End of Empires - N3S III

WHEN FATE INTERVENES

Chapter 1
Nabu had traveled a long way since that fateful day when Prokyri slavers burned his village and took him away in the dead of night. That was many, many moons ago and Nabu’s memory failed him when he tried to remember what his parents looked like, what his sisters looked like, what he used to do during the days. All Nabu remembers, is the harsh life of being a slave, first traveling with his master from city to city in the long, winding trade caravans, then ending up in the Great City of Gold, working as a loader for a small-time warehouse owner along the docks. Day in and day out, his waking hours were spent carrying heavy sacks of grain for his old master, who enjoyed whipping his slaves as much as he enjoyed hoarding every single shekel he earned and spending nothing on his personal comfort, let alone the comfort of his slaves.

Nabu had always told himself that one day, he would kill his master and run far, far away. He prayed to his Gods to give them the opportunity to fulfill this dream of his. But Nabu found that the Gods had other plans for him, as he woke up one day to find his master arrested on the account of fraud and Nabu was dragged to the local slave market, where he was thrown in a filthy, overpopulated cage for three days before he was finally “processed” and sold to a man called Era. Era looked in no way like someone who possessed sufficient wealth to buy a slave, let alone five, as Nabu was not the only one locked up in the dark, closed carriage as the driver guided the horses through the narrow, winding streets of the bustling city. No, Era looked more like a servant himself, sent to buy the slaves from the market for his master.

The wide-eyed forest-dweller sitting across from Nabu looked like he would lose his sanity at any moment, praying to his Gods and repeating over and over again: “We shall perish, we shall all perish!”. Nabu watched the forest-dweller in silence as his concern grew that Era might stop the carriage and whip them all. Thankfully, Nabu’s broad-shouldered neighbor managed to shut the forest-dweller up with the threat of removing the forest-dweller's tongue with his bare hands.

Suddenly, the carriage came to an abrupt halt and the five slaves slammed against each other as all manner of curses escaped from their lips. No sooner had they recovered, or the door flung open to reveal Era, shouting orders at the slaves to get out and line up, which they duly did, being the humbled men they were. What Nabu saw before him was nothing he could’ve ever guessed he would see. They were lined up right in front of a large, wooden gate, adorned with the ferocious images of Dragons and guarded by two soldiers fully armored and armed with the most magnificently crafted equipment he had ever seen. The wall which protected what the gate gave entrance to, was five men tall and made out of solid rock. Before Nabu had time to collect himself and realize what was going to become of him, Era yelled at them, telling them to march through the gate, towards their fate.

Chapter 2

Nabu and his five companions stood silent for a few moments, too confused to think or speak. They had walked through the gates and through several long corridors before arriving in this room. It was dark and long, with several dozen of beds lined up on either side of the room. Wooden constructions with a layer of hay on top of them, something none of the men dreamed would ever again be theirs. While simple and not nearly as comfortable as the beds of your average craftsmen, it was certainly more then a slave could ever hope for.

Before any of the five slaves had time to collect himself and speak out his astonishment, they were startled by the booming voice erupting like a volcano from outside the room. In walked a giant man, well muscled and scarred to the bone. Half his teeth were missing and his left eye was destroyed by a wicked scar running vertically across it, the eyeball glazed in a misty white color. His beard was thick, black and reached his chest, though it was neatly kept and the pipe-curls in his beard betrayed a real sense of discipline and patience, as the man did not look like he had the wealth to pay servants to groom his beard for him.

“Welcome to the Royal Training Grounds of Ritt, slaves!” Echoed his voice through the room. “As of today, you all belong to none other then the King of Ritti, most High Monarch of the isles and seas! You shall serve him and you shall worship him! You shall fight for him and you shall bring honor to his Most Hallowed Name! You shall do everything he desires from you, even die for him! And through the King of the isles and seas, Hammu-Rati of Ritti, you shall follow MY orders from this day onwards. And IF I find you fit enough to be accepted into the Royal Guard of the Dragons of Mardaka, then your true training shall begin which will transform you slaves into Godly fighting machines worthy of carrying his name and his standard in battle against the barbarian hordes!”

