North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
I have something to do tonight, so the update will be a little late. However, since this gives more people more time to finish stories/orders, I'm not particularly worried.
PureNES: Years of Excelsior
- Thread starter North King
- Start date
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
That's the proper attitude as MOD.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
"The sun is rising so beautifully in the distance," said the 'Teacher', having reached the age of thirty eight. Scars littered his body, and many nicks and marks criss-crossed his face. He had been both lucky, and skilled in battle. But not all wound were visible ones, and the 'Teacher' was injured indeed.
"Master?" quizzically said his ever present apprentice, now a towering man seemingly made only of muscle. Despite the younger man's size, he still was kneeling in respect towards the smaller 'Teacher'. The 'Teacher' turned to regard his student, and walked outside into the spring air.
"I think," spoke the 'Teacher' softly, a smile upon his features, "that it is time I finally taught you."
Gasping in surprise, the younger man rose quickly. "What do you mean, Master? Have you not taught me all you know of the God's, and of battle?"
A soft, tired laugh came from the battle scarred man. "I merely showed you the path. I did not teach, so much as share. Now, though, I think it is time for your final lesson," said the man, waving his hands toward the distant mountains.
"Do you see the tallest of those, far off in the distance?" he asked, a light smile staying upon his face. "The great mountain Lunas, where it is said that atop it's peak you can touch the moon itself. No man has climbed its hallowed heights, and survived."
"All know the story of the mountain, master. But what is this lesson?" the tall man said, looking down strangely at his seemingly happy master.
"I, much like the mountain," began the 'Teacher', "have never been conquered. I fought in all manner of battles, and even bested the sages of our lands in my wisdom and teachings. My enemies have all but crumbled against my fury, and the tribes are so very close to full unity, despite the threat that the cultures to the East pose."
The 'Teacher' turned his head toward his apprentice, and looked straight into the man's eyes. The eyes spoke of many years of struggle, and years of boundless wisdom. Staring into those seemingly endless pits of cerulean, the man was suddenly struck by the realization of what his master was trying to teach him.
"Teacher, no! I can't let you do that! The tribes need your wisdom and leadership too much!"
The man's pleading was desperate. Yet, he wasn't so much pleading for the sake of the tribes, but rather for his long term friendship with the elder man. In a way, the 'Teacher' was his father; he had been raised and taught by the man since he was eight.
"This, is the first, and hardest lesson that I will teach you. Can you let go?" asked the man, a light, sad expression upon his face. "Can you let go of me? I have fought so hard, and for so long. It is time I see if I am worthy to join the Gods. By learning this lesson, by letting go, you will take my place as Teacher."
The younger man began to cry, tears slowly dripping down his face one by one. The man struggled with the words for several moments, before finally speaking, "I accept...Drasha."
Drasha closed his eyes, tears of his own falling down his face. He began to walk towards the towering mountain in the distance, his friend still crying behind him. He turned to regard his successor one last time, calling out one last time.
"I will be amongst the Gods soon, Teacher. I will be waiting for you, when your own successor is ready for the first lesson."
With that, Drasha walked away from the encampment. Those few men who were awake to watch him go did not try and stop him. The resigned, determined look in the man's eyes told all to those who saw. The former great 'Teacher' was going to meet the Gods.
Thus, the Lunas mountain became a holy site in the lands of the tribes. Those who had fought and survived their battles in life, and who were ready to meet the Gods would travel to its foot, and climb the sacred heights.
The new Teacher wasted little time, and established his power in the tribes quickly, and began a new campaign to unite the last of the tribes in Drasha, the First's honor.
"Master?" quizzically said his ever present apprentice, now a towering man seemingly made only of muscle. Despite the younger man's size, he still was kneeling in respect towards the smaller 'Teacher'. The 'Teacher' turned to regard his student, and walked outside into the spring air.
"I think," spoke the 'Teacher' softly, a smile upon his features, "that it is time I finally taught you."
Gasping in surprise, the younger man rose quickly. "What do you mean, Master? Have you not taught me all you know of the God's, and of battle?"
A soft, tired laugh came from the battle scarred man. "I merely showed you the path. I did not teach, so much as share. Now, though, I think it is time for your final lesson," said the man, waving his hands toward the distant mountains.
"Do you see the tallest of those, far off in the distance?" he asked, a light smile staying upon his face. "The great mountain Lunas, where it is said that atop it's peak you can touch the moon itself. No man has climbed its hallowed heights, and survived."
