Lord Zee
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DracoLunaris
Frettzo
Cyclone
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Torack
@Frettzo you're a black belt in fifteen martial arts right? I appoint you Seihdhara's chief advisor on all things martial
Kho Member
STATUS: "Soon you will have forgotten all things. And soon all things will have forgotten you." 6 yrs ago
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"Soon you will have forgotten all things. And soon all things will have forgotten you."
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@Double Capybara Sou's last picture just makes me think horror. Pure horror. That thing will be COOKING for me? Uh... heh... *backs away very slowly* never has food been so terrifying
@Kho
If you think you can exchange blows with the embodiment of strength, go right ahead. I doubt you’ll come out with only bruises though. :)
Strength is as naught in the hands of one who cannot use it! If it is a contest of martial prowess, then come boyo - but know that you come in vain! Seihdhara will floor ya, have her way with ya, and send ya packin with yer insy winsy lettle tailsi between yer legsies
CyKhollab Productions present
0 Post-Realta
Vetros lay numb and shocked in the aftermath of... of the end of the world. The city was in ruins, its population decimated. Fathers had lost sons, sons fathers. Sisters had lost brothers, wives husbands, uncles nephews. The people had lost their Priest-King.
But Heru had not lost his people, nor his resolve. It was to the indefatigable golden tower that was Heru that they all turned; he was the pillar that held the crumbling ceiling high and prevented the downward descent into chaos. He mourned his father's death, but even so, did not seek to follow in Akthanos' footsteps; he was close enough to see his father for the man that he truly was instead of a godly facade of a visage that all others witnessed, and yet he was not so close as to be blind to his father's faults and the stumbles in his footsteps.
Akthanos had been old, but his hands rarely did quaver. They were nigh always calm and still as the surface of a moonlit pool, and so surgical were his actions that he seemed as ephemeral as Vizzer, Mamoor, or any of the other gods that served the Master.
That had been what caused the great ruin; Heru saw that his father had been too aloof and too cautious. In his restraint, his passivity, and his protective stance, in the end he had succeeded in hoarding his authority and the power of the King's Law until the vaults cracked open and all poured out for the vultures to feast upon. Heru knew that a more firm and direct hand was needed. The late Priest-King was a ghost, then and now. But the new Priest-King immortal be his name! was a mountain. There could be no denial of his stone hand, for it was through that hand that the Grand Temple and the ruined palace complex within its upper floors had been restored to their former glory in only a day. Where the rays of fire had melted stone and cracked its foundations, the Transcendental Grand Temple of Vetros and House of Divine Winds had drawn in the sand of the Firewind and mended itself; where the walls had crumbled, the great bricks of stone hewed themselves anew and returned to their places.
Repairing the Grand Temple in that had been his second decree, for in doing so he also sought to symbolically restore the natural order of law and banish the unholy chaos that had been woven by the demons like Y'Vahn. His first decree had been merely that the people would live: though his own father was ironically past salvation, there were countless hundreds that Heru did save. As they lay scorched and dying upon the streets or buried beneath rubble and slowly suffocated, a godly wind lifted them from despair and rejuvenated them by magic. The city walls had likewise been hewed anew and raised once more within one fortnight, as upon his crowning Heru had rapped his scepter upon the ground and ordered the world's djinn to come forth and obey his command, and by the King's Law, so had they done; legions of spiryts of every calling and every stature had arrived and worked in unison to rebuild the city's mighty walls before the awestruck eyes of its inhabitants.
And even as he saw to it that they had shelter once more, as part of his decree that all live, the Priest-King forever may he rule! offered them also the means to sustain themselves. With a mighty rush, the sacred Mahd flooded and with its newfound glut it washed away the ash and the rubble that had choked it, and once again there was water as pristine and fresh and clear as the cloudless sky above. With that rush had also come fish, more fish than any had seen before, fish so bountiful that they washed up upon the shores, and none hungered.
For while Vetros had its Priest-King may his reign last until the end of days! and protector, the fields which spread for miles around were in utter turmoil. If the people of Vetros could not eat of what the loins of the earth provided, then the seed of the glorious Mahd was theirs. With the condition of Vetros and the safety of its inhabitants at the forefronts of his mind, the Priest-King may he recline upon the golden throne for a thousand thousand years! did little more than secure the fields in the immediate vicinity of the city.
Even so, while the actions of the Priest-King may his glory never fade! raised the walls and provided food and safety and order, and even though he had saved unknown thousands from certain death, still there was pain and suffering and grief. Here and there a half-naked child could be spied walking alone in the ruins, snot streaming into his mouth and flies buzzing about his eyes as he chowed on a fish given him by one kind old lady or another. A mother could be spied sat or stood here or there haunting the ruin of a home, searching desperately for her children, her spouse, her life. In the beginning, teams of soldiers could be seen running about with buckets, rushing to parts of the city that were still ablaze days after the horrific happening. Now they saw to gathering up the orphans and the injured. When a dead horror emerged and began walking about, the soldiers struck it down with blazing arrows as the living fled all around.
Axalit and his wife and his three children, who had hosted Juras during his short stay in the city, had rushed back to the city in the aftermath of the destruction to find that both the store and their home had been flattened utterly. Had they been in the city when horror descended, they would have been amongst the number of the dead. They rooted through the remains of their home, attempting to salvage what little they could. At one point a captain in the Vetros City Guard came by with a turtle and hailed them.
'Everything alright here?' He asked Khunnu and Addaf with a broad smile. Their father descended from the ruins and responded.
'All good here. We were out in the country when... well, all this happened.'
'Yeah, lucky that you weren't. It was carnage. Even the Priest-King went in it.' Axalit's jaw dropped.
'Th- the Priest-King is dead?' He asked.
'Long may he reign!' The officer declared, 'our Prince Heru has returned, and he now sits upon the throne. At his command the Mahd now flows with fish and the spiryts of the earth and sky are toiling to rebuild the city walls. It's an awesome sight.' And so saying, he bent and handed Addaf the baby turtle. 'It's a Mahd Turtle, they're everywhere!' The boy stared at the creature with a mixture of awe and disgust as it looked around in confusion. Or maybe that was just its face. The captain departed and Axalit returned to the ruins of his home.
