Xion Unto Horen

[Swgrclan 2682]

The signs of a stirring storm sounded overhead. The sky bore symptoms of a tempest, gray and shifting and rumbling. Sharp winds lapped at walls forged by Man- Felsen's walls, of which many Men linger. Though the coming gale drew screams as air violently clashed with indomitable stone, other things could be heard over the noise; over the steady patter of rain 'pon cobble and dried mortar. The galloping of a horse could be heard some several yards down the road that spun from the capital when the winds did not call out so tersely, and atop this steed rode a dark figure, clad in am amalgam of ragged cloth sewed with the feathers of crows, a mask bearing features of the same winged avian, and a black, ragged tunic. This figure, knowing Felsen's roads were home to the transient and the adventurous, halted the hooved pace of it's stallion. Gangling, thin form twisting upon its back before hopping off to introduce soles to the ground, wherein a gloved hand reached into the anomalous individual's shroud-- a conspicuous act, yet one that produced a mere omnibus of many old, yellowed pages.



Garl of Xion had come to spread his gospel, and though his unsettling appearance suggested ill-intent to come, he walked with the limping gait of a humbled elder; bones softly popping beneath black fabric from the toil of shifting joints, barren and roughened by age or other means. Though the nearing tempest darkened the skies, his outline could be seen in the distance-- attracting guards, merchants and travelers alike as Garl sought to assume himself atop his "podium", of which was a tall rock flat enough for him to keep balance. Once more the shrouded one reached into his cloak, only to pull a small bronze bell from its precipice, holding both tome and chime in either hand as he stood as still as the stone he stood over, hunched and stiff. Though his chest did not heave, nor was air inhaled, Garl's form straightened a sum and leaned back as if in preparation -- and then, over the storm, a melodic series of notes were carried upon the air; cutting through the crack of thunder above in a heavenly tune that barreled from the gospel-spreader's unseen throat, as if it was itself an instrument much like his loosely-held chime:

The sound was rough yet graceful, and invoked a startled interest in all whom had begun to pass the shadowed figure by; inspiring peacefulness amidst the storm, a spiritual comfort in the form of sound. And then, as it ended, the priest of crows shook his chime once to filter the echo of his distorted voice with the purities of a bell's simple ringing. Those that had gathered around Garl's stand, whether sparse in number or abundant, would see him raise his arms in humble greeting-- briefly showing the bronze, star-like mark sewn into his tunic's chestpiece.

"I giveth greetings from the East, brother Men. Mine travels has't been long and hard, and though I walketh thy pious lands in black, I hold the bright fires of truth within mine hand. No prophet cometh to thee to preach his drivel -- only one man who hath awakened by dreaming, and foresaw the true nature of the divine below God. I beseech thee, honorable sons of Horen; let my woeful warnings fall true upon thine ears."

Garl's voice was jagged and rough, as if his throat had been scorched by the tune it produced; riddled by smoke and ever-dry. His rhetoric was of the old way of speaking, yet it's message was clear. Whatever warning he brought was of spiritual regard. 

"Within mine years lingering amidst fellow mortalkind, mine eyes has't beheld the worship of what is higher- the servitude of what is holy, and those that art claimed to sitteth upon thrones of light and gold in the clouds. Clerics and Druids, wielders of foul Ibleesian flame, priests of a Daemon who hath made feline men -- much has't I seen the abundant numbers of many-such followers, and they still strive to this day. And yet, they art blind amidst their faith; their connections and magical amplifications veiling their eyes, denying them the raw truth of their servitude. I cometh hither acknowledging the power of God - but ere thee, I hold texts explaining the rambunctious nature of His children."

The same black tome he's held is raised up; a simple, thick book of scriptures, though that of a particularly archaic age-- looking as if not a copy, but the very first draft of it's kind.

"I provide thee all with a single example. Behold westward and across the shores to the land last hath left, and bethink upon the Abyss that acts as it's distant centerpoint. Hath any bethought upon the sight's origin? I hath bethought upon it. I hath dreamt upon it. I hath delved into ruins, submerged by dark, and I hath found truths bound by fusty text suggesting the true, old way of the Abyss - what lingered the Abyss, at which hour the Abyss wast but naught."