"All know the story of the mountain, master. But what is this lesson?" the tall man said, looking down strangely at his seemingly happy master.
"I, much like the mountain," began the 'Teacher', "have never been conquered. I fought in all manner of battles, and even bested the sages of our lands in my wisdom and teachings. My enemies have all but crumbled against my fury, and the tribes are so very close to full unity, despite the threat that the cultures to the East pose."
The 'Teacher' turned his head toward his apprentice, and looked straight into the man's eyes. The eyes spoke of many years of struggle, and years of boundless wisdom. Staring into those seemingly endless pits of cerulean, the man was suddenly struck by the realization of what his master was trying to teach him.
"Teacher, no! I can't let you do that! The tribes need your wisdom and leadership too much!"
The man's pleading was desperate. Yet, he wasn't so much pleading for the sake of the tribes, but rather for his long term friendship with the elder man. In a way, the 'Teacher' was his father; he had been raised and taught by the man since he was eight.
"This, is the first, and hardest lesson that I will teach you. Can you let go?" asked the man, a light, sad expression upon his face. "Can you let go of me? I have fought so hard, and for so long. It is time I see if I am worthy to join the Gods. By learning this lesson, by letting go, you will take my place as Teacher."
The younger man began to cry, tears slowly dripping down his face one by one. The man struggled with the words for several moments, before finally speaking, "I accept...Drasha."
Drasha closed his eyes, tears of his own falling down his face. He began to walk towards the towering mountain in the distance, his friend still crying behind him. He turned to regard his successor one last time, calling out one last time.
"I will be amongst the Gods soon, Teacher. I will be waiting for you, when your own successor is ready for the first lesson."
With that, Drasha walked away from the encampment. Those few men who were awake to watch him go did not try and stop him. The resigned, determined look in the man's eyes told all to those who saw. The former great 'Teacher' was going to meet the Gods.
Thus, the Lunas mountain became a holy site in the lands of the tribes. Those who had fought and survived their battles in life, and who were ready to meet the Gods would travel to its foot, and climb the sacred heights.
The new Teacher wasted little time, and established his power in the tribes quickly, and began a new campaign to unite the last of the tribes in Drasha, the First's honor.
alex994
Hail Divine Emperor!
Nylan wonders if perhaps this is Harry Potter related?
Lurker's Comment: It probably is considering NK's reaction to human-slaughter threatening to spoil the book; not that you care, but I'll be getting my copy tomorrow morning.
Grombar
Fire in the Hole
OOC: My copy is going to my parents house since when I pre-ordered it my address was still there in the Barnes and Nobles system. Went and saw the new movie tonight though and they redeemed themselves with it IMO.
human-slaughter
brand new year
At 12:01 Pacific Time I will be listing the spoilers as by that time it isnt my fault you havnt finished the book by then.
JK lol
JK lol
foolish icarus
Shipwreck
posted unfinished, ah well
Hare asked the Master, How will we survive the winter? And the Master replied*, When there is nothing left to burn you must set yourself on fire.
Ah, firelight. It signals the time for outrageous jokes, lies told freely and without offense, and just as important truths that we might choose not to believe. Speech let loose to the low glow of the flames need not be taken seriously in its actual detail, and so can offer more important lessons in its form and intricacy. There's something that holds minds intent on faces half in and half out of the light, something unbreakable about the allure of warmth and sustenance, the anonymity of darkness amidst the instinctual safety and intrigue of a gathering of strangers. We hear the sparse rain but can only see it if we look straight up. It cries softly as it falls into the flames, yet no drops seem to touch our heads.
Hmm. Let me tell you about a different time. We lit bright fires that night, and for some the coals burned on and on.
It was winter, and the voices sifting through the coal light were sparse and low. The shortest day had come most a month ago, by my count, and night fell far earlier than we could afford to turn in; we moved and worked well into the darkness.
The harvest the past year had not been successful. Food stores had dwindled rapidly and would quickly have ran out had we all remained in winter camp. So some had stayed behind in the villages and many of us had spread out to bring game from farther afield and attempt to trade with any other camps that had surplus food stores.
As we got farther out many of the group had returned to the villages bearing what morsels we had managed to gather. Those of us left journeying still hoped to secure some substantial shipment of eatables from one of the larger towns or a more fortunate farmstead, preferably in exchange for our own assortment of non-edible supplies we had brought along...but if it came to it, we had discussed the option of using intimidation or theft to get what we needed.