“NOW! Repeat after me! Amongst the Lords, there is but one General and his name is Hammu-Rati of Ritti!”
Reacting with the speed of slaves who have learned what it means to be a slave, the five men repeated the towering giant’s words.
“I shall serve my commander like I serve my King! I shall serve the King as I am his slave. My life shall be in the service of the Royal Order, as he controls it. I shall not disgrace his name, nor his sacred standard and I shall strive to uphold his honor, both on the battlefield and off it!”

“This is your oath! You shall repeat it every morning, every afternoon and every evening. Remember it well, for it is your reason to live from this day onwards! Maggots! I am your drill master, I shall make worthy Dragons out of you, if it is the last thing you do! Remember my name well: Gamel, as you will be mine for many moons to come! Now: march out into the corridor and turn left! MOVE MOVE MOVE!”


Chapter 3

Nabu didn’t sleep last night, he was still trying to process what just happened to him. Being drafted into the Ritti army was certainly not something he was expecting to happen and right now, he wondered if he didn’t prefer hard slave labor over being sent into battle. He and his five companions stood in a small courtyard, the morning sun had not yet climbed to the height where she could cast her rays on their bodies. In front of them stood Gamel, in his hand a large brush and to each side stood a bucket filled with dye, one red, the other yellow, as well as a pile of wooden sticks.

Dipping the brush in the bucket with red dye, Gamel menacingly approached the wide-eyed forest-dweller, who struggled not to whimper and take a step back. With a stab of his brush, Gamel painted a red dot on the forest dweller’s chest, another dot on his stomach and finally a stripe on his neck. “These areas,” Gamel shouted as he turned around and walked towards the buckets, “Are the vital areas of a man. Pierce him with spear, sword or arrow in those areas and he will die within a few heartbeats.”

Dipping the brush in the yellow dye, Gamel returned to the forest dweller and with a large swipe of his brush, painted a stripe surrounding the red dot on the dessert dweller’s chest, another circle around the red dot on his stomach, two swipes on his sides and two more on each of his arms. “Pierce your enemy here, and he will suffer, but if his heart is filled with courage and strength, he will be able to fight on. In the coming months, I will drill you each and every day. I will test you for strength, stamina, reflexes and skill. Those of you who fail to live up to my standards, will be taken away and sold to the highest bidder. Live up to my standards, or exceed them, and you will be rewarded richly.”

Walking back to the buckets, Gamel picked up two wooden swords and tossed one to the forest dweller, who fumbled and dropped it. “I myself was trained exactly as you are going to be trained. I excelled during training and as a reward, was promoted to drill sergeant and am promised five acres of land and two slaves when I retire four years from now. If you strive to excel, you too will be rewarded with titles, land and slaves.”

Nabu gasped, as did the others. The prospect of owning wealth, let alone slaves, was something they had erased from their expectations. Their hearts raced as they each determined that they wanted to possess land for themselves. Setting his eyes on the forest dweller, Gamel ordered: “Strike at me.” To which the forest dweller hesitated for five heartbeats before carefully approaching the muscular giant and lunging at him.

With what seemed like the greatest ease, Gamel sidestepped the lunge and struck down with his stick on the desert dweller’s outstretched arm, snapping both bone and wood and sending the forest dweller and the other slaves reeling back. It took the forest dweller two heartbeats to realize what just happened, before he started squealing like a pig, fractured bone sticking out from his bloodied arm. With a nod from Gamel’s head, two nearby guards quickly approached the forest dweller and dragged him away.

“If the forest dweller heals properly, he will be sold on the market.” Gamel told the remaining four as he grabbed four more wooden swords and tossed them at every one in turn. This time, no swords were dropped.

A new life had unveiled herself to Nabu this past week. One filled with three decent meals a day, clean clothes, decent living conditions and religious worship. While Nabu was used to the strict discipline, hard work and overlords barking orders all day long, he did not expect being treated as well as he and his comrades were. The barracks, while certainly lacking any form of luxury, were much better then he was used to in his years working as a slave loader, as were the clothes and the meals.

