An Orphan's Bidding

[winterblood 11181]

Spoiler

 

 

 

 

 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Bow your head low and kiss

the soil and ash from

 which you were wrought; 

may you awaken your spark of 

humility once more.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

 

Across the Heart of the Empire, a missive may be found. . .

 

 

You who is named Ar’Kaan,

Who has come to embrace the stray flame,

Who has disrupted Order,

Who has slain mortal men.

 

It is with an earnest desire that you speak of your wish to lend aid upon humanity; that of Horen’s children with whom had once remained bound in fates with that of dragons.  A flame of history to be rekindled.  While these embers of the past are breathed into again through the favor of the Twinned Dragons of Silver and Gold; that of Aruzond and Sordran; you stem a different, more coiled and twisted root of their sort.

 

One which stemmed from a noble zeal and fervent devotion for Horen’s children, yet has come to branch away in a darker sky with scarlet embers as its stars.  Far from its roots.  Yet any may still recall their seedling origins, and strive to mend what their sins have wrought.  To restore and unfurl anew.

 

I’ve charged you with penance, and you’ve accepted to heed my guidance.  And so they are written to you as these three trails.  Forsake them, and you shall be forsaken yourself.

 

Defense of Mankind You’re charged with facing the enemy that is The Mountain on the frontlines of every battle, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with every brave Knight and soldier of Burgundy.  Your life is to come before theirs, and you may not retire yourself from battle til all are guaranteed safety from immediate threat and harm.  This must be the same for any citizen of The Empire of Burgundy. This is your debt for a life stolen, ensure no other is lost and that your own is not wasted. Until the threat of The Mountain is cast away, this is your sacred duty.

Restoring Virtue   For the past transgressions, violent burnings, and desecration of Holy Sights across Canondom of two centuries ago, which Dragonkin of your ilk have wrought. . . You are to construct a Church in memorial of the Venerable High Pontiff Tylos I.  Within this church, you are to include a memorial for the life you’ve ended upon holy ground.   It has not been foolish superstitions and unjust caution that has been cast upon Dragonkin by Humanity.  A brutal, clawed hand has been known and feared for many generations.  And in these long years, few efforts have been pursued to mend these old scars.     Time remains not your friend, for nothing shall bury away these sins.

A Shepherd’s Hand You are to swear a vow of Mercy before my eyes.  May your sword-hand be sliced along the palm and may you bleed into The River Leone which runs between Enswerp and Alba as you swear this oath.   That you shall never strike to kill any descendant whose actions that you deem to be made in ignorance.   There is pride in you, this I’ve sensed.  So too, have I come to note a careless fire which writhes in your soul.  Perhaps it is your nature as a Dragonkin.  Or perhaps it is not, and it may be something to be tempered by your own will.   Blame not the foolish or lost, for a shepherd does not seek to slaughter his goats when they ram their horns.

 

I pray that you shall not falter in your mission.  Understand that my lowly voice is just that; the bindings of an orphan who is naught but a meagre flower in God’s rolling gardens.  Yet I charge you with this duty all the same, for I am a loving servant of the Lord and a loving servant of the Empire.

 

May we all bask in His compassion.

 

Sister Solene

 

@Conqueror

[ncarr 2806]

The Duchess of Furnestock had long fallen into paranoia since an attempt was levied against her father-by-law some years prior, and she only delved further into worry as news of the draconic knight found her ears. Though upon looking over the publication, a sense of ease washed over Jane. “This is the guidance those led astray doth need.” she spoke hushedly unto the lady-in-wait that tended to her. Soon thereafter, Jane’s fan fell swiftly to bat the tending woman away as she urged her to follow along on her daily promenade through the City Elizabeth.

[Conqueror 424]

Everything was dim in The Pontifical States, stewards having already tended to the torches of their houses—servants within noble manors drawing out the oil from their lanterns an hour after nightfall. Most were asleep, at this point. But they could extinguish all the flames they wanted, there would still be one, very angry flame, alight, almost every night. This was its hour.

 

It came from far away, fueled by the Holy Regencies own crimes. Crimes that had never gotten penance, because of course, the Canondom, above it all, owned that concept. So it wished to bring them their penance if they would not themselves. And in these nights it did. Many, many times.

 

Peace returned to the flame, and Burgundy's inquisitions ceased. All was well, for a while.

 

But the flame returned, this time, fueled by something else. Something greater. Something older. It traveled again and again to The Empire of Man, seeking what was above itself. Above that old fuel. How could it? How could all of this be forgotten, for this new purpose? There was a way, but only the flame knew. So it did not matter.

 

 

AR'KAAN traveled South to The River Leone.

 

 

[Gamma 812]

Upon receiving the missive, the Elder upon the desert mount reads over, eyeing specific words with a scrutinizing gaze. She remained silent, soon breaking it with a sharp exhale as she muttered to another figure beside her in a lowered tone "Pen to Elathion" Her gaze then turned to the horizon as her companion departed, grumbling to herself "Solene, how brave you are."