Subjects of that nature tended to feature in our evening talks: As our numbers shrunk and the accumulating days of difficult travel wore on us we had little energy for more than a few exaggerated boasts and tempers ran a little thin to make even the jovial exchange of joke and retort very wise.
So that evening, on the last day before the final group of hunters to return home would leave those of us continuing on to trade, we staggered, hours past the disappearance of the sun, into ragged ellipses round the campfires and conversed quietly between bites of our meager meal. No one wanted to stay up very much longer. Excepting those on watch we all soon retired to eke out some rest.
There was snow on the ground and I tried to brush it out of an area and lay down some dryer vegetation as a cushion. By touch and the aberrant light of the flickering flames I knew I didn't do a good job, and it didn't matter: My sleeping furs and blankets could never dry completely out there and despite my best efforts to drive the wetness out they still retained some moisture and a thorough stench of smoke that would never ever come out.
The still air poured down between the trees by the half dominant clouds was cold, and scalded exposed hands and faces, but wasn't cold enough to make moisture deadly, just uncomfortable, and in that state of exhaustion I was willing to accept that.
Hours later I suddenly awoke and the chill seemed as nothing beside the worry that had been growing in all of us ever since the crops began to show themselves sickly. I could tell by the sounds among the forest and the smell of accumulated humidity and at last the beginning of light somewhere beyond the periphery of my vision that dawn was drawing near. The barrier between our thoughts and speech and the truth suddenly grows very thin just before daylight and every woe and folly ever visited by or upon me crept with a hundred legs out of my memory and swam around in my guts. I wished then for winter to end not because I hated the cold or the hunger or the fleas but because I never ever wanted to find myself awake just before the dawn. Winter did not seem to answer right away.
Others were already stirring around me and we arose and started the day's work as our surrounding regained some of their color. By morning proper we broke camp and exchanged final farewell with the hunters returning to Singidu. I asked my friend to deliver to my wife and child a message of my wellbeing and my thoughts of love.
All of us embraced one another through thick, dirty winter clothing and both groups set off with their trains of pack mules, their panniers not quite full enough of meat and the odd bit of winter vegetation, ours filled with trinkets and craft items. The prospect of trading away grain and fish and dried vegetables for blades and jewelry and figurines and furs and weaves becomes far less appealing in the dead of winter, but our hopes dictated that someone would be foolish or generous enough to do just that. If they wouldn't...bows and spears have other uses beyond bartering. A bad winter and a grumbling stomach could turn even us Singidu into Invaders—a sour thought, and one that stuck with me until the rhythm of the march took away all such considerations.
continued later
[ * Whenever the master says something with an asterisk (which I think will be almost all the time), I did not come up with it. May all those I've plagiarized forgive me.]
[Also note that this little expedition isn't journeying through the lands of any actual civilizations (yet, anyways), but rather the space between them so far. So don't worry, it's not your pigs that my hungry wanderers may or may not be stealing.
Hare asked the Master, How will we survive the winter? And the Master replied*, When there is nothing left to burn you must set yourself on fire.
Ah, firelight. It signals the time for outrageous jokes, lies told freely and without offense, and just as important truths that we might choose not to believe. Speech let loose to the low glow of the flames need not be taken seriously in its actual detail, and so can offer more important lessons in its form and intricacy. There's something that holds minds intent on faces half in and half out of the light, something unbreakable about the allure of warmth and sustenance, the anonymity of darkness amidst the instinctual safety and intrigue of a gathering of strangers. We hear the sparse rain but can only see it if we look straight up. It cries softly as it falls into the flames, yet no drops seem to touch our heads.
Hmm. Let me tell you about a different time. We lit bright fires that night, and for some the coals burned on and on.
It was winter, and the voices sifting through the coal light were sparse and low. The shortest day had come most a month ago, by my count, and night fell far earlier than we could afford to turn in; we moved and worked well into the darkness.
The harvest the past year had not been successful. Food stores had dwindled rapidly and would quickly have ran out had we all remained in winter camp. So some had stayed behind in the villages and many of us had spread out to bring game from farther afield and attempt to trade with any other camps that had surplus food stores.
As we got farther out many of the group had returned to the villages bearing what morsels we had managed to gather. Those of us left journeying still hoped to secure some substantial shipment of eatables from one of the larger towns or a more fortunate farmstead, preferably in exchange for our own assortment of non-edible supplies we had brought along...but if it came to it, we had discussed the option of using intimidation or theft to get what we needed.