Over the days that passed, the nine-year-old twins, Khunnu and Addaf, stayed close to their parents and had to be reassured from time to time that everything would be alright. But Nubata surprised them all. The usually volatile six-year-old was unusually calm and quiet, swift to do as her mother requested and all too willing to help with sifting through the rubble of their home. Addaf quickly grew tired of the little turtle, and so Nubata took it upon herself to care for it. She called him Spotty because he had yellow spots on his face.
'Can we go see Mother Yara?' The girl asked her mother one morning - perhaps a week after the destruction, once the rubble of their home had been more or less cleared. Her tired mother gave her a puzzled look - the girl had never before referred to the Witch-Priestess as Mother Yara.
'Don't you mean Mummy Yara,' Addaf said teasingly. Nubata ignored him and held on to her mother's arm.
'Please mummy, can we go?' Samiyas looked to her husband who shrugged and nodded.
'It's alright, you can go visit the Temple, see if everything is ok there and help if they need anything. It'll do you some good. See what's become of your parents and siblings,' Samiyas' face fell slightly at this, sadness and worry clear in her eyes, 'I will take the boys with me to clear up the store.' And with that, the woman rose from her seated position and, dusting off her plain full-length dress, took Nubata's hand and set off through the devastated city. Spotty balanced precariously on the little girl's head. Wherever they went people were scrambling about the ruins of their homes or otherwise planning or building anew. Here or there men could be seen huddled in groups, gesturing towards were a ruin had been and negotiating over building details. And here or there a group leader could be seen shouting at a team of workers to stop lazing about and get to mudbrick-making.
When they arrived at the Temple, Nubata gasped in shock, and Samiyas also could not help but draw back in alarm. The Temple Arch (parts of it falling) was the only thing that marked this place as having once hosted the great Temple. A burnt tree could be seen here or there and the ruins of the famed Temple Stairs led up to nothing but flattened ruins. The Great Chamber, the Infirmary, the Prayer Halls and the School, were gone. Nubata suddenly ran off, holding onto the turtle atop her head and shouting desperately. 'Mother Yara! Mother Yara!' Samiyas quickly chased after her.
All over the former-Temple's grounds people could be seen sifting through the rubble. In a clearing not too far from the Temple Stairs was a small gathering of what were immediately recognisable as priestesses. Nubata was rushing towards them, and Samiyas made for them at a slower pace. Some of the priestesses took note of Nubata, but the rest appeared preoccupied with some heated discussion. 'Hello Nubata,' it was Sister Akanit who spoke. The priestess looked visibly tired, her eyes were red and puffed - it was obvious that she had been crying bitterly over the past week or so. But still she smiled. Nubata looked sadly at the priestess, and for the first time since this whole thing had started the little girl's eyes began to tear up. The priestess knelt down and wrapped her arms around Nubata, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. As she withdrew, Spotty gave her a wide-eyed look.
'Where is she?' The girl managed, breathing away her tears, 'Mother Yara.' Sister Akanit leaned back and looked Nubata in the eyes. She was quiet, and Nubata's face fell. Akanit's lower lip trembled and she looked down wordlessly, her breaths suddenly jagged. She quickly turned away from Nubata and got up.
'It would not have been her wish that we abandon all this!' One of the priestesses was saying in a loud voice, 'this is not the Temple of Yara, or the Temple of the Witch-Priestess. It is the Temple of the Bond. And so long as there exist those who are bonded to it, it shall endure.' There were murmurs of agreement, but an irritated voice rose up in response.
'And what is the Temple without the Witch-Priestess? Who now can we turn to for guidance and wisdom? Whether you like it or not, Sister Lilaneem, Mother Yara was the Temple. Without the Witch-Priestess, there is nothing. Even Malikhet is gone. Even Chjekaya!' Nubata did not know the priestess who was speaking, but Sister Lilaneem was quick to respond.
'If you want to leave, Sister Aninah, then by all means do. No one will stand in your way. But do not presume to tell us what the Temple was and who the Temple is. We are the disciples of the Witch-Priestess, her example and her teachings are wisdom and guidance enough. Yes, Malikhet is dead, Keliptria also and Golanaz,' at the mention of Golanaz, Akanit visibly stiffened. They had been the closest of friends. 'But their deaths will have been an even greater tragedy if we disperse now and forget all that they built and were,' and then the steel-eyed Sister Lilaneem turned to all the others, 'the Temple will rise again. And the Temple will endure even when all else is mud and sand.'
The Temple Shall Endure
Sister Aninah grumbled irritably and turned away. 'You are fools - you will bring ruin on the memory of the Witch-Priestess and the Temple. I will have no part in it.' And with that she stormed away. A few priestesses followed hesitantly after her, leaving some twenty behind. Sister Olakhat stepped up towards Lilaneem and hugged her tightly. Still holding onto Sister Lilaneem's arm, Olakhat turned and spoke.
'The Witch-Priestess is gone, and I fear we shall never see her likes again. But I have trust that the Temple will always produce a Witch-Priestess - the Master will not leave us bare. Until then, however, we need a leader - and I can see none better than Sister Lilaneem. You all know her well - she is of iron-will, of penetrating sight, of us who yet survive there are none more knowledgeable than her.' Sister Akanit stepped forward when Olakhat was done.
'I second that,' she said, placing her hand in Olakhat's. Then, one by one, the remaining seventeen priestesses accepted Lilaneem as the Head-Priestess.
The Temple had boasted some ninety priestesses before. Only twenty-four had survived the decimation of Vetros, and now only twenty remained. Yara was dead, Malikhet, Chjekaya, Golanaz, Keliptria, Hebatel and some sixty others. Akanit herself had been pulled out from within the rubble, surviving as though by some miracle. It had been a golden light, she declared. It had come to her in her final moments and denied death the time it needed to wrench her soul away.
Nubata looked at the priestesses before glancing back at her mother. 'Mummy,' she said hesitantly. Samiyas looked at her daughter, 'mum... I want to be a priestess. Let me stay.' Akanit looked at the little girl, and then to her mother. Samiyas frowned and shook her head.
'We'll talk about this some other time, Nubata. Now is not the time.' Nubata pouted and stepped towards Sister Akanit. The priestess took up the turtle in her arms and looked to Samiyas with a smile.
'Don't worry, leave her with us for a while. I'm sure things at home are somewhat chaotic right now. When things have settled and there is some normalcy, I'll bring her home. Unless you need her for anything, of course.' Samiyas hesitated for a few seconds, looking from her daughter's hopeful face to Akanit's kind, grief-stricken eyes. And she relented.
