History of The Legion of Amun-Ra (Part 2)
October 28th, 2009, 03:17 PM #1
starhunterceo
Tempest of Set Stygian
BoS- House Jade Asp
Cimmeria PvP-RP The Sacrifice of the Seed
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The Sacrifice of the Seed
"As the Ash gives her child to the earth in supplication so too must you surrender the chosen so that My fruit may blossom." - The Tome of the Ancient
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The Prophet knelt in prayer sword by his side. Incense of juniper and frankincense bound with the resin of the tabu-no-ki tree of Khitai wafted through the temple at Sepermeru. Burning sconses cast dancing lights upon the elegant yet chaotic tapestry. A key stroke in the temple ...metal griding against metal. A scent of his own flesh. A howl... a familiar voice. Satet-ka.....I will kill you. I will take your head from your shoulders!
His heart beat faster as the masked warrior emerged from the twisting maelstrom of blackened smoke. Trebuchets burnt about him.....strange stone walls collapsed under the tsunami of barbarian assailants. Visions of the great battle that lay ahead overwhelmed him. He could see the sword striking his flesh. The wind leaving him and the palpable taste loss.
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Use the tainted warrior my Son. Unleash the anger within him. Soon he will serve me again.
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The vision faded slowly as did the pain. The prophet witnessed his body lifted into the sky. He was filled with warmth and felt surrounding power of Set. His broken body now whole was cradled in the arms of two sacred seraphim, winged angels that guide the path of the soul over the river of death. He realized himself upon the docks of Khemi flanked by the winged guardians.
The prophet shifted uncomfortably in his reverie hand desiring his new blade as a ship appeared on the Styx. A stoic figure stood upon the bow anxiously awaiting landfall.
The Cimmerian will come to you via sea and disembark from a faluka. His beard and mane will be harried and matted. A frown will cross his pale rugged visage. He is your enemy my son…..he does not understand. His people are children in the world and you must father them. In a bothered tone he inquires to the location of the Setite High Priest Satet-ka. He will attempt trap you and you must allow him to do so.
“The setite high priest? General Hassan do you have any idea where that mad priest is today?” Satet-ka chided his old friend amused. The warlord Bjornn smirked but remained somewhat hidden in the corner not wishing to be noticed by the emissary.
“Let me take this man and throw him back in the river my Lord! He doesn’t deserve to set his filthy boot upon stygian soil!” bellowed the new captain Amun Ka. Amun was full of fervor and faith.
The Cimmerian was unphased by the insult and turned towards the sook of Khemi.
“Cimmerian, you’ve found the High Priest of Stygia. Why have you come to my country?”
Irritated the Cimmerian warrior reluctantly recited his message, “We attack Stonehammer, our ancestral keep, and intend to retake it from the southern invaders of Aquilon led by Sook Dukar.”
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He will demand you unleash the ancient rituals I have granted our people. Ensure he makes this request public. You will agree to bring our nobles skilled in the sacred combinations. He will insist you speak with him one the battle is won so he may betray you my son. Fear not I will deliver you from your enemies. My use for you is not at an end.
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Her finger slid down the crease of his green robe slowly. She poured sweet wine into an empty chalice with each lustful stare. He could fell her other hand stalking the clasp to his crimson robe and then a quick jerk and he felt it torn from his neck leaving a trickle of blood upon his jugular. He was helpless as he watched her lick the bruised flesh. His eyes rolled backwards as she moved herself onto him. The tasset Amun-sol had undoubtedly placed upon her pinched as she began to ride him. The seven soul priestess knew of the Prophets’ vow of celibacy, but she also had felt his eyes upon her many times. He hid his desire by chastising her and giving her unwinable missions. She could smell the contradiction in each sermon he gave from the temple steps at Sepermeru. Every phrase echoed Stygia, while his eyes fell upon her breasts. Satet-ka, the prophet, he had kept her in his shadow while he orchestrated every failed raid against the north. She thrust her pelvis hard into him as he groaned and muttred words of pathetic love. She had watched as Amun-Sol and Fenixx pulled him from the front of battle whilst Terralia and Inoxia foolishly protected another retreat. They gave their lives for him and for what!
She gazed at her blade pondering simply ending his life as he began to feel the weak frame beneath her quaking in ecstasy. Soon it would be finished and the power in Stygia would be hers. She would control both the power of Amun-Sols armies as well as Satet-ka fanatics. The daughter of Tacitus would bring Stygia from chaos and bring order to Hyboria. The Order …of the blade.