Chapter 4

The heat was unbearable, worse then anything he had ever had to endure. All day long he had done nothing but inspect the defenses and make sure the construction of the fortress went according to schedule. In fact, for the past eight moons, every single day was spent like the previous: without excitement, without glory, without honor. “By the horns of Mardaka, I can only bare this life for so much longer.” he exclaimed.

“Nabu?”

His companion, the broad-shouldered Gara. Ever since the first day they met, on that fateful morning on the slave market, he and Gara had been inseparable. They were trained together by Gamel, they were praised together, they learned together, fought together and even now, Gara would never leave his sight.

“Nabu, sir?”

“What is it?” He replied with a sigh. Gara was much less concerned about rotting his days here, up north, near the border with the Prokyr. Gara was contend to quietly let the eight years pass by until he could retire from the Dragons and quietly settle on a fertile plot of land. If it were up to Gara, he would spend the next few years staring across the border, waiting patiently for the assault that would never come.

“Nabu, great Captain, there is a messenger requesting your presence. From the capital.”

Ah, now there is a change. A visitor from the City of Gold. Rising from his chair, Nabu walked towards Gara's voice. Brushing past the desk and pushing open the simple wooden door, he entered the waiting room and spotted a young boy standing there nervously, his hat held firmly in his hands. When their eyes met, the boy snapped to attention and spoke:

“Captain Nabu of the Dragons of Mardaka, sir?”

A broad smile whipped across his face: “Well well well. Is our Majesty at it again then? For honor and glory and all that?”

Blushing uncomfortably, the boy replied: “Yes sir... the Navy is set to sail out a...”

Dismissing the boy's comments with a wave of his hand, Nabu replied: “No need to say more. I thought after the Battle of Luko, the King would have no further need for me. I'm glad my services are still needed. Gara, pack our belongings, the Dragons of Mardaka leave tonight!”

bak_pheraspidai.gif

A Dragon of Mardaka. Armored with a chain vest, waist protectors, plate greaves and a sturdy, round shield. The Dragons are sufficiently armored to withstand punishment, but are light enough to be able to move swiftly across the battlefield. Armed with javelins and a short sword, the professional soldiers of the Ritti excell in the assault and are trained to ruthlessly exploit breaches in the enemy defenses. A deadly volley of javelins, followed by a determined charge has carried the day in many a battle. Led by the feared and respected Captain Nabu, these warriors truly are the cream of the Ritti military.
 
Orders to come hopefully today once I've sorted out the most critical schoolworks.
 
From the menace of war

The Hu’ut invasion had coursed wide spread fear through out the nation, mistrust of each other and the enemy at hand caused the nation to consume it self in a gigantic armaments sale through out the nation. The need for people to feel safe had no limits, and it soon became apparent to the leaders of Nerussia that arms had to play a new and important role in the rejuvenation of Nerussia.

The first step for this need for security was the abolition of tariffs and taxes for arms traders, including foreign traders as well as internal traders and merchants. This flood of arms merchants and the immense need for arms, created some of the most impressive arms bazaars that the known world had ever seen. People from far away and abroad rushed to the Nerussian cities to grasp this golden opportunity to buy the finest arms that the world had to offer.

Through out this period the paranoia surrounding the fear of invasion pushed the sales of arms up and significantly boosted the Nerussian economy, people had become wealthy through war, blacksmiths threw down their usual trades of horseshoe making, and started to create spearheads and arrow tips instead. Through the arms race the competition between local fabrication and foreign traders and merchants sparked frères competition; this competition ensured the expansion of the Nerussian arms market.

The fact that almost every civilian Nerussian was now armed made a very competent defence of the nation. “Never again” the Nerussians swore that their lands would no longer be plundered and pillaged by any foreign invader. This fanatic idea of fear and paranoia gave the Nerussians unity through the sword and shield.
 
(Skizzik sad) I cant believe that you need 300 posts for custom avatar!! ;(

Please make conversation I really want my custom avatar!! =D
 
Oh ok! sorry
 
Redeemed

"You must, therefore know that there are two means of fighting: one according to the laws, the other with force; the first way is proper to man, the second to beasts; but because the first, in many cases, is not sufficient, it becomes necessary to have recourse to the second."

-Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince

Part One: The Silver Prince

"Xephaion, Atalik the Black, and Isal-ha, you ride with me. We will take the Red Spears, Zaphkel's men, and all the mounted bowmen of the Arrow."

The tribesmen in the Prince's tent looked at him as if he had two heads.

Atalik, a hulking bearded giant who had gained the bronze mask by, as the legend went, breaking the spine of a plains lion with his bare hands, spoke first. "We follow the Gold Mask. We ride with him."

Atraxes was surprised that Atalik was capable of articulating such a complex statement. He sighed. "These are my father's orders. As the Redeemer rides east with his men to break the desert tribes, we shall strike across the passes into the lands of Katdhi."

Isal-ha growled in outrage. "I owe my life to you, Silver Prince, and I will ride where your horn blows. But what honor can we have from slaying those sand-herders while Arastephas crushes the mighty Sesh?"

Atraxes stood, unrolling a piece of sheepskin. "This is what the oracles call a map. It is like a picture of the lands of the earth as seen from the heavens."

Xephaion had been toying with a dagger while staring into the embers of the fire, his long legs crossed beneath him. He turned a brooding glare towards the map, black eyes focused upon the artifact. "What devilry is this? It must have been a mighty vision that lets a man look down from the heavens."

Atraxes shrugged. "The Redeemer knows all things. This is why the Katdhi must die. We must come to the Sesh before the Redeemer, so that his plan can be fulfilled."

"Sai!" exclaimed the tribesmen. Atraxes almost smiled at how the chance of glory made them sit up with excitement, like children eager for the chance of riding a pony.

"It will be we that drive the Katdhi across the burning sands, and water our horses there, so that we may come to the swift blue waters of the streams that feed the mother river."

Isal-ha laughed a low chuckle. "Our enemies will despair when they see the Satar coming down the river, like waterbirds diving for a helpless fish."

Atalik was not satisfied, however. He ran a thumb down his gargantuan axe, almost pouting. "I want to break the golden water cities like the Redeemer."

Atraxes put a compatriot's arm on the barbarian's shoulder. "Do not worry, Atalik. You will break the greatest city of all."

---

Atraxes hated the screams. He hated them. It was one thing to fight a man in battle, his sword against yours. That was a fair fight, and there was fairness in battle. But this...no. The rape, the murder, this he could no longer accept.

"Tell them to stop," he said to Isal-ha.

"What?"

Atraxes flinched as a woman jumped from an upper window. The crunch as she hit the ground was sickening. "TELL THEM TO STOP!"

Leaping into the saddle, he blew his horn, riding at full speed towards the center of this cluster of dusty dwellings that the Katdhi called a city.

A mother, garment split open, ran screaming into the center of the road with an infant in her arms. Atraxes' horse shrieked and reared into the air, and its' rider almost lost his seat.

Atraxes drew his sword. The woman flinched. With a sweeping arc, it descended...

An unfortunate Satar warrior, flushed with victory, had broken into a shop, slaughtered a wealthy merchant, and pursued his beautiful wife into the road. The spoils of war were his for the taking...

The blade sliced through the flesh of his neck, impacting the spine. Death was instantaneous.

The woman wept. Atraxes wept. The city burned.

---

Atraxes crossed the hill at the head of his men. We are killers. The greatest the world has ever produced. The thought echoed in his mind, as the sickening crunch made by that woman’s falling body replayed itself in his mind, over and over.

“And now, we kill again,” he muttered to himself. Tall, dark-eyed Xephaion stared at him.

“You are not like us, Silver Prince,” he said.

Atal, his traveling-horse, stumbled on some obstacle, jerking Atraxes out of his reverie. “Eh?”

“I saw you cut down the man in Katdhi.”

“Ah, Xephi, you saw that? Well, the blood-lust was on me, and I…”

“No. You saw that woman scream. And you helped her.”

Atraxes false smile vanished. “Will you challenge me?”

Xephaion looked down.

Atraxes halted his horse. “DO YOU CHALLENGE ME?”

Xephaion did not raise his eyes. Atraxes looked around. The entire line of men had halted, staring at him. He saw Isal-ha and Atalik, who had been lurking to the rear, drive their horses into a canter. They came up beside the prince and his companion.