'Fine, but just until things get back to normal,' Nubata beamed and leapt into her mother's arms, planting kisses on her cheeks and nose and lips. Samiyas put the girl down and smiled before looking up at Akanit.
'I need to go. I haven't seen my parents or siblings since... I need to look for them. Please, look after her.' Akanit nodded and assured her. Stroking her daughter's cheek a final time, the woman turned and walked hurriedly towards the Temple Arch and away.
'So I'm a priestess now, right?' Nubata grinned at Akanit as she rubbed Spotty's snout, and the priestess could not help the warmth that spread through her chest at the girl's innocent smile and words.
'Yes, the very first in this new phase of the Temple's life. The first of many.' They gathered around Lilaneem and together made their way across the rubble until they reached the ruins of the Temple Library. They had, with the help of both volunteers and those willing to unearth the Temple's treasures for some sort of reward, slowly excavated the library over the past week. Of the manuscripts and works they had retrieved so far, many of them were damaged or burned, but Lilaneem had made sure they were all carefully taken and stored in the ruins of Yara and Gadar's home - that was the only part of the Temple complex that yet retained a semblance of its upright form.
Nubata found herself beside Sister Akanit, carefully picking up small pieces of rubble and searching for any of the library's treasured manuscripts that had survived. 'What's a little girl like that doing here?' Someone suddenly shouted. Nubata looked up and saw the man - perhaps seventeen years of age - who had spoken. 'This is no place for kids to play about.' Nubata frowned.
'I'm not playing around. And I'm not a kid - I'm a priestess, idiot!' The young man sneered at her response.
'Go back to mummy little girl!' He laughed and threw a small stone in her general direction. He purposefully aimed to miss, so much was obvious. However, the stone slowed very suddenly when it reached Nubata's vicinity and was swiftly reduced to dust and then- nothingness. The girl gasped and the young man looked clearly taken aback. 'What the...' he muttered, before picking up another stone and dashing it at Nubata again. However, Sister Akanit saw him throw it this time and screeched at him to stop. Only Nubata saw the stone meet with the same strange fate as its predecessor. She fingered the orange crystal hanging from her necklace and smiled slightly.
'Thank you,' she murmured softly. It was suddenly warm in her hand, and the warmth spread through her until she lost track of the space around her and thought she was afloat in an atmosphere blissfully aglow. And she knew she was not alone, felt the protective embrace of something... something so much more. But it did not speak. Or perhaps, could not speak. Or perhaps she merely could not hear it.
'Nubata, are you alright?' Sister Akanit's face sprang into existence before her eyes, the warm ambience that had but moments before surrounded her melted away. She let go of the orange crystal and perked up.
'Y-yeah, I'm fine,' she said quickly. She could feel the pulsing warmth of the crystal against her chest. It felt almost like... a heartbeat. 'Was just thinking. Sorry.' Akanit chuckled and rubbed the girl's brown curls affectionately, much like Mother Yara used to do. Nubata grinned and quickly bent down and picked up some rubble.
'Oh, be careful!' Akanit warned, 'that's very big, stick to the sma-' but the little girl amazed the priestess by lifting the rather large rock and throwing it some distance away. Akanit gave Nubata a perplexed stare before gazing at where she had thrown the rock. 'That's... incredible. How on earth did you manage that?' She grabbed Nubata's twig-thin arms and pinched at them as though that would reveal the secret to their hidden strength. Nubata laughed and struggled to free herself.
'That tickles, sttopp.' Sister Akanit let her go and shook her head in a mixture of confusion and amazement.
'Well, either way - don't do that again. Just focus on the smaller things.' But Nubata did not listen. Excited by her newfound strength, she swept aside rocks and debris with ease and soon enough had a team of workers going back and forth with manuscripts and tomes and scrolls she had managed to unearth. The deeper she burrowed, the more well-preserved and undamaged the works that were found.
When night settled in and the workers began to head out to rest, Nubata was not tired and wanted to keep going. 'The sooner we find everything, the sooner we can rebuild, right?'
'Yes, Nubata, but no matter how fast we work the Temple will not go up overnight. Bit by bit. Come, let us go eat and rest and we'll return early in the morning.' Sister Akanit told her. Mother Lilaneem nodded at her words.
'Sister Akanit speaks wisely. Come Nubata, you have done brilliantly today - better than entire teams. How you managed that is beyond me, but I am sure you have an answer; and I'd like to hear it.' Nubata reluctantly did as the two priestesses bid her, and they all huddled together around a few fires in the shade of the late Witch-Priestess' former home. They ate and spoke, and when Lilaneem asked Nubata about her strange strength the girl shrugged and said she did not know. Lilaneem observed the girl with her piercing grey eyes, but Nubata looked away and bit into some fish and bread. 'Well, if you change your mind know that you can always speak with me.' Nubata looked up and saw that the priestess was smiling. For all her steely exterior, Nubata could see that the essential kindness that moved the priestesses of the Temple of the Bond ran just as true within Mother Lilaneem.
Kindness
'T-tell me about kindness,' the girl suddenly said. Lilaneem swallowed some bread and took a sip from a half-broken clay bowl before turning to the girl.
'You wish to be a priestess of the Temple of the Bond, do you not?' The girl nodded eagerly, 'then you must understand that our utmost goal is the alleviation of suffering. Suffering is an illness, and we are - by the Master's will - its cure. We must know suffering, we must know the causes of suffering, and we must know how to put a stop to suffering. Mother Yara taught us these things through medicine - illness is suffering. Our duty is to identify the cause of illnesses or, if we do not know it, then to discover the cause through various means. Once we know the cause, it is our duty to root it out and make it cease. This is the case for both physical suffering, mental suffering, and spiritual suffering. In order to carry out these duties fully, we must cultivate compassion and kindness. Showing kindness to others, we learn to be less selfish; sharing the suffering of others, we develop concern for the wellbeing of all beings and so are driven to alleviate that suffering. We learn to suffer with others, and so to lift the suffering of another is to lift our own suffering. Thus kindness and compassion are, for a priestess of the Temple of the Bond, the one foundation all else is built upon.'
Of Suffering and Kindness
Nubata's eyebrows furrowed and she bit her lip. 'I can be kind. I like everybody.'
Lilaneem smiled. 'That is the heart of it. To achieve true kindness and compassion, we must learn to love all things unconditionally. Who, in this world, do we love unconditionally?'
