soul_campaign | o6. thursday may 20 / text

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o6. thursday may 20 / text

Recent conversations have sparked some curiosity in me.

We all come from different worlds and different times, and I can't help but wonder what some of the common myths, legends, and fairy tales are in these times and places. Such things can be very telling of the people from which they come and I think I might enjoy making a collection of sorts and analyzing them.

So, Death City, if you would be so kind tell me about your worlds and the stories you've been raised on. The more detail the better, and if you know anything of their origin that is better yet.

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I know only that the Lucavi are as real as you or I; that the covenant will bind body and soul to demons as oft as gods.

And, most of all, when the Braves returned to the realms of man, it was not as saviors. Twice now I know they've returned... the latter, I know by way my own eyes.

I would tell you of it should you wish to hear it, but I must warn you that here the tale grows long, and the truth more murky still.

Edited 2013-04-20 19:19 (UTC)

I do not mind in the slightest--though I may ask some questions to clarify things.

[[OOC: This is a very long story; I'll break it up into multiple posts so that the Disciple can interject if/where you wish her to!]]

Would that I had all the answers; but I will explain all I can.

Centuries later, in the time of man, my homeland was in the midst of a golden age of endeavor and achivement, where airships yet plied the skies. The legend would soon repeat itself, but it would come at the hands of a man who brought the missives of the Gods; for it was this very time of change and prosperity that saw the birth of a man who would ere long become a sacred hero to its people: Saint Ajora.

In a small town at the border of a rising kingdom, an child was born to a peasant family; But moments after his birth, he rose to his feet and approached a well. And, upon reaching its base, words of prophecy poured forth from his infant lips:

"A calamity shall soon befall this well. Seal it up at once, that none may drink of it."

Some days later, a horrible plague visited the quiet town, and all those who drank the well's tainted water succumbed to sickness and perished. Only those families who heeded the prophetic words of the child were spared from death and malady; and thus the people came to revere Saint Ajora as a portent of miracle and child of the gods.

((ooc; sounds good to me <3 I'll prob focus on what part at time and keep her questions short so I can get to them all))

[Oh, Di was in for a treat she could tell. Then she had to remind herself that for some people, these stories were very true so she should approach them professionally.

She is listening intently, and ear ears droop a little when he speaks of the pestilence.]

Only but a wiggler, and yet already given such a gift? Divinatory powers can often be a curse as well. [She recalls all the times that Signless was plagued with visions of what was to come. Days in which he got no true rest, and soothing words took forever to reach him]

But it was twenty years before the child would become a Saint and a hero to his people. The ambitious king of a neighboring kingdom evoked forbidden rites and fiendish pacts to call demons unto his aid; guided by providence, the young Saint Ajora quested tirelessly to gather the Auracite: the twelve holy relics of the Braves' covenant with the forces of the heavens, each bearing a mark of the Zodiac.

With the Auracite in hand, Ajora assembled the twelve heroes of legend and led them to the blighted kingdom; and, just as the Braves had beaten back the forces of darkness in ages past, together they slew the demon and brought peace unto the land. The deed only furthered his station as a hero to his people, and soon he was worshiped as a leader of the people, coronated by heaven's will alone.

But the earthly kings of the land had no want for the presence of yet another crown.

It was not demons who would prove to strike down the young saint; it would be the soldiers of an empire who feared his growing influence and swelling worship among the masses. It was one of his own disciples- a wretched man by the name of Germonique- who would turn against him for an offer of coin and lead him to capture at the hands of the empire's armies. Soon after, he was executed; hung at the gallows, at the behest of the king himself.

But lest we forget, Saint Ajora was a child of the gods. The wrath of the heavens was swift and terrible; Immediately following the execution, the world was visited by a horrible cataclysm, and its once-mighty empire crumbled and sunk into the sea. The Auracite lost, the Zodiac Braves were swept from the world, and heaven once again played host to its warriors.

Thus, the death knell of the Saint proved the death knell of our world's prosperity, and the young Saint took his place in heaven among the Gods; this was the sordid end to the second battle of the Zodiac Braves.

[Ramza pauses. The legend's a mouthful, after all; but here his face turns thoughtful. This part isn't so practiced.]

Or, at least, that is the legend as I'd always heard it... as every man, woman, and child in my homeland had heard it, I'm sure. But it was scarcely a year ago that I had found the truth of the tale... of Ajora, and the Zodiac braves.

[Instinctively, Ramza glances around, before realizing that he had little to fear from speaking these words here...]

...he was no child of the gods... and he was aught but a hero.

I know not the truth of his birth or his prophecy, but he was only painted in the colors of the divine. In truth, it was not the will of heaven but the will of a rival to the empire that he should become the leader of mankind in these trying times; and the empire had branded him a revolutionary and a usurper to their own faith not out of mere envy, for that was indeed not only the means but the end of his actions.

Furthermore, there was no demon; at least, no mention of it in any scriptures but the legend's own. The Braves, too, were nowhere to be found save the pages of myth. Yet Ajora sought the Auracite for years, and even managed to gather a few of the relics for himself... Germonique- a loyal soldier of the empire- grew fearful of his true intentions and even moreso of the prospect of such a usurper calling upon the power of the heavens. And, even among the crown who'd first set him as a hero among the people, his influence grew stronger- but his allies fewer and fewer.

I know not if it was the will of the Gods or of Demons... or... mayhap even something else still. But there is one fact in the myth: Upon his death, a cataclysm did truly strike the land, and his executioners' empire was truly swept from the earth.

[Another pause. He breathes out a sigh and looks aside.]

'Tis less of a story, I know, and one that leaves much unanswered... but the truth is not always so gilded, is it? [And a humorless laugh.]

[Ramza suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, as though aware of just how long he was speaking. Wow... how long had he kept that all to himself, with no ears that would hear it?]

...but I prattle on. I'm sorry. Already I've spoken overmuch, and my part in the story looms still! I'm sure you have other tales to which you may lend your ears, unless you would hear it all here and now.

[[OOC: I wasn't expecting that to be so long! Feel free to opt out here if this will take up too much of your time as-is, eh-heh...]]

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o6. thursday may 20 / text

no subject

no subject

Part one

no subject

Part two

Part three

Part three intermission one

Part three part two

Obligatory Hussie Hiatus