"I cometh to thee seeking to profess the sins of the divine -- that in most wondrous error, and amidst grand cataclysmic battle, past-perceived forces of light and darkness clashed within the land whither the Abyss lingers now. So tactless were these divines that they eviscerated the world around them -- destroying the Centerpoint of the World. The church's texts surely speaketh of the ancient land in which God made for the four races, doth it not?"

"Readeth thy texts, and behold no further than the Abyss for this holy land. The fatherland, the motherland; the verdant fields and green forests; the curling deserts and the ever-soaked beaches; all nothing now. What wast once Aegis in another time is now the Abyss, for at the climax of their petty proxy-war, the original point in which all life wast supposed to live, hadst been destroyed."

The chime was rang once more before being tucked onto Garl's heavy belt; a gloved hand gesturing toward the crowd.

"And anon thou see the cycle continue. Thither lies all the proof in the ordinary that these sins shall repeat; that this land shall crumble, and the next shall be sought with a raging, deific threat either left behind, defeated, 'r in-tow, seeking to defeat us as so many others hast 'ere. Knowing that God's children hast misplac'd the trust of the Lord Himself, I ask this: why art they tolerated? What good doth vague idols of cold light and judgement endue, if only to wage wars only mortals may win? Why doth pagans enforce their distort'd view of the natural way of the ordinary, if 'tis all impos'd by disorderly demigods at the end of the line? The Aenguls and Daemons treat God's images like dolls, and our realms like a canvas, and only rush to help when one most disorderly seeks to smash the toys of the others. There is no care for We Below, for Those Above seek to instill us as pawns upon a grand board.

I ask thou all this: why hath this not been realized, and if already, what keeps the race of Men from expunging the false light of divines from their lands utterly, so God high-lone may watch ov'r them ever-after?"

Speech concluded, Garl falls silent - obscured eyes scanning what crowd may linger, seeking a reply if any.
 

Edited September 5, 2015 by Swgrclan

[Rig 17581]

Orcus watches on, whispering and conversing with his two acolytes. 

"I will not deny there is truth to your words, wanderer. But there is always the grace of the Envoy that guides my hand, not wanton destruction; but instead the strength to persevere and annihilate my enemies. The Clerics, the Paladins, the Khorr, the Daemonic priests, they all will suffer from my ire and wroth.

"They sought my kind's persecution and destruction, in turn I bring them chaos and insubordination as their own people doubt their deeds of 'good' dealt from falsehoods.

"They are no heroes, but sacreligious fools who have proven time and time again to be a blight on the land. The Envoy of God shall see them punished for their sins as they are struck into the dirt."

Stated the Lord of Oathes silently, gazing on the man with utmost certainty and confidence. 

Edited September 5, 2015 by Rigorous

[osumanduas 1442]

Bishop Edmond frowns. "Whatever scripture you claim to have received or discovered should be passed unto the Church. The Lord's Holy Scrolls are forbidden to all but clergy of his Holiness. I'd request you hand on your findings to one of the Canon lest you be labeled a heretic." He warns, looking across the square to a few Amyas ordermen patrolling the city. "Other than that, you might consider a career as a clergyman, if you wish to preach further." 

Edited September 5, 2015 by Jacko

[calculusdesola 1658]

Located nearby after having gone looking for new talent at a small back alley tourney in Felsen, Titus de Sola stakes his claim on behalf of his Imperial Knights.  "Such ancient knowledge should not lay in the hands of wandering monks to be assailed on the highways and sold for ransom," said he, a hand raised.  "Nor can it be trusted in the hands of the other races who ever plot our demise.  This relic of the old Empire should be safeguarded by proper custodians."

[Swgrclan 2682]

Orcus watches on, whispering and conversing with his two acolytes. 

"I will not deny there is truth to your words, wanderer. But there is always the grace of the Envoy that guides my hand, not wanton destruction; but instead the strength to persevere and annihilate my enemies. The Clerics, the Paladins, the Khorr, the Daemonic priests, they all will suffer from my ire and wroth.

"They sought my kind's persecution and destruction, in turn I bring them chaos and insubordination as their own people doubt their deeds of 'good' dealt from falsehoods.

"They are no heroes, but sacreligious fools who have proven time and time again to be a blight on the land. The Envoy of God shall see them punished for their sins as they are struck into the dirt."

Stated the Lord of Oathes silently, gazing on the man with utmost certainty and confidence. 