The priestess looked at Nubata who furrowed her brows in deep thought. 'Everybody?'
Lilaneem chuckled. 'Really? Do you love Mother Yara like you love the lizard in the Mahd?'
Nubata sat upright and shook her head. 'No! I like Mother Yara much, much more'n the lizard. But I like Spotty alot too!' Lilaneem looked at Nubata expectantly, 'and... well, I guess I love mum and dad and granny and granpa more'n anyone else...'
Lilaneem nodded. 'That's it. We feel unconditional love and gratitude towards our mother, our father. Those who cared for us when we were utterly helpless; incapable of feeding or protecting ourselves, who loved us against all odds. We must consider that love and gratitude, and we must make it our ultimate goal to feel it towards all living beings. Love and gratitude towards all that exists, do you understand?'
Nubata's eyes were wide at the idea. 'T- towards everything?' she asked, 'e-even this ant?'
Lilaneem nodded. 'Even that ant. For when we achieve that we recognise the essential kindness of all that exists - everything is a mother, or a father, everything cares and loves unconditionally at some level. And you know, the Witch-Priestess used to say that souls, when they die, are reborn. It is an eternal cycle. So that ant may have, in a past existence, been your mother, your father, your brother. In on existence or another, every soul loved you unconditionally. When we see that, we cannot but feel towards everything as we do towards our own parents in our current existence. Armed with that, it is then only natural to wish to return our debt of gratitude, it is only natural to wish to see the happiness of all and the removal of suffering. You understand?'
Nubata smiled, somewhat dazed at the enormity of it all. 'But that's... so hard! Feeling aaall o' that love I mean. Doesn't it make you tired?'
Lilaneem shook her head. 'Love does not tire us, Nubata. It enriches us, it gives us purpose, warmth, helps us grow and, ultimately, it gives us happiness and fulfilment. It is not love that tires us - it is lack of love.'
The girl frowned as she tried to take in Lilaneem's words, rubbing the pulsating orange crystal between her thumb and forefinger. For one reason or another, her mind felt calm and receptive, and though she would have usually been overwhelmed by these strange ideas, she felt that she - at some level - understood. It awed and excited her. 'But this whole rebirth stuff is not true,' a priestess suddenly spoke up, 'Mother Yara only ever mentioned it in passing as the belief of heathens in foreign lands she had visited.'
Lilaneem looked at the one who had spoken. 'I know she only mentioned it in passing, but I have come across ancient Vetruvian manuscripts which make mention of rebirth too, Sister Mu'ana,' the Head-Priestess responded.
'Oh not this debate again,' Sister Fosia said, 'I have spoken with various priests from different temples about this, and the consensus is that this matter is not mentioned authoritatively in any of the respected authorities. We should neither declare it heretic nor orthodox belief.'
Lilaneem pursed her lips, and Sister Mu'ana looked likewise unconvinced. 'A discussion for another time, perhaps,' the Head-Priestess said. The other two nodded and Lilaneem turned back to Nubata with a smile. There was a light in the girl's eyes, fascination.
'You know... one of the soldiers told us that the Priest-King is building the city walls very quickly. The spiryts are building the city up again. Maybe if we go to him he will dig up all the books and build the Temple back up again.'
Lilaneem raised an eyebrow at the girl's words. 'Is he really now? This is the first I hear of this.'
'Oh yes, I did hear some of the volunteers mention that on a few occasions,' Akanit said. 'Perhaps we can appeal to him for aid.'
Lilaneem nodded and smiled appreciatively towards Nubata, 'Yes, perhaps we can.'
In the weeks that followed, the walls of the city would rise completely, and then the Priest-King's Palace itself rose up overnight, stunning all onlookers. The priestesses continued to excavate the Temple of the Bond's ruins, eventually unearthing the Temple's impressive treasury which lay hidden beyond the door at the back of the Miracle Room. Many of the workers were paid, and Mother Lilaneem eventually decided to reward the volunteers also. Even so, they walked in the shadow of the giant that was the newly crowned Priest-King. Each morning Heru descended from his quarters above to hold ritual and prayer in the temple's grand hall for all to witness, and in the evenings Heru spent with the many aristocrats that made up his advising council and ministry, but beneath the noon's sun he walked among the people on the streets. When the day was at its hottest and his subjects at their weakest, he was there to lend them his strength. He would parade through the streets with an entourage of servants behind him carrying pots of fresh water and fruit. Along the sides of the streets the masses crowded, and as their sacred king passed by, they reached out their hands and were met by his touch. To come into contact with one of divine blood was an enormous blessing that could ward off many evils and curry the Master's favor, so every noon Heru offered that blessing and the respite of refreshments to as many of the commonfolk as he could.
Even as he walked, he took note of those places that he saw most devastated, and when the magisters held council later in the evenings to discuss how the city might restore its grasp over the lawless hinterlands that had succumbed to chaos, Heru also bid them take action to restore the city itself. Aid did come, in the form of laborers and even soldiers that freely helped to rebuild homes and repair the most devastated of structures.
Nubata and Sister Akanit had taken to stalking the Priest-King on an almost daily basis in an their attempts to petition him use his divine powers to make the Temple of the Bond arise as he had done with the walls of Vetros and the Grand Temple. Their attempts to reach him during his daily treks throughout the city met generally with failure, and attempting to catch him in the Grand Temple itself proved to be easier said than done - the guards at the Palace refused to permit them entry into the upper levels where Heru dwelled, and when the Priest-King came to the ground floor and fulfilled the first part of his role with sacred rite before the public, the throngs of people were such that gathering his attention was impossible.
'Tell him we want to see him!' Nubata snapped at a guard one day, perhaps a week into their attempts to petition the Priest-King. The guard grunted something about the Priest-King being busy and the two left once again, distraught at their failure - Nubata far more so than Sister Akanit.
The priestess spoke. 'Mother Yara used to say this - "If you can and are able, never put your trust in the twain", and she is proven right in one at least.'
'What are the twain?' Nubata asked. Smiling, Akanit raised two fingers.
'Gods and kings. She is proven right about the latter, it would seem, but I yet have hope for the former.' Nubata smiled slightly and took Sister Akanit's hand.
'We'll build the Temple. We don't need kings or gods - we'll do it all on our own.' Akanit chuckled, though her eyes seemed somewhat anxious. This irreverence did not sit well with her, but she knew that Nubata would come to understand with time. She was still but a child, after all.
