Kasmandre Posted February 15, 2003 Report Posted February 15, 2003 Long ago, in a far distant land, there was a clan of artists and guildsmen. These artisans lived in harmony with the warlike clans that surrounded them. Despite the fact that these war-mongers disliked their kind, within the walls of their Conservatory, they were not touched by the flames that engulfed those in more warlike venues. In their domain, the word and the dance of language was absolute. They had nothing to fear from these outside forces. Or so they believed. For many years, they continued in a state of blissful ignorance of the threat that loomed over their heads. For the god Marious, who had been seen as a creature worthy only of disdain, was awakening in its power. It asked that all give tribute to its greatness and promised great riches to the warmongers if they raised it up. Little tribute was given and the lands suffered. It was then that many of the artisans began their pilgrimage to old lands strong in their sovereignty. Lands that did not fear the wrath of Marious. They left their homelands to a brighter land. But a select few did not leave. Whether through dedication or obstinacy, they remained in the ravaged lands and tried to maintain the old ways. Among their number was a young man called Darkness, a poet and bard. Despite the adverse conditions, they survived, after a fashion. Some left for the brighter lands, some came anew to the old lands, and a very few returned from the brighter lands. Most of these stayed only a short while, memories of what was lost burning to hot to remain longer. A small fraction, though, stayed, or split their energies between the two lands. One of these was another young man, a few years Darkness's junior. He called himself the Voyager. The Voyager was young and brash. At first, he badgered the inhabitants of the old land to move on, that this world's age was done. But, after seeing their dedication, he joined in their effort. There was some small conflict between the artisans, but the effort of keeping the old lands whole kept these arguments from breaking into something greater. They worked together to keep their land whole. And then Marious struck again. With one breath, the entirety of the old lands was frozen, made uninhabitable and barren. All the artisans' work was for naught. Many of the remainder passed into the brighter lands. The rest waited, hoping for the best, fearing the worst. And then, the Voyager saved them. He prepared a place, far from the frozen tundra of the old lands, where they could continue on until the sun broke through the old lands' sky again. Once again, the remnant had escaped destruction. It seemed that they would survive yet again. And then, things went south again. It began as a small argument between Darkness and the Voyager over a joint project of theirs. Darkness felt that the Voyager was being too controlling, destroying the parts that Darkness had created. Voyager felt that Darkness was too soft for the task at hand, that his work was inferior. Before, this argument would be forgotten for the sake of the community. But now, with no enemy to guard against, their conflict escalated. Each hurled accusations at the other. Almost at once, it came to a head. The Voyager invoked his powers as the creator of this haven, threatening to banish Darkness back into the cold of the old lands. Then he considered the issue closed and moved on with his work. But Darkness would go no further. If he could not have control over what he had created, he would create elsewhere. He had not spent long hours counteracting Marious to allow himself to be under that same arrogance in a different form. With no other choice, he left the safety of the haven forever, to find a new place to create. Perhaps when the old lands thawed, he would return there. Perhaps. I would that I could tell you the end of this story, but it has none. I can say though, that the Voyager was no victor. As Darkness said in his last moments at the sanctuary, in battles like these, there are no true victors; everyone suffers and everyone loses. Darkness lost a home, but the Voyager perhaps lost more. The conflict between those two did not happen in a vacuum; the other artisans saw. Many of them left not long after Darkness. Some traveled to the brighter land, others to other havens. Voyager was a god without a people. And that is all that I can tell, except to warn that this tale is not of fiction. It is the recent memory as retold by a man who was ignorant to a struggle until it became too late. A man who left sanctuary with the others and returned fully to the brighter land, knowing a little more of the pallor of darkness that power causes. A man who hopes for better in his new land, who knows that such arrogance is unlikely, but who holds still a seed of doubt in his heart. No mountain stands forever, nothing is truly eternal. Our choices decide merely the length of our stay and the legacy we leave behind. Choose your legacies well.
Aardvark Posted February 15, 2003 Report Posted February 15, 2003 Now, if he was a happy god instead of a vengeful one, he'd be able to demand tithes with relative ease. When will deities learn? /me salutes
Kasmandre Posted February 16, 2003 Author Report Posted February 16, 2003 Yeah, unfortunately, all of the gods I've run into recently seem to be more of the vengeful sort.
Aardvark Posted February 16, 2003 Report Posted February 16, 2003 And what the hell do gods need with tribute, anyway? Can't they create anything they want? What's the point of demanding inferior goods from stinking miserable peasants when you can materialise perfection with the blink of an eye Unless... Gods can't create anything, they're really quite pathetic individuals who can just dish out vengence and live forever... Oooh, I'm onto somethng here. I'd better watch myself whenever I'm carrying objects that could be easily mistaken for a lightning rod
Tamaranis Posted March 2, 2003 Report Posted March 2, 2003 Oh, now that's just brilliant. At least a little something good came of it all.
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