das
Regeneration In Process
OOC: Just a random thing that's been on my head for some reason. Who knows, maybe I'll continue later.
IC:
No one knew who the Bull’s parents were; or if anyone knew, they did not say. He was raised by the whole village, passing from family to family, from house to house, sleeping by their fire and eating their food. He was not the only one – he was only the biggest and the strongest. Few complained about this duty, for he worked for the family he stayed with, and besides, everyone knew the purpose of those children, even if they seldom spoke of it, so as to keep evil away.
The Bull grew into a large lad. Somewhat handsome if everything about him – arms, legs, chin, face – was not so big as to make him seem more like a bull than man sometimes. He was quite bullish, true, and often used strength to get his way; once, the headman’s son tried to tease him, and ended up being thrown into a lake. None touched the Bull for that, though. Everyone knew that he was good at heart, if not too bright. He loved animals and got along with them better than with people, perhaps because people knew what he was meant for.
One day, in a beautiful and faraway northern city, the skies were filled with fireworks to show that the new Kosmokrator indeed had power over heavens. That eminent and audacious young man had truly grasped the reins of power after a failed palace coup, and now was celebrating his marriage to a princess from the land of the Franks. On the other side of the mountains, an older man seethed, having received his spy’s report on the great festival. That woman had been promised to his son, but now it seemed that everybody’s plans had changed. The Franks now sought to please the newly empowered Kosmokrator. The white-headed lord’s plans changed also. The marriage was a done deal, but now he had no cause to hold back. That impudent pup will be shown his place. He called up a man in a blue hat, and told him what needed to be done.
Months passed after the fiery celebrations in Heaven. A large army of enemies had struck into the empire from the north. A traveling peddler brought the first rumours to the village. Raggedy refugees confirmed them afterwards, speaking of the demonic horse-riders that crossed the impassable mountain passes and gave no quarter to those who did not flee or submit. They were given the minimal hospitality mandated by religion, then told to move on. The village was not rich. It was doing relatively well for itself, but only just so. There was no sense in tempting fate. The Bull helped them pack up and watched them leave with his bewildered eyes.
Reports reached the great city somewhat later. The ruler of the universe sent away his pouting wife and dragged his closest friends away from their masquerade in order to hold council. They were at war, it seemed. The war would not come to the city, the ruler’s favourite general hastened to assure him. Still, the border fortress had apparently fallen to betrayal… The frontier militias would surely hold their ground, the favourite general had said. The clever old secretary shook his head. Even if they do, holding their own was not enough. He did not voice his suspicions that they might well ally with the invaders by this point, having suffered from previous reprisals. In any case, he said, it was clear – they needed to raise a new army. How would it be built up? The Kosmokrator’s father left behind a decree… Who would lead it? The favourite general gulped. He was to be sent away, appointed as the ruler’s vicar, and tasked with putting together an army.
Not right now, of course. Tomorrow there’d be time for all the formalities. Right now they needed to get back to the ball…
Weeks later, the village was disturbed by a messenger fresh from the provincial capital. The headman nodded sagely. The big, strong, family-less children that the village raised will serve their purpose; fill the quota that the decrees had assigned. As sacrificial animals before a great pagan procession, they were fed and praised, their heads befuddled by alcohol so that they won’t bring shame upon the village by acting nervously or stepping out of line. Some days later, in a nearby town, they were presented with some pride to the new vicar’s officials. Good, sturdy clothes, flasks of wine and hardened bread were given to them. The Bull beamed happily as the officer praised him and his compatriots, shaking his head disapprovingly at the nearby village’s poor and sullen offerings. But all the same, they all went off to join the army, sacrificed to war and officials, so that they both would stay far, far away.
IC:
No one knew who the Bull’s parents were; or if anyone knew, they did not say. He was raised by the whole village, passing from family to family, from house to house, sleeping by their fire and eating their food. He was not the only one – he was only the biggest and the strongest. Few complained about this duty, for he worked for the family he stayed with, and besides, everyone knew the purpose of those children, even if they seldom spoke of it, so as to keep evil away.
The Bull grew into a large lad. Somewhat handsome if everything about him – arms, legs, chin, face – was not so big as to make him seem more like a bull than man sometimes. He was quite bullish, true, and often used strength to get his way; once, the headman’s son tried to tease him, and ended up being thrown into a lake. None touched the Bull for that, though. Everyone knew that he was good at heart, if not too bright. He loved animals and got along with them better than with people, perhaps because people knew what he was meant for.
One day, in a beautiful and faraway northern city, the skies were filled with fireworks to show that the new Kosmokrator indeed had power over heavens. That eminent and audacious young man had truly grasped the reins of power after a failed palace coup, and now was celebrating his marriage to a princess from the land of the Franks. On the other side of the mountains, an older man seethed, having received his spy’s report on the great festival. That woman had been promised to his son, but now it seemed that everybody’s plans had changed. The Franks now sought to please the newly empowered Kosmokrator. The white-headed lord’s plans changed also. The marriage was a done deal, but now he had no cause to hold back. That impudent pup will be shown his place. He called up a man in a blue hat, and told him what needed to be done.
Months passed after the fiery celebrations in Heaven. A large army of enemies had struck into the empire from the north. A traveling peddler brought the first rumours to the village. Raggedy refugees confirmed them afterwards, speaking of the demonic horse-riders that crossed the impassable mountain passes and gave no quarter to those who did not flee or submit. They were given the minimal hospitality mandated by religion, then told to move on. The village was not rich. It was doing relatively well for itself, but only just so. There was no sense in tempting fate. The Bull helped them pack up and watched them leave with his bewildered eyes.
Reports reached the great city somewhat later. The ruler of the universe sent away his pouting wife and dragged his closest friends away from their masquerade in order to hold council. They were at war, it seemed. The war would not come to the city, the ruler’s favourite general hastened to assure him. Still, the border fortress had apparently fallen to betrayal… The frontier militias would surely hold their ground, the favourite general had said. The clever old secretary shook his head. Even if they do, holding their own was not enough. He did not voice his suspicions that they might well ally with the invaders by this point, having suffered from previous reprisals. In any case, he said, it was clear – they needed to raise a new army. How would it be built up? The Kosmokrator’s father left behind a decree… Who would lead it? The favourite general gulped. He was to be sent away, appointed as the ruler’s vicar, and tasked with putting together an army.
Not right now, of course. Tomorrow there’d be time for all the formalities. Right now they needed to get back to the ball…
Weeks later, the village was disturbed by a messenger fresh from the provincial capital. The headman nodded sagely. The big, strong, family-less children that the village raised will serve their purpose; fill the quota that the decrees had assigned. As sacrificial animals before a great pagan procession, they were fed and praised, their heads befuddled by alcohol so that they won’t bring shame upon the village by acting nervously or stepping out of line. Some days later, in a nearby town, they were presented with some pride to the new vicar’s officials. Good, sturdy clothes, flasks of wine and hardened bread were given to them. The Bull beamed happily as the officer praised him and his compatriots, shaking his head disapprovingly at the nearby village’s poor and sullen offerings. But all the same, they all went off to join the army, sacrificed to war and officials, so that they both would stay far, far away.