Garl exudes an unpleasant, drawn-out sigh as the alleged lord proclaims coming violence. He should shake his obscured head at the man, and offer his rebuttal.

"There is no more need for more wars, aggressive one. Thou seek to strike the problem into the dirt, when thou only aim thy blade at the vessels of the problem - vessels that may see the gloomy light of their mistakes, and whom may relinquish their mistaken connections themselves. I hath seen as much blood spilt into the soil of occupied lands as any other man- if not more. Further war and conflict shall lead to the schism of this isle as it had the others, and to instigate it, too, is sinful. One must only realize the cold light of the divines  is false, and accept the shadowed peace in which God intended for all mortal Men. 

Bishop Edmond frowns. "Whatever scripture you claim to have received or discovered should be passed unto the Church. The Lord's Holy Scrolls are forbidden to all but clergy of his Holiness. I'd request you hand on your findings to one of the Canon lest you be labeled a heretic." He warns, looking across the square to a few Amyas ordermen patrolling the city. "Other than that, you might consider a career as a clergyman, if you wish to preach further." 

Turning to the Bishop, Garl chortles dryly at his recommendation; the sound without warmth, but plentifully humorous. He speaks after a moment to collect his thoughts. 

"I hand thee the scripture in my hand through my very words. I come to thee, standing atop a rock to preach warnings, because it is what the world needs - not because I seek a life amidst the clergy, even as noble it may be. This scripture..."

Garl pauses a moment, looking down at the old, blackened book as in to take in it's barely-noted importance, before looking back up to Edmond moments later.

"... is a truth all Men should know of. I carry within mine pace the truths of what is truly the enemy, and what stole the birthright of all mortalkind in the ancient ages. I cannot be suggested as a heretic, if mine mission is to spread truths - not beliefs. Perhaps when the falsities of the divines are expunged from our world, these pages may rest in the hands of thy humble church... but not today. Not yet."

Located nearby after having gone looking for new talent at a small back alley tourney in Felsen, Titus de Sola stakes his claim on behalf of his Imperial Knights.  "Such ancient knowledge should not lay in the hands of wandering monks to be assailed on the highways and sold for ransom," said he, a hand raised.  "Nor can it be trusted in the hands of the other races who ever plot our demise.  This relic of the old Empire should be safeguarded by proper custodians."

 "This is no relic of any empire, brother Man. It is an account of the sins of the divines; a dichotomy amidst the lies of Aengul-cultists and Daemon-slaves who spread the gospel of their corrupt lords. Recall my words to the gentleman before, and know my mission here. If all false-divines influences are not effaced from the ordinary, all shall be lost in time, and there will lie no scripture to vanguard, nor shall be an kingdom to guard it, nor the Men who rally to the king's word, nor a kingdom at all -- for the antediluvian fires of the Aenguls and Daemons may very well creep up upon us in our time of need to wipe us out as they have tried before, or they may abandon us when we become too aligned to them."

[osumanduas 1442]

Edmond shakes his head. "A true Canonist wouldn't hesitate. I say again, only those of the Church may interpret the lord's scripture."

Edited September 5, 2015 by Jacko

[Jachnun 566]

"I enjoy this very much" remarks Gideon Gov composing a new song of these scrolls. 

[Swgrclan 2682]

Edmond shakes his head. "A true Canonist wouldn't hesitate. I say again, only those of the Church may interpret the lord's scripture."

Garl holds a hand up and shakes his head, speaking once more to the clergyman.

"This is not God's scripture - this is the scripture of Man, written by Man, with all truths derived from the eyes of Man. It is for all mortalkind to interpret, though the truths are too apparent for interpretation to come to play."

[osumanduas 1442]

*Edmond frowns, staying firm. "The Holy Scrolls were created by the lord, passed unto the Prophets.."

Edited September 5, 2015 by Jacko

[Swgrclan 2682]

*Edmond frowns, staying firm. "The Holy Scrolls were created by the lord, passed unto the Prophets.."

Garl once more shakes his head, raising the old book so he may gesture to it.

"Not once did I speak of this as a holy scroll, good clergyman."

[Swgrclan 2682]

Garl of Xion looks around shortly after his retort; seeking others to either debate his scripture with or, better yet, to find those that support his harbinging.

[Birdnerdy 1539]

Father Ecthallion of Haense shivers. 

[James 425]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.