For the Destructive Hand of the Gods Notes Not the Song of Innocence
0 Post-Realta
Vetros lay numb and shocked in the aftermath of... of the end of the world. The city was in ruins, its population decimated. Fathers had lost sons, sons fathers. Sisters had lost brothers, wives husbands, uncles nephews. The people had lost their Priest-King.
But Heru had not lost his people, nor his resolve. It was to the indefatigable golden tower that was Heru that they all turned; he was the pillar that held the crumbling ceiling high and prevented the downward descent into chaos. He mourned his father's death, but even so, did not seek to follow in Akthanos' footsteps; he was close enough to see his father for the man that he truly was instead of a godly facade of a visage that all others witnessed, and yet he was not so close as to be blind to his father's faults and the stumbles in his footsteps.
Akthanos had been old, but his hands rarely did quaver. They were nigh always calm and still as the surface of a moonlit pool, and so surgical were his actions that he seemed as ephemeral as Vizzer, Mamoor, or any of the other gods that served the Master.
That had been what caused the great ruin; Heru saw that his father had been too aloof and too cautious. In his restraint, his passivity, and his protective stance, in the end he had succeeded in hoarding his authority and the power of the King's Law until the vaults cracked open and all poured out for the vultures to feast upon. Heru knew that a more firm and direct hand was needed. The late Priest-King was a ghost, then and now. But the new Priest-King immortal be his name! was a mountain. There could be no denial of his stone hand, for it was through that hand that the Grand Temple and the ruined palace complex within its upper floors had been restored to their former glory in only a day. Where the rays of fire had melted stone and cracked its foundations, the Transcendental Grand Temple of Vetros and House of Divine Winds had drawn in the sand of the Firewind and mended itself; where the walls had crumbled, the great bricks of stone hewed themselves anew and returned to their places.
Repairing the Grand Temple in that had been his second decree, for in doing so he also sought to symbolically restore the natural order of law and banish the unholy chaos that had been woven by the demons like Y'Vahn. His first decree had been merely that the people would live: though his own father was ironically past salvation, there were countless hundreds that Heru did save. As they lay scorched and dying upon the streets or buried beneath rubble and slowly suffocated, a godly wind lifted them from despair and rejuvenated them by magic. The city walls had likewise been hewed anew and raised once more within one fortnight, as upon his crowning Heru had rapped his scepter upon the ground and ordered the world's djinn to come forth and obey his command, and by the King's Law, so had they done; legions of spiryts of every calling and every stature had arrived and worked in unison to rebuild the city's mighty walls before the awestruck eyes of its inhabitants.
And even as he saw to it that they had shelter once more, as part of his decree that all live, the Priest-King forever may he rule! offered them also the means to sustain themselves. With a mighty rush, the sacred Mahd flooded and with its newfound glut it washed away the ash and the rubble that had choked it, and once again there was water as pristine and fresh and clear as the cloudless sky above. With that rush had also come fish, more fish than any had seen before, fish so bountiful that they washed up upon the shores, and none hungered.
For while Vetros had its Priest-King may his reign last until the end of days! and protector, the fields which spread for miles around were in utter turmoil. If the people of Vetros could not eat of what the loins of the earth provided, then the seed of the glorious Mahd was theirs. With the condition of Vetros and the safety of its inhabitants at the forefronts of his mind, the Priest-King may he recline upon the golden throne for a thousand thousand years! did little more than secure the fields in the immediate vicinity of the city.
Even so, while the actions of the Priest-King may his glory never fade! raised the walls and provided food and safety and order, and even though he had saved unknown thousands from certain death, still there was pain and suffering and grief. Here and there a half-naked child could be spied walking alone in the ruins, snot streaming into his mouth and flies buzzing about his eyes as he chowed on a fish given him by one kind old lady or another. A mother could be spied sat or stood here or there haunting the ruin of a home, searching desperately for her children, her spouse, her life. In the beginning, teams of soldiers could be seen running about with buckets, rushing to parts of the city that were still ablaze days after the horrific happening. Now they saw to gathering up the orphans and the injured. When a dead horror emerged and began walking about, the soldiers struck it down with blazing arrows as the living fled all around.
Axalit and his wife and his three children, who had hosted Juras during his short stay in the city, had rushed back to the city in the aftermath of the destruction to find that both the store and their home had been flattened utterly. Had they been in the city when horror descended, they would have been amongst the number of the dead. They rooted through the remains of their home, attempting to salvage what little they could. At one point a captain in the Vetros City Guard came by with a turtle and hailed them.
'Everything alright here?' He asked Khunnu and Addaf with a broad smile. Their father descended from the ruins and responded.
'All good here. We were out in the country when... well, all this happened.'
'Yeah, lucky that you weren't. It was carnage. Even the Priest-King went in it.' Axalit's jaw dropped.
'Th- the Priest-King is dead?' He asked.
'Long may he reign!' The officer declared, 'our Prince Heru has returned, and he now sits upon the throne. At his command the Mahd now flows with fish and the spiryts of the earth and sky are toiling to rebuild the city walls. It's an awesome sight.' And so saying, he bent and handed Addaf the baby turtle. 'It's a Mahd Turtle, they're everywhere!' The boy stared at the creature with a mixture of awe and disgust as it looked around in confusion. Or maybe that was just its face. The captain departed and Axalit returned to the ruins of his home.
Over the days that passed, the nine-year-old twins, Khunnu and Addaf, stayed close to their parents and had to be reassured from time to time that everything would be alright. But Nubata surprised them all. The usually volatile six-year-old was unusually calm and quiet, swift to do as her mother requested and all too willing to help with sifting through the rubble of their home. Addaf quickly grew tired of the little turtle, and so Nubata took it upon herself to care for it. She called him Spotty because he had yellow spots on his face.
'Can we go see Mother Yara?' The girl asked her mother one morning - perhaps a week after the destruction, once the rubble of their home had been more or less cleared. Her tired mother gave her a puzzled look - the girl had never before referred to the Witch-Priestess as Mother Yara.
'Don't you mean Mummy Yara,' Addaf said teasingly. Nubata ignored him and held on to her mother's arm.
'Please mummy, can we go?' Samiyas looked to her husband who shrugged and nodded.