Subjects of that nature tended to feature in our evening talks: As our numbers shrunk and the accumulating days of difficult travel wore on us we had little energy for more than a few exaggerated boasts and tempers ran a little thin to make even the jovial exchange of joke and retort very wise.
So that evening, on the last day before the final group of hunters to return home would leave those of us continuing on to trade, we staggered, hours past the disappearance of the sun, into ragged ellipses round the campfires and conversed quietly between bites of our meager meal. No one wanted to stay up very much longer. Excepting those on watch we all soon retired to eke out some rest.
There was snow on the ground and I tried to brush it out of an area and lay down some dryer vegetation as a cushion. By touch and the aberrant light of the flickering flames I knew I didn't do a good job, and it didn't matter: My sleeping furs and blankets could never dry completely out there and despite my best efforts to drive the wetness out they still retained some moisture and a thorough stench of smoke that would never ever come out.
The still air poured down between the trees by the half dominant clouds was cold, and scalded exposed hands and faces, but wasn't cold enough to make moisture deadly, just uncomfortable, and in that state of exhaustion I was willing to accept that.
Hours later I suddenly awoke and the chill seemed as nothing beside the worry that had been growing in all of us ever since the crops began to show themselves sickly. I could tell by the sounds among the forest and the smell of accumulated humidity and at last the beginning of light somewhere beyond the periphery of my vision that dawn was drawing near. The barrier between our thoughts and speech and the truth suddenly grows very thin just before daylight and every woe and folly ever visited by or upon me crept with a hundred legs out of my memory and swam around in my guts. I wished then for winter to end not because I hated the cold or the hunger or the fleas but because I never ever wanted to find myself awake just before the dawn. Winter did not seem to answer right away.
Others were already stirring around me and we arose and started the day's work as our surrounding regained some of their color. By morning proper we broke camp and exchanged final farewell with the hunters returning to Singidu. I asked my friend to deliver to my wife and child a message of my wellbeing and my thoughts of love.
All of us embraced one another through thick, dirty winter clothing and both groups set off with their trains of pack mules, their panniers not quite full enough of meat and the odd bit of winter vegetation, ours filled with trinkets and craft items. The prospect of trading away grain and fish and dried vegetables for blades and jewelry and figurines and furs and weaves becomes far less appealing in the dead of winter, but our hopes dictated that someone would be foolish or generous enough to do just that. If they wouldn't...bows and spears have other uses beyond bartering. A bad winter and a grumbling stomach could turn even us Singidu into Invaders—a sour thought, and one that stuck with me until the rhythm of the march took away all such considerations.
continued later
[ * Whenever the master says something with an asterisk (which I think will be almost all the time), I did not come up with it. May all those I've plagiarized forgive me.]
[Also note that this little expedition isn't journeying through the lands of any actual civilizations (yet, anyways), but rather the space between them so far. So don't worry, it's not your pigs that my hungry wanderers may or may not be stealing.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Nylan wonders if perhaps this is Harry Potter related?
Actually, it was something completely unrelated. However, by happy coincidence I acquired the book shortly thereafter, and spent all of today reading it.
Having finished it, (though I still would not like spoilers in this thread, mostly as it would be blatant threadjacking), the update will begin soon.
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
So I don't ruin everything for someone.
EDIT: So when's the update coming?
Spoiler :
EDIT: So when's the update coming?
carmen510
Deity
If you want the story spoiled, PM me. You can also check Wikipedia, but if you have questions not answered there, I'll be happy to answer them.
And when is the update coming?
Hopefully, anytime SOON.
And when is the update coming?
Hopefully, anytime SOON.
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
The update is *beginning* soon. That means I have no idea when it will come out.
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
Gah. Just kill me now.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
human-slaughter
brand new year
Edit Ignore This
Silver Steak
The Ghost of SS
I will, if you ever put anything HP related in this thread again
Duly noted. Exterminators who write death threats signed with
tend to be terribly serious.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
Indeed I am horribly terrifying, and I most definately am going to hunt you down over a book. Fear me.
Its the people who don't blink, that can kill you and forget about that are the most dangerous. Those who think about it, meditate on it both before and after are not nearly as scary or dangerous.
So yes, be worried about the person who threatens to kill you with a smile
So yes, be worried about the person who threatens to kill you with a smile
North King
blech
- Joined
- Jan 2, 2004
- Messages
- 18,165
Indeed, worry about that smiling homicidal maniac.
Try not to post until I post the update, since I have it all nicely lined up to be at the top of the page.
Try not to post until I post the update, since I have it all nicely lined up to be at the top of the page.
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