The column slowly jerked into motion, each warrior brooding on his own fate as the horses picked their way through the sands.

“So, all three of you know.”

Isal-ha frowned. “You killed a man of the Satar in battle.”

“What we did in Katdhi?” Atraxes spat. “That was no battle.”

The sound her body made…

Atalik grunted. “We do not name you coward.”

Xephaion looked as if something in the sand interested him very much. “We owe allegiance to the Golden One. That does not mean we follow his code.”

Atraxes was stunned, “You, I…”

Isal-ha crossed his arms. “Riding with you, Silver Prince, we see that you are not your father.”

Xephaion finally looked up, dark, black eyes behind a bronze mask finally meeting the prince’s own. “Perhaps we are just watching the wind. Arastephas is not a young man. And you are strongest of the Silver.”

Isal-ha slapped Xephaion on the back, causing the normally stoic warrior to splutter. “What Xephi here means to say is that we follow you out of loyalty, not the order of a man, no matter what color his mask is.”

Atalik smiled dimly. “You did a good thing.”

Atraxes sighed. “Thank you.”

Xephaion turned the corner of his lips in something that almost resembled a smile. “It would help the men if you were not so stoic. Be confident in your decisions.”

Atraxes laughed. “How appropriate coming from you, Xe.”

The four tribesmen laughed, though Atraxes suspected that Atalik had no idea what was going on.

---

The city of Magha awoke to organized chaos. The slave markets were burning, and horns were sounding from the palace…holy spirits, the gates were broken!

So it came to pass that the herders of horses were herders of men, as they ushered the terrified crowds of people to the slave markets to be counted. But the Fall of Magha was not as haphazard as the sack of Katdhi…no, though the occasional scream or crash from a collapsed building rent the air, a line of grim mounted bowmen followed the first wave of the horde, with an arrow ready for the back of any fleeing Bahran militia…or any Satar foolish enough to loot and rape against the orders of his Prince.

Atraxes raised his shield, grunting as it took the brunt of the arrow that whistled from a slit high above. This wave had brought down two more of his men. They had to end this now.

“ATALIK!”

The titanic warrior dwarfed the other eleven men that held the battering ram. Muscles screaming with exertion, he roared as they slammed it once more into the cracked, iron-bound timbers of the citadel gate.

It was broken. The dismounted Satar swarmed into the courtyard as a fierce yell from the Bahran royal guard rose up to meet them.

Atraxes sprinted through with his men, roaring the cry of the Redeemer as they plunged into the melee.

“EXAAAATAAAAAAAASSS!”

Prince Atraxes drew his scimitars, swirling to avoid a spear thrust as he hacked at the shaft, cleaving it in two. The man tried to use the butt as a club, but Atraxes blocked it with an iron-clad bracer, and drove his foot into the man’s chest. He fell backward, and Atraxes dealt him a quick slash across the face, killing him instantly.

Before he could turn to meet the rest of the battle, a spear slammed into his back, only barely deflected by his boiled leather. Atraxes roared with outrage, leaping towards the warrior. The man cast aside his spear, drawing a hand-axe, which he threw. Atraxes deflected it with his scimitar, and threw a dagger, which bounced off his enemy’s breastplate to no effect. The man had gotten a sword from somewhere, he observed, and the two faced off.

His enemy’s swordwork was not equal with that of a Satar prince. The dance of blades left the heavily-armored man exhausted, while Atraxes was more mobile, quickly parrying the man’s slow thrusts. “I tire of this game,” Atraxes panted. He feinted with a left-hand slash, watching his opponent overbalance himself to meet the stroke, and then came down with a brutal cut from the right. It crushed the metalwork on the right side of his head, and blood trickled down his neck. Stunned, he stumbled slightly. Atraxes finished him with another blow to the head.

The melee in the courtyard was beginning to die down, he saw, as the now isolated Bahran resistance surrendered or was cut to pieces. More Satar cries came towards the rear of the courtyard, where the looming sandstone edifice of the Bahran palace waited. The prince let out a cough, breathing heavily. It had been months since he had seen real combat. He felt his lower back, wincing. That bruise would bleed. Fresh reinforcements were flowing into the citadel, and among them he saw Xephaion. Yelling to his friend, the two clasped arms in the fashion of the plains.