'It's alright, you can go visit the Temple, see if everything is ok there and help if they need anything. It'll do you some good. See what's become of your parents and siblings,' Samiyas' face fell slightly at this, sadness and worry clear in her eyes, 'I will take the boys with me to clear up the store.' And with that, the woman rose from her seated position and, dusting off her plain full-length dress, took Nubata's hand and set off through the devastated city. Spotty balanced precariously on the little girl's head. Wherever they went people were scrambling about the ruins of their homes or otherwise planning or building anew. Here or there men could be seen huddled in groups, gesturing towards were a ruin had been and negotiating over building details. And here or there a group leader could be seen shouting at a team of workers to stop lazing about and get to mudbrick-making.
When they arrived at the Temple, Nubata gasped in shock, and Samiyas also could not help but draw back in alarm. The Temple Arch (parts of it falling) was the only thing that marked this place as having once hosted the great Temple. A burnt tree could be seen here or there and the ruins of the famed Temple Stairs led up to nothing but flattened ruins. The Great Chamber, the Infirmary, the Prayer Halls and the School, were gone. Nubata suddenly ran off, holding onto the turtle atop her head and shouting desperately. 'Mother Yara! Mother Yara!' Samiyas quickly chased after her.
All over the former-Temple's grounds people could be seen sifting through the rubble. In a clearing not too far from the Temple Stairs was a small gathering of what were immediately recognisable as priestesses. Nubata was rushing towards them, and Samiyas made for them at a slower pace. Some of the priestesses took note of Nubata, but the rest appeared preoccupied with some heated discussion. 'Hello Nubata,' it was Sister Akanit who spoke. The priestess looked visibly tired, her eyes were red and puffed - it was obvious that she had been crying bitterly over the past week or so. But still she smiled. Nubata looked sadly at the priestess, and for the first time since this whole thing had started the little girl's eyes began to tear up. The priestess knelt down and wrapped her arms around Nubata, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. As she withdrew, Spotty gave her a wide-eyed look.
'Where is she?' The girl managed, breathing away her tears, 'Mother Yara.' Sister Akanit leaned back and looked Nubata in the eyes. She was quiet, and Nubata's face fell. Akanit's lower lip trembled and she looked down wordlessly, her breaths suddenly jagged. She quickly turned away from Nubata and got up.
'It would not have been her wish that we abandon all this!' One of the priestesses was saying in a loud voice, 'this is not the Temple of Yara, or the Temple of the Witch-Priestess. It is the Temple of the Bond. And so long as there exist those who are bonded to it, it shall endure.' There were murmurs of agreement, but an irritated voice rose up in response.
'And what is the Temple without the Witch-Priestess? Who now can we turn to for guidance and wisdom? Whether you like it or not, Sister Lilaneem, Mother Yara was the Temple. Without the Witch-Priestess, there is nothing. Even Malikhet is gone. Even Chjekaya!' Nubata did not know the priestess who was speaking, but Sister Lilaneem was quick to respond.
'If you want to leave, Sister Aninah, then by all means do. No one will stand in your way. But do not presume to tell us what the Temple was and who the Temple is. We are the disciples of the Witch-Priestess, her example and her teachings are wisdom and guidance enough. Yes, Malikhet is dead, Keliptria also and Golanaz,' at the mention of Golanaz, Akanit visibly stiffened. They had been the closest of friends. 'But their deaths will have been an even greater tragedy if we disperse now and forget all that they built and were,' and then the steel-eyed Sister Lilaneem turned to all the others, 'the Temple will rise again. And the Temple will endure even when all else is mud and sand.'
The Temple Shall Endure
Sister Aninah grumbled irritably and turned away. 'You are fools - you will bring ruin on the memory of the Witch-Priestess and the Temple. I will have no part in it.' And with that she stormed away. A few priestesses followed hesitantly after her, leaving some twenty behind. Sister Olakhat stepped up towards Lilaneem and hugged her tightly. Still holding onto Sister Lilaneem's arm, Olakhat turned and spoke.
'The Witch-Priestess is gone, and I fear we shall never see her likes again. But I have trust that the Temple will always produce a Witch-Priestess - the Master will not leave us bare. Until then, however, we need a leader - and I can see none better than Sister Lilaneem. You all know her well - she is of iron-will, of penetrating sight, of us who yet survive there are none more knowledgeable than her.' Sister Akanit stepped forward when Olakhat was done.
'I second that,' she said, placing her hand in Olakhat's. Then, one by one, the remaining seventeen priestesses accepted Lilaneem as the Head-Priestess.
The Temple had boasted some ninety priestesses before. Only twenty-four had survived the decimation of Vetros, and now only twenty remained. Yara was dead, Malikhet, Chjekaya, Golanaz, Keliptria, Hebatel and some sixty others. Akanit herself had been pulled out from within the rubble, surviving as though by some miracle. It had been a golden light, she declared. It had come to her in her final moments and denied death the time it needed to wrench her soul away.
Nubata looked at the priestesses before glancing back at her mother. 'Mummy,' she said hesitantly. Samiyas looked at her daughter, 'mum... I want to be a priestess. Let me stay.' Akanit looked at the little girl, and then to her mother. Samiyas frowned and shook her head.
'We'll talk about this some other time, Nubata. Now is not the time.' Nubata pouted and stepped towards Sister Akanit. The priestess took up the turtle in her arms and looked to Samiyas with a smile.
'Don't worry, leave her with us for a while. I'm sure things at home are somewhat chaotic right now. When things have settled and there is some normalcy, I'll bring her home. Unless you need her for anything, of course.' Samiyas hesitated for a few seconds, looking from her daughter's hopeful face to Akanit's kind, grief-stricken eyes. And she relented.
'Fine, but just until things get back to normal,' Nubata beamed and leapt into her mother's arms, planting kisses on her cheeks and nose and lips. Samiyas put the girl down and smiled before looking up at Akanit.
'I need to go. I haven't seen my parents or siblings since... I need to look for them. Please, look after her.' Akanit nodded and assured her. Stroking her daughter's cheek a final time, the woman turned and walked hurriedly towards the Temple Arch and away.
'So I'm a priestess now, right?' Nubata grinned at Akanit as she rubbed Spotty's snout, and the priestess could not help the warmth that spread through her chest at the girl's innocent smile and words.
