YS1:Turn10
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Arcoscephale
Last night, Thymbe woke shivering in my arms. In the dull, terrible pre-dawn light, she whispered that she had dreamt of death. I held her, and reassured her that it was just a nightmare, which could never hurt her.
This afternoon she took me aside:
"Pandokos..." she began, "Do you still believe in the old gods back home, now that you've seen this one in the flesh? Are the oracles gifted to see the future? Is Elysium just a foolish hope, or do we just end?"
One thing I've learnt in this country is that it's often best to just smile and continue the conversation as best you can when people start talking crazy. I resorted to Plan B: address a portion of the conversation that makes sense.
"I don't really think the oracles can predict the future," I confided. "I know you're a priestess, and believe in that stuff, but the poems are so cryptic that people just interpret them generously afterward."
I don't think she was really listening to me anyway, and my only reply was a thoughtful hum. She reached into her saddlebag, and pulled out a small, leather-bound book, improbably smelling strongly of butter.
"I found this at the library," she said shyly. "I guess the locals have decided... Pandokos, promise me that you'll live up to their expectations, that you'll set a good example for them. All their past gods have been so cruel to them, and they're such a good-hearted people. Promise me that you'll take care of him. Promise me..."
She was really getting worked up, so I said, "I promise" although it was all non-Greek to me. Silently she handed me the book: "The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet," with the extremely odd subtitle: "In his first incarnation."
Plan C is to pretend that you're suddenly very busy and exit the conversation with crazy-person as soon as you're sure they aren't going to stab you in the back. Grabbing the proffered book, I muttered some excuse and set about readying my troops to storm Godsgrave mountain.
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Ermor
A rather cryptic message from the starspawns of R'lyeh was brought to me. Upon some studying, it appears to be an ancient cipher of some sort, in the form of an archaic rhyme once named Haiku. The meaning of the message was not yet deciphered, however I will ponder it some more.
Another sage recruited to fill my researching ranks, another battle won by my proclaimed general. However, the jade amazon tribe of Ordu has successfully repelled my attack there, slaughtering the remaining mercenaries under my command and destroying a few undeads sent their way. I will meet them in greater force next time.
Valgömu, second priest of newly risen Ermor, will stay at the recent battlefield, trying to get a use out of the fallen soldiers while Caractor and Angmar are ordered to plunder the pitiful remains of the once vast farmlands.
For I am Noth, and this money will fuel the warmachine needed to liberate this land from its shackles of life.
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Machaka
Slowly awareness returned. It was as if a mist was slowly receding from his mind. Since his mind basically was mist, Cetawayo found the sensation more than a bit disturbing. As he became aware of his surroundings he grew even more disturbed. He was standing in the middle of his tent, the one that he used when traveling into the countryside. This would be fairly inconsequential, if he could remember getting into the tent, if he could remember leaving Balakavo. He also felt somehow different...
At that moment, a young man Cetawayo didn't recognize entered the tent. He was attired as an acolyte of the order of the Voice. Cetawayo was shocked that such a junior priest would enter his presence with such... confidence? As Cetawayo started to ask this brash young man to explain himself, the acolyte gasped and quickly assumed the proper attitude of obeisance.
"My Lord, I await your pleasure." the priest said with more fervor than Cetawayo would have expected. Cetawayo began to analyze the situation. Something was very wrong, but it was something that he would defeat. Confidence began to return, he had bested death after all. He would defeat this, whatever it was. The first step was to figure out what had happened. This would be quickly followed by who or what had caused it. However, he had to tread lightly. He was a god to be, more powerful than most any other being in the land. He could still sense others much like himself in power, those who would steal his destiny - if they could. Could one of them have done this? What of the priesthood? They were powerful men and like most powerful men, many wanted more power. If they could rule in his stead, some would take any chance... Could they possibly have managed such a feat?
But first, more information. "What is the state of the land?" he asked the priest.
"My Lord, little has changed." answered the priest.
Cetawayo was impressed by this careful answer. Now to see how much this man could be trusted. Cetawayo focused his power, his presence on the priest. "Look at me." he commanded. It was a calculated risk. To experience such full force of divinity could leave the victim a feebleminded wretch. Of course, that generally happened to those who were strong willed and attempted to resist and to hide their true nature. That would not happen here. He could sense that this one was a true believer, completely devoted, and could be relied upon. Such were rare and to be highly valued. "Why are you in attendance upon me?" he queried.