“I see you lived, my prince.”

“Barely. Much blood spilled the soil this day.”

“But far more was spilled from your enemies. Come.”

The sounds of combat turned to cheering from the palace as they mounted the thick walls. It was finished.

“Welcome to your empire, Silver Prince.”

Atraxes looked out at the city. A few isolated buildings were smoking, but the slave market fire had been put out. He had captured Magha…and he had done it HIS way.

“Few innocents died this day.”

“Is it better to live a lifetime enslaved than to die at once?”

Atraxes considered this.

“Yes.”
 
Interlude: Arks

“You will come by water, and I will come by fire. The Satar must be masters of both to survive in this world.”

“Yes, Father.”


In Bahra, the desert wind meets the Sesh in a cacophony of swaying palms and water. After the heat and the cold, the sand and the snow they had passed through…to see this lush depression of grass and trees was like seeing a rose in a den of lions.

Atraxes sat by the water’s edge, watching his father’s men as they oversaw the slave teams building the boats. So this, Atraxes observed, is what we fight for. We kill for this thin line of life in a land of unending sun.

He cupped a pool of water in his hands, watching as it ran through his fingers into the dust.

“Like the life blood of a man.”

Atraxes noticed Isal-ha wandering by the banks nearby. The men had been keeping watch over their Prince since the death of Zaphkel, a bronze mask, murdered by one of the Bahran slaves he had taken. After the execution of the king and male heirs to the Bahran crown, the nobility had been flocking to Magha to give tribute to this new “Silver King” from the north.

To his surprise, Atraxes enjoyed the ceremony of holding court in the Bahran palace. It was different from a rough tent in a field, more ordered and…stately. The Satar in him strained against the confines of stone walls, but he enjoyed the feeling of…law that ruling conferred.

The Bahrans were sheep, of course. They only cared for their lands and their titles, their precious ingots of gold and slave trade that stretched to the south. But they had uses. They could account for the value of the treasure the Satar had taken in their battles, and organize the conquered territories for their new overlords.

They are so eager to make themselves useful, Atraxes observed. Was this what ruling an empire was? Cowards groveling before the strong, until the opportunity for betrayal comes? It was no matter. This walled slave-city would serve the growing lands of the Satar well, and if it rebelled, its’ people could be put down as before.

“Father?”

“What is it, young Atraxes?”

“Do we have to kill?”

“No, a man does not have to kill. He can choose to die, or to be enslaved. Whether by their consent or not, all that live in peace are beholden to the men that kill. The will of the masses is not a will at all. It is a will of fear.”

“But father…killing is so horrible.”

“The black wolf of the plain does not feel remorse as his teeth close on the throat of a mountain hare. The hare goes limp in the teeth of its captor before the death blow is dealt. The prey dies in acceptance of the predator’s mastery. So too will the people of peace acknowledge our mastery.”

“So…we are the wolves?”

“Yes, my son. We are the wolves.”


Horns blew, and wild cheers sang out from the docks. The Bahrans had finished a great ark, many cubits long. Atraxes had watched as teams of oxen dragged the massive timbers from the mountain foothills, and seen groups of slaves with double-handled axes cut them.

“I will free the men that built that ship,” Atraxes said to himself. It was a beautiful vessel, curved like a new moon.

Xephaion had appeared suddenly, as if he had been wandering through the trees.

“I have heard one of the legends of this place.”

“Oh?”

“In years past, there would be times when the melting winter snows would make the waters of the Sesh spill over and cover the land. The people would take refuge in arks like these, riding with their wives and beasts until the waters had declined.”

Atraxes considered this.

“But these arks, then, are not to hide a flood, but to bring one.”

“There are no more safe places,” Xephaion agreed.
 
Wait, so the Satarai have taken 2 cities and the update hasn't even stared? What's up with that?

