now had an army, and a Suphret to lead them. The Day of Judgment was nigh.