"Master, when you... went away... the ranking priests returned to Balakavo in order to manage the empire. I volunteered to stay here and attend you." replied the priest. "I knew that you would return to us!" he joyfully exclaimed.
"How long was I... gone?" asked Cetawayo.
"Three months." replied the priest tremulously.
Three months had passed! This was unwelcome news. There was indeed much work to do. Now that he was assured of the young man's devotion he quickly gathered the details of his... illness. He also learned a bit more about the political situation among his priesthood. Impressed with the young man's knowledge and insight as well as his devotion, he quickly summoned the scribes and messengers that his one loyal priest had retained. His will would flow! He quickly ordered an increase in the levies in the capital. He also ordered the young priest to help him perform the rituals that would allow them to sense if any sources of magical power were located here on the plains.
Things were moving forward once more. He was recruiting an army and would soon, with any luck, find a additional sources of magic for his land. All that remained was a leader for the armies and perhaps a prophet. He also needed to put the priesthood back into their proper place. "Hmm... perhaps two birds with one stone." he pondered.
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Man
“And by the shade of Avalon, I bless these woods, the Grove of Ilneoa.” The voice of Flacal, the Prophetess, had the eerie tone of the ones immersed in the trance. Her mind between the earthly world and these lands of Beyond, the Priestess communed with both her Goddess of the Tempest and the older powers of the Kingdom. The blood of the Fae-touched was still running strong in the veins of many of her Sisters, and traces of their heritage could be seen in the land. A ruined castle wall here, fragments of pottery in a cottage, cumbersome blades made of fabled cold iron; such were the presents of the Old Folk. Only in lore did their name remain, fading away as the ways of Man changed.
“Deep within the Grove are a haven from the outside world, where the peacefulness of the land allows you to reflect upon your own actions. Ilneoa cares little for empty boasts and idle claims; only acts do matter, for they reveal the contents of your hearth. A place to meditate in harmony with Earth; such is the gift of Ilneoa.” Slowly Flacal left the divine world behind her, awakening in the grove she had blessed. It was filled with the typical yew trees of Man, dotted by the Last crimson leaves of autumn. Only the occasional flight of birds and the rustle of wind in the trees disturbed the peacefulness of the woods; a place to meditate away from the world.
Such a bucolic land, so different from the turmoil surrounding Ilneoa. A handful of knights in glittering armour stood before her, the Last defenders of the rebel Earl of Valogda. They were accompanied by their squires and overeager lads, a ill-suited army to stop her advance. Shielded in their pride and honour, they charged against her, lances twinkling in the sun. How graceful they were, until they broke away once her fury was unleashed. Ilneoa herself landed in their midst, her hands spreading thunder to all foolish enough to stand close to her. The few knights not having taken leave of their senses attempted to flee; too late for them. Not one warrior left the battlefield alive.
A satisfactory victory, but the Earl himself was nowhere to be found. Surely one of her soldiers had too free a tongue over a mug of ale, or a merchant's purse had grown fatter overnight. The display of her might should act as a reminder of what happens to rebels and traitors alike; who would dare to challenge such a powerful being as herself? And once the Earl had fallen in her custody, another example would be made, for the common good.
Her Tempest was rising in the east, with both her own arm striking down her foes, and her armies securing the borders of the Realm. The days when Avalon would remain a mere observer of the world were gone; only supremacy will be adequate for her purposes.
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R'lyeh
The funniest thing is they never think they need a bodyguard, until suddenly it's -tht- with the daggers and a look of terminal surprise, and then the province is all ripe for the eating. Sometimes, of course, it's -swish-swish- and there's a startled looking purple cloak lying tattered on the ground, but there's always another one waiting to try their skill with the knife. Pretty much it's just one feast after another.
Stupid fishies, they always run away, and then you have to waste time collecting them, when you could be eating, isn't that the worst? Mr. Flibbles says that's the worst. That, and micrometeorites. I mean, what kind of rock wants to fall to the earth without even a teensy-weensy little crater?
...i was in the caverns the other day and there were all these people and i asked what they were doing and they said we are learning of the past days of glory for our people are so dumb they never say anything to me they just scuttle around like jellyfish no spine no tasty bones to crush although jellyfish are pretty good too give me teeth and jaws and biting and tearing and tentacled death anytime like this story i heard it made me happy so i will tell it to you so you can have happy dreams like the one with the cheese...
There once was a school of pirhannas
Who wanted to eat some sultanas
So they crawled onto land
And were et by a band
Of pescetarian bananas.
I think I'm going to go eat someone.
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