OOC: Erm... the update doesn't have to have started yet. It's pretty much a foregone conclusion that the two cities would have fallen to the Satarai :p
 
Thlayli's stories reflect how events may or may not happen. Incidentally, though, alex is correct, as Lucky didn't send orders, or bother to inform me why, and the other nations in his path are rather small.
 
The Patriarch laid his hands on the shoulders of his son, the cool night time breeze pushed through the Cities Humid atmosphere. A Red Light shone down from above.

"It is said by many that the moon shines brighter with imminant bloodshed, a portant of things to come, the Red Light shines down on the warriors of the coming battles and sends them into a blood rage,"

His Son turned to face him "You think the peoples of the north are enraged?"

"I think they have dreams, hopes and fears and that they, as everyone does, walks a path. I also think that the Sesh and the Had Rivers will turn red, and Istrias Doom will fill with the souls of the dead,"

His Sons troubled look caused him to pick up dirt from the ground.

"I do not say that man should not fight," He blew the dust into the wind, where it coalasced and fell apart before being carried off into the night sky, "Merely that man must be guided, for in its ignorance it will simply clash with itself a chaotic jumble of madness, it will have no meaning, it will reach no final destination," He smiled at the boy, teaching him was a joy, to see him learn.

The little boy wrestled with what his father had said, "Why then father do you to do so much for these people, people who know not who you are,".

"My Son Have you not heard of Opporias Sacrifice?"

Opporias Sacrifice

"When the world was but newly born Istria and Opporia fought over the very soil, and they fought not on this world to protect its innocence and beauty they fought on Rithya[1] the Red Moon above us. And they summoned the Aenid[2] and the Niamdes[3].

For centuries they fought, the Aenid beloved of their Lord Opporia and the Niamdes servants of Istria. Both shed their blood on Rithya, only to be reborn and fight again and again and again. For both beleived in their minds that they were in the right, and the Aenid and the Niamdes were but perfect reflections of their masters.

Year by Year Opporia became more and more sickened by the violance and the endless slaughter, nothing gained and nothing done. And thus he vowed to do what he could to end it, he entreated Istria for a parley. Whereupon he went alone, knowing Istria would betray his trust. He arrived before Istria, unarmed and Istria took his spear and thrust it into Opporias heart.

Whereupon Opporia bled on Rithya, forever turning it red when his divine blood mixed with that of the fallen Aenid and Niamdes. And his sacrifice was not without gain, for Istria tied as he was with Opporia died also, mortal bodies fading away. Forevermore forced to act through agents until such a time both wish to take mortal form once again,"


****​

"Son, Opporia sacrificed himself because the mortal exitance of himself and Istria was destroying the world around them and brought pain and suffering, thus I make sacrifices of myself such that others will benefit "

[1] i.e. Rithya = Moon but does not equal the moon of some other planet
[2] Aenid = something equivilant to an angel
[3] Niamdes = something equivilant to a deamon

I've left lots of potentiall weird things in there that could have different interpetations, and also things that can have cool stories made for them (i.e. Istrias Spear, specifics of generals and officers in the Aenid, Niamdes sides etc).

Also, like you other guys stories keep em' coming!
 
Quick question for North King: Is Jaud Narah a freshwater lake or a salty inland sea? (I'm guessing the latter.)
 
Hey NK did you still need new Names and place Names for NESS??

If you do I can give some ideas and input
 
Quick question for North King: Is Jaud Narah a freshwater lake or a salty inland sea? (I'm guessing the latter.)

The latter; no outlet. Yet.

Hey NK did you still need new Names and place Names for NESS??

If you do I can give some ideas and input

That would be great. :)

EDIT: And this order situation is rather ridiculous. Get your goddamn orders in if you haven't already. Given the absurdly long and confusing orders that I've already received, I want to work this out sooner rather than later.
 
hat is true. Also, it's good to see the Satarai are getting rather close to me now if they are planning on taking over Bahrai.

.....You're happy that the destruct-o-horde is getting closer to you :confused:?
 
I just realised that I am actually being somewhat anxious about North King updating too soon (since my aforewhinedabout schedule problems have gotten in the way of me writing nearly as much as was intended during the weekend). It's a very weird and confusing feeling, though I am sure it will pass. :p
 
Back
Top Bottom