'Yes, the very first in this new phase of the Temple's life. The first of many.' They gathered around Lilaneem and together made their way across the rubble until they reached the ruins of the Temple Library. They had, with the help of both volunteers and those willing to unearth the Temple's treasures for some sort of reward, slowly excavated the library over the past week. Of the manuscripts and works they had retrieved so far, many of them were damaged or burned, but Lilaneem had made sure they were all carefully taken and stored in the ruins of Yara and Gadar's home - that was the only part of the Temple complex that yet retained a semblance of its upright form.
Nubata found herself beside Sister Akanit, carefully picking up small pieces of rubble and searching for any of the library's treasured manuscripts that had survived. 'What's a little girl like that doing here?' Someone suddenly shouted. Nubata looked up and saw the man - perhaps seventeen years of age - who had spoken. 'This is no place for kids to play about.' Nubata frowned.
'I'm not playing around. And I'm not a kid - I'm a priestess, idiot!' The young man sneered at her response.
'Go back to mummy little girl!' He laughed and threw a small stone in her general direction. He purposefully aimed to miss, so much was obvious. However, the stone slowed very suddenly when it reached Nubata's vicinity and was swiftly reduced to dust and then- nothingness. The girl gasped and the young man looked clearly taken aback. 'What the...' he muttered, before picking up another stone and dashing it at Nubata again. However, Sister Akanit saw him throw it this time and screeched at him to stop. Only Nubata saw the stone meet with the same strange fate as its predecessor. She fingered the orange crystal hanging from her necklace and smiled slightly.
It is from my homeland, and it will protect you from all evil
'Thank you,' she murmured softly. It was suddenly warm in her hand, and the warmth spread through her until she lost track of the space around her and thought she was afloat in an atmosphere blissfully aglow. And she knew she was not alone, felt the protective embrace of something... something so much more. But it did not speak. Or perhaps, could not speak. Or perhaps she merely could not hear it.
'Nubata, are you alright?' Sister Akanit's face sprang into existence before her eyes, the warm ambience that had but moments before surrounded her melted away. She let go of the orange crystal and perked up.
'Y-yeah, I'm fine,' she said quickly. She could feel the pulsing warmth of the crystal against her chest. It felt almost like... a heartbeat. 'Was just thinking. Sorry.' Akanit chuckled and rubbed the girl's brown curls affectionately, much like Mother Yara used to do. Nubata grinned and quickly bent down and picked up some rubble.
'Oh, be careful!' Akanit warned, 'that's very big, stick to the sma-' but the little girl amazed the priestess by lifting the rather large rock and throwing it some distance away. Akanit gave Nubata a perplexed stare before gazing at where she had thrown the rock. 'That's... incredible. How on earth did you manage that?' She grabbed Nubata's twig-thin arms and pinched at them as though that would reveal the secret to their hidden strength. Nubata laughed and struggled to free herself.
'That tickles, sttopp.' Sister Akanit let her go and shook her head in a mixture of confusion and amazement.
'Well, either way - don't do that again. Just focus on the smaller things.' But Nubata did not listen. Excited by her newfound strength, she swept aside rocks and debris with ease and soon enough had a team of workers going back and forth with manuscripts and tomes and scrolls she had managed to unearth. The deeper she burrowed, the more well-preserved and undamaged the works that were found.
When night settled in and the workers began to head out to rest, Nubata was not tired and wanted to keep going. 'The sooner we find everything, the sooner we can rebuild, right?'
'Yes, Nubata, but no matter how fast we work the Temple will not go up overnight. Bit by bit. Come, let us go eat and rest and we'll return early in the morning.' Sister Akanit told her. Mother Lilaneem nodded at her words.
'Sister Akanit speaks wisely. Come Nubata, you have done brilliantly today - better than entire teams. How you managed that is beyond me, but I am sure you have an answer; and I'd like to hear it.' Nubata reluctantly did as the two priestesses bid her, and they all huddled together around a few fires in the shade of the late Witch-Priestess' former home. They ate and spoke, and when Lilaneem asked Nubata about her strange strength the girl shrugged and said she did not know. Lilaneem observed the girl with her piercing grey eyes, but Nubata looked away and bit into some fish and bread. 'Well, if you change your mind know that you can always speak with me.' Nubata looked up and saw that the priestess was smiling. For all her steely exterior, Nubata could see that the essential kindness that moved the priestesses of the Temple of the Bond ran just as true within Mother Lilaneem.
Kindness
'T-tell me about kindness,' the girl suddenly said. Lilaneem swallowed some bread and took a sip from a half-broken clay bowl before turning to the girl.
'You wish to be a priestess of the Temple of the Bond, do you not?' The girl nodded eagerly, 'then you must understand that our utmost goal is the alleviation of suffering. Suffering is an illness, and we are - by the Master's will - its cure. We must know suffering, we must know the causes of suffering, and we must know how to put a stop to suffering. Mother Yara taught us these things through medicine - illness is suffering. Our duty is to identify the cause of illnesses or, if we do not know it, then to discover the cause through various means. Once we know the cause, it is our duty to root it out and make it cease. This is the case for both physical suffering, mental suffering, and spiritual suffering. In order to carry out these duties fully, we must cultivate compassion and kindness. Showing kindness to others, we learn to be less selfish; sharing the suffering of others, we develop concern for the wellbeing of all beings and so are driven to alleviate that suffering. We learn to suffer with others, and so to lift the suffering of another is to lift our own suffering. Thus kindness and compassion are, for a priestess of the Temple of the Bond, the one foundation all else is built upon.'
Of Suffering and Kindness
Nubata's eyebrows furrowed and she bit her lip. 'I can be kind. I like everybody.'
Lilaneem smiled. 'That is the heart of it. To achieve true kindness and compassion, we must learn to love all things unconditionally. Who, in this world, do we love unconditionally?'
The priestess looked at Nubata who furrowed her brows in deep thought. 'Everybody?'
Lilaneem chuckled. 'Really? Do you love Mother Yara like you love the lizard in the Mahd?'
Nubata sat upright and shook her head. 'No! I like Mother Yara much, much more'n the lizard. But I like Spotty alot too!' Lilaneem looked at Nubata expectantly, 'and... well, I guess I love mum and dad and granny and granpa more'n anyone else...'
Lilaneem nodded. 'That's it. We feel unconditional love and gratitude towards our mother, our father. Those who cared for us when we were utterly helpless; incapable of feeding or protecting ourselves, who loved us against all odds. We must consider that love and gratitude, and we must make it our ultimate goal to feel it towards all living beings. Love and gratitude towards all that exists, do you understand?'