He turned his head slightly. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as he saw her casually change mounts. She urged her stallion forward turning backwards only once before the gates of Seperemeru shut tight behind her; perhaps to say farewell, perhaps to relish in her victory. A sharp pain pierced his mind. The incense choked him burning his throat.
The battle will be fierce. The scales may shed but the dragon will not be moved. You alone will go and offer your sacrifice. The cimmerian will lead you, but only one will be capable of bringing you into bondage. They will imprison you….chain you. They will try to take your faith from you. With you I will seed Aquilonia with truth and poison the dragon from within. You have but to open your mouth and speak my word.
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Aquilonian rain traced his wrinkled frown. I can still feel it. The sting that pierces me when my heart begins to try to beat again. It is as though a piece of steel has taken residence in my soul twisting on occasion to remind me. Oh great Set take this pain from me and bring me home to you. The liquids caress refreshed his spirit slightly while he gazed downward from the tower.
He could feel his soul lifted upward to the unbarred window. Standing upon the sil he felt the cool breeze upon him as moisture pooled and ran along his skin. A powerful gust lifted him and sent him upwards. The speed of his ascent was quickening as the mountains of Aquilonia joined with the plains of cimmeria. The blue waters joined with the sky and melted into blackness. The solar wheel lay still as his form was lifted even higher. Soon he witnessed the serpentine form of creation. Each scale cradled thousands of stars. Each fold another of Set’s great designs. The coils formed the shape of a lotus. The form undulated and pulsed as unborn stars moved along the body awaiting birth. The rotating mass creating the future, devouring the past and enriching the present with power. Soon he was within the center. The prophet sat in meditative pose amongst the swirling maelstrom of creation and destruction and was again addressed.
You will be brought before them by the beaten and battered; led forth by familiar youth and yet taken by the yoke. You will go before them as the lamb. Yet your plea on behalf of my Land will go unheard as they look unto their own. Plant the seed, Oh Son of Stygia. The heart of the the One will open to your voice. He will not forget you or what you do for your people. He will not forget what he would be forced to do for his.
You will be returned home to the Styx at the hand of your closest enemy. Do not fear them. They are my guests and we will embrace them and make them our own. Hosts may combine, legions may assemble, hoards will gather as the dark storm, but only I can breath life into you and only I can take it from you. For I am the God of this world and you are my voice. Call upon me in the time of greatest trial. Speak the ancient prayers of Eydan. Even the faithless will be be compelled to heed my power.
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Majah’s distraction had lasted long enough. He had weakned the chains and the blast had finished the task. This man bore the mark of Tacitus. Set had sent him.
His ears rang and the billowing smoke burnt his eyes as he scurried backwards from the cell. He could see the masked stranger squating over him move swiftly for the door to the prison. He could barely hear muffled words coming from the mask as he Fell backwards hard upon his back and neck. He lay there stunned as Aquilonian shouts were given to secure the prisoner. He could hear the shrill call of the witch Kashta shouting for his return...perhaps pleading.
“Mandisa?” he muttered softly as he stared at the nights sky. The stars cascaded towards him. So close he thought. All cradled within the body of eternity. Why? To what end are we given life? Love….obedience…..faith….what do all these matter to something as powerful as God? To the masked savior life was but an illusion. There was no faith only self. Were the sorrows and trials meaningful in someway? Why does the all powerful use the weak to his bring to pass his purposes?
He could smell the familiar sweetness of the swamp. He was home. An arrow shot passed his head as he made his escape over the Abydossian walls. He stopped foolishly to search for it. As his senses quickly returned to him he knew who it was that chased him and began to run.
He could see her gaining on him. She always moved faster then he could. Finally falling by the river bank overcome with exhaustion he awaited the inevitable as the prey waiting for the venom to take its course.
Her soft raven hair fell over her left eye cautiously hanging like a guillotine. The glint of excitement in it was hers alone as she moved towards him. He remembered Khopshef so long ago when he had kissed her. He remembered tracing her lips softly with the lotus as she stood dripping with fear and disgust paralyzed in anticipation. Now the pleasure was all hers.
“I am not afraid Blackfeather. You know you can not kill me. You have tried many times.”
She stood over him silently driving her blade fiercely into his spine. The wound paralyzed the old prophet but left him conscious. Then he saw a small smirk cross feathers lips. His eyes were forced to watch as she relieved him of his ring fingers and his gold. She then moved for his tongue. She sliced it at the base and removed it from his mouth. It was red and seemed larger then he’d imagined. Finally she brushed the hair from her face and moved in towards his eyes. As she did he could see why he wanted her so badly.