Nubata's eyes were wide at the idea. 'T- towards everything?' she asked, 'e-even this ant?'
Lilaneem nodded. 'Even that ant. For when we achieve that we recognise the essential kindness of all that exists - everything is a mother, or a father, everything cares and loves unconditionally at some level. And you know, the Witch-Priestess used to say that souls, when they die, are reborn. It is an eternal cycle. So that ant may have, in a past existence, been your mother, your father, your brother. In on existence or another, every soul loved you unconditionally. When we see that, we cannot but feel towards everything as we do towards our own parents in our current existence. Armed with that, it is then only natural to wish to return our debt of gratitude, it is only natural to wish to see the happiness of all and the removal of suffering. You understand?'
Nubata smiled, somewhat dazed at the enormity of it all. 'But that's... so hard! Feeling aaall o' that love I mean. Doesn't it make you tired?'
Lilaneem shook her head. 'Love does not tire us, Nubata. It enriches us, it gives us purpose, warmth, helps us grow and, ultimately, it gives us happiness and fulfilment. It is not love that tires us - it is lack of love.'
The girl frowned as she tried to take in Lilaneem's words, rubbing the pulsating orange crystal between her thumb and forefinger. For one reason or another, her mind felt calm and receptive, and though she would have usually been overwhelmed by these strange ideas, she felt that she - at some level - understood. It awed and excited her. 'But this whole rebirth stuff is not true,' a priestess suddenly spoke up, 'Mother Yara only ever mentioned it in passing as the belief of heathens in foreign lands she had visited.'
Lilaneem looked at the one who had spoken. 'I know she only mentioned it in passing, but I have come across ancient Vetruvian manuscripts which make mention of rebirth too, Sister Mu'ana,' the Head-Priestess responded.
'Oh not this debate again,' Sister Fosia said, 'I have spoken with various priests from different temples about this, and the consensus is that this matter is not mentioned authoritatively in any of the respected authorities. We should neither declare it heretic nor orthodox belief.'
Lilaneem pursed her lips, and Sister Mu'ana looked likewise unconvinced. 'A discussion for another time, perhaps,' the Head-Priestess said. The other two nodded and Lilaneem turned back to Nubata with a smile. There was a light in the girl's eyes, fascination.
'You know... one of the soldiers told us that the Priest-King is building the city walls very quickly. The spiryts are building the city up again. Maybe if we go to him he will dig up all the books and build the Temple back up again.'
Lilaneem raised an eyebrow at the girl's words. 'Is he really now? This is the first I hear of this.'
'Oh yes, I did hear some of the volunteers mention that on a few occasions,' Akanit said. 'Perhaps we can appeal to him for aid.'
Lilaneem nodded and smiled appreciatively towards Nubata, 'Yes, perhaps we can.'
In the weeks that followed, the walls of the city would rise completely, and then the Priest-King's Palace itself rose up overnight, stunning all onlookers. The priestesses continued to excavate the Temple of the Bond's ruins, eventually unearthing the Temple's impressive treasury which lay hidden beyond the door at the back of the Miracle Room. Many of the workers were paid, and Mother Lilaneem eventually decided to reward the volunteers also. Even so, they walked in the shadow of the giant that was the newly crowned Priest-King. Each morning Heru descended from his quarters above to hold ritual and prayer in the temple's grand hall for all to witness, and in the evenings Heru spent with the many aristocrats that made up his advising council and ministry, but beneath the noon's sun he walked among the people on the streets. When the day was at its hottest and his subjects at their weakest, he was there to lend them his strength. He would parade through the streets with an entourage of servants behind him carrying pots of fresh water and fruit. Along the sides of the streets the masses crowded, and as their sacred king passed by, they reached out their hands and were met by his touch. To come into contact with one of divine blood was an enormous blessing that could ward off many evils and curry the Master's favor, so every noon Heru offered that blessing and the respite of refreshments to as many of the commonfolk as he could.
Even as he walked, he took note of those places that he saw most devastated, and when the magisters held council later in the evenings to discuss how the city might restore its grasp over the lawless hinterlands that had succumbed to chaos, Heru also bid them take action to restore the city itself. Aid did come, in the form of laborers and even soldiers that freely helped to rebuild homes and repair the most devastated of structures.
Nubata and Sister Akanit had taken to stalking the Priest-King on an almost daily basis in an their attempts to petition him use his divine powers to make the Temple of the Bond arise as he had done with the walls of Vetros and the Grand Temple. Their attempts to reach him during his daily treks throughout the city met generally with failure, and attempting to catch him in the Grand Temple itself proved to be easier said than done - the guards at the Palace refused to permit them entry into the upper levels where Heru dwelled, and when the Priest-King came to the ground floor and fulfilled the first part of his role with sacred rite before the public, the throngs of people were such that gathering his attention was impossible.
'Tell him we want to see him!' Nubata snapped at a guard one day, perhaps a week into their attempts to petition the Priest-King. The guard grunted something about the Priest-King being busy and the two left once again, distraught at their failure - Nubata far more so than Sister Akanit.
The priestess spoke. 'Mother Yara used to say this - "If you can and are able, never put your trust in the twain", and she is proven right in one at least.'
'What are the twain?' Nubata asked. Smiling, Akanit raised two fingers.
'Gods and kings. She is proven right about the latter, it would seem, but I yet have hope for the former.' Nubata smiled slightly and took Sister Akanit's hand.
'We'll build the Temple. We don't need kings or gods - we'll do it all on our own.' Akanit chuckled, though her eyes seemed somewhat anxious. This irreverence did not sit well with her, but she knew that Nubata would come to understand with time. She was still but a child, after all.
@Lauder Whoever this Avulus is, he can come at 'er and TRY. She'll mash him and thrash him and bash him and smash him till he cries out mooooommmyyyy
'Yes, I'm your mommy boyo,' said she.
'Yes, I'm your mommy boyo,' said she.
Sign of the Warrior
Sign of the Mother
I'm converted
@Antarctic Termite go awae u
edit: Or maybe just a straight-up goddess of Love(Motherhood), mothers are fierce warriors after all
edit: Or maybe just a straight-up goddess of Love(Motherhood), mothers are fierce warriors after all
@Antarctic Termite xDDD at least the mechanics are in the hands of those who understand Elvish - so long as someone knows what's going on, I don't need to worry my little head. Been spending the last hour or so searching for a good picture of a war goddess who is also a goddess